Page 4 of The Governess Teaches A Duke (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #34)

Chapter Three

T he door had closed gently, but it had left a cacophony ringing through her head as she stared at the spot where he had exited.

Duke or not, Thomas Denby was an extremely rude man.

His handsomeness was no consolation for his poor manners.

The streaks of grey in his dark hair only made him more attractive, she begrudgingly admitted to herself.

And Maribel could plainly see that this man had never heard the words no or be nice in his life.

His glower was indeed quite haughty, but she had received far worse from Mr Whiskers.

And thinking of her precious boy, she could not help but feel crushed at the thought of being parted from him.

How could she possibly explain? He was far more intelligent than any other of his species and would surely see returning home as a betrayal.

This opportunity to work for a duke, no matter how disagreeable, was too good to pass up. She would have to accept it.

Recalling the size of the country estate, it dawned on her that Mr Whiskers could stay and would just need to be kept out of sight.

Surely both of these too high in the instep males would not cross paths.

Mr Whiskers would not care for the duke’s arrogance either.

Impatiently, she rose and shook out her arms as she turned her gaze to the room.

The furnishings were rich–newer Hepplewhites blended in with antique pieces she imagined had been in his family for decades, if not longer.

The Aubusson carpet underneath her feet was soft and comforting as she slowly stepped around the study.

She had always had an eye for furnishings, having paid keen attention in her training about working for the aristocracy.

A childhood friend was now a maid for an earl and had detailed the house and where its contents had been made, and Maribel had revelled in the knowledge of it all.

As she continued her examination, it began to dawn on her that, while everything was rich, it was uninviting.

The room was cold and austere, all shades of brown and white without any colour.

The portraits on the wall depicted unsmiling people, and despite it being common practice, she could tell these people would have rarely smiled.

The duke clearly came from a long line of stern ancestry—people of wealth and privilege who demanded respect and obedience.

Her mind stuck on obedience as she trailed her fingers over a canonical metal ornament and silently seethed.

The way he had spoken to her had indeed been master like. As if she were an obedient dog.

How dicked in the nob do I sound at this moment?

I have secured a role as a governess for a Duke where our class divide is immeasurable, and I have taken insult at this very fact.

I am the hired help. This is how I will be spoken to, how I will be treated.

If he asks me to hop on one foot, I shall say yes.

If he turns his back on me while I am mid-sentence, I will merely close my mouth.

Maribel was too practical to dwell on this further and instead embraced her earlier impish impulse.

I will not send Mr Whiskers away! I will keep him here and out of sight, and if his grace comes across him, he will have to pass as any stray! Surely there is many a stray cat on the grounds.

Feeling more in control, she turned back to her seat when a tap on the door made her turn.

The butler opened the door and said he would show her to her rooms where her belongings would be waiting.

Here was another person in this home who it seemed had not learned to smile, as his face was a stern duplicate of his employer’s.

Maribel had known she would miss her family for many reasons, but one she had not counted on was so simple.

Smiles.