Page 8 of The Secret Life of the Elusive Governess
“My pleasure, Your Grace,” Hinds bowed where he stood. “Should I summon her for you?”
“No,” Moses sighed, while reaching out for his quill and a sheet of paper, “I’ll do that in my own time. You are dismissed, Hinds.”
“Good day, Your Grace.”
The door closed before Moses started scribbling his ideas of how to approach the governess and halfway through them he stalled his hand and stared at the lines on the paper.
“Am I…” He wondered while looking at his handwriting, “How old am I that I am scripting my conversation for a woman? Twelve, fourteen… a nervous lad? God forbid.”
Snorting at his ridiculousness, Moses crushed the sheet. He then went back to balancing the accounts on the reports his steward had collected, and resolutely ignored it when his eyes strayed to the crumpled paper.
* * *
While Josephine was working on her penmanship and Nicholas was struggling through his advanced arithmetic, Caroline had her primary sketchbook open and was idly making outlines of the two children.
The lesson was about to end in thirteen minutes and she was passing the time while the two children worked. Her eyes were shifting between the clock and her pencil as the time clicked away.
She had just added some whimsical tufts to Nicholas’ hair when the time stuck twelve. She dropped her pencil and cleared her throat.
“It is time, Lord Hayward and Lady Josephine, please close your books. You are free to go to your midday meal,” Caroline announced evenly.
“Thank God,” the boy muttered under his breath. Caroline pretended to not hear it.
“I am finished, Miss Robins,” Josephine said sweetly, as she stood up and straightened her cornflower blue dress.
“Lord Hayward, please accompany your sister to your meal and we will reconvene in an hour,” Caroline added sternly, while she held the door open.
“Come on,” Nicholas grunted under his breath but his hold on Josephine was gentle. Caroline smiled as her suspicions about Nicholas were right—he did care for his sister.
After collecting the children’s workbooks, Caroline smoothed her skirts and sat. She opened Josephine’s and saw with growing satisfaction how her handwriting was coming along, though her cursive letter ‘W’ needed some work.
She then opened Nicholas’s book to check his math and, to her surprise, noted that his answers were all correct.
“Hm, from his sour attitude you would suspect he was performing the twelve labors of Hercules,” Caroline noted to herself.
A brisk knock was then accompanied by the Duke’s polite inquiry, “May I come, in Miss Robins?”
Without fail, the tone of the Duke’s voice sent her heart into palpitations. She looked up and allowed a gentle smile to cross her face while she stood, “Of course, Your Grace, you are always welcome.”
He strode in and she reflected how his simple, casual dress was as luxurious as his formal clothes. His morning attire was a lovely combination of buckskin breeches and clawhammer coat, with the edges of his starched shirt showing at the neck with his tucked-in cravat.
“How may I help you, Your Grace?” Caroline added as she gestured for her employer to sit and then softly retook her place. Every intention of marking the children’s’ work vanished away.
“This morning I was musing on how you have accomplished so much with both my children and I was wondering what I could do to personally thank you.” The Duke spoke in an expressive undertone.
Caroline felt dumbstruck. Was the Duke offering her…a gift? Her heart started pounding even more and she felt heat rush to her cheeks.
“That is not necessary, Your Grace,” Caroline answered humbly, “I am not in need of anything at the present.”
He shook his head and the unruly strands of his hair coiled over his collar, “I refuse to accept that, Miss Robins. There must be something.”
The warmth grew stronger in her cheeks and Caroline felt that she was turning scarlet under the heat of his stare. “I am assured, Your Grace, nothing is needed.”
A soft silence hovered between them while an evaluating look was on the Duke’s face. Caroline stilled when he sat forward and silently reached over to the right side of her arm. Her breath was slowly drawn in at his proximity and her throat felt so tight that she knew trying to speak in the next moments would be an embarrassing mistake.
His fingers landed on her sketchbook and he slowly slid it towards him. “I’ve seen you with this book many a time, but I have not had a chance to see your work….” Her breath was burning in her stilled lungs when the Duke dropped his eye to the page and his eyebrows lifted, “Are these…my children, Miss Robins?”
It was a miracle how Caroline found her voice, “Yes, Your Grace, but they are only simple sketches, captured while they were working this morning.”
