Page 67 of Never Beguile a Duke
“I choose Miss Fernsby-Webb.”
The name caused his heart to stutter.
“She’s not seeking a position.”
Yet…
He had promised to help Miss Fernsby-Webb secure a governess position after her sister’s wedding, and offering employment at his residence would prevent her from leaving Wiltshire—and him—forever.
Then he’d have the time to convince her that the merits of a marriage to him outweighed the detriments.
“Write down three qualifications you think a governess should possess,” Silas said, dragging his suspenders up his arms, “and I shall endeavor to find a woman who matches those attributes.”
“I can’t,” Juliette’s voice cracked.
“I cannot think of the qualities for you,” he replied as he pulled on a clean, white muslin shirt.
Juliette spun around, her hazel eyes welling up. “I-I can’t write.”
Hiding his shock at her revelation, Silas strode across the floor, dropped to his knees, and gathered Juliette in a tight hug. She sobbed on his shoulder, her little body trembling.
“Should I assume that you cannot read either?” he asked, keeping his tone gentle.
She sniffed and, rubbing her nose on his shirt, shook her head.
“Then, I suggest patience as one of the qualifications. However,”—he waited until she lifted her face—“if you think of three more, I will record them in an advertisement and submit that notice to the newspaper.”
Juliette chewed on her lower lip, then nodded, her head moving in a blur. She grabbed Silas’ sleeve and dragged him from the bedchamber, through the corridor, and into her room.
“Miss Gregory,” Juliette said, her voice clear, “your services are no longer needed.”
The young woman glanced at Silas, uncertainty hovering in her blue eyes, but he provided her no comfort. Instead, he bowed and gestured toward the open doorway.
“Mr. Aylett will pay you for the week and return you to town,” Silas said, moving behind Juliette and placing his hands on her shoulders.
“Have I done something wrong?” Miss Gregory asked, the whine in her breathy voice grating his patience.
“You’ve displeased my daughter.”
“I’ve had only an hour with her, Your Grace.”
“And within that hour, you managed to prove yourself unfit to be her governess.” His hands flexed protectively on Juliette’s shoulders. “Leave this moment.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Miss Gregory curtsied, collected a small, worn valise from the corner of the room, and departed without acknowledging Juliette.
Spinning around, Juliette flung her arms around his waist and squeezed him tight. Then she dropped onto an exquisite cream rug, sorted through several papers filled with pastel scribbles, and unearthed a blank one. After she retrieved a black pastel nub from a tiny wooden box, she handed both items to Silas, who took a seat beside her.
“My governess,” she said, pointing at the page, “must possess a desire for adventure, a kind heart, and an interest in the unexplained.”
Head bent, Silas scribbled his daughter’s requirements, added ‘patience’ at the bottom of the paper, then silently read over the list.
Juliette had just described Miss Fernsby-Webb.
“I will have Mr. Aylett place the advertisement in tomorrow’s newspaper,” Silas said, his attention pulled to a horrifying portrait fashioned from thick black lines.
Leaning over, he plucked the disturbing drawing from the floor. “Who is this?”
“Mr. Black,” Juliette replied as a shudder rolled through her. “I thought the picture would help identify him.”
