She could invent a story, but she was too taken aback to think on her feet. So this was the unabashed rogue who had offered to marry her if she didn’t have five proposals by noon the next day.
He looked gorgeous without his mask. More gorgeous than she’d imagined, and he had figured in her imagination on innumerable occasions since then. Sometimes he’d gone beyond kissing her. In her dreams she had met him at midnight and he’d seduced her until morning so that he had no choice but to marry her. His proposal had interrupted her father’s duel. Instead of a funeral, there had been a wedding and honeymoon composed of wicked and wistful moments.
“Lady Ivy?” The duke’s deep voice drew her back to the present dilemma. “It was a personal question. You don’t have to answer.”
Question? What question? Oh, the one about marriage. She really should make up a story. The truth sounded quite unimpressive.
She thought of the eligible gentlemen she had once turned down. Only two, it was true. But surely if she’d married one, she would be in a better place than where she and her sisters currently found themselves.
The duke had investigated her background before he’d agreed to this interview, hadn’t he? He couldn’t know that Billy Wilson had proposed to her at Fenwick, vowing her father’s scandal didn’t matter, only to retract his offer a week later.
Then again, the duke wasn’t a man to underestimate.
She sighed. “I never found the right gentleman before our family fell from grace. Or perhaps, I was always the wrong woman.”
His eyes searched hers until it became a battle to maintain her dignity. She had told the truth. He could order her out the door if he disapproved.
He nodded slowly. “Your father’s sins are not yours.”
So he had heard. “You’re one of the few men I’ve met in society to think so.”
“Society is comprised of sheep. I care more about your present behavior. I assume you are not given to flirtation?”
She could’ve hit him with her sanctuary hold. How presumptuous. Given to flirtation, he asked, and with a straight face. She blushed at the memory of the two of them on the floor. She certainly hadn’t initiated that kiss. And in no manner was that to be interpreted as a prelude to a liaison. It was criminal what a handsome man could get away with.
“I assure Your Grace that I am not given to kissing or flirting with random strangers. At masquerade balls or on floors.”
He rested his hip back against the desk. “Good. We’re no longer strangers, by the way.”
“We were never introduced.”
“We know each other now.” He assumed a somber attitude. “As governess you must hold yourself to be the North Star for the children. The last thing they need is another person drifting off on a whim.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” She knew how deeply a parent could damage a family.
“Can you start on Tuesday, please?”
“But that’s only a few days from now.”
“The sooner, the better.”
She panicked. She needed a wardrobe, shoes, food for her sisters until she was paid and could give them a little to live on. She’d intended to make a final journey to London to pawn her pearls before committing herself to service.
“Your Grace, please, may I start on Friday next?”
He wavered. She remembered what he’d said. She must not drift off and be caught staring at him every time they crossed paths. It was rather difficult, however, when his eyes traveled over her person, stopping at every button and indentation of her gown as if learning the topography of a map.
“Fine,” he said. “My carriage will collect you early on Monday morning at Fenwick Manor.”
She curtsied, turned again, and darted through the door the steward held open for her exit. “Welcome to Ellsworth Park, Lady Ivy,” he said warmly.
Good heavens. She did feel wanted.
“Thank you, Mr. Carstairs. Thank you ever so much.”
She must have regained enough decorum to satisfy the steward, for he granted her an approving nod and politely overlooked the fact that she almost fell through the door he had opened. The duke, she feared, would not be as easy to please.
By the time she reached the end of the entrance vestibule, Ivy understood why Carstairs had warned the duke to remain hidden until the grounds had been cleared of hopeful governesses. Gentlewomen of all ages soon filed from the receiving room, Carstairs dismissing them like cattle. Within moments the wrathful eyes of the rejected noticed Ivy sneaking down the hall.
A cry went up. “Is she the one? The first one?”
“He never heard about my experiences working in Siam.”
“She isn’t much to look at.”