The Duke's Guide to Correct Behavior Read Free Page A

his whole self was so . . . tremendous, that it seemed he might just knock everything in the room over with his presence.
    He was tall, and very, very, very handsome. Extremely male. No, entirely and absolutely virile. That was the word. Virile, with all the connotations that brought the pink to her own cheeks. At least she better matched the room.
    Goodness. She’d seen pictures of gods and soldiers and kings and other leaders of men, but she’d never actually felt the impulse to follow one of them anywhere.
    This one, though, she might consider following, even though that way led to things a young lady
should not be thinking of. Especially a respectful governess who needed to make a good impression.
    He had dark hair, straight, which brushed his collar in an unkempt way that nonetheless looked utterly dashing. His eyebrows were straight black slashes over his eyes, dark brown, which were intently gazing at her as though he could see to her soul.
    And if he could, he knew what she was thinking about him, so that could be problematic.
    The sharp planes of his chiseled face were further accentuated by the stubble on his cheeks, giving him an even more dangerous look. The Dangerous Duke sounded like a character from a gothic novel. And he looked like just the sort of man who would lure women to do Dangerous Things.
    One of his slashing eyebrows had risen, and she realized she’d been staring at him. Didn’t that happen to him frequently enough for it not to cause comment? Perhaps not in the sanctity of his own home. Or maybe there was a room made for staring, and she was not in it.
    â€œThe governess,” he stated, as though it was in question. He did not sound as though he truly believed she was one. Which made two of them, despite her having had experience with children, namely her sister, which was why she didn’t have experience with any children past five years old. The familiar pain reminded her just what circumstances had brought her here. It’s a worthwhile risk , a whispered voice in her brain said. Be strong .
    â€œYour references.” He held his hand out as he spoke.
    â€œReferences,” she repeated, knowing the pink in her cheeks was increasing. Perhaps this was the Room for Blushing, but if it were, she was doing all the work. He looked absolutely confident, that one eyebrow still lifted as though it had noticed her blushes but he himself had not.
    There was a silence as they continued to look at each other in what felt like a facial standoff.
    His other eyebrow joined its mate. “I presume a reputable governess from a reputable agency—I saw the advertisement in the papers, and my butler knew of the agency’s reputation—would come supplied with references?” He lifted his head and crossed his arms on his chest. “Are you saying my butler is misinformed? Are you saying I have made the wrong decision?” His tone was nearly incredulous.
    She still did not speak. She knew what to say—she’d coached enough of the unfortunate women to be able to recite it in her sleep—but she just couldn’t, not with him, and those eyebrows, and all that . . . virility just a few feet away.
    She was very far from reputable at this moment, she had to admit.
    His lips—the fullness of which she’d just been admiring—thinned. “I need a governess. Not for me, mind you,” he added, those lips tilting up in a crooked smirk, as though this duke had a sense of humor, “but for my . . . my charge. A young lady of approximately four years.” A frown. “Or more or less, I’m not precisely certain.”
    This was for the agency, she couldn’t falter now. Or open and close her mouth like a hungry fish. Either action would not be useful.
    â€œYes, of course, Your Grace.” She made a slight curtsey, just as she instructed the women to do. To reinforce the client’s importance so he or she would be beguiled into