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“You’re too small, Perkins.” He dipped his quill in his gold filigree inkwell, signaling the end of the interview. “You won’t do.”
Chapter 2
“What do you mean I’m too small?” Mari advanced on the duke. “I fail to see how that is relevant.”
The duke sighed and set down his pen. “I owe you no explanations but since you don’t appear to be leaving, I’ll further elaborate that my son is afflicted with night terrors. His governess must be able to physically subdue him, which is nigh impossible at times, so heavy are his limbs, so violent his movements, and so profound his sleep.”
Mari planted her muddy boots on his expensive carpet. She wasn’t going anywhere. She wouldn’t relinquish this chance for respectable work with a good salary, and free days, without a fight.
Night terrors were nothing new to her.
“You’re making a mistake,” she said. “I’m experienced with night terrors. I’ve cured several children of similar afflictions.”
“I never make mistakes. Not anymore. My mistake-making days are over,” was the very arrogant, very unyielding response.
Lady India snorted. “Really, Edgar? You sound like an arse right now.”
The duke frowned.
Mari barely refrained from smiling at Lady India. “You scorn to change, is that right, Your Grace?”
He cocked his head. “You read my motto?”
“I read Latin, converse in French and I’m far stronger than I appear. Give me one week’s trial, Your Grace. I promise you will see an improvement in the children.”
Was his gaze softening slightly?
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” she urged.
He shook his head. “You won’t last two days.”
“And why not, may I ask?”
“Because not only are you too slight of stature, you’ve an air of naïvety and optimism about you. My children are bound to dash your spirit and send you running back to your agency.”
“I should like to see them try. I may have lived my whole life in the countryside, but I’m hardly naïve.”
The weight of his stare turned solid footing to quicksand. Good Lord, but he was handsome.
And not in a foppish, bandboxy sort of way.
In a manly, gruff-voiced, and wide-shouldered sort of way.
“Out of the question.” He tapped his pen to the paper. “I never engage attractive, unmarried females. Too distracting for the footmen.”
He considered her to be attractive? The novelty of the revelation momentarily stunned her to silence. She’d just been contemplating his inordinate beauty and... he felt the same way about her?
Impossible. It must be just another reason to dismiss her.
“I’ll wear wire-rimmed spectacles,” she offered.
“Won’t help.”
“White lace caps with long flaps over the ears.” She mimed pulling the flaps down and tying them under her chin.
He frowned.
“Voluminous smocks,” she tried. “Surely your footmen will be able to resist a bespectacled, freckled, cap-wearing spinster in a voluminous smock.”
