The Governess Affair (Brothers Sinister #0.5)(2)

“I bought her a bracelet when she complained! How was I supposed to know she wanted fidelity from me?”

Hugo focused on the papers on his desk. Even his own late, unlamented father had managed fidelity: sixteen children worth of it, to be precise. But this was no time to remind the duke of his wedding vows. He sighed.

“Win her back,” he said softly. It was his future at stake, too. After all, he wasn’t an employee, receiving a salary for his hard work. He operated on a form of commission—on wagers, to be exact, in the language of the financially incompetent duke. If he brought the duke through the end of this year in one piece, he’d win five hundred pounds. That wasn’t just money; those five hundred pounds would be the means to begin his own empire.

He’d worked three years on that hope. When he considered, briefly, the possibility that he might lose… He could almost see the shadowy figure of his father standing over him. You bloody useless git. You’ll never be anybody.

He shook his head, sending those darker thoughts scattering. He wasn’t going to be just anybody. He was going to be the wealthiest coal miner’s son in all of England.

But Clermont wasn’t meeting his eyes. Instead, he frowned and looked out the window. “It’s not quite so simple.”

That woman was still sitting on the bench. She’d turned her head to the side, and Hugo caught a glimpse of profile—snub nose, a smudge of pink for her lips.

“You see,” Clermont muttered, “there was this governess.”

Hugo rolled his eyes. Any confession that started thus could not end well.

Clermont gestured. “It happened over the summer, when I was seeing to business at Wolverton Hall.”

Hugo translated this mentally: The duke had been drinking himself silly with his useless friends after his wife had flounced off and his father-in-law had tied off the once-generous purse strings. But no point in insisting on honesty from the man. He’d never get it.

“In any event,” Clermont said, pointing to the bench outside, “that’s her, now. Waiting. Demanding compensation from me.”

“Your pardon?” Hugo shook his head in confusion.

The duke huffed. “Must I spell it out? She wants things from me.”

Had he thought the duke a child? An infant, more like. Hugo kept his voice calm. “Between seeing to business at Wolverton Hall and a governess waiting outside your home demanding compensation, there are a great many events missing. For what is she demanding compensation? Who brought this matter to your attention?”

“She caught me just now, when I was returning from…well, never mind where I was,” the duke said. “She was on the street, waiting for the carriage to arrive.”

“And what does she want?” Hugo persisted.

Clermont gave an unconvincing laugh. “Nothing! Nothing, really. I, uh, at Wolverton Hall, I saw that she was good with the younger children. So I offered her a position taking care of my son.”

“Your as-yet-unborn child.”

“Yes,” Clermont mumbled. “Exactly. And so she quit her position at Wolverton. And then I had no work to offer her because the duchess had left. Now she’s angry, too.”

The story didn’t sound remotely plausible. Hugo considered, briefly, calling His Grace a liar. But it wouldn’t do any good; long experience had taught him that once the duke made up a story, he’d hold to it doggedly, no matter how many holes one poked in it.

“She says she’ll sit there until she receives compensation,” Clermont said. “I do believe she means it. You see my dilemma. If everything works out well, I’ll be bringing back the duchess in a matter of weeks. This is devilishly awkward timing. The old girl will think…”

“…That you seduced and ruined a servant?” Hugo asked dryly. That was where he would place his money.

But Clermont didn’t even blush. “Right,” he said. “You can see the very idea is absurd. And of course I did no such thing—you know that, Marshall. But matters being what they are, she needs to be gone by the time I return.”

“Did you force her?” Hugo asked.

Clermont did flush at that. “Gad, Marshall. I’m a duke. I have no need to force women.” He frowned. “What do you care anyway? They don’t call you the Wolf of Clermont for your conscience.”

No. They didn’t. But Hugo still had one. He just tried not to remember it.

Hugo looked out the window. “Easy enough. I’ll have the constables take her in for vagrancy or disturbing the peace.”

“Ah…no.” Clermont coughed lightly.

“No?”

“I wouldn’t precisely say it was a good idea to put her into a courtroom. You know how they have those reporters there, writing a few lines for the papers. Someone might ask questions. She might invent stories. And while I could certainly quash any legal inquiry, what if word of this got back to Helen? You know how touchy she is on the subject of other women.”

No, he wasn’t getting anything useful from the man. Hugo sighed. “You talked to her. What kind of compensation does she want?”

“Fifty pounds.”

“Is that all? We can—”

But Clermont shook his head. “She doesn’t just want the money. I can’t give her what she wants. You’ll have to persuade her to go. And keep my name out of the gossip papers, will you?”