A Governess for the Brooding Duke(50)

“You could not have known, Your Grace,” she answered and held his gaze briefly before turning away again.



“Although, perhaps I ought to have put a little more thought into it. After all, with your position here, well, I suppose I ought …” He finished with a great sigh and tipped his head back to look up at the blue sky as it appeared here and there through the great swathes of overlapping branches and leaves.



Georgette rather thought he was silently appealing to the heavens to be blessed with a little more tact or even a way to politely finish the conversation and make his excuses. Suddenly, she was overcome with an urge to laugh and, since it had come upon her so unexpectedly, she did just that.



The moment the noise had escaped her, she raised a hand to her mouth in an attempt to cover it. However, the whole afternoon had taken such a curious turn, and her emotions had been pulled this way and that, it was as if her mind had decided that there was nothing left to do but laugh, and that was that.



“Oh, forgive me, Your Grace,” Georgette said, feeling her cheeks reddening and a panic sweep over her at the thought that she might not be able to stop laughing at all. “Really, I should not have laughed. I do not know what came over me.” Georgette tried to control her breathing and could feel her shoulders giving her away.



“No, Miss Darrington. It is I who must ask for forgiveness. And it is I who must give thanks for your forbearance of my blundering.” He stopped suddenly and turned to face her.



Georgette stopped and turned likewise, knowing that she must. Suddenly, her laughter died in her throat, and she felt very much calmer. The Duke regarded her for some moments without speaking, his face softening into an easy countenance she could never have suspected him of possessing. He seemed younger somehow, a certain calm or relief in his handsome features.



“And before I say something else which gives me cause for regret, Miss Darrington, I must take my leave of you and allow you to return to the peace of the Sunday afternoon you had planned.” Suddenly he bowed rather deeply, not taking his eyes from hers for a moment. And then, he was gone. He had turned fully around and was striding away from her, leaving Georgette simply staring after him, a little open-mouthed.





Chapter 18



Georgette sat on the bed in her room, turning the little volume over and over in her hands before placing it back down on the bed beside her and picking up the letter from Henrietta once more.



She had already read the thing several times and yet could not help reading it again. Henrietta wrote in such a light and breezy way, and Georgette could not help imagining her dear friend speaking the words in person, her bright eyes and pretty face aglow with the excitement of life. In truth, in reading the letter, she could quite imagine that dear Henrietta was there with her at that moment.



She had quite expected that any news and gossip from home would have only sought to make her feel more isolated, set apart from the world she used to inhabit. And yet, it had not. Henrietta had made her feel as if she were part of a conversation; still a part of the life they had once shared, almost as if there had never been a break in communication whatsoever.



Georgette thought back to her own rather wise words; the words she had given to the Duke himself in the woodland. We are all guilty of taking what we have for granted. As she stared at her dear friend’s beautifully written script, Georgette realized that there was more to be taken for granted in this world than simple possessions. It was not just homes and status in society which one missed when deprived of them, but true friends also.



She could not help wondering if she had taken her friendship with Henrietta for granted over the years. Not in any evil way, but rather the assumption that such a friendship, once given, would remain forever.



But of course, the friendship still existed. It was simply physical presence which had ceased. Surely the miles between them could not stop a friendship built so well and over so many years. Georgette smiled and looked wistfully out of the window. Of course, it could not. After all, Henrietta had gone to great pains to find a little book of Welsh translations. Surely that had not been an easy thing to find in London since Georgette knew well that it was unlikely there was a great call for such things. As was their custom, the English undoubtedly assumed that it was far better, if they were to communicate, that the Welsh learn how to speak English and not the other way around.



Something about that idea made her feel rather annoyed. Worse still, it reminded her of the Duke’s insistence that she must do what she could to anglicize Eleri and Ffion’s speech and language. And that particular memory was not a welcome one to her since she had been thinking rather better of the Duke of Draycott since their curious encounter in the woodland.