AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Three
“I hate you!” The door to the library slammed shut, shaking the very foundations of Dartmoor House. The sound of light footfalls and distraught sobs in the hallway outside quickly receded.
Bloody, blazing, blistering ballocks.Dominic Winters, the fifth Duke of Dartmoor, dragged a hand through his rain-damp hair as he stared at the door’s gleaming oak panels. He’d only arrived home ten minutes ago, and already he was regretting it. If he hadn’t been so dog tired, he’d have gone straight from a meeting with the Great Western Railway board at Paddington Station to White’s, and then he could have avoided all of this. Well, at least until the following day.
Flicking out his coattails, he deposited himself in the heavy oak chair behind his desk and huffed out an exasperated sigh. For years, he’d effectively negotiated with cutthroat industrialists and entrepreneurs looking to take advantage of him when striking a deal. He’d managed pernickety stewards and cantankerous tenants on his numerous estates. When the occasion called for it, he did his ducal duty and ruthlessly pushed through key parliamentary legislation that would not only earn him favor with the Queen but also benefit his own business interests in Britain and on the Continent.
But never, in all of his thirty-eight years, had he been so damn frustrated and lost for words.
And all because of a spiteful hellion. A virago in the making.
His fifteen-year-old daughter, Celeste.
Miss Rosalind Sharp, Celeste’s governess, stepped forward from the shadows of the curtained window embrasure. Her clear hazel eyes met his. “I’m so sorry about all of this, Your Grace,” she said gravely. Her high, pale forehead was creased with a frown. “Perhaps I should go after her. With your permission, of course…”
Dominic gave a curt nod. “Yes. I think that would be wise. But before you go, Miss Sharp, I wanted to thank you again for bringing all of this”—he placed a hand upon the stack of slim, leather-bound volumes on the blotter—“to my attention. I know you had concerns about bothering me unnecessarily, but given the delicate nature of this particular matter, you did the right thing. This is indeed a situation I needed to deal with. You’ve exercised sound judgment in coming to me.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” The governess sank into a neat curtsy. “I’m here to serve both you and Lady Celeste to the best of my ability.”
With her head bowed, Dominic could see the straight line of the woman’s precisely parted hair and the fact that the tips of her ears had turned a bright shade of pink. Good heavens, was the governess blushing because of his faint praise?
Dominic cleared his throat. “Before you go, tell me, how did Celeste manage to procure such ‘horrid’ novels?” His mind immediately darted to the attractive flame-haired bluestocking he’d bumped into outside Paddington Station and her fondness for Gothic literature. “Do you have any idea?”
“I…” The governess’s blush deepened, marching its way across her entire face from neck to hairline. “I’m not entirely certain, Your Grace. She wouldn’t tell me, but I can’t imagine that reputable bookshops such as Hatchards would sell such titles. Not that I’ve been to Hatchards lately. It might have been Delaney’s…”
“Delaney’s?”
“Yes. I’ve heard that it’s a store specializing in antique, rare, and unique books. Apparently, it’s in Piccadilly, not far from Hatchards. But then, Lady Celeste could have picked up those”—the governess made a moue of distaste as she indicated the pile on the desk—“from a circulating library. I don’t think a friend lent them to her.”
“No…” Dominic wiped a hand down his face as guilt sliced. The sad fact was, Miss Sharp was right. Celestedidn’thave any friends to speak of. It was through no fault of her own that no one wished to associate with the Dastardly Duke of Dartmoor’s daughter.
“I’m sorry I don’t have a better answer for you, Your Grace,” the governess continued quietly. “I could attempt to question Lady Celeste further if you’d like.”
“I wouldn’t worry. And I suppose it’s really neither here nor there at this point in time,” Dominic said with a heavy sigh. “The important thing is, Lady Celeste won’t be polluting her mind with such licentious content any longer. Content that, as you so rightly point out, is not suitable for a fifteen-year-old girl.”
“Yes, Your Grace. Only…”
Dominic arched a brow. “What is it?”
“As you know, Lady Celeste is quite bright. And a voracious reader. So I did wonder if a trip to Hatchards might be in order. While the library here is extensive and has an excellent collection of classic literature”—Miss Sharp nodded at the towering mahogany bookcases surrounding them—“the actual number of titles that would particularly interest a young lady are limited. Indeed, anything that has appealed to Lady Celeste, she’s already read. And more than once. The same could be said for the library at Ashburn Abbey.”
“Ah, I see.” Dominic cast his gaze over the multitude of leather-bound volumes. “You’re telling me that she’s bored and needs books that will entertain rather than merely educate.”
“I…” A look of alarm flared in the governess’s eyes. “I apologize, unreservedly, if I have come across as critical, Your Grace. It is not my place to do so. To criticize. And of course, it is my duty to engage Lady Celeste’s mind. I will endeavor to do better.”
“No offense taken, Miss Sharp. And I’ll consider your request to visit Hatchards.” He gave another curt nod. “You may go.”
As soon as the governess quit the room, Dominic crossed to the sideboard where he kept a tray of spirits and splashed a large measure of brandy into a cut-crystal tumbler.
Of course,hecould do better too. Who would have thought that bringing up an adolescent daughter would be such challenging and altogether frustrating work? Up until now, Celeste’s antics had been all relatively innocuous, and he supposed it was only natural for a girl—no, young woman, he reminded himself—to be testing the limits of what she could or couldn’t get away with.
Although, when he’d learned that Celeste had recently been trying out her fledgling feminine wiles on some of the household’s male staff—Miss Sharp had reported that she’d been casting flirtatious glances at several younger footmen and one of the grooms—he’d taken his daughter aside to remind her about what was appropriate behavior for a young lady of her station and the importance of guarding her reputation. He supposed it was something his wife would have done, if she were still here. God rest her soul.
His mind returned to the fraught interview that had taken place only minutes ago. Celeste had rolled her eyes at him and muttered a string of unladylike curse words beneath her breath—something she’d never done before—when he’d sternly admonished her for reading such “frivolous, morally questionable books.” At least that’s how Miss Sharp had described them, and he had no reason to distrust the governess’s summation. When he’d subsequently threatened to send Celeste back to Ashburn Abbey in Devonshire until she showed him respect and learned some manners, she’d burst into tears and declared that he didn’t understand her, and that she hated him.
And she was right. Dominic didn’t understand why she’d become so surly and insubordinate, practically overnight. Up until her fifteenth birthday last November, she’d always been a sweet-tempered, well-behaved girl. She was growing up too fast. Turning into a young woman before his eyes. With a young woman’s interest in the opposite sex. And given the evidently far-too-graphic content of the “novels” she’d been reading, she now possibly knew far too much about sexual congress. A most disconcerting and thoroughly uncomfortable thought.
If he didn’t do something to curb Celeste’s wilder tendencies, he suspected it wouldn’t be long before she did something completely disastrous like sneaking out of the house in search of some amorous adventure. Fortune hunters abounded in London, and the daughter of a wealthy duke—whether his own reputation was tattered or not—would still be the prime target of countless unscrupulous cads.
