The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(33)

“Don’t you think things might be awkward?” When he didn’t respond, she dug for more. “After what happened at the ball.”

His eyes flickered with awareness. “Yes, the ball. Things needn’t be awkward. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Friends who’d kissed each other and who’d proposed marriage and who’d rejected said proposal. “I think so, yes. But there can’t be…” She coughed, then lifted her chin, unwilling to be brought down by any sense of embarrassment. “I was clear the other night about any romantic future.”

His brow arched slightly, causing her to relax. “Yes, quite.”

“Good.”

“Is that a yes?”

It wasn’t a no. But she had so many reservations! She also felt just the tiniest bit excited. To have a purpose every day and to spend time with a precious child was precisely what she needed. What she wanted.

“I suppose we could try it,” she said tentatively while emotion barreled through her chest. The moment of excitement had been replaced by a shaft of dread. He planned to marry again. What then? She’d watch him take a countess and just sit idly by? Of course she would. She’d had her chance, and she’d rejected him. That didn’t change the fact that she was attracted to him. Even while fear of what would happen if she acted on that attraction would undoubtedly prevent her from doing just that.

“What if things don’t work out?” she asked. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint Evie.”

He nodded once. “I understand. I wouldn’t want that either.”

“It would have to be a temporary arrangement until we were sure.” The war inside her head wasn’t going to reach a conclusion. She needed time to weigh everything. “I’m going to have to think about it.”

“That still isn’t a no. Which means I can harbor hope.” He stood. “I can’t ask for more than that.”

She rose alongside him. “I’ll let you know when I’ve made my decision.”

He bowed again and quickly departed, leaving her to feel as if her life had just turned upside down. Again.



It hadn’t even been a full day since Bran had offered the governess position to Mrs. Shaw, but with each passing hour, he grew more anxious that she would say no. It was an odd yet familiar sensation, the feeling that things were beyond his control. He’d felt that way for much of his life until going to Barbados, where he’d been beholden to no one. But now, being back here, the old anxiety had returned.

Well, not the old anxiety. This was something new, he had to admit. He wanted Mrs. Shaw to accept the position—for so many reasons.

“Papa, Papa!” Evie shrieked as she came tearing into his office, her bare feet skidding across the floor. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and there was blood on her lip.

Bran shot out of his chair and rushed to gather her into his arms. “What is it, sweetling?” He held her up against his hip thinking he rarely carried her this way anymore.

“I lost my tooth.” She curled her lower lip down revealing a new, larger void in the center of her teeth. “Foster says I’m going to have bad luck forever!” She started crying anew, thick rivulets streaking down her face.

He held her close to his chest as the maid came to the threshold and peered into the office, her lips pursed and her gaze narrowed. “I said no such thing. I said she could have bad luck if the tooth wasn’t properly disposed of.”

What the devil was she talking about? Bran stroked Evie’s back as she clung to his neck. “Why on earth are you scaring my child?”

“I’m not scaring her.”

“Clearly you are. Even if that is not your intent. Have you no sense?”

Foster’s eyes narrowed further. “I could ask the same of you since you saw no reason to do the right thing with the first tooth.”

Evie wailed even louder, her body quivering. “She said that if we don’t burn the tooth, bad things will happen to me, and we can’t burn the first tooth I lost.”

Bran glared at the maid, his patience gone. “Your employment here is terminated as of this moment. Pack your things and leave by the end of the day. And do not ask for a reference.”

Foster’s face drained of color. She steadied herself on the doorframe as Kerr appeared just behind her.

“My lord,” he said sharply. “You can’t just turn her out. That is not how things are done.”

“Yes, I’m aware I don’t do things to your satisfaction, Kerr. How could I not be?” He didn’t bother keeping the acid from his tone. “However, I will not be dictated to when it comes to my daughter!” His voice rose until he shouted the last.

Evie hugged him even tighter and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Her hot tears soaked his shirt.

“Kerr, you are also dismissed. Immediately.” Bran glowered at both the butler and the maid—rather, the former butler and the former maid—until they turned about and left.

Evie lifted her head, and Bran turned with her before setting her gently on the chair near the fireplace. “What am I to do, Papa?” She held out her hand, which he realized had been clutching her tiny bloody tooth. “I only have this tooth to burn—or whatever it is. Foster didn’t say what we needed to do, only that it was vitally important.” Her words were unsteady, her face blotchy. Bran wanted to drag Foster back in here so he could yell at her again.