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His late father’s appetite for comely servants had nauseated Edgar. He would never misuse his power or position in such a way, but why bring her into his home?
Besides, the children would only chase her away.
He strode to the hearth, clenching his jaw against the twinge of pain in his bad knee.
Lowering his bundle of indignant female into a chair across from India, he sank to his good knee and caught Miss Perkins by the ankle.
“Heavens!” she said, staring with startled eyes, as if transfixed by the sight of his hand up her skirts.
“My, my,” said India with a chuckle. “This interview certainly took an unexpected turn.” She grinned at Edgar, her shoulders shaking with suppressed merriment.
His sister always had enjoyed a good laugh at his expense.
Miss Perkins attempted to jerk her foot away from his grasp and only succeeded in jabbing him in the thigh with a shattered piece of metal.
“Hold still,” he said.
“I hope you’re not injured, Miss Perkins?” India asked.
The governess smoothed auburn curls back from her flushed and freckled cheeks.
She certainly wasn’t a traditional beauty, but there was something arresting about her.
Thick braided coils of hair the color of sunlight filtering through rubies. Golden brown freckles scattered across her cheeks and the bridge of her small straight nose.
An unmistakably clever and challenging light in her blue eyes.
“I’m unharmed... I think.” She ran her hands over her slim waist, setting her gown to rights and drawing his gaze to the curve of her small breasts, which had nearly been jostled out of her bodice by her upside-down journey.
“Can’t say the same for my model engine.” Gripping the thin metal framework, Edgar attempted to ease the engine over the toe of her boot, but it was tangled in her bootlaces.
He didn’t want to cut her trim, elegant calf. All of her was slender and elegant.
Too slender.
Had she eaten anything lately? She had a hungry look about her.
He’d dined on meat pies for luncheon. If Miss Perkins had been there, he could have fed her some pastry, and then licked the crumbs from her fingers.
Good God.Why was he thinking about licking the governess? He never had such uncontrolled thoughts.
She must go. This instant.
Free her boot from his ruined handiwork and send her on her way, to destroy someone else’s peace of mind.
His sister caught his eye and grinned. She’d always possessed the uncanny ability to read his mind.
“What is that thing, Your Grace? You called it an engine?” Miss Perkins bent her head to have a closer look. “Is it a toy for the children?”
“It’s nota toy. It’s a small-scale model of one of my steam engines.”
India chuckled, confound her. “You might call it a toy, Miss Perkins. He does love to play with his miniature engines. He’s planning an invasion, you see.”
“Not an invasion,” he said. “A railway line that will connect London and Birmingham. I’ve invested heavily in the London, Coventry, and Birmingham Railway Company, one of two companies vying to build the railroad. My Vulcan Foundry Works will supply the steam-powered engines for the railway, and soon, I hope, for a consolidated fire brigade of London.”
“You build engines?” she asked, with a puzzled wrinkle between her brows.
Always the reaction he received. Dukes weren’t supposed to engage in trade.
