The Duke in Disguise by Gayle Callen Read Free Book Online

she could not possibly berate her employer as if he were a student.

Why did he make her feel so nervous?

"Did you have any questions about your son's studies?" she asked awkwardly.

"No."

That stopped her. She clasped her hands together and nodded.

"He is making good progress, Your Grace, settling into his first routine well."

"He was rather wild the last time I was home."

"He is a very inquisitive, active child," she assured him.

"And it is your job to tame him?"

He was laughing at her now.

Coolly, she said, "No, Your Grace, but I can teach him to guide his enthusiasm. You saw how he behaved on the shore yesterday. He once would have run off without giving us a thought. He is learning to ask permission."

The subject of their picnic on the shore made the duke's smile fade a bit, and she knew it was time to take a chance.

"Your Grace, yesterday I could not help noticing your tension."

"I was not tense, Miss Shelby," he said mildly.

But as if reacting to something in the room, Victoria the wolfhound lifted her head and looked at her master.

Meriel found herself childishly wanting to point out that even the dog noticed.

"Your Grace, when Mr. Sherlock approached us, you were obviously worried."

He set down his coffee and rose to his feet. She wondered if he was trying to intimidate her, for he came closer and stared down at her.

"Miss Shelby, have you ever been a member of a noble household?"

"No, Your Grace."

He seemed about to say something of a serious nature— and then it was as if a light went out behind his eyes, hiding what she wanted to see there. His irreverent grin was back, along with the leering way he looked at her.

"Then you've not perchance made a study of how a nobleman behaves?"

She blushed again, far too easily of late. "No, Your Grace."

"Then you don't really know what I was thinking, do you?"

"No, Your Grace." She lifted her chin, beginning to grow angry because he was mocking her, and she was unable to stand up to him.

"So you understand that I don't need to explain myself to you, my son's governess."

"Of course, Your Grace," she said stiffly.

He smiled, and she realized with shock that he was no longer staring into her eyes, but at her mouth. She'd allowed herself to be kissed several times, and she knew what that look from a man meant.

Long ago, when she was still the center of attention among her own class in London, she had responded with anticipation— from curiosity's standpoint, of course. She had been kissed, and though it had been pleasant, the experience had been disappointing.

Now, as she looked at the duke, all she could do was be stunned by the pure feeling of anticipation that swept over her, through her, even though she still burned from his mockery. Appalled, she realized she wanted to taste him.

She backed away quickly. She would not let this happen. A man like the duke would take advantage of her and then release her from his employ.

"Will Stephen be joining you for luncheon, Your Grace?" She prided herself on how normal her voice sounded.

"I have an engagement elsewhere," he said.

His lazy smile was gone, and she could not allow herself to be stared at a moment longer.

"Then I wish you a good afternoon," she said, then escaped.
    * * *
    All afternoon, Meriel was torn between pride that she'd stood up for Stephen, and anger directed at herself for not realizing what having dinner with the duke every night would mean for her. She would have to suffer his attention and devise ways to distract him without jeopardizing her employment.

Dressing for dinner was an exercise in futility— what was she to wear? Her best gowns were far too lovely for a governess to wear— especially a governess who was trying to stay unnoticed. She certainly would not allow the duke to think she was deliberately attracting his attention.

She finally chose a black silk gown that she had worn to her father's funeral and dressed it up with a simple cameo at her throat. From now on,