Page 28 of The Secret Life of the Elusive Governess
Three games later, the Duke came to rue his offer as he had been bested thrice.
“I cannot believe you’ve bested me, Miss Robins.” The Duke grumbled while slumping back in his chair, “Not once butfour timesfor God’s sake.”
Caroline smiled and folded her hands on her lap. “To be honest, you had me cornered many times, Your Grace, but in your planning, you do maximize on using the Queen and the knight while you ignore your rook and disregard the power of the bishop.”
“Never again, Miss Robins,” the Duke of Barley promised, with his eyes leisurely roaming over her face, “Never again.”
Feeling daring, Caroline took up a bishop and held it in front of the Duke, “Recognize his power, Your Grace.”
She probably should have expected his reaction, but no mental preparation could have grounded her for the feel of his touch as he reached out and took the piece from her. His touch was so warm and his gaze so light that Caroline allowed herself to dream again.
“From now on, I promise,” His Grace said softly while sliding the piece from her hand to his palm. “Have a good night, Miss Robins.”
It was incomprehensible, but Caroline felt the world narrow around her. The connection she felt with the Duke was so intimate that it scared her even more than before.
Gathering her faculties from the four corners of the earth where they had been scattered to, Caroline stood and curtseyed, “Thank you and goodnight, Your Grace.”
And I keep allowing myself to fall deeper and deeper when I know I should not.Caroline mourned,He can never love me, not with what and who I am.
Chapter 12
“Curses!” The Earl of Crampton spat as he dropped the letter recently received from the Institute of the Blessed Virgin on the Barley’s governess, Miss Robins. There was nothing—absolutely nothing—there that he could use against her.
The report from Mother Superior Agnes about her was a lauded one. The affirmations and praise this woman gained from the head nun sickened him. It felt like the nun was extolling the Queen of France instead of a simple, worthless governess.
“…helpful, gracious, exceedingly brilliant…” the Earl mocked. “…wonderful, compassionate, lovely in all manners,this is pure drivel. I am surprised that with all these accomplishments and praise she hasn’t been given the title of Saint.”
Scoffing, the Earl leaned back in his chair. The only morsel of information that he counted relevant to his purpose was that it was a lay sister who had found Miss Robins as a young child, shivering on the doorstep of the church one night, and had taken her in. The child had not told them much, only that she had come from a few towns to the west and did not remember her parents.
“Which towns are west of the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Stockton, Wiltshire?” Peregrine asked himself, as he tried to picture the area and the areas near it, but sadly, came up with hazed memories or entirely blank. Thankfully, though, he had people to find out for him—he rang the bell before resuming his place.
Quickly after the summons, his butler, Mr. Wesley, appeared at the door, “Good day, My Lord, how may I serve you?”
“Mr. Wesley, I need you to summon Mr. Barton from Canterfield Commons,” the Earl of Crampton ordered definitively. “I need his investigative services.”
“It will be done, My Lord,” Mr. Wesley replied, “Is that all?”
Peregrine considered, “Some sherry, Mr. Wesley, the good kind, not the watered-down imitation we use to stretch our liquor for unwanted guests.”
“Understood,” the butler bowed, “I will have it sent to you presently.”
With the manservant gone, Peregrine took out a sheet of paper and started to write down what specifically he needed from Mr. Barton, the sleuth.
There has to be someone who remembers the child. Somehow, some way, I will find out.
* * *
Moses was not a man of too much internal debate. Having grown under the leadership of his father—the late Duke, Charles Hayward, a man of swift decision—Moses had gained the ability to make clear and decisive pronouncements without too much mental strain.
However, when it came to Miss Robins, the Duke felt as if he was submerged in the farthest depths of the ocean. Everything about her called to him. Her visage was beautiful, her mind was enthralling, and he knew that he had not even cracked the surface of all her talents.
She can draw with the best, play chess like a master, recite old tomes with ease, and good God, she’s stunning.
The Duke had never felt drawn to a person—any person—like he was being drawn to Miss Robins.
Caroline… her name is Caroline.
Just thinking of her Christian name felt so intimate that he knew he could never just think of her as Miss Robins anymore. Moses openly acknowledged that he had never deliberated over Lavinia this much. In fact, the Duchess had never captivated his mind to the level that Caroline had.
