Page 17 of The Secret Life of the Elusive Governess
“No, Oliver, thank you,” Moses replied absently as he entered the stable. Though the smell of hay, horsesweat, and a lingering smell of manure met his nose, the stalls were clean of filth. The elegant carriage horses, swift messenger horses, and stocky field horses were passed by as he led his steed to his stall.
Systematically, the Duke removed the bridle, unbuckled the saddle, removed the blankets, and used a soft brush to calm the risen hairs. With the last brush to the steed’s ears, Moses left the stables and went directly to the mansion. He summoned his valet and ordered a bath for himself.
The Duke had intentionally left out the topic of his gift as he was still unsure about how it had been received. However, Miss Robin’s demeanor had not seemed tense or cautious around him. Another topic that Moses purposely tried to ignore—how soft her skin was.
He had acted impulsively by taking her hand and placing it on Pegasus’ side but when he had thought to release it, he could not force himself to do so. His hand had stayed, cupped over hers, and with conscious effort, he had pressed himself a bit closer to her.
Minutes later he was regretting his impulsive actions and his shame continued to delve deeper inside him.I was like a man dying for water and seeing an oasis right in front of him.
But could he blame himself that strongly? Miss Robins was so brilliant—she had just quoted Ovid. His and Miss Robin’s exchange was short-lived, but just hearing the fluent prose coming from her lips was a welcomed delight. He could not remember a person he had engaged in intellectual conversation with and it was refreshing.
It shamed him slightly that Lavinia had never engaged herself in going beyond what was taught to accomplished young ladies.
I am not begging for a bluestocking, but Lavinia could have taken some initiative and read more than those gothic novels. If Miss Robins could, why could she not?
Instantly, Moses felt ashamed. How could he be comparing his wife, a lady of the peerage, with a servant? By the very nature of their stations in life, they had to be different. Miss Robins was trained to educate and enlighten, therefore she had to study copiously. His wife was trained to have manners, be beautiful, and entertain.
“Moses?”
“Hm?” the Duke said absently while leaving the tub.
Lavinia was sitting on their chaise-lounge, with her morning robe on and her hair still under her silk bonnet. It was a little late for her to still be in nightclothes but at least she was up and about.
“What are you deliberating about, over there?” Lavinia asked as she peered over the edge of her book, “I can hear you thinking.”
“Physically impossible,” Moses teased, “But I was just recalling an interesting conversation I had with Miss Robins a while ago.”
Busy with dressing his person, the Duke did not see the stiffness that took the Duchess’ shoulder nor the fire of anger that flashed in her eyes. He did, however, hear her calm voice, “Pray tell.”
“She happened to come upon me while I was handling Pegasus.” He laughed as the memory of her widened eyes, “She is terribly afraid of horses, Lavinia, so I dared her to touch him. Then all of a sudden, she starts speaking about Ovid, quoting directly from the manuscript how the heavenly steed came into being.”
“I suppose that delighted you, then,” her words had chipped into frosty before mellowing into sweet before he could catch it. “I know how you long for one with intelligent conversation.”
Moses looked over, only to see that her eyes were once again on the pages of the book, “A simple quote is not classified as intelligent conversation, Lavinia. It was just a happy coincidence.”
“If you confess so,” Lavinia dismissed. Her delicate brows were softly knitted in concentration as her eyes ran over a passage.
And now I have been replaced by a tawdry passage in a fantasy novel.Moses shook his head bitterly.
While tying his cravat, he displaced all thought about Lavinia’s inattention and focused on his duties for the day at the town meeting hall, where all the council members for the dukedom deliberated over the dukedom’s affairs. There were meetings with the miners, harvesters, and those in the animal husbandry section. He feared that the meetings would take much longer than scheduled and thought it fair to warn his wife.
“I might be out late this day, Lavinia,” Moses replied while donning his waistcoat, “Please do not wait for me.”
The dismissive sound Lavinia made sparked ire in the Duke, but he swallowed it down. Casting another look over to her, still paying attention to the book and nibbling on a French pastry, he could only shake his head.
It was in times like these that he had to force himself to remember what marriage meant—a lifelong commitment to God, his wife, and his children. Looking back into the mirror, he straightened his jacket and combed an unruly lock back into place, while taking care to not notice the deadness in his eyes.
* * *
The motes of dust kicked up from the carriage wheels were still lingering in the air as her husband was whisked off to town. Lavinia’s arms tightened around her waist as a cold hatred for the governess settled into her stomach.
“Do you think you can replace me with that chit, Moses?” Lavinia snapped to thin air. “If you think you can depose of me—a lady—for a tawdry, insignificant servant, you will rue the very day she stepped foot into this house. She is living far too easy, for too long, and with too many powers. I will make sure she knows her place.”
Chapter 8
“Are you listening to me, Your Grace?” Moses’ steward, Mr. Baron Reddington, said respectfully, his curt words snapping the Duke out of his semi-trance. The two were in the Dukes’ study working on a payment process for some workers.
“I believe so,” Moses sighed, as in truth he really hadn’t been. “You are telling me that the workers in the cattle-rearing are about to…strike?”
