Forbidden to Love the Duke by Jillian Hunter Read Free Book Online

the selfish demon he was at heart.
    She lowered her eyes. “There’s no need to explain.”
    â€œSooner or later one of the servants would tell you. I prefer you hear the truth from me. The children will ask. It is better we agree upon the story they are to believe.”
    She frowned as if questioning the wisdom of this strategy. “But if this story is untrue and they learn the truth?”
    â€œWe’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, won’t we? First things first. Let me finish.”
    â€œPardon me.”
    He could pardon her a hundred sins for the secret they had shared in the past. “My brother, Viscount Bramhall, is in the thick of battle,” he said. “His wife abandoned her children to the care of servants for another man. The servants sent my niece and nephew here and then deserted the household, citing an immoral atmosphere and lack of wages for their actions.”
    â€œI can’t say I blame them,” she said, then bit her lip. It was obvious that she was no more born to serve than was he. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
    â€œIt’s nothing I haven’t thought.” He walked around the desk to motion her into the chair. It was an excuse to move closer to her, to test his self-control, his memory. He recalled that her eyes were an extraordinary shade of green. But he couldn’t peer into her face without seeming a little peculiar. What if he had the wrong woman? How could he find out without seeming like a complete scoundrel?
    There was no need to frighten the lady half to death. But he’d rather she knew what she was getting into now than run off in a panic later because she remembered when they had first met and how.
    â€œI need you to know who I am,” he said, reaching for her hand.
    She gave him a smile that drew the air from his body. “I do remember, Your Grace. But I’m willing to forgive and forget if you are.”

Chapter 7
    T he last thing she had expected was to be greeted by such a breathtaking man. It was his voice she recognized. The pitch sent ripples of forbidden delight straight to the toes of her ill-fitting shoes. It carried a command that she might have ignored in her garden, but in his domain, and in his captivating presence, there was no question of ignoring him.
    He was a peer of the realm, a duke, even if he looked rather young and offhanded about his role, with his long coat unbuttoned and his shirtsleeves rolled up to his wrists.
    A grin counterbalanced his brooding stare. “If you aren’t comfortable sitting before me, I insist you at least put aside the muff and reticule you’re holding like a battle shield. They appear rather awkward.” He reached to unhook the reticule from her wrist, lifting his teasing face to hers. “I thought you clanked against the door when you entered. Is there a dagger or gun on your person? Are young governesses so imperiled these days that they must carry weapons to their interviews?”
    â€œI wouldn’t know,” she said, miffed at his mockery and disconcerting charm.
    â€œThis is your first interview?”
    His smoky eyes studied her intently; she wouldn’t dare lie when she needed this job. The newspaper notice promised good pay.
    â€œYes.” She lowered her reticule to the empty chair. The dragon and its accoutrements slid from her fur muff to the bare wooden floor. An embarrassing clunk echoed in the room. A governess, like the children in her care, should not draw the master’s attention. Yet the duke stared down in bemusement at the brass ring, dragon, and plate.
    Quickly, she bent, aghast at her clumsiness. He looked down at the floor in astonishment. So much for the door knocker bringing her luck. The duke studied it a moment longer before looking up again. “That’s an unusual token to bring to an interview. Does it hold a personal meaning for you?”
    She winced. “It’s our door knocker.