Compromising Miss Milton

Silently, Daisy counted up her current savings. Meagre, although it should see her through until she could secure another position, but the dream of being with Felicity and Kammie would have to be postponed yet again. Panicking never solved anything and there was a slim chance that Nella was wrong. Her cases had not greeted her at the door as Louisa Sibson’s had when her affair with Jonathon Ponsby-Smythe had been discovered. She might yet keep the job.

Yes. Nella was up to her attention-seeking tricks. The tension eased out of Daisy’s neck and shoulders. She would be the mistress of the situation. Mrs Blandish would have to take action about Nella.

Daisy grabbed a cloth, went over to the basin and wet it. ‘Scrub your face and stop feeling sorry for yourself, Nella. You were the one who was caught out.’

‘But…’

‘Prunella Blandish, telling tales can get you in trouble. I trust you will remember this lesson and there will be no need to repeat it.’ Daisy shook out the folds of her gown. The mud splatters and rents made it impossible for her to wear the gown in public. She would have to take the time to change. And she would wear her grey gown and her Indian brooch, the one her brother had sent her just before he had died. It would set the right tone for a sober and responsible governess, one who could not possibly have shared a kiss with a rake of the first order.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To see your mother and inform her of the truth. You will have to write out a hundred lines for me.’

Nella screwed up her nose and made a gagging sound.

‘In your best handwriting, Nella.’

‘And what do I have to write?’ Nella gave a winning smile. ‘How much I love my governess?’

‘Telling tales leads to mischief. It will give you something to do rather than sitting here, feeling sorry for yourself. Remember I am still your governess.’

Nella’s lips curved upwards. ‘I will do that.’

Daisy resisted the urge to smile back or show any sign of softening. Without discipline, Nella would not learn. And that was what she was here for—to be a governess and not to be anything else at all.

Chapter Five

At the drawing-room door, Daisy smoothed the skirt of her grey gown and kept her head high. The brooch at her throat and the light shawl over her shoulders completed the outfit. The absolute picture of a sober hardworking governess, rather than the bedraggled waif she had glimpsed in the mirror earlier, and definitely not someone whom a man would ever embrace.

After entering the room in a dignified manner, Daisy made a brief curtsy to the assembled throng of women. Her curtsy was neither too deep nor perfunctory, but precisely at the correct height.

Mrs Blandish was enthroned at the other end of the room, a silver teapot at her side. The remains of two cakes littered her plate and several crumbs had spilt down her ample bosom. Her glance turned ice cold as Daisy rose from the curtsy.

Silently Daisy went over her savings once again. Whatever happened, she refused to crawl or beg. She would rather starve. If she could leave with dignity and a civil reference, another position would be relatively easy to secure. Five other families had been after her services. She had chosen the Blandishes because the salary was more than the others.

‘Ah, Miss Milton, I see you have returned.’ Mrs Blandish’s purple turban twitched. She set her tea cup down with a distinct clank. The naturally high colour became higher still. ‘How good of you to come and find me. I trust my daughter gave you the correct message.’

‘She passed it along, Mrs Blandish.’ Daisy inclined her head. Calm, collected, professional were the words she lived by. Mrs Blandish for all her airs and graces was the granddaughter of a fishmonger. ‘Without embellishment, or so Nella informs me. I believe you were at pains to explain the situation to her.’

‘Good. My daughter seems sadly prone to exaggeration since she has come under your care. Not a day goes by without some sort of incident. Today’s little episode was the worst by some way.’

Daisy’s neck muscles tightened, but she choked back a quick retort. Nothing would be solved by antagonising Mrs Blandish in front of the assembled crowd.

‘I am endeavouring to curb the tendency, Mrs Blandish. It would be helpful if she was not encouraged.’ Daisy kept her tones measured. Surely Mrs Blandish had to see the sheer nonsense of Nella’s allegation. ‘Her words are often the subject of much conjecture and gossip, rather than being treated as fantastical imaginings.’

‘Fantastical imaginings. Hmm, you do have a point.’ Mrs Blandish took an overly dainty sip from her tea cup. ‘I wish to reach the end of this coil.’

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