Page 18 of The Iron Duke's Flaming Christmas
She took a deep breath. “I am sorry to disturb you, Your Grace.” She hesitated. “But I wished to tell you that Lady Lenore was very disappointed that she did not get a chance to hear the carolers sing today.”
He put down his quill, arching his eyebrows. “You disturbed me to tell me that? What of it? My daughter must learn to deal with disappointment in life—as we all do.”
Selene’s anger flared to life again, in blazing glory, at his instant dismissal of his daughter’s feelings.
“Do you not care at all that she pined at the library window, watching them leave, for over ten minutes?” Selene’s voice was tight with outrage. “What harm would it have done to let her listen to them sing? You did not have to listen to themyourself if it offends you so much. But your daughter deserves to have some simple pleasures of the season, Your Grace.”
Selene folded her hands in front of her again, trying to gaze at him steadily, without flinching. He was very intimidating, and she knew why most of the servants scuttled around him, fearful of provoking his wrath.
The air was so thick with tension that Selene was sure it could be cut with a knife. He kept scowling at her. She forced herself to maintain eye contact. If she dropped her gaze, she would be telling him that she could be cowed, and her anger was stronger than her fear of his disapproval. At least in this particular moment.
“It is really none of your business, Miss Bomind,” he growled. “You are employed to educate my daughter. You are not employed to tell me how to raise her or question my decisions regarding her. You overstep your station.”
“Perhaps I am overstepping it,” she rejoined, her throat dry. “And I apologize for that. But part of my responsibility is ensuring the emotional wellbeing of my pupil, as well as educating her.” She took a deep breath. “Besides, it would have been good for her education to listen to the singing. Singing well is a sign of accomplishment in a lady. Is it not?”
He looked bemused. “Yes, singing well is considered an accomplishment in a lady.” He leaned back in his chair, studying her carefully. “Have you done something different to your hair?”
Selene’s hand flew to her hair, so startled by the question, the sudden change in topic, that she couldn’t think how to respond for a moment.
Her face reddened. She had done something different—she had intertwined some small braids into her bun. She had no idea what had possessed her to do such a frivolous thing. She wasn’t usually given to such vanity.
You know why you did it, even if you did not do it consciously. You know you wanted to look pretty for him in case you encountered him in the hallway.
“It suits you,” he continued, his eyes narrowing. “You do not look as buttoned up as you normally do.” His eyes lingered on her hair in an almost lazy way. “Now I am picturing you with it down, flowing around your shoulders. That would suit you, as well.”
Selene’s face was burning with embarrassment. But she also felt a quick stab of pleasure at his obvious admiration. Their eyes locked and held.
She felt the pull toward him again, stronger than ever. It was as if he had cast a fishing line at her, hooking her, and reeling her in. Her heart lurched. She should never have come here. What had she been thinking?
You should not have done this. You let your anger overtake you again. You know it is dangerous to even be in the same room with him alone. And yet you sought this confrontation, when you could have let it go. Why?
“I am not here to talk about my hair,” she said, a bit desperately, trying to control the situation. “I am here to talk about Lady Lenore and what is best for her.”
She felt the tension between them snap. His face changed, the warmth in his eyes replaced by coldness, once again.
“As I said, the decisions I make regarding my daughter are none of your concern,” he replied curtly. “You should leave, Miss Bomind, before you say something you may regret. Thank you.”
Selene’s lips thinned. She had been dismissed, as sharply as any servant. He simply wasn’t capable of discussing his daughter’s welfare in a rational way.
But then again, she had already known how he would respond before she had even walked into the room, hadn’t she? She had known it was pointless. His position about Christmas, or anything associated with it, was implacable.
Selene felt it was such a shame. Despite her position and the fact she has more toys than Selene had ever seen in her life, Lady Lenore has never experienced the simple joy of Christmas.
But what can I do about it? He will not listen to me. I am just the governess.
“As you wish, Your Grace,” she replied, through gritted teeth. “I can see that you are not open to the discussion. My apologies. It really is none of my concern, as you say. Good day.”
She curtsied quickly, before walking out of the room, not looking back.
When she had closed the door, she stopped, leaning against the wall, trying to control her racing heart. When she was certain she was composed, she kept walking down the hallway, cursing herself anew for seeking him out.
It hadn’t done any good. In fact, it had probably made things worse. He was obstinate and didn’t like being challenged. It would probably make him even more implacable about never celebrating Christmas.
Abruptly, she stopped, gazing at an oil portrait on the wall. Mrs. Kittles had told her that it was a portrait of the late duchess. The lady who was the reason why the duke was the way he was. Her name was Mary.
A beautiful woman with auburn hair and fiery eyes gazed back at her. Selene’s heart flipped. The late duchess had been so elegant and refined, as well as beautiful. She could clearly see why the duke had fallen in love with her… and perhaps why he couldn’t stop loving her, even after all these years.
Slowly, she reached up, touching her hair. Her heart flipped. What was she thinking, doing such foolish things to win his admiration? Who exactly did she think she was? He was a duke. He had once been married to this beautiful, regal lady in the portrait in front of her.
