Page 26 of The Governess Teaches A Duke (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #34)

Chapter Twenty-Five

T he decision between the speed of mounting a horse to gallop at pace and the practicality of a carriage drew out as he paced back and forth.

His stable master struggled to keep his expression neutral.

The poor man had already endured a tirade when he informed Thomas that it was he who had arranged for Maribel’s departure.

Left me no choice, she was most insistent, Thomas recalled his defence.

While he wanted to be mad at the man for abetting her abandonment, he begrudgingly admitted that Maribel would have been most insistent and hard to refuse.

Thomas decided on the carriage for practicality, since Maribel would be returning with him.

Journeying this way left him with time to ponder, and with each passing moment, he felt more unease.

What if she said no? What if she had already left?

Gazing out the window nauseated him, but he refused to tear his eyes away, knowing the town of Cheltenshire would soon come into view.

He had never been there, but it was close to his country estate, and he had tenants sprinkled about.

It occurred to him how little he had showed his face to his neighbours and tenants, and he was indeed one of the most priggish of his peers.

Houses began to appear in view, and he sat up and tried to compose his expression, imagining he looked like an eager boy rather than the esteemed Duke of Avondale.

He nodded to a farmer who gaped at him and smiled at a woman carrying a basket of goods, who blushed in surprise.

He even found himself waving at a group of young lads who ran alongside the carriage.

Perhaps I should visit the townspeople more often, he thought, enjoying the interactions.

The carriage suddenly veered to the right, and he could see a dwelling in the distance—a decent-sized home, aged but sturdily built.

Two young boys were watching the carriage pull up, probably Maribel’s young brothers, as he noted they were identical.

The carriage pulled to a stop, and he exited without waiting for his man to open the door.

“Good day, young fellows. I have come to call on Miss Maribel Lewisham.”

“Who are you? What do you want with our Mari?”

Impertinence is apparently a family trait , he thought drily.

“Boys, that is no way to address a guest. My apologies, sir, I am Mrs Lewisham. Who should I tell Maribel is calling?”

The woman was an older, softer version of Maribel—grey strands spun through her brown hair, and her chestnut eyes shone with warmth.

“Oh, yes, pardon me, I am yet to introduce myself. I am Thomas Denby, the Duke of Avondale.”

Mrs Lewisham gasped but recovered quickly and, remembering her manners, gave a small curtsey.

“Mari said she doesn’t work for you?” one of the boys asked, clearly nonplussed by his status.

“Boys, hush. Go get Mari.” Mrs Lewisham shooed them away before turning back to him. “Your Grace, please come inside and let me provide refreshment for you both.”

Thomas had forgotten that Mal was behind him until Mrs. Lewisham tried to usher them both in, but Mal politely declined in order to stay with the horses. Thomas was glad, he didn’t need his man to see him grovel. Because he would, if that’s what it came to.

Taking a seat in a small parlour, he looked around the inviting space that Maribel called home. As promised, Mrs Lewisham returned with tea and a plate of biscuits that looked freshly baked. As he was thanking her, he heard Maribel’s voice.

“Your Grace, what an unexpected surprise.”

“I shall leave you both to talk.”

Thinking it odd that her mother would leave them unchaperoned but grateful all the same, he stood and reached out to Maribel. She was unmoved, with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed. She was every inch the stern and resilient governess he had sought.

“Maribel, I have been a fool.”

“As have I. But unlike you, I have taken the necessary steps to remedy the situation.”

“By running away?”

“I am protecting my family from gossip. Well, I cannot spare them from it, but I can ensure I am not around to make matters worse.”

“What gossip? Why are you so infuriating?” He heard the edge in his voice but did not care. Maribel was so aloof—every word she spoke an assault on his heart.

“That I, the simple governess from Cheltenshire, played mistress to the Duke of Avondale. Your scullery maids were discussing it openly. It was only a matter of time. And I cannot blame you in full—we both made the choice to dally with one another without the promise of it becoming anything else.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. She had overheard gossip—he made a note to seriously reprimand them both—and had taken it upon herself to make the best of a bad situation. Or so she thought.

“Maribel, I wish you had waited. Had come to me. Because while I was gone with Marcus, I had come to a decision. One that impacts you, my simple little governess.”

Her eyes shot daggers at his choice of words, and he smiled at her ire.

“I will not be your mistress! I have confessed the true events to my mother, and she supports my decision to move abroad. I would not dare seek her support to lower myself to be your mistress.”

“For a clever woman, you are being quite dicked in the nob!” He raised his voice.

“Do not insult me in my own home!”

“Why not? You never held back in my home!”

“Why are you even here, Your Grace, surely this is beneath you!”

“I am here because I love you, you sharp-tongued shrew, and I want to marry you!”

“Oh.”

“Can I kiss you now, or would you like to argue some more?”

“Kiss me, Thomas, kiss me now and forever.”

* * *

“It is not only I who will need to be appeased,” Thomas told her. The carriage was nearing home, and he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his arm draped around her.

“I know. Is Clara still very cross?”

“Cross, upset, angry. And not just with you but myself as well. Naturally, she has blamed me for everything.”

“It truly clawed at my heart to say goodbye to her.”

“That is the past now, sweet Maribel. You are her present, you are her future, and I am certain that will be enough to gain her forgiveness.”

Surely enough, Clara waited for them at the open door, Mr Whiskers by her side.

They both showed looks of scorn, the sting of her abandonment apparently still fresh.

Maribel leaped from the carriage and ran to the pair.

Pulling Clara under one arm and Mr Whiskers under the other she squeezed them with all her might.

“I am so sorry for the pain I have caused. I promise I will never leave again.”

“I guess we can forgive you, Miss Mari, but to be certain you do not do it again, I think you should write a letter of apology.”

Thomas bit his lip to refrain from smiling.

“You are absolutely correct. I should, and I will.”

Clara turned to Mr Whiskers and gave a nod of approval.

“If you have promised to never leave again, does this mean you will stay as my governess?”

“Well Clara, I have asked Maribel to marry me, so she will be your mother.”

Clara squealed in delight, clapping her tiny hands together.

“That means you can never leave me!”

“I am glad you feel this way, Clara, and I may become your mother, but I will still be your governess. To be learned is to be wise, Clara.”

“I have much more to learn, so I am very pleased, Mama Mari.”

Her address melted the last ice chip lurking in Thomas’s heart. His family was whole, even if it included that wretched feline who watched him smugly.

“And I am glad to hear no objection from you, Thomas—I will be mother, governess, and then duchess.”

“You will hear none from me—the governess is who I fell in love with, and you are a mother I will continue to fall in love with every day. It is the greatest of honours that I can also call you my duchess.”

Scooping Clara and Maribel into his arms, he held them both tight.

“I will ensure only happy smiles dance upon both your faces, my loves.”