Page 23 of The Governess Teaches A Duke (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #34)

Chapter Twenty-Two

W eeks later

Lovely sunlight beamed across the gardens, creating an idyllic setting for reading.

Except Maribel was unable to focus on her book, for her thoughts could not be distracted from the unprecedented turn her life had taken.

In the weeks since that first night of passion with Thomas, not a day had passed where they had not fallen asleep replete in one another’s arms. By day, she went about her duty as governess, and by night, she and Thomas were ensconced in their own world—where they talked about everything except the future.

As naive as Maribel knew she was being, she had refused to stray down that path.

She knew what waited at the end of the trail.

It was reality. A reality where she and a duke did not find a happily ever after.

So, for now, ignorance was where she remained in bliss.

It had been an unusually quiet day where Maribel was able to relax in solitude.

Clara was free to do as she pleased, Thomas had gone riding with Marcus, who was visiting, and she was lounging in a moment where she could simply be.

Putting down her book, the works of John Donne, she stretched and moved her neck from side to side, hearing a satisfying crackle.

Her stomach, not to be outdone, let out an audible grumble, demanding sustenance.

Maribel set off for the kitchens, pulled by the freshly baked breads and pies she had smelled on her way to the gardens earlier.

To enter the kitchens from outdoors, she needed to pass the laundry, and as she approached, she heard the chatter of young women.

Maribel recognised the voices as Mary and Lucy, the scullery maids, and was about to announce herself when her name was mentioned.

She took a step back and crouched behind a pile of chopped firewood outside the door.

“…if I had known His Grace was after a bed mate, I would have volunteered gladly.”

“Aye, Maribel finds herself in luck, governess to whore. I would happily go from maid to whore. I am sick and tired of scrubbing the linens. My nails are worn down to ugly stubs!”

“Who is to say you would not still have to work? Maribel still carries out her governess duties?”

“I had not thought of that–she must enjoy her time with Lady Clara. The little brat has become much easier to manage.”

“Maybe her thanks from His Grace was his taking her to bed.” Lucy giggled and Maribel’s face flamed.

“And she walks around all innocent, thinking she and His Grace are the only ones who know, when we all know what is taking place!”

“Aye, for a chit who Is meant to be a clever governess, she is certainly daft when it comes to being a canary bird.”

“Surely she realises it’s just a tup?”

“We will never know unless we ask, and I will do such thing. I will just wait till His Grace’s eyes start to roam for something new.”

The two women broke out in a twitter as Maribel broke out in a cold sweat.

Humiliation rose from the depths of her stomach, and she placed her hand over her mouth, lest bilious shame spew forth.

Hunger was now the furthest thing from her mind, so she scurried away as quickly and quietly as she could.

The need for a haven from people who were laughing behind her back was the only need that mattered.

Entering the manor, she dashed to her room and closed the door with a thump.

Her heart raced, and the sick feeling had not abated as her mind whirled and repeated what she had heard.

I am naught but a fool, the greatest fool to ever live!

Maribel reprimanded herself over and over again, as if she was a student to her governess.

A foolish child who had run headfirst into calamity and heeded no wisdom.

The signs had always been there, but she had chosen to ignore them.

Thomas had always seen her as simply a governess.

His transformation from stern aloofness to adoring suitor had been built on lust, not love.

She had been only too eager to experience his touch, to stoke the flames burning uncontrollably on the pyre of their desire.

Shame on me for caterwauling all these nights !

A scratching at the door interrupted her self-depreciation, and she opened it to find Mr Whiskers waiting, concern etched upon his furry face.

“My dear four-legged friend, come in. You sensed my distress, my woe at playing the fool. I took this position to prove my worth as a governess. I brought you along so I would not be alone. And now I must go, and you must stay, as I could not bear to break Clara’s heart.

Especially now that I know what a heart bursting with sadness feels like. ”

As always, he stared back with comprehension and affectionately rubbed his face on her feet.

Maribel sat on the floor and pulled him into her arms. The vibration of his purr had always induced a calming effect, and she needed to think clearly.

She could not stay. She could not discuss this with Thomas—he would try and convince her to stay and continue as his mistress.

Why would he not, after she had made it so easy?

Perhaps that’s what had allured him, the satisfaction of having her capitulate.

No, she could not stay. She would leave him a note.

The words would be written straight from the depths of her heart.

She needed to return home and regroup and perhaps seek a position abroad.

Soon enough the gossip would follow her, and it would only shame her family.

She cringed at the disappointment all five brothers would feel.

She was their Mari, sharp-minded, sharp-tongued.

Never would she fall into the traps laid by men.

But she had. And now only she could mend her future that hung so precariously in the balance.

Shifting Mr Whiskers from her lap, she moved to her desk and picked up her quill and paper.

A droplet of liquid fell to the parchment and Maribel lifted a hand to her eyes.

She had not felt the tears that had welled up and now sought escape.

Blinking, she gave the salty sadness free passage to run down her face as she wrote her goodbyes.