“Piffle. What would I want with recompense? These were all purchased on Edgar’s account.”
The duke was outfitting her? Out of the question.
“Take it all back.” Mari was beginning to have the sinking feeling that the duke might have formed the wrong impression of her.
“Nonsense.” Lady India opened a box to reveal a gauzy white muslin gown with puffed sleeves and a scarlet sash.
She lifted the dress, shaking it out and holding it up to Mari. “What do you say, Fern? Will it suit her?”
“Splendidly,” the maid replied. “Such a slender figure you have, miss. When Lady India described it to me, I scarcely believed her but now I’m glad I nipped everything in at the waist.”
Governesses did not wear filmy white muslin with scarlet sashes.
A woman like Lady India would wear such a stunning gown.
“I fear perhaps the duke may have formed the wrong opinion of me.” Could it have been her wanton behavior in the library?
What had come over her? She blamed it on the grapes. They had tempted her to thoughts of kissing.
You’re addled, Mari Perkins.
A freckled, carrot-haired governess kissing a duke.
What utter rubbish.
She didn’t want to offend the lady, but she must say what she had to say. “I’m a respectable governess and I’m not for purchase. These gowns are far too frivolous and dear and therefore I can only assume, lamentably, that they are intended for a lady of the... light-heeled persuasion.”
“Light-heeled? Heavens!” Lady India dissolved into giggles, throwing the gown across the bed. “You think Edgar is trying to make you his mistress?” Her peals of laughter rang through the room, turning the footmen’s heads.
“Er...” Why was that so funny?
“Wait a moment.” Lady India clutched her hands together. “Do you think... do you thinkIam Edgar’s mistress?”
The maid made a strangled sound.
“I’m sure I haven’t formed any opinion at all on the subject of your relationship with His Grace.”
“Yes, you have! Why, Edgar is my brother, you silly goose.”
“Your brother...?”
Of course.
If she’d been thinking clearly she would have seen that they had the same sharp cheekbones, the same dark hair and pale eyes, though the lady’s were lavender where the duke’s were an icy gray.
Because you wanted to believe Banksford was a profligate who casually entertained his paramours in front of his children.
Because it would have made him easier to hate.
“I’m terribly sorry for jumping to conclusions, Lady India.”
“I’m not trying to corrupt you, Miss Perkins.” Lady India fluffed the delicate white fabric of the dress strewn across the bed. “I only want to clothe you. Besides we’ve already thrown out your old gown. So you’ve nothing else to wear.”
“It was an honest mistake. These garments aren’t exactly... governess-ish.” Mari stroked the red silk sash. “This one looks as though it should be worn to an elegant ball.”
“As it was intended to be. My poor mother. She sends me these girlish, flimsy gowns in the vain hope that I will attend a ball and snare a husband at last.” Her eyes lost their laughter. “I’m a lost cause. And so the dresses are now yours. They suit you perfectly. Fern had all the alterations made.”
The maid curtsied. “It was a pleasure, milady.”