Page 2 of The Secret Life of the Elusive Governess
Caroline swallowed her anxiety and tried to soothe the child even more when a deep baritone broke the uneasy air. Instantly upon hearing it, her breath stopped in her chest.
“Josephine,” Moses Hayward, the Duke of Barley came towards them, his stride assured and strong. “What is the matter, little duck?”
The Duke, dressed in a dark riding habit, coat and waistcoat of the darkest blue trimmed and embroidered with black, was coming towards them. Caroline lowered her eyes as he came closer.
To compound his power and air of command, the Duke was strikingly handsome and had a magnetic persona that never failed to draw eyes to him. Broad shoulders crowned a compact torso, that led to long, powerful legs. His face, square and sculpted, held a defined jaw, patrician nose, and deep—so verydeep—verdant eyes under hooded brows.
Caroline’s throat was suddenly dry, and her heart was beating a steady and increasing thrum in her chest. Whenever the Duke was near, she always found herself out of sorts. Her body didn’tfollow its normal rhythm, she felt flushed, even as anxiety sent cold shivers through her, and her mind never ceased to stop spinning.
After the first three times they met, Caroline deduced that her reaction to him was of fear—and rightly so. Anyone who knew their position on the social ladder—especially a governess like herself, a veritable servant—would be fearful to their core. The Duke had such integral power and authority that she felt insignificant near him.
“How do you do, Miss Robins?” His smooth, velvety but monotone voice flowed over her and her head jerked up in sudden reaction. Her body nearly followed but the weight on her lap prevented her from rising.
She managed a tiny smile even though her stomach was turning and tying itself in knots.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace. I am well, thank you. Forgive me for not standing, but how do you do on this fair day?”
“I am about to relieve you of your burden, Miss Robins. Please hand her to me,” the Duke said, as he reached out with both hands to take his quietly sobbing child.
Caroline made sure to shift in a way that he could take Josephine without any contact, but his fingers still brushed against the sleeves of her dark green dress. The touch was light, but Caroline still felt the fleeting touch run through her clothes into her skin.
When Josephine was in the Duke’s arms, Caroline stood and curtseyed, “Thank you, Your Grace.”
Her words did not grant her a reply as, instead of speaking to her, the Duke softly murmured to Josephine. The picture she saw calmed the turmoil in her chest. The Duke held the little girl with such serenity that Caroline could not help but smile.
For a young aristocrat of five-and-thirty, the Duke spent hours upon hours governing his Dukedom, taking care of tenants, and making sure he balanced his home duties and governmental ones. However, she knew that no matter how tired he was from his daily activities, or how busy he was with matters that dragged well into the night, he still made time to see his children—in lieu of his wife.
Caroline had seen the Duchess one or twice, at most, in the past three months and even then, the beautiful lady looked like a phantasm. Her hair was more golden and luminescent than her youngest child’s, her face elfin and gorgeous, but the reason Caroline classed her as an apparition was the deadness in her blue eyes.
“Miss Robins,” the Duke said over his shoulder, “Please notify the cook to make some warm milk and some buttered toast and take them to the drawing room on the second floor. I will carry her inside.”
Caroline faltered for a moment as she was imprinting the image of the Duke and his child on the shelf of her mind before she nodded and dipped into another curtsey. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Turning on her heel, Caroline took the cobblestone path to one of the numerous back doors and just before she entered, stopped and touched her arm. Her fingers fluttered over the spot and felt the touch again—only this time it felt stronger.
* * *
While comforting Josephine, Moses felt the weight of the governess’ eyes in the middle of his back but did not turn to meet her gaze. The majority of his attention was trained on the child resting in his arms. He had come a tad too late to know why his daughter was crying but that didn’t matter. She was upset and, as her father, he needed to take care of her.
But that did not downplay the presence of Miss Robins. The governess had arrived at his home three months ago. The moment he had seen her in his foyer, his first thought was,how is she a governess? She is stunning…
Her eyes were so deep a blue they looked black, rimmed with long, dark lashes, and the burnished glint of her dark auburn hair framed a delicate oval face.
For a moment, he had wondered if perhaps his coachman had carried the wrong person to his home—a debutante instead of a governess. However, she had ended that idea after the cordial introduction.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” she had spoken in a soft, gentle voice, “I am Miss Caroline Robins, the governess.”
Her soft demeanor, calm words, and kind gestures had made an impression on him and he felt drawn to her. Though she was a governess, she looked so delicate and so gentle that Moses had felt a strange protectiveness towards her.
There were days after when Moses saw her and noticed a cloak of loneliness around her. He was forced to admit that he felt a kindred spirit in her as he, too, was somewhat isolated.
At other moments when he found her alone, there was a calm peace around her that contradicted the loneliness, which intrigued him even more.
However, his thoughts should not be upon the governess, as his child was in his arms—she was his priority.
“Dry your eyes, little duck,” Moses whispered in her ear. “You are too beautiful for tears.”
Hushing Josephine softly, Moses plucked a flower from a bush and tucked it behind his child's ear. Kissing her forehead, he carried her back to the house and to the intimate drawing room instead of the formal dining room.
