Chapter 8
Meriel breathed a sigh of relief when Miss Barome stood between her and the rest of the guests. She was feeling decidedly on display, and knew that everyone was appalled that a governess had dared intrude on the Assembly.
“Miss Shelby,” Miss Barome said, “I didn’t know you were attending tonight.”
“I am actually with the children’s Assembly, Miss Barome, but I confess that I have a problem.” She felt her face redden with disappointment at her own gullibility. “Stephen asked for a glass of punch, and I only turned around for a moment—”
Miss Barome smiled. “And he disappeared. He’s a clever boy. Shall I help you find him?”
“I don’t wish to put you in such an embarrassing position,” Meriel said. “He is my responsibility.”
Suddenly the duke was looming over them, and Meriel jumped, because she’d been so distracted that she hadn’t seen him coming. Perhaps it wouldn’t be she who made the decision regarding her continuation as governess.
“Ladies,” he began in his deep, unsettling voice, “is there something wrong?”
Meriel put aside her anger at his past conduct, and tried to think of him as a concerned father, which he’d recently shown. In fact, he was looking at her with such a serious expression that her stomach felt uneasy. “Your Grace, I confess that Stephen took his leave of me once again.”
Wearing a fake smile, he put his arm through Miss Barome’s, as if they were only having a light-hearted conversation.
In an overly loud tone of voice, he said, “Miss Shelby, they have run out of punch in the children’s reception?
Miss Barome, do show Miss Shelby where our refreshments are. I’ll rejoin you ladies in a moment.”
Meriel stared at him wide-eyed. Was he going to just hope Stephen would return?
Miss Barome pulled her toward the punch bowl, and Meriel surreptitiously continued to watch the duke.
There was a tension about him, a stiffness in the way he held his shoulders that seemed out of character.
It reminded her of the afternoon on the beach last week, when he’d seemed concerned about a stranger walking toward Stephen.
No, “concerned” was the wrong word—he’d been visibly worried.
What did he think was going to happen to Stephen at an Assembly?
Now the duke moved from group to group, chatting, smiling—and searching.
He swept his foot beneath tables while he continued to talk, and on the third try, his foot connected with something.
He pulled his son out from beneath and held the boy up in the air in front of him.
Stephen’s hands were filled with tarts and his face was covered in jam.
For a moment, Meriel glimpsed a relief in the duke’s face that seemed too great.
“So there you are, my boy,” the duke said a little too loudly. “Your governess will be most upset that I lost you when I was supposed to be watching you.”
Several women gathered around him and chuckled, assuring him that he was a wonderful father.
Miss Barome cocked an eyebrow and shook her head. Meriel didn’t know what to think. The duke had saved her, when he certainly could have left her alone and embarrassed. He brought his sticky son to her, and she gladly pulled the little boy to her side.
“Now Miss Shelby,” the duke began.
Meriel braced herself.
“You will forgive me for losing him again, won’t you?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye.
“You know there’s nothing to forgive, Your Grace,” she murmured, feeling confused. Once again, the tension in him had dissolved away so completely that she questioned her own observations.
“Nobody lost me,” Stephen said grumpily. “I was hungry!”
Meriel leaned down to speak near to his ear. “Next time, please tell me, my lord, so that I can escort you to the children’s refreshments.”
As they started back toward the other room, Stephen tugged on her hand, and she leaned back over.
“My father didn’t lose me,” he said in a quiet voice. “Was he helping us?”
Meriel looked over her shoulder at the duke, who was conversing with Miss Barome. “Yes, he was.”
She squeezed the little boy’s hand, and he grinned in return.
At the end of the Assembly, Meriel led Stephen back to his father. She noticed that the crowd had thinned out as people said their good-evenings.
Miss Barome joined them and smiled at Meriel. “The duke has offered me a ride home, so I’ll be joining you.”
“We appreciate the company,” Meriel replied, and meant it. The more adults between her and the duke, the better.
Outside, the duke signaled for his coachman, and as they waited, Meriel couldn’t help overhearing the conversation between him and Miss Barome.
“Cecil,” Miss Barome said in a low voice, “I feel the need to warn you about a rumor that could damage your reputation.”
“Let me guess,” the duke said affably, leaning against the doorway. “They said I cheat at cards.”
Meriel stiffened, and kept Stephen distracted by asking him questions about the stars.
Miss Barome put her hands on her hips. “You know about this?”
“Metcalfe told me tonight. I promptly told them all that it was a lie, played anyone who cared to challenge me, and won enough that they believed my skills.”
“But Cecil, you’re terrible at cards.”
“I’ve been practicing. Maybe that’s where the accusation came from. Or maybe not.”
“What do you mean?” Miss Barome asked in a softer voice.
Meriel casually leaned nearer, only half listening as Stephen chatted on about using the North Star for guidance. If they chose to speak in front of her, it was not her fault that she could hear them.
“Who did you hear the rumor from?” The duke spoke in a voice that sounded too serious to be him.
“Sir Dudley,” Miss Barome said. “But I cannot credit him with the intelligence to deliberately harm your reputation.”
“I agree. Doesn’t he move within Rexford’s circle?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps it came from him.”
“But why?” Miss Barome asked.
The carriage drove up before them, and the duke waited for Stephen to scramble up inside before next lending a hand to Meriel.
He turned to help Miss Barome, and Meriel heard him say, “Not sure, old girl. It didn’t hurt me, so what does a harmless prank matter?”
But Meriel didn’t believe he cared so little about a challenge to his honor.
Why couldn’t she believe the worst about him?
After they let Miss Barome off, the duke turned down the lamp so that Stephen could continue to watch the stars.
Meriel answered questions from the boy, but mostly she sat on her bench opposite the duke in the darkness, where an occasional gleam from his eyes reminded her that he was watching her.
Not that she needed to see it to know it.
Regardless of what she’d learned about him today, just being near him made her feel strange yearnings.
She told herself he had been kind to her tonight because he wanted her impression of him to be favorable.
As far as her physical impression of him, he didn’t have to worry.
Black and white evening clothes made him look dashing and elegant and handsome, and watching him dance with other women had made her feel her newly humbled position more than anything else had.
In the past, she was the one every man had wanted to dance with.
Why could she not remember that he was a man who seduced his servants?
Because he was also a man who worried about his son, and spared his governess public humiliation. She told herself that he was only trying to soften her resistance.
When they arrived home, she saw Stephen up to his nurse, then took a chance and went back to look for the duke. She found him in the library, relaxing in a comfortable chair, his feet propped up as he faced the door—as if he was waiting for her.
As if he knew she’d come.
She stood in the doorway and linked her hands together, striving to look relaxed instead of nervous. “Might I come in, Your Grace?”
“Of course, Miss Shelby.”
He said nothing else, only watched her, letting her make the next move. His cravat and stock were loosened, baring more of his skin.
Oh, why did she have to notice such things?
“I wish to apologize for my conduct tonight in regard to your son,” she said.
He leaned his head back. “Your conduct? I heard you explain the stars to him in a way perfect for a six-year-old to comprehend.”
“But I lost sight of him again, Your Grace.”
“He is good at escaping, it would seem. I’m rather proud of the way his mind works.”
She remained silent—confused, angry, grateful. These feelings conflicted within her, making her miserable. She should leave his employ, but instead she would only attend her sister’s wedding. Maybe the time away would help.
“I’ll be leaving in two days’ time, Your Grace.”
He got so swiftly to his feet that she took a step backward.
“Leaving?” he said, stalking toward her, his usual pleasant expression gone.
By candlelight, at midnight, he looked—dark and exotic and forbidden. And her insides churned in reaction to him.
“I have not terminated your position here.”
She licked her lips and arched her neck to look up at him. He was far too close. “I am attending my sister’s wedding. We discussed it several days ago.”
He rocked back on his heels, hands on his hips, danger at bay for the moment. But she knew it was still there.
“I had forgotten.”
He paused for an uncomfortably long moment, and she was almost about to escape when he spoke again.
“Your sister, the one who’s marrying the viscount—she’ll be able to take care of your mother now, won’t she?”
She nodded, not bothering to hide her confusion.
In a softer voice, he said, “She would take care of you if you wanted her to.”
Meriel stopped breathing as she stared up at him in silence.
“But you won’t remain with her, will you? Stephen needs you.”
A flash of anger took her by surprise. “Your Grace, I am offended at your presumption that I would abandon your son so easily.”
And she was rather surprised at herself, that such a thought hadn’t occurred to her.