Page 14 of The Iron Duke's Flaming Christmas
He sighed again, taking a fresh piece of parchment, dipping his quill in the inkpot. He had no choice—he must tell Lord Mastiff that his daughter was welcome to stay as long as she liked, of course. He gritted his teeth as his hand flew across the page.
Damn social etiquette intruding on his solitude and peace!
There was a knock at the door. He didn’t look up from his writing. “Come in.”
He heard the door opening. Someone was standing there. Frowning, he finished his letter, glancing up as he reached for a piece of blotting paper. He froze.
Miss Bomind was standing there, gazing at him, her large green eyes filled with uncertainty. As their eyes met, she sunk into a low curtsy. “Your Grace.”
“Yes?” He stared at her, trying to ignore the instant leap of his flesh. “What do you want?”
She took a deep breath. “I merely wanted to talk to you about Lady Lenore’s progress today…”
He gaped at her. “My daughter’s progress? Do you mean how much more she wrote about that common beetle?” He gave a bark of laughter. “You are pushing your luck a bit, Miss Bomind. I let your unconventional approach go this morning and you should have counted your blessings and let it be.”
Instantly, her eyes started flashing. He leaned back in his chair, watching her, enjoying it, telling himself that he wasn’t deliberately provoking her just to see that flash in her eyes, the way she drew herself up in that queenly manner, the way she tilted her chin proudly. But he knew it was a lie, or at least, not the total truth.
“Lady Lenore accomplished a great deal,” she insisted, a vein starting to twitch in her neck. “Yes, she wrote about a common beetle, but what does it matter what she writes about, as long as she is writing?”
Fascinated, he fixed his eyes on that twitching vein in her neck, imagining kissing her just there, placing his lips over it, smelling her, tasting her…
Stop it. Do not let your mind run away with you. Listen to what she is saying!
“And it is a serious subject,” she continued, her nostrils flaring. “It is biological science, Your Grace. The study of living creatures. Observation of creatures in their environment, drawing them, labelling them, writing about them.”
He laughed softly. “My daughter is hardly a budding naturalist, Miss Bomind, nor should she be encouraged to be any such thing. She is a lady, who must learn how to write a letter, read a menu, play the pianoforte and sketch a landscape.” He paused, gazing at her steadily. “You are just indulging her. I will let it pass this once, but you must focus on a more serious line of study. You cannot take her gallivanting in the grounds every day, picking the focus of the lesson of the day at random.”
“I do not understand what is wrong with that,” she replied, a stubborn set to her jaw. “We would be concentrating on things that interest her, sparking her natural curiosity, which is half the battle with learning! Why would you insist that she should be doing boring writing drills instead, which are completely divorced from the real world?”
He drummed his fingers on the desk, feeling a spark of irritation, as well as arousal. It always seemed to go hand in hand where she was concerned.
“Because that is the way it is done,” he said, fixing her with a stern look, which usually made his servants cringe. However, it wasn’t having the same effect on Miss Bomind, who was gazing back at him coolly. “That is the way lessonsare always done. You would argue with years of tradition and the experience of tutors, schoolmasters, and governesses, with vastly more experience than yourself?”
She shifted on her feet, pursing her lips. He suddenly noticed the dimples in her cheeks, as well as the fact that the vein twitching in her neck was still pulsing. Another wave of desire swept over him, even stronger than before.
“And you found such lessons interesting, Your Grace?” Her voice was firm. “For I know that I did not. I almost died of boredom.” She paused. “It was only when I stumbled upon something I found interesting that my desire for learning was inflamed. I am simply using the same principle with your daughter.”
“It is tradition,” he repeated, leaning forward in his chair, frowning. “It is the way it has always been done!”
“Just because something has always been done a certain way does not make it right,” she argued, flushing brightly. “Lady Lenore is spirited, and she is easily bored. It might be half the reason she drove her previous governesses away.”
He stiffened, glaring at her. She seemed to realize it, for she abruptly stopped speaking, biting her lip, looking uncertain.
Slowly, he got up, walking around the desk, until he was standing only inches away from her. She froze, hesitating. Hewaited for her to hastily take a step back, but she didn’t. Instead, she raised her chin higher, looking him straight in the eye.
He felt a sharp response in his loins. How beautiful she was, and how spirited. And she was clever, too. Maybe too clever for her own good, for she often let her tongue run away with her.
“Are you suggesting that it is my daughter’s fault that governesses do not stay long at Trenton House, Miss Bomind?” His tone was low and sensual “Are you being impertinent?”
Her flush deepened. “I am not suggesting that, Your Grace. I do not intend to be impertinent. I am merely trying to do what is best for your daughter.” She sighed heavily. “Do you not want her to succeed? Do you not want her to settle and embrace learning, rather than constantly fighting it?”
He blinked rapidly, disarmed by her question. “Of course I want her success! But there is a right and a wrong way to achieve it, Miss Bomind. Proper protocols must be followed. You are inexperienced. I do not want my daughter to be an experiment—for you to test your outlandish theories about education upon her.”
She winced, as if he had reached out and slapped her across the face. Anger raced across her face, before she managed to compose herself. She took a deep, ragged breath, looking him straight in the eye.
“I did not mean to offend you, Your Grace,” she said slowly, visibly swallowing. “I am sorry I disturbed you.”
He couldn’t help taking another small step toward her, entranced by her, taking a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. He tried to not notice how her breasts were rising and falling with it, nor how the fabric of her gown clung to them, accentuating their shape.
