Page 40 of The Secret Life of the Elusive Governess
Her head snapped to him and he knew her fright. What aristocrat in their right mind, one who was born to know and adhere to the lines of status, would give a female servant permission to call them by their given name? If he was thinking it, he knew she was doing the same.
“I cannot do that, Your Grace.” Caroline's voice stuttered. “It is impossible for me to address you so informally.”
“Yes, you can,” Moses was resolute, “Say it to yourself until you feel comfortable. When we are alone, I need you to call me Moses.”
Her hesitation was visible, “Is this an order, Your Grace?”
If it means that I can hear your voice, to hear you speak to me with real caring, and appreciation—yes.
“It is so ordered, Miss Robins.”
Moses knew he was going against the proprieties by being so informal with her, but he didn’t care. If his self-control was not so strong and his sense of honor so deep-rooted in him, he would have broken another propriety—God knew he wanted to kiss her.
Her blush was lovely, as the pale virgin pink of a young rosebud, “I am honored… Moses.”
A warmth filled his chest, and the Duke stood and raised her with him. “Now, forget this fallacy of dismissal and go rest. Believe in me.”
She nodded softly, and Moses could not resist brushing his thumb over her wrist. “Goodnight, Caroline.”
Striding out, the Duke knew he had left her in mystified wonder but that was fine with him. What he needed to do was fulfil his word. Caroline would not be leaving the estate that night, or ever, if he had anything to do with it.
Chapter 16
Peregrine hated procrastination almost as much as he hated waiting for the evidence to be gathered. Mr. Barton was deliberately hemming and hawing and it was such a shame that Peregrine could not reach out and throttle him, as he needed the man’s information.
“Are you sated?” The Earl asked through clenched teeth.
Mr. Barton wiped his mouth with a pure linen napkin and nodded, “Your cook really knows how to roast a good pheasant. Give her my compliments.”
Peregrine forcefully opened his jaw and just as he was going to give the man an earful about extorting him into giving him dinner before handing over the information, Mr. Barton laughed.
“Calm down, My Lord, before you push yourself into apoplexy.” He reached for his wine glass and sipped the rich red liquid, “I followed your orders and went door-to-door in the three towns beyond the church and got mostly nothing. It was understandable, as no one would care for a little, wretched orphan. But then things got interesting…I happened up the Barony of Rowe, way out in the countryside, and there, My Lord, there were many interesting things said regarding our little orphan…”
* * *
Caroline had barely slept the past few hours. After her intimate tête-à-tête with the Duke, she had gone back to the room in a haze of disbelief about what had just taken place.
Mrs. Willow’s words were right. “The anger that flashed in his eyes was nothing calm. You have a champion in your corner, dear.”Caroline had both heard and seen his anger and felt amazed that it was all for her.
After sitting in her amazement for a while, she had tried to do what the Duke had asked her to—to say his name. At first, it felt like she was uttering a sacrilege. She had no right speaking the Duke’s name with such familiarity but it soon got easier.
“Moses…” she had whispered to herself in her dark.
She made sure to say it in the dark, where the world of fantasy was alive. The cold, hard reality of light would have shattered the world she was creating around herself—one where the Duke saw her as more than the governess.
“Moses…” she spoke softly, “Moses, Hebrew for a deliverer.”
Her fingers were wrapped with the handkerchief he had given her and if she concentrated hard enough, she could smell the faint scent of his cologne.Is he delivering me?
No, it was impossible…but the way he had said her name, with such tenderness. Did it mean what she wanted it to?
Finally succumbing to sleep she murmured, “Hope springs eternal.”
* * *
This has to stop!
Moses could not believe this was happening in his own home. What kind of discord was Lavinia brewing? He had had enough. There was no hesitation when he strode through the door and saw Lavinia sitting on a chaise-lounge with a glass of sherry in hand.
