Mara wanted to tread upon his foot. But seeing as he was a great giant of a man, she doubted he would feel it at all.
“Well then. It’s settled,” Lydia said, as though it were. Which it seemed to be, despite Mara being against the entire thing. “You shall spend the morning with the boys, and they will no doubt learn a great deal.” She turned to Mara, immense meaning in her eyes as she finished, casually, “And perhaps once you have spent the day with the boys, you and Mrs. MacIntyre can discuss a charitable donation to our very good work.”
Lydia was nothing if not shrewd. Where Mara looked at Temple and saw a dangerous foe, Lydia saw a wealthy potential ally. A man who could pay all their bills.
Temple raised a brow. “Your business acumen rivals that of your employer.”
Lydia smiled. “I shall take that as a compliment.”
She shouldn’t, of course.
Temple would not simply decide to give to the orphanage. He, too, was shrewd. And their best chance of paying their bills was for Mara to continue on her path. A thread of unease slid through her at the mercenary thought. She ignored it.
This was about the orphanage and the boys’ safety.
Her means would justify that end.
Lydia stood then. “Well. This is a treat. It’s not every day a duke gives up his title to take on work.”
“I hear it happens quite often in novels,” Temple said.
“This is not exactly a novel,” Mara said. In a novel, she’d be a perfect, beautiful maid with an unblemished past to match her complexion. And he’d be a handsome, brooding duke.
Well, the last bit was rather like real life, she supposed.
“Really?” he teased, “I confess, the events of the last week have been strange enough to convince me otherwise.”
Lydia laughed. “Indeed.”
Mara pointed at her. “Do not come to like him.”
The laugh turned into a grin. “That might prove difficult.”
Temple bowed.
They were flirting now, and it occurred to Mara that if this were a novel, she would not be the heroine. Lydia might be. The kind, pretty, blond governess, with bright laughs and big eyes, just the thing to turn the brooding duke around.
Mara scowled. It was not a novel.
“Lydia, prepare the boys for a special lesson with His Grace,” she said, meeting Temple’s eyes. “You remain here.”
Curiosity flooded Lydia’s expression, but she knew better than to linger, leaving immediately to collect her charges. Once the door closed behind her, she came around the desk to face him. “You needn’t do this.”
“It’s kind of you to think of my comfort.”
“I did not mean to imply that I was doing that.”
His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “I shall infer it nonetheless.”
He was distracting. She could smell the clove and thyme on him—the salve she’d spread on his wound while he’d waited patiently, her fingers sliding over his warm, smooth skin.
And from there, it was a quick leap to the memory of his lips on hers.
She couldn’t believe she’d kissed him.
Could believe even less that he’d kissed her in return.
And she would not think on the fact that she’d liked it.
Or that like seemed not at all a strong enough word for how the caress had made her feel.
He was smirking now, as though he knew the thoughts that were running through her mind.
She cleared her throat. Straightened her shoulders. “The boys do not have much time with gentlemen. They will be interested in you.”
He nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Don’t . . .” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “Don’t make them like you.”
His brows rose.
“It will only make it harder when you leave and never return. Don’t let them grow attached to you.” Suddenly, the possibility of becoming attached to him did not seem so unrealistic.
There was a thick hesitation before he said, “It’s just a morning, Mara.”
She nodded, ignoring the way the words twisted in the air between them. “I’ll have your word on that.”
He exhaled on a little huff. Humor? Frustration? “As a gentleman? Or a scoundrel?”
“As both.”
He nodded. “My word, as both.”
She opened the door, turned back to him, trying not to notice how handsome he was. How tempting. “I hope at least one of them sticks.”
He left, and she closed the door behind him. After several moments of wanting to follow him, she turned the lock, and returned to her desk.
One hour.
That was how long it took for her curiosity to get the better of her, and for her to go hunting for him.
She found Lydia standing sentry in the main hall of the orphanage.
“Where are they?” Mara asked.
Lydia tipped her head in the direction of the firmly shut door to the dining room. “He has been with them for three-quarters of an hour.”
“Doing what?”
“I haven’t any idea.”
She approached her friend, lowered her voice to a whisper. “I cannot believe you asked him this.”
Lydia shrugged. “He seems a decent man.”