The innocent tenderness of the moment.
Blindly, he backed away, feeling for the edges of the room.
All he knew was that he didn’t belong here.
He had to leave.
Mari was on a mission.
The books in the nursery had been sadly lacking. More than lacking. Harmful.
She’d made some small progress with the children today, but she couldn’t teach them usingDr. Pritchard’s Catechisms. There must be something more wholesome for them to read in this enormous marble-and-gilt mausoleum of a house.
Adele loved poetry so Mari would find her poems in French to translate into English.
And they both seemed to like adventure stories.
It had broken her heart when they’d said they would never let the duke separate them. Their bond was so incredibly strong. So unlike anything she’d ever experienced. What would it have been like to grow up with a sibling?
Wiping away a stray tear, she walked resolutely to the duke’s library. She must do everything in her power to help the children adjust to their new life and that meant finding the right books to anchor them here.
She knew the exact location of the library—along this corridor, down a narrow flight of stairs, round the landing corner, and three doors down.
What she didn’t know was the exact location of the duke.
She didn’t want to run into him by accident. Not even a glimpse of him through a window.
And especially never anything to do with him kneeling at her feet, touching her, lifting a knife to cut her bootlaces.
Why couldn’t she stop thinking about it? It was only that it had been wholly unexpected.
His powerful grip on her ankle. His hand under her skirts.
She stopped a housemaid carrying a bundle of linens. “Is His Grace in this evening?”
“That’s doubtful, miss. He stays late at The Vulcan most nights, working on ’is engines.”
“Thank you.” How many servants lived in this house? Seemed a fair army.
She hadn’t considered that living in the duke’s home might feel so isolating. Even though there were people everywhere.
Footmen posted at doorways. Maids scurrying through the corridors.
They mostly avoided her eyes and went about their business.
A governess was an odd sort of creature, living betwixt the upstairs and downstairs worlds.
Mari knew she was more qualified for the position of serving girl than governess, but no one else did. In the servant’s eyes, she was above them. And in the duke’s, she was far, far below.
About the size of one of his miniature engines.
Mrs. Fairfield had said he spent more time at his foundry than anywhere else. Was he still there working on his steam engines? Or was he somewhere else... perhaps out carousing with dissipated friends.
Lolling about on a velvet divan, smoking cigars while voluptuous women fanned him with ostrich feathers.
She couldn’t quite picture it. Or maybe she didn’t want to think about it. She’d rather picture him in his shirtsleeves, hands stained with oil as he worked with his engineer to construct an engine.
Well wherever he was, he wasn’t here, and that was the most important thing. She could plunder his library in peace.