Page 39 of A Governess Should Never… Deny a Duke (The Governess Chronicles 2)

“Indeed. We hold one every twelvemonth, last year apart, of course. Gentry travel from the towns and will stay here or at the Llanedwyn Inn, but I’ll ensure they keep from the west wing so as not to disturb yourself and Mari.”

Isabelle smiled her thanks and turned to leave when a painting caught her eye – a fire-breathing scarlet dragon flew high over a savage sea while a man watched on from the cliffs, the present-day crumbling Castell y Ddraig forming the corner of a mighty castle.

“The legend you told me of, I presume?”

“Yes, though in this version the artist chose to portray it more as man’s longing for the unattainable.”

“I see.” The duke now stood close behind, the musky finish of sandalwood drifting, and she could almost feel the heat he emanated.

Unattainable indeed.

With a deep breath, she turned to curtsey. “Thank you for your time. Good day, Your Grace.”

Isabelle departed his study and crossed the entrance hall, dodging the now-bustling footmen and curtseying to the Pritchards who were sauntering to the breakfast room, before she headed with all haste for Mrs Pugh’s quarters – cinnamon biscuits were attainable, and she’d be content enough with them.