A Mother For His Family. Susanne Dietze

of triumph shot through her veins.

      It had been a rough first day, perhaps, but not all bad. Louisa tossed a ball, the housekeeper defrosted a degree and her husband would be pleased that she’d dismissed the unskilled applicant for the children’s governess. All in all, she’d accomplished a great deal on her first day as the Lady Ardoch.

      She welcomed the tea’s arrival and poured herself a full cup. If one day’s success was any indication of the years to come, she’d count herself blissfully married, indeed.

      * * *

      His wife had done what?

      John set his fork onto the rim of the Wedgwood plate with a soft chink. Astounding he hadn’t dropped the utensil altogether. “Pardon me, but I didn’t quite hear that last bit.”

      Helena nibbled her food, unable to answer until she swallowed.

      Across the gleaming mahogany expanse of the dining table, she made the perfect picture of a lady, all berry-colored silk and proper deportment. Her jeweled combs and pale hair glowed in the candlelight, a glittering contrast to the matte of the marine-blue wall behind her. She looked every bit the daughter of a duke. A lovely daughter of a duke.

      John retrieved his fork. He’d known she would be fair of face, of course. Her parents were fine in looks, and apples tended to not fall far from the trees on which they sprouted. But perhaps it might have been preferable if Helena had been, well, plain. It seemed rather disrespectful to Catriona to have married such a beautiful woman.

      John’s grip on the fork tightened. So his new wife was attractive. There was no shame in finding her so. As long as he did not act on an attraction, he would be a man of his word.

      Perhaps these...feelings...had more to do with dining in the company of a lady again. He had not done so in a long time. Longer even than the three years Catriona had been gone. Although his conversation with Helena, who detailed her first day as his wife like his man of business listed cattle prices, was nothing like dining with Catriona.

      She swallowed, patted her lips with a linen serviette and smiled. “I said the ragout of celery is divine. So is the salmon. What a delicate leek sauce.”

      Any taste of leeks lingering on John’s tongue had disintegrated to sawdust. “Before that. About the governess?”

      “Unsuitable was the word I used.” She forked another bite of salmon.

      “How so?” At Helena’s furrowed brow, he lifted a hand. “Perhaps you were not aware how desperate the children’s need is. Our last governess left without warning.”

      “I was acquainted with that information.” Her mouth turned down in a fair imitation of her father’s disapproving grimace. “From the children.”

      How did the bairns know about Miss McManus and Mr. Robertson? John’s stomach twisted. It seemed the servants had not shown restraint, gossiping in front of his children. Here was yet another reason why he needed a lady in the house to oversee things.

      “I share your displeasure over the matter. However, I had expected to remedy the problem of a governess today, as we discussed this morning. Could we have not made this one work?”

      “No.” She started to chew her lip, then pressed her lips together instead. “What the children require is a governess of character and education. This woman today did not even use a handkerchief. I do not think she owns one.”

      Was that all? “We provide our servants with handkerchiefs.”

      “We’d need to provide her more than that before she could teach Margaret anything. She lacked knowledge of globes, French or history.” Helena’s eyes sparked. “But she knew plenty about flogging. I know it happens at boys’ schools, but I never expected to hear of it as a disciplinary option from a governess.”

      Neither did John. “Are you certain she said that? Mayhap you misheard—”

      “I did not mishear her.”

      “But she could be instructed of how things are done at Comraich—”

      “You married me for this purpose, and I ask you trust my judgment when I insist the woman is as I said—unsuitable.”

      John’s first response died on his lips. As did his second. Helena was right. Flogging wouldn’t be tolerated, and it sounded as if Miss Campbell wasn’t qualified. He’d wanted the matter resolved today, but no governess was better than the wrong one. And he must trust Helena to hire another, just as he handled the estate and his political issues. This was, as she said, why he married her.

      He sat back in his chair. “So what will you do?”

      “I shall make inquiries on the morrow.” Her lips twitched into a shy grin, a far different smile from those placid, frozen-into-stillness smiles she wore so much of the time. Her expression was not in the least flirtatious. Nevertheless, her little smile drew him in, and he craved another from her, the way the children hungered after desserts of cream ices and puddings. As if he could ask for more, please.

      What a ridiculous thing to think, considering their arrangement. He shoved the foolish thought aside. “And in the meantime? Until someone who uses a handkerchief can be found?”

      She didn’t look up at him, even though he’d used a teasing tone. “I thought I might teach the children.”

      “You?” The word blurted out before he gave it thought.

      “Whyever not?” Her shoulders squared. “I’m proficient at pianoforte and not too terrible with sums.”

      But she was the high-born Lady Helena. Catriona had never sat down with the bairns, not to read or spin a top or play a tune on the pianoforte. He’d not expected this duke’s daughter to lower herself to execute the duties of a governess. His surprise faded, replaced by a warm glow of pleasure under his waistcoat.

      “I think that would be delightful.” His words conjured another of her genuine smiles, the one he liked too much for his own good. He speared a bite of fish.

      “How did the candidate for governess come to be recommended to you?” Helena’s head tipped to the side. “She said it was not through a service.”

      The fish stuck in John’s throat, even as the plates were cleared. How pathetic he must seem to his new wife, arranging for an interview with an inept governess. But he had thought—oh, never mind. “She is the great-niece of the housekeeper, Mrs. McGill.”

      Helena’s lips twisted. “Now it makes sense.”

      “What?” He rose when she did.

      “Nothing of note.”

      He didn’t believe her. She held something back from him.

      Then again, he held something back from her, too. The blackmail letter, locked in the ornamental box upstairs. His secrecy was for her own good, however, not at all like a matter of household staffing. Before he could ask anything further about it, though, her brows lifted. “What is your habit after dinner?”

      “I bid the children good-night. Yesterday was different, with the wedding and lateness of the celebration. Would you care to join me in the nursery?”

      She nodded. Her hand was light on his forearm as he escorted her up the stairs to the nursery. Her closeness filled his senses, from the rustling fabric of her gown to the delicate scent of her perfume. Everything about her emanated femininity.

      Then she looked up at him, casting that shy smile. It transformed her entirely. Not that she was not beautiful when she bore that fixed smile, but when her true smile curved her lips, she was no longer like a magnificent artwork, a cold sculpture. She was enchanting.

      He did not know how long he had been smiling back, or when he’d patted her tiny hand, resting on his forearm. But her fingers felt so warm and natural there, he left his hand atop hers.

      “Papa, at last.”

      He