Page 6 of Duke of Eccess (Seven Dukes of Sin #4)
“The lady said she came without an appointment,” said the butler. “Or were you expecting her, Your Grace?”
The Duke of Eccess looked her over and narrowed his eyes, a glimmer shining through them. A glimmer Temperance didn’t like.
“Indeed I was expecting her, as it happens,” said the duke. “Please, come in,Miss…?”
Her mind raced. “Fields,” she said, remembering the name she had thought about—she could no longer use the name Fletcher now that Lady Auster’s hired men knew of it. “Miss Temperance Fields.”
She could have picked any Christian name to hide herself behind, but calling herself Temperance would be a blessing, a protection Papa could guide her with that would help her get through the next few weeks, stay alive, and claim her inheritance.
Papa, help me , she prayed silently.
“But I’m afraid I have to go…” Temperance said as her resolve dissolved.
She had absolutely nowhere to go. She didn’t want to overstay her welcome at the almshouse, not when it was so full. If she left now, she’d need to sleep on the streets in bitter cold but if she were lucky, she could find a church where she could hide and spend the night.
She certainly couldn’t stay here.
The Duke of Eccess’s gaze dropped to the small bag in her hands. “Are you certain? As it happens, we are in dire need of a governess, and it seems you came looking for the very position.”
A cold blast of wind made Temperance shiver, throwing harsh snow into her face.
She was right about the snowstorm: a blizzard would soon be descending on London.
Sleeping outside meant sure death. Compared to that, would it be so bad if she became the governess here?
What was more dangerous, enduring a reckless duke as her employer or freezing to death?
“Very well,” she replied.
The butler nodded and stepped aside, allowing her to enter just as the three children ran out of the salon and darted up the stairs.
Temperance jumped as the duke shouted after them, “I know what you did! Miss Hammond just quit the household!”
A footman appeared with a tray bearing what seemed to be little pastries with some kind of meat or liver paté , like foie gras , topped with fresh sprigs of fuzzy herbs. The Duke of Eccess took one and chewed, throwing a furious gaze after the children.
In response, the children giggled. While Temperance removed her pelisse and handed it over to the butler, Jacobs, the boy retrieved a wooden box, opened it, and three little balls of gray fur darted down the stairs, running into the salon.
Another female scream pierced the air—a maid, perhaps—and a clatter of what sounded like cutlery dropping to the floor.
At the top of the stairs, the children burst into laughter.
“Clearly the children are very clever,” Temperance said, studying them, “but perhaps they should redirect their talents towards less verminous pursuits. As for mice, all you need is a cat.”
He cocked his head, amusement wrinkling the sides of his brown eyes. “Follow me.”
After they stepped into his study, he sat at his large desk and poured himself a glass of dark liquid.
The butler put the tray of pastries on the desk and left.
Everything in the room gave her the feeling of comfort and easy pleasure.
The sofa looked large and soft, the cushions on it velvety.
A marble fireplace burning merrily sent a wave of warmth washing over her, sparking the impulse to stretch her hands out and let the fire warm her from the cold.
The drapes were plush and dark, the rug on the floor red and soft.
The paintings on the walls weren’t all seascapes of storms or portraits of strict-looking dukes from prior generations.
Instead they featured half-dressed women playing music, lounging in inviting gardens, indulging in sweet treats; overflowing tables with fruit, wine, cheese, meats, and desserts were painted in vibrant colors.
Like the lord and master of all this, the Duke of Eccess sat comfortably in his chair, inhaled deeply into the glass, then took an appreciative sip.
“A cat is your recommendation for the mouse problem in my house.” He eyed her from under his auburn eyebrows. “Do you have any more instructions for me…any more comments on my behavior to add in addition to what you so eloquently expressed one week ago?”
Heat burned Temperance’s cheeks. “I do not.”
“Hm. No apology, then, for such a direct berating of a stranger? For injuring his leg?”
“I have not injured your leg, Your Grace. It was your own doing. I told you that you endangered yourself as well as others.”
“Miss Fields, are you forgetting I have the power to give you the employment you seek?”
She remained silent, her heart hammering even as the gale rattled the windowpanes.
The duke sighed, stretching out his hand and holding her in his gaze. “Your list of employments, please.”
Her stomach quivered. “I’m afraid I do not have one.”
“Prior formal education?”
Temperance swallowed. “None.”
“None? You do not wish to impress me?”
Her temper rose even before she could halt it. “You have it wrong, Your Grace. It’s you as my future employer who should wish to impress me.”
The Duke of Eccess let out a laugh and sent another pastry into his mouth, closed his eyes for a few brief moments as he clearly savored the taste, then opened them.
For a moment she wondered if he’d offer her some, too, but of course a duke wouldn’t share food or drinks with a servant.
She needed to remember she shouldn’t expect to be treated as his equal. She was no longer a lady.
Not until Christmas Day.
Amusement played in his warm brown gaze as he studied her, taking in everything about her—her hair, her face, her clothes.
Being the center of this big, beautiful man’s attention felt…
exhilarating. What was her body doing? What was all this hot tingling all over, this shortness of breath, the way her mind became empty and numb? Good Lord, she was sweating!
Was she nervous about how she appeared to him?
Temperance had never paid much attention to the way she looked.
Whatever Millie had done to her apparel or toilette was fine with her, but for the first time now she wished she appeared pleasing.
She had combed her own hair, tied it as tightly as she could in a chignon, and put on a dress she hadn’t changed in one week where dried droplets of brown stew were still visible on the blue wool.
Taking care of one’s appearance was hardly easy in the almshouse.
She considered for the first time every wrinkle in her gown, every bit of hair or dust stuck to the fabric, and writhed uneasily on the chair.
“Would you be so kind as to tell me what a governess was doing running about so late and unchaperoned in the streets?”
Temperance glared. “Would you like me to tell everyone it was you who raced through the streets with fireworks, endangering London with fire and kissing innocent women?”
His gaze grew dangerous as he leaned towards her, elbows on the desk. “Is that a threat?”
“That depends on you, Your Grace.” Temperance swallowed, hardly able to believe she had been so bold.
“I do not think you’re in the position to issue threats, Miss Fields.
Do you realize you’re arriving at my home in highly suspicious circumstances?
You’ve been alone in the dark, you’ve offended a duke, allowed him to kiss you, and now you’re turning up without any prior appointment, without the customary reply to the advert, no customary documents to support your case—and with seemingly all your worldly possessions…
And you expect me to trust three children into your care? ”
She held his glare. “Do you expect me to rejoice at being hired into the household of a reckless man who indulges in pleasures so much he doesn’t consider consequences for others?”
His jaw ticked as he leaned back in his chair, drummed his fingers on the surface of the desk, then sent another pastry into his mouth.
“You’re lucky I’m desperate,” the Duke of Eccess said after he swallowed.
He picked up a stack of papers. “The applications are now depleted, even though the advert has been running for months now, and it would take us weeks to even get an interview with someone new. Especially in winter.” He thrust the stack of papers at her.
“Either you’ve heard how much of a nightmare this position is and you’re preying on our desperation, or you’re so desperate yourself you’ll take something no proper governess would. Which is it?”
Temperance swallowed. As much as she hated it, she needed to lie.
“I’m new in town. I’m the daughter of a bookseller and printer from Cheshire and…
and my father recently died.” That wasn’t a lie and her heart jumped with sorrow.
“He left me nothing. That is why I was alone in the streets at night, because I had nowhere to go. You just said you’re desperate… but so am I.”
Compassion flickered in the man’s eyes as he frowned. “Where did you spend this last week?”
“With the mother of a friend. I overstayed my welcome.” Again, not entirely a lie, though he didn’t need to know about the almshouse and Mrs. Barton wouldn’t have minded her staying longer.
The Duke of Eccess sighed and kept silent, thinking. “How were you educated?”
Temperance tried not to flinch from his steely gaze, and once again told a partial truth.
“I was tutored in arithmetic, geography, literature, the sciences, French, and history. My mother oversaw my needlework and music. We kept a small pianoforte. My father allowed me access to his books, so I’m well acquainted with the poets and philosophers. ”
“And how would you go about bringing the children under control?”
“Your children are?—”
“Not my children.”
A blush heated her cheeks. Not his children? Did that mean he was unmarried? “Oh.”