Page 17 of The Governess Teaches A Duke (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #34)
Chapter Sixteen
T homas had a strange sensation in his stomach that he had never experienced. It was all in a tremble as if he had swallowed a horde of butterflies and hundreds of little wings were beating inside of him.
By Jove, am I nervous?
Grunting in annoyance, he tugged at his cravat, suddenly stifled.
All he was asking of her was to share a meal where she could regale him with his daughter’s progress.
Or so he kept telling himself. His journey home had given him considerable time to mull over the predicament of Maribel Lewisham.
As a governess, she was doing well—remarkably well when he compared her to the previous employees.
His return home had given him the welcome sight of Clara responding, behaving, and most importantly, learning!
His pondering had led him to the conclusion that Maribel, delectable as she was, was simply a woman.
And bedding her was not worth losing the first governess that was actually meeting the task.
Knowing his rationale was sound, he had decided to keep Maribel at arm’s length.
All of that logic had escaped him as soon as he found himself back in her proximity.
Her honeysuckle scent had been an aphrodisiac upon his senses.
And she had not the faintest idea what she was doing to him.
“Miss Lewisham, please, sit,” he said with a cordial sweep of his arm.
She nodded with a smile, but he could sense she was nervous.
Her eyes were wide, and she was biting her lower lip.
Wanting to put her at ease, he turned the conversation immediately to Clara, waving his hand at the chestnut soup laid out before them.
“I have observed positive changes in Clara’s behaviours and demeanour. How did you manage to do so much in such little time?”
He watched her bring a spoonful of soup to her mouth, her tongue furtively escaping her luscious mouth to lick the moisture that stained her lip. She swallowed and placed the spoon back down, her stare almost curious, watchful.
“Lady Clara is a very clever child. These behaviours, as you call them, were not who she was, but a manifestation of loneliness and a deep yearning for your attention.”
His spoon froze on its way to his mouth at her brazen accusation that he did not give his daughter attention.
A niggling voice in the back of his head whispered that his offence at her comment was because it held truth.
Again, the impertinence with which she spoke to him astounded him, but he could not help but admire it.
It had been a long time, if ever, since anyone dared to challenge him.
Scooping up the woody-scented soup, he weighed his response while he ate, watching her watch him.
Her eyes had slightly narrowed, and her posture was tense, waiting for him to reprimand her. This made him smile.
“You speak truth, I will not deny it. First, let me say I love my daughter. I will admit that I perhaps have not been the most attentive father. It seems you have taught me that, because before you, the thought had never occurred to me.”
It was true—as he spoke the words out loud, an awareness washed over him that it was he who had allowed his child to become so unruly.
“I am surprised you so readily agree to my observations. And that you admit that I, a simple governess, have been able to teach you something of value.”
The impertinent chit did not even try to hide her smug smile of satisfaction, and he rolled his eyes in mock annoyance.
“So, not only have I created a child who exhibits such poor behaviour, but now a governess with hubris?”
Maribel blushed but held his gaze.
“And I now have a cat living under my roof—I really do not like cats, Miss Lewisham.”
“If it helps, my plan had been to keep Mr Whiskers hidden from sight, especially yours.”
“And now I have no choice except to allow this cat, this Mr Whiskers, to live in my home. Clara would never forgive me if I expelled the four-legged wretch.”
Maribel broke out in a fit of giggles just as a servant brought in the next dish, his eyebrows rising in surprise at the intimate encounter. Thomas gave him a stern look, and he quickly laid down the food and left.
“Can you share with me what you find so amusing?”
“Your disdain for Mr Whiskers! What prejudice do you hold against cats?”
“Their attitudes. They lack obedience and humility, and the way they make eye contact, with such impertinence. It raises my ire.”
“Yes, cats are full of unapologetic confidence—which is personally what I adore! Though I now understand why you react in such a way to Mr Whiskers. You are unyielding when it comes to your views, your needs, and your wants, and luckily for you, you can be.”
Maribel lowered her head to daintily sniff the steamed mackerel emitting the scent of fennel and mint and smiled.
“This smells divine.”
“You are right, Maribel. I am unyielding. My wants, my needs. And what I need and want right now—is you.”