The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(37)

“I’m sorry you don’t care for her.” Jo hadn’t meant to say anything, but apparently couldn’t help herself. “My apologies. It really isn’t any of my concern.”

“You’re part of the household now. I think it is your concern. I hope you realize that I don’t see you as a typical governess. I should very much like your input on a variety of things, starting with helping me to find a cook. Can you really make toast?”

She smiled at the eagerness in his question. “Yes, I really can.”

His gaze darted up for a brief moment. “Thank God. That’s the only thing Evie will eat for breakfast, and our temporary cook burns it beyond recognition. Evie won’t touch it. She doesn’t like food that’s black in any way.”

Jo recalled his comment that she was particular about food. The instance with the biscuits and whether they were plain flashed in Jo’s mind. Evie had been anxious about tasting one and had only done so cautiously.

“Well, I shall be delighted to make her toast in the morning. Shall we take the tour?”

“Indeed.” He pivoted and started to put out his arm before letting it rest at his side, perhaps realizing she was the governess, not someone who should take his arm.

She walked to his side, and he led her from the room. Over the next half hour, he showed her every chamber. There was something about each that he disdained, and she quickly came to understand how much he disliked his family. It was heartbreaking, really, and she longed to know the particulars, but wouldn’t ask.

When they arrived at the nursery, Mrs. Poole and Evie were playing with her dolls. Evie showed Jo around the room with great enthusiasm, including the corner where they would do lessons. Jo knew that Evie was already a good reader, and was eager to see what else she could do.

Evie pulled a map from a shelf and unfolded it, laying the parchment flat across the table in the corner. “I thought we could use this for our lessons.”

Jo peered at the well-worn paper featuring the world. Judging from the tattered edges and deep creases from the folds, it was evident that Evie looked at this often. “I’m certain we can.”

Glancing at her father, Evie said, “Papa gave it to me so that I could see where he was from. It seemed so far away, like another world.” She pointed to a small island. “This is Barbados, where I’m from. Now it’s very far away.” Her voice turned sad.

“On the map, yes, but it’s in your heart, isn’t it? And that’s very close. In fact, that’s part of you.”

Evie placed her hand on her chest and looked up at Jo. “Yes.” She smiled. “Are we going to start lessons today?”

Knighton cleared his throat. “No, we’re going to give Mrs. Shaw some time to acclimate. Tomorrow will be soon enough. I need to show her to her chamber now.”

“Will I see you at dinner?” Evie asked Jo.

Jo wasn’t certain if a governess ate dinner with the family but suspected not.

“Of course,” Knighton answered. He looked over at Jo and gave an infinitesimal nod. It seemed she wouldn’t be a typical governess at all.

“I hope it’s something edible,” Evie said with a grumble as she returned to her dolls.

“Yes, me too,” Knighton murmured. “I’ll find us a cook this week, Evie.”

They departed then, and the earl led Jo downstairs to where the bedchambers were located. “Evie doesn’t sleep in the nursery,” he said. “When we arrived, she didn’t want to be far away from me, so her chamber is just down from mine.” He pointed to the right. “This way”—he turned left—“is my chamber and yours.”

Her chamber was near his? Oh dear, that seemed…problematic. But why should it? They’d agreed they were friends and that what had happened at the ball was in the past. She had no reason to believe anything similar would happen, even if her stomach fluttered when he was close. As he was now.

“That is my chamber.” He indicated a door across the corridor. She wanted to peek inside, to see if it was as dark as he said. She had no reason to doubt him but merely wanted to see for herself. Perhaps she could offer suggestions on how to brighten it up.

Oh, that was nonsense! She couldn’t refurbish his bedchamber, even if she was an atypical governess. Surely that was beyond the realm of propriety. His future countess would help him with that. Her stomach knotted at the thought of a future countess. How would it be to live here with them? Would she still be an atypical governess then?

“And here is your chamber.” He went to the door opposite his and opened it.

Jo stepped inside and wondered what he’d dislike about this chamber. A four-poster bed stood against one wall, and there was a hearth with a chair angled in front of it, a desk in front of the windows that overlooked the street below, and a tall armoire in one corner.

“I just realized that you may perhaps require a maid,” he said.

She turned. “You really don’t understand the role of a governess, do you?”

He looked utterly nonplussed. “I understand very little about any of this earl business. Please enlighten me.” He folded his arms over his chest.

“To start—and you know this much—my room should likely be upstairs near the nursery.”

“But it’s not going to be. I refuse to change my mind on that. What else?” His dark gaze seemed to dare her to find something.