Page 29 of His Godsent Duchess
With that, she curtsied again—far too politely, Christina thought—and took her leave.
Christina stood there for a moment, alone in the drawing room, her thoughts unsettled. The governess's behavior had been too cordial, too deferential. It was as though Miss Peversly was playing some game, and Christina wasn't quite sure of the rules.
As she exited the room, a chill ran down her spine, though she couldn't quite explain why. All she knew was that the sooner Miss Peversly left Kilton Castle, the better.
Twelve
Victor stood in front of the tall windows behind his desk, staring out blindly at the moonlit gardens. The light from the full moon cast silvery beams across the neatly manicured hedges, but he found no solace in the view tonight.
His thoughts were elsewhere, tangled and troubled. His fingers tightened around the leather-bound book in his hand, the weight of it unfamiliar in his grasp despite how often he had touched its cover.The Voyages of the Intrepid Explorers.
His brother, Christian, had loved this cursed book—loved it so much, in fact, that it fueled the reckless, restless spirit that had taken him far from home, to the very colonies where he'd met his end. And now, it seemed, Christina was drawn to the same adventures, the same danger.
Victor sighed, the heaviness in his chest familiar and unwelcomed. He had married her to be a calm presence for his daughters, to bring order into their lives. What he needed was a composed, sensible woman. Not one who shared his brother's wild spirit and unpredictable temperament. But as much as he tried to push the thought of her aside, her image, her voice, her laughter crept into his mind, unbidden, at every turn.
A knock sounded at his study door, drawing him from his thoughts. His body tensed instinctively, a flicker of hope flashing through him. Perhaps it was Christina. She hadn't sought him out since the dinner, and though he had been deliberately avoiding her, there was a part of him—however foolish—that wished she would come to him.
"Enter," he called, his voice betraying nothing of his anticipation.
The door opened, and his chest deflated slightly at the sight of Miss Peversly stepping into the room. She curtsied deeply, her posture nearly perfect, and greeted him with a low, measured voice.
"Your Grace."
Victor's response was a curt nod. He made no effort to hide his irritation as she straightened herself and looked at him, her lashes lowered in that deliberate, practiced way she used when attempting to appear demure. She said nothing for several seconds, simply standing there, her silence testing his already thinning patience.
"What is it, Miss Peversly?" he said, his voice clipped.
Finally, she spoke. "I came to offer my deepest apologies for my previous conduct, Your Grace. I do not know what came over me. I assure you I am most remorseful."
Victor's gaze did not soften. "I see."
The governess, emboldened by his response, continued. "I have also apologized to Her Grace. Profusely, in fact. If there is anything more I can do to make amends, I should be most willing."
Victor's jaw tightened. He had little patience for this conversation. "Miss Peversly, I rarely rescind my decisions. You are still unfit to be my daughters' governess."
The air in the room seemed to grow heavier. Miss Peversly's dark eyes lowered further, and her lips tightened into a thin line. Yet she curtsied again, nodding as if she had expected nothing less.
"Of course, Your Grace," she murmured. "I only wished to express my regret."
Victor crossed his arms, his stance rigid as he turned away from her, gazing once more at the gardens. He could sense her lingering presence in the room, her unspoken plea hanging in the air. "You are to remain until a suitable replacement is found, as we discussed. But understand, Miss Peversly, you will not be staying here indefinitely."
Miss Peversly's voice, soft and measured, floated back to him. "It has been an honor serving at Kilton Castle, Your Grace."
Victor said nothing. He expected her to leave then, to take her leave as any sensible woman would after such a dismissal. But instead, her voice lingered in the room.
"I thought you might wish to know," she began, her tone slightly more deliberate now, "that Her Grace is currently in the library."
Victor frowned, turning halfway toward her. "In the library?" he repeated, his voice edged with disbelief.
"Yes, Your Grace," she continued, her lashes fluttering briefly. "I seem to recall you forbade anyone from entering."
His grip on the windowsill tightened as he straightened fully. "Indeed."
Miss Peversly held his gaze for a moment longer, her expression barely masking the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. There was a light in her eyes—something flirtatious, perhaps even calculating. Victor could see it, but he ignored it, his mind already moving past her and toward the library where his wife was undoubtedly up to no good.
"Miss Peversly," he said, his tone cool and dismissive, "if that is all, you may excuse yourself."
She curtsied once more, this time with an exaggerated flourish. "Of course, Your Grace."
