Did she want to be employed by a man who was kissing her during her interview? What favors would he demand at a later time? He drew back slightly. Moment by moment she regained her wits. Then he pressed his forefinger to her lower lip, and she lifted her eyes to his. His arrogant smile seemed too familiar. But it couldn’t be. . . .
“It is you!” she said in astonishment. “The man at the masquerade in London.”
“I was rather hoping you’d remember me,” he said ruefully. “I knew right away who you were.”
“I was unmasked,” she said in self-defense. And he’d swept her off her feet.
She laughed then. It was unwise of her, but really, she couldn’t imagine how the duke’s kisses could portend anything but problems.
He had risen to his feet, however, and it was impossible to appear self-possessed while she remained on the floor in a worshipful pose. Not, she supposed, that he was unaccustomed to worship. But she wasn’t used to sprawling and dropping door knockers about. He didn’t seem to care what impression he had made on her. But then he had no need to impress anyone.
“You could have simply introduced yourself to me,” she said. “Or never have mentioned our meeting in London at all.”
“Think of how awkward it would be for you to remember where we met while you were in the middle of a history lesson.”
She glanced away before he could see the disbelief cross her face. He was offering her the position. Were there strings attached? She had to accept whatever crumbs he would throw her way. Still she said nothing. He’d made no secret of the fact that he wanted Fenwick Manor. Was she to be his means of acquisition?
He couldn’t have known, years ago, that they would meet again like this.
His voice filled the silence. “We could consider it a kiss to seal our agreement.”
“It’s hardly how I expected to begin service.”
He smiled at her. “It was rather uncivilized.”
It was more of a Norman conquest. He had made up his mind. Should she ask for a day to consider his terms, whatever they might be? She thought of the other hopeful applicants gathered like a horde outside these walls and decided she couldn’t take that risk.
“Remember the children,” he said, extending his hand. She stared at his wrist for a moment before he pulled her off the floor with a strength that brought their bodies together.
“Children?”
“Mary and Walker.” He drew her around the desk and placed a pen in her hand. “I know this seems rushed, but they need a stable influence in their lives. Do you mind signing the contract right now? It would take a burden off my shoulders, I’ll admit.”
“Shouldn’t I read it first?”
“It’s a standard contract. You will be committed to me for a year. Your wages will be forty pounds, which I think you will agree is more than fair.”
It was twice what a top governess would earn, and now that Ivy had begun to emerge from her initial shock, she could hear voices rising from the hall. “We are about to be stormed like the Bastille,” he said, shaking his head as if sharing a weighty secret.
She smiled dryly. “How difficult it must be for Your Grace to turn down all the women who desire to work under your roof.”
“It won’t be difficult for me,” he said with a smile to answer hers. “Carstairs will inform them.”
“Then thank you for your time. I’m grateful to have been chosen.”
Again those gray eyes took an experienced survey of her person. Already her doubts rose up. Had she made a mistake taking the position? A peer of the realm might assume he had certain rights over a governess that she did not wish to relinquish.
Her gaze met his. His eyes betrayed no further mischief. She’d like to think he had been studying her for neatness instead of as a woman he could take to bed. She lowered her gaze to the desk, staring at the contract she had signed. “Should I have read that document more carefully?”
“Why aren’t you married?” he asked unexpectedly.
The question would have mortified her had she not noticed the letter sitting on his desk.
Dearest James,
I am more excited to be with you than words can express. How long we have waited to be alone.
The duke’s voice put an end to her spying career. “Lady Ivy?”
She looked up in embarrassment. He’d asked her why she had never married, and she had discovered he was expecting a lover to arrive. Or so that letter seemed to suggest. Of course it could be old correspondence. Of course she could mind her own business.
He shook his head. “Have you loved and lost, perhaps?”
Only you, she thought, on the most tumultuous evening of my life.