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A Governess for the Brooding Duke(31)

By:Bridget Barton




Under such scrutiny, it was little wonder that Ffion felt so uncomfortable. However, Georgette could see nothing of disdain or dislike in the Duke’s face. He seemed to be staring at the child almost absently, looking at her but not quite looking at her at the same time. And his countenance was one of such sadness that Georgette found she was holding her breath for a few moments. In her heart, she was simply hoping that he would look away so that she did not feel compelled to witness whatever it was that had him so affected.



Gently, so gently, Georgette squeezed Ffion’s little hand. Above all things, she had wanted the little girl to know that she was not alone in this. Georgette was there, and she understood. If only she could convey to the child by a simple squeeze of the hand that she, unlike the previous governesses, would never leave her.



“Have you ever been to Oxfordshire previously, Miss Darrington?” The question came so suddenly that Georgette almost gasped.



“No, Your Grace. I have always lived in London and, whilst I have visited many counties, I have never before come to Oxfordshire.”



“And what do you think of the countryside? After all, there is little of it to be had in London, is there not?” He seemed to be most determinedly making conversation with her.



Perhaps he had, after all, realized that she had witnessed him staring at Ffion. Perhaps it was simply his way of distracting her from what she had seen. His conversation seemed really rather strained, almost lacking in confidence somehow. Rather than being a genuine enquiry, Georgette could not help thinking it felt rather more like general small talk. It was as if he suddenly found himself feeling uncomfortable in so small a space with the new governess and was trying to cover it over with conversation. For a moment, Georgette felt rather sorry for him.



“In truth, Your Grace, I have always thought myself something of a town dweller. But I must admit that the countryside here is really rather beautiful. And the grounds of Draycott Hall are really very fine indeed,” Georgette spoke in as level a tone as she could manage. In truth, she did not want to appear overly enthusiastic for fear that he would think she was simply speaking to please him.



“So, you have not been at all put off by the remoteness of your new surroundings, Miss Darrington?” he said, and she rather thought that his question this time did at least have some little thought behind it.



In truth, he seemed as if he wanted to at least rule out the isolation of her surroundings as something which might, eventually, cause her to leave her position.



“Not at all, Your Grace,” Georgette said, fighting an urge to tell him that it was not the isolation of her surroundings but rather the isolation in terms of human contact which was rather the greater thing.



After all, had it not already been made clear to her that the Duke of Draycott was little interested in the good or bad relations which existed between his staff? For the time being at least, Georgette would rather think better of it and say nothing.



“That is good,” he said, almost to himself as he nodded his head quite thoroughly. “I think the remoteness of Draycott Hall has proved rather an insurmountable inconvenience to your predecessors.” He looked directly at her, his eyes holding hers for a moment in a way which almost made her mouth drop open.



However, Georgette held her countenance and bearing most steadily and nodded thoughtfully at him.



She rather thought that the remoteness of Draycott Hall was simply given to him as a polite reason by her predecessors rather than there being an ounce of truth in it.



Georgette silently waited for him to say more and, when he did not, she felt a little awkward. He had turned from her and had begun to look out of the window, and Georgette had to fight the urge to fill the silence. After all, he was the Duke, and it would not do for her to try to lead the conversation in any way. Furthermore, she rather thought that he had decided against any further conversation at that moment, and so she decided that it was best for her to simply accept it.



Just moments later, Georgette felt the change in speed as the horses began to slow and the driver gradually drew the carriage to a halt. She could see that they had pulled up just outside the churchyard of a really very beautiful little village church.



Georgette leaned forward a little to look out of the window and could see that the tiny graveyard held numerous little headstones, some falling this way and that as if they had been there for many, many years. The churchyard was beautifully attended, with neat lawns and immaculate shrubbery.



The driver appeared suddenly at the window and, as he hastily opened the door and reached in to take the first of the children, she rather hoped that it would be him, and not the Duke, who would help her out of the carriage.