Why Dukes Say I Do (17 page)

“Hardly that, Lady Wharton,” the duke said, holding her gloved hand for a just a fraction longer than necessary. “I am often given to performing little acts of kindness for my sisters. As you are with them today, you benefit from the habit as well.”

But she did not fail to notice that his eyes seemed troubled for the barest moment before he donned his mask of bluff kindness once more. Her heart sank, and all thoughts of flirtation left her. Could Sir Lionel have spoken to him during those few moments they’d been alone at the dressmaker’s? Surely not, she told herself, turning away from the duke to follow his sisters into the house.

She had never heard of Sir Lionel speaking out about her relationship with her husband before. Still, now that Wharton had been gone for some time, she would not be surprised to learn that his friend no longer felt quite so secretive about the matter. The idea of Trevor learning anything at all relating to her humiliation at her husband’s hands made Isabella’s skin crawl. She had endured more than her share of torture at her husband’s hands, and knowing that it might become the subject of offhand gossip was chilling in its mundanity. She had no wish for the world at large to know about her past, but even more, she did not wish the knowledge to become so commonplace as to be unremarkable.

Do you miss me?
And just like that the distractions of the day disappeared and were replaced by fear. She certainly did not miss her husband. And if the reminders of him continued to loom large in her life, she would not be able to even if she wished it.

She was still lost in her thoughts when she stepped into the hall and was greeted by Templeton.

“There is a lady here to see you, Lady Wharton,” the butler said, taking her pelisse and bonnet and handing them over to a waiting maid.

When he first spoke, Isabella’s heart had leapt at the idea her sister, or perhaps Georgina, might have come to Yorkshire, but his next words shattered her hopes.

“She says she is acquainted with your sister. I have put her in the late mistress’s parlor.”

It was likely one of the candidates for the governess position, Isabella thought, masking her disappointment.

“I’ll see to her, Templeton,” she told the man. “Will you please ask Mrs. Templeton to send in a pot of tea and some biscuits?”

Isabella walked down the hallway toward the parlor, only to feel Trevor’s presence lurking behind her. She stopped and turned. “Your Grace?” She raised a questioning brow.

She was amused to see him looking sheepish. “I thought it best I’d ensure the visitor is a welcome one,” he said. If he’d had pockets he would have his hands in them.

Somewhat touched by his concern for her, Isabella said, “It is likely someone my sister has sent for the governess job.”

Visibly the duke relaxed. “I’d forgotten about that,” he admitted. “It seems a very long time since we spoke of the matter, though it’s only been a couple of days.”

“Time speeds along when you are enjoying yourself,” she said wryly.

He laughed. “Something like that, I suppose.” He motioned for her to continue and walked beside her toward the parlor. “I will sit with you for your interview with her, if you don’t mind. I know I asked you to handle the hiring of someone, but I do not feel comfortable putting someone in charge of my sisters without taking a hand in choosing the woman.”

Isabella thought better of him for it. She knew quite a few gentlemen who would rather walk over hot coals than discuss the care and education of the young ladies for whom they acted as guardians. Most would prefer not to set eyes on the young ladies themselves until they were of an age to be seen in company.

“Of course,” she told the duke, walking alongside him to the parlor. She couldn’t help but feel like they were working as a team in this as in so many other matters. It was nice to know that if something untoward happened she would have someone beside her who would guide her along. Even if it was only for a little while. “I am pleased you are taking an interest,” she said aloud. “First a trip to the dressmaker’s and now a visit with a governess.”

“Do not tell anyone,” Trevor said with a crooked grin. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

But Isabella knew that the only reputation this man could boast of was that of true gentleman. Definitely not something she could say about most men of her acquaintance.

Nine

The first thing to enter Isabella’s mind upon seeing the woman waiting for them in the sitting room was a mental image of a mourning dove.

The card Templeton had given Isabella noted the lady’s name as Miss Winifred Nightingale. Dressed from head to toe in gray, the governess whom Perdita had sent was certainly suited to the role. Of Miss Nightingale’s surname, however, she was woefully misrepresentative. Unless of course she liked to sing in the evenings.

As Isabella and Trevor entered the room, the woman rose from her perch on the settee and offered them both a very correct, very deep curtsy. And as befitting her station, the lady waited for them to speak first.

“Miss Nightingale,” Isabella said, acknowledging the woman’s greeting with an inclined head. “I presume you have been sent here by the Duchess of Ormonde.”

“Yes, my lady,” the governess said with a nod. Her golden hair was pulled quite severely atop her head in a very proper, very serviceable chignon. She had removed her bonnet, which was no doubt just as nondescript as her gown. But there was little she could do to hide the fineness of her features, try as she might to disguise her cornflower blue eyes behind a pair of spectacles. “I believe the duchess said that there are two young ladies here in need of a governess.”

Isabella and Trevor stepped farther into the chamber, and while Isabella took a seat on the chair opposite the newcomer Trevor stepped forward to stand with his back to the fire, his arms crossed, as if waiting for the women to begin the discussion.

For all that Miss Nightingale had tried to hide her fine looks, however, it was impossible not to see that in the right gown and the right coiffure the young woman would be stunning. Remembering the governesses who had gone before, Isabella slanted a glance at Trevor to determine whether he was moved by the beauty of the governess, but he did not seem to be affected. Instead he said, “I have two sisters who are in need of your care, ma’am. Eleanor, the eldest, is seventeen and will be making her come-out next year. Belinda, who is thirteen, is still in the schoolroom. I presume you are equally able to instruct them both?”

Showing no signs of infatuation with the duke, Miss Nightingale nodded. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said, pulling a letter from her reticule and handing it to him. “Here are my references. One from the Countess of Cornwall and one from Miss Beeton, who was my employer at Miss Beeton’s Home for Young Ladies. I believe you will find everything in order.”

Isabella noted with approval the mention of Miss Beeton’s school. The academy had a good reputation, and Isabella wondered if, like many other of the teachers, Miss Nightingale had once been a student there. “You have the usual abilities to instruct the girls in music and art, I hope. Miss Eleanor in particular is quite gifted artistically and could do with a bit of guidance on that score.”

Miss Nightingale turned to Isabella. “Yes, my lady. I am able to instruct the girls in art, music, needlework, geography, and even, if it is desired, the classics and Latin. I can assure you that I am well able to do whatever is necessary to prepare young ladies for their entrance into society. And I am able to do so without succumbing to the charms of the master of the house.”

If Isabella had been drinking something she would have showered the room with it. She could not hold back a laugh.

But Trevor did not find the words so amusing. “I am not in the habit of seducing the females in my employ, Miss Nightingale.”

“I take it my sister told you of the previous governesses in this household, Miss Nightingale?” Isabella asked, giving Trevor a speaking look. It would not do to frighten their only candidate for governess before she even began the job.

But Miss Nightingale was clearly not one to be scared away by a bit of masculine bluster. “Indeed she did, Lady Wharton,” the governess said carefully. “If I may be frank, I am quite capable of keeping to my station. I fear that young women who find themselves needing to seek employment as governesses are often too young and impressionable for the position. Though the master of the house, and at times the sons, do sometimes see the governess as an object of desire and take advantage, other times the governess strays into the unfortunate habit of seeing her employer as a romantic hero. I will not tolerate the former, and I would not stoop to the latter. I am here to do a job, and I will do so to the best of my abilities. And I have no intention of falling in love with anyone in the process.”

Isabella could not help but be impressed. It took a great deal of self-possession to speak plainly about such delicate topics, but Miss Nightingale had managed to do so without insulting Trevor or her past employers. Isabella had little doubt that some of those past employers had been so foolish as to see the pretty young woman as a target for their lust. She hoped that Miss Nightingale had put them in their place. Isabella did not like the idea of the proud young woman before her being made to suffer the unwanted attentions of men who saw her as little more than a toy for their amusement. Sometime she despised men.

“I thank you for your frankness,” Trevor said, his earlier pique replaced by something that looked like admiration. Isabella felt a pang somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. It was all well and good for her to appreciate Miss Nightingale’s strength, but she hadn’t counted on Trevor noticing the quality as well. “I can assure you that while you are in my employ you will suffer no untoward advances from me or my male servants.”

“I believe my sister explained to you the terms under which the duke is willing to offer you the position?” Isabella asked, suddenly wishing, for reasons she was not ready to examine, for the interview to be at an end.

If Miss Nightingale noticed anything untoward in Lady Isabella’s manner, however, she did not say anything about it. “Indeed, Lady Wharton, the duchess was quite clear about the terms and I am prepared to take them. I know that Miss Eleanor is to make her debut next year, so there is no doubt much to be done to prepare her. I presume both girls have had dance lessons?”

Trevor frowned. “I really could not say, Miss Nightingale. I made sure that the other governesses saw to their academic instruction, but as to the social niceties, I have no idea.”

Miss Nightingale gave a brisk nod. “I will see to it if they have not. We have a year to prepare for Miss Eleanor’s London debut, after all.”

“But there is a local ball to which Eleanor will receive an invitation,” Isabella said. “Perhaps we could have some sort of instruction in the coming week to ensure that she will not embarrass herself.”

Unfazed by the news, the governess simply said, “I believe that will be quite possible.” Her tone conveying just the right blend of authority and obedience, Miss Nightingale continued, “If there is nothing further, I would like to be shown to my room, and then meet the young ladies.”

Exchanging a look with Trevor, who raised his brows in approbation, Isabella led Miss Nightingale from the room and up to the attics where her room would be.

It was not until they were on the stairs that Isabella realized Trevor had deferred to her in the matter. As if she were the mistress of Nettlefield. It was an unsettling realization, not only because she was in fact an unwelcome houseguest but also because she was confused to realize just how right performing the duty felt. If she weren’t careful she’d find herself falling in love with the master of the house just like the previous governesses had done.

And that, she knew, would be far more dangerous than anything her late husband had ever inflicted upon her.

*   *   *

“What the devil is the matter with you?” Blakemore demanded in lieu of greeting the next morning as Trevor rode toward him. “You look as if you wish to throttle someone. And I know it can’t be me, because my winning personality does not inspire men to murder.”

Any other day, Trevor would have responded to his friend’s humor with a good-natured setdown. But the duke had spent the night before trying to forget Thistleback’s insidious words about Isabella and failing miserably. That the baronet had considered Trevor might not find his words offensive was disgusting enough, but that he had attempted to poison the duke against Isabella made his blood boil.

He had never understood the sort of man who considered ladies fair game for his casual scorn. To Trevor’s mind a gentleman had an obligation to protect not just the ladies in his care but all women from harm of any kind. That Isabella had suffered both emotional and physical harm from her husband was infuriating. But Thistleback compounded the abuse by carrying the tales to whoever would listen. God knew how many other members of the
ton
the fop had told the story. And short of making the fellow leave the country, there was little Trevor could do to stop him from carrying his hateful tales to whomever he met.

“Not in the mood for chatter today, Blakemore,” Trevor growled, knowing he was being an ass but doing it anyway. “Let’s just ride.”

If Blakemore thought it odd that his normally good-natured friend was barely civil, he did not make mention of it. Instead he guided his horse after Trevor’s, and the two men set off on a cross-country gallop that made conversation impossible.

Grateful for the other man’s acceptance, Trevor gave the stallion his head and lost himself in the concentration necessary to ensure neither he nor the horse was injured in the course of their ride. The terrain of the moors and the stark countryside had led more than one man to his death, and Trevor had no plans to become one of them. Even so, he rode harder than he normally did, relishing the way that his body became one with the horse as they tore across the countryside.

Finally, sensing that Beowulf needed a bit of rest, Trevor let the horse slow down and come to a stop near the edge of a rocky hillock.