Capturing the Governess’s Heart by Sally Forbes
Chapter Thirteen
Emma was glad for the rich texture of the duke’s coat under her hand; he could not feel the damp nervousness of her touch. Every step they took brought her closer to the stables and closer to having to reveal her utter discomfort around the huge animals.
The walk itself was full of beautiful distractions, like the view across a small lake to Elsby’s gothic folly, but every time Emma turned her attentions to such things all she could think about was the company surrounding her.
How could she, a simple governess from Whitehaven, be strolling through a grand estate arm in arm with the Duke of Dalwater!
“Miss Emma, are you at all fond of strawberries? My greenhouse gardener has an excellent crop just turned red,” the Duke of Elsby turned to tell her.
He waited with such an open expression of interest that Emma was forced to answer him in kind. “Strawberries so late in the season is a treat indeed,” she said.
“I’ll show you the greenhouses on our way back to the house then.” The Duke of Elsby gave Abigail a wide smile, and they continued to lead the way.
Her escort leaned closer and remarked: “Ah, but you never said if you actually like strawberries.”
Emma hesitated but realized she had no reason to demur. If both dukes condescended to speak with her as an equal, who was she to rebuff their kindness? “They are delicious, but they do stain,” she admitted.
The Duke of Dalwater laughed. He then patted his breast pocket and told her, “Then you shall have my handkerchief in case of a mess.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she replied.
Her escort sighed and then called up ahead. “Your Grace? How should our governess address us both today? Will it be an unending litany of titles and polite referrals, or shall we have real names for a day?”
The Duke of Elsby turned again and grinned at his friend. He then glanced at pretty Lady Abigail on his arm and said: “I would prefer to be called Theo if the ladies find no offense.”
Emma opened her mouth to protest but Lady Abigail solved the problem with an easy smile: “We shall say whatever seems fitting for the moment.”
Lady Abigail’s escort gave a gallant nod and continued to show her the way to the stables. Emma decided it was better for her to concentrate on the children than to think about two dukes. And she was proud of Lady Abigail’s behavior. The young lady was an excellent example of easy grace, which eluded many of those from the stiff upper circles.
“If anyone cares for my opinion, I’d prefer to be called Robert,” her escort said only loud enough for her to hear.
Emma gave him a polite, though almost imperceptible nod. “To avoid confusion, of course.”
He chuckled again, a reaction Emma felt in her arm as well as heard. How could Lady Abigail walk so close to a man and not feel overwhelmed? Emma knew it was silly, but the closeness, plus the Duke of Dalwater’s height, the rich texture of his coat, and the occasional hints of his cologne, were enough to make her dizzy. She was now keenly aware of the duke’s strength and how it was supporting her along the path. Emma could not remember a time when a man of any station had escorted her with such intoxicating confidence.
Reminding herself again of her purpose, Emma concentrated on her charges. Henry was already at the stables and deep in a lively discussion with the stable hands waiting there. Lady Abigail walked easily next to the Duke of Elsby, and the two discussed his estate with some animation. Clearly, the young lady had met the duke before, he was a dear friend of her guardian, and it was wonderful to see her smiling.
Indeed, Lady Abigail was frequently smiling, her animated face lifted to the duke’s. Emma observed how the young lady’s eyes lingered on her escort’s face more than the vistas he pointed out. At one point, along the path's curve, Lady Abigail brought her other hand to rest atop his arm as well. Emma could not help but smile to herself; her young charge was cultivating quite an esteem for the Duke of Elsby.
Emma wondered if her guardian perceived the bloom as well, but when she glanced up at the Duke of Dalwater, he was looking at her, and she quickly turned her eyes to the stables. Oh, the horses! Henry was helping to lead them out and the gleaming beasts were clattering their hoofs and tossing their heads.
“Beautiful, are they not?” The Duke of Dalwater asked. “My dear friend has always had a soft spot for creatures, but he has quite outdone himself with these fine beasts.”
“I suppose they are quite well trained?” Emma asked.
The duke looked down and smiled at her again. “I’m certain their manners will please even you, Miss Emma.”
Before she could stop herself, Emma asked: “Am I really so stiff?”
“No, not stiff, but prim. Pleasing … but very prim.”
Emma was not happy with his description of her, but the feeling only served to make her even more prim. She struggled to find some of Lady Abigail’s graceful ease. “I am required to be a proper example, Your Grace. Surely that is not a situation to mock.”
“Mock you?” The duke stopped on the path. “That was never my intention, Miss Emma. I simply want to encourage you to relax. Please, you are among friends for the morning. Yes, you have your duties to the children, but I think they will benefit from being released from such formal pressures for an hour or two. Am I wrong in my thoughts as a guardian?”
“No, Your Grace. I mean, Robert. You are quite right.” Emma looked up into his face and found herself smiling … just like Lady Abigail.
