What the Duke Wants(6)

“And drink champagne?” Berty said enthusiastically.

“When you’re much older. So you see, you have so many wonderful things to look forward to.”

“I suppose.” Bethanny nodded with a thoughtful expression.

A knock sounded at the door. “Yes?” Carlotta answered.

Murray entered. “Dinner is served.”

“Lovely. Thank you.” Carlotta stood, her charges mimicking her movements.

“Let’s follow Mr. Murray while he escorts us to dinner.”

They went down the hall and soon the heavenly fragrance of roasted duck with some sort of rich sauce assaulted Carlotta’s senses. It had been an age, it seemed, since she had enjoyed a proper meal. At least since the fretful day Mr. Burrows had come to call. She’d found her appetite had quite disappeared, and then when it returned, she was already on her way to London and the fare she procured wasn’t of the tempting variety.

They entered a gilded dining room with gleaming picture frames and polished sconces that reflected the candlelight in a deep glow. Velvet-covered chairs of deep crimson offered soft and luxurious respite as they all sat down to the table. While the room was large enough to accommodate at least fifty, the extra leaves had been removed from the table, which made it much smaller, though still far too large for the small party about to dine.

Dinner was served with a grand flourish, each dish as beautifully displayed as it was delicious. Carlotta kept her eye on the girls, watching their table manners and tucking little observances into the back of her mind for later instruction. A voice boomed in the hall, startling her.

“I don’t care if it’s the bloody Noah’s flood! They can’t be here tomorrow! I’m… entertaining,” the dominant male voice shouted, clearly the duke and therefore not accustomed to other people in hearing distance within his own home.

Carlotta heard Murray’s voice but was unable to distinguish his words. It was quiet then, too quiet. Carlotta glanced at the girls. They were all staring at their plates, their eating long ceased as they clearly understood the meaning behind the loud shouts.

They weren’t wanted.

And nothing could have angered Carlotta more. Right then she decided, regardless of what Mrs. Pott said about the duke caring about his servants, all the gossip concerning him had to be truth. He was arrogant and thought only of himself. Truly, it was maddening for someone with so much power, wealth and influence to be so concerned with just himself. However, she didn’t need the girls sharing her opinion, though she rather thought they’d figure it out soon enough. As their guardian, they needed to respect the duke, regardless.

“Girls, in spite of what you heard, remember that the duke is taking very good care of you. You’re fed, you have a warm place to sleep, and now you have me. I imagine it is quite a difficult adjustment for him as well. Let us have grace for, well, his grace. Shall we?”


****

Charles wiped his face with his white-gloved hand at the gentle and unaccountably forgiving tone of the woman just on the other side of the door. Thoroughly shamed, not only by his butler, who had calmly reminded him that his guests were nearby and therefore privy to his loud declaration, but now by the lowly governess also. There was only so much humbling a duke could survive without taking to an evening of fine brandy.

A copious amount of fine brandy.

Her words were gentle, but it was primarily what she said. In all of this, no one had even considered his feelings. As he thought of it, it did sound rather selfish. The poor girls had lost their parents and now were forced to deal with the likes of him. But still, it was a miserable adjustment for him, regardless of the fact that they’d be in Bath shortly. Before, all he had to worry about was his land, his title, and his person. Now, he had the lives—the destinies—of three young women, and as much as he truly was the monster the ton gossiped about, he wasn’t completely heartless. He took his job seriously, and those girls wouldn’t go without a single necessity or want. He’d make sure of it.

He listened closely, waiting to see if she’d speak again.

“Yes, Miss Lottie. I suppose your right. Truly, we’ve not even met him yet. So it wouldn’t be fair to judge him.”

“At least yet,” chimed in another voice.

Charles grimaced. He’d been avoiding them for a few days now, conveniently leaving before they were about and returning when he knew they wouldn’t be awake. He truly had no idea what to say to them.

So he said nothing at all.

“I’m sure his grace is quite busy.” The governess spoke again.

Was it his imagination or did her voice sound beautiful? Like it belonged to a beautiful woman, that was. He would know, he’d heard the voices of a great many women, most of them beautiful.

Curiosity captured his fancy and he decided that there was no time like the present, so he straightened his stature, tugged his gloves into place and took a deep breath. Pushing the door open, he was greeted by four gasps of surprise.

The young girls all looked remarkably alike, and strangely enough, reminded him of his mother’s portrait of when she was younger. His eyes then moved to the governess.

And his mouth went dry.

He would have to have a very serious word with Mrs. Pott.

Mentally, he ran over his requirements for a governess for the girls. Appearance had never been spoken about, but in his head, he’d been thinking along the line of someone like…well, like Mrs. Pott.