The Earl and the Governess

The room remained silent for several uncomfortable seconds. He picked up the watch and opened the case to examine it. His eyes showed no emotion when he returned his gaze to her face. ‘You were just…borrowing it, I suppose?’

Oh, God, how could she explain? Her words spilled out in a jumble. ‘No, I mean, I never intended to take it. I saw…’ Start at the beginning. She took a calming breath. ‘When you saved me from that pickpocket…I—I mean the reason I wasn’t paying attention then is that I thought someone was following me, and I was trying to locate him in the crowd. I’d seen the same man several times that morning. And, well, my point is that I thought I was safe while you were accompanying me, but then when you left to converse with your driver I saw him again. I had little choice but to run. I didn’t realise until too late that I’d taken your watch with me. I was too afraid to go back to see if you were still there.’

He was silent for several seconds. ‘Who was he?’

Please let him believe her. ‘I don’t know, but I know it was the same man. I…I’m sorry it took me so long to find you, but all I had was your name, and I had to pay the boy who delivers coal to locate you. But I’ve finally found you. Please believe me.’

He deposited the watch on the desk in front of him. Any anger in his expression had been replaced by curiosity.

‘Please sit, Miss Thomas.’

She did, flushing again as she realised that, as was habit, she’d said too much. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You can stop apologising. Have you seen this man since then?’

‘No.’

‘That area is teeming with criminals. He was probably another pickpocket.’

‘I think so.’ But she felt certain he wasn’t. It was much more likely that he’d been sent by Sebastian Cowes to make sure she didn’t flee. He could have discovered her London address easily from her housekeeper. Kindly Mrs Vincent would’ve worried terribly if she’d gone without telling her how she could be contacted, but Isabelle now wished she’d given false details.

He turned slightly in his chair and pulled the bell cord that hung down the wall.

She tensed and rose. Maybe he didn’t believe her after all. Maybe he was going to send for the authorities. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Having a tray of…’ He paused when the door opened. This time a butler entered. ‘Oh, Bartholomew, please have a tray of tea brought.’

‘Mrs Graham is just preparing one now, my lord. Shall I ask her to include an extra—?’

‘Yes, yes, enough for two, obviously,’ Will said with a touch of impatience.

The butler left silently.

He turned his attention back to her. ‘You can sit again, Miss Thomas. You’ve nothing to be afraid of.’

‘I must go. Really.’

‘No, sit.’

It was an order, but she continued to stand. Because even if he didn’t want to have her arrested for theft, he still did funny things to her insides. Funny things that made her blush and speak like an imbecile. ‘No, no. I have to leave.’

‘Why? Do you have plans for the afternoon?’

‘Yes.’ That wasn’t true.

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘I do. I’m having lunch. With…uh—’

‘The king?’

Her gaze met his, and he challenged her to come up with another excuse. His eyes were so disconcerting that

she couldn’t think fast enough.

So she sat uneasily on the sofa. ‘I can’t stay for long.’

‘You’ll have a cup of tea. And thank you, by the way.’

‘Why?’

‘Because even if you didn’t mean to take my watch, you still didn’t have to return it. It belonged to my grandfather. I could not have replaced it. I must reward you.’

‘I don’t need a reward for returning something I took in the first place.’

Just then, a maid arrived with a finely chased silver teapot, a milk jug and a sugar bowl. Another maid followed, carrying cups and saucers. They quietly placed everything on a side table before leaving without saying a word or making eye contact.

Will rose when the door closed and crossed the room. He began pouring the tea.

‘Milk?’ he asked over his shoulder.

She’d have to stay. There was no polite way out of it, and for all her faults she did try to be polite. ‘A little, please.’

He brought her a cup and saucer and then sat again, this time on a chair next to the sofa. He was coming closer, and she regarded him warily as one might an approaching shark. ‘I’m still willing to buy your necklace.’

She shook her head firmly. ‘No. No, I’ve changed my mind about selling it.’

And then he asked, completely unexpectedly, ‘You said it was a gift—who gave it to you?’

She shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about it. Doing so would only sadden her.

‘Who?’ he pressed her. ‘A beau?’

Hardly that. ‘My mother.’

He looked as if he wanted to ask another question, but he changed the subject at the last minute as if to spare her further discomfort.

‘I assume you’ve found employment, then.’

Had she told him she was looking for work? Yes, of course; he’d said she was too pretty—and even though she didn’t think he’d meant it, butterflies had started flapping their wings in her stomach. ‘Why?’

‘Because if you no longer want to sell your necklace, then that can only mean you’re less in need of money.’

‘Oh.’ She didn’t want to tell him about her many rejections. She sat forwards and placed her teacup on the table beside the sofa. ‘Well, I’ve met several people—’

‘And they’ve responded favourably? You’ve been offered a position?’

She shifted her weight, and the room descended into awkward silence. She looked at the wall. Why was he keeping her?

‘Then…perhaps you might help me,’ he said slowly.

She returned her gaze to him, warily this time. ‘How do you mean?’

He rose and walked back to his desk. He shuffled through some documents until he found what he wanted. A newspaper, folded open to one of the back pages. He handed it to her as he resumed his seat. She stared at it, not knowing what to think. All she saw was line after line of advertisements—for tutors, governesses, lady’s maids…

‘I advertised for a governess last week,’ he explained. ‘One of those listings is mine…somewhere in the middle column, I think. I’ve been interviewing candidates all morning. My footman assumed you were another one, and he told me as much when he announced you.’

She was so bewildered that all the words started swimming together, and she couldn’t tell which posting was his. She focused on his face instead. ‘Oh. No, that’s not why…You want a governess?’

‘Yes. Rather urgently.’

‘I see.’His words finally made sense. He wanted a governess, which meant he obviously had a child. Children, maybe, as well as a wife, since the two normally went together. The thought caused a sudden, dull pain in her chest. Just another reminder that she was well and truly on the shelf and that, in her current straits, she’d never get married and have a family of her own. It was foolish for her to feel any excitement when he looked at her with his green eyes. And why had he flirted with her if he was married? Perhaps it hadn’t been flirting; it wasn’t as if she was so accustomed to male attention that she’d necessarily know the difference.

‘I hope you found someone appropriate?’ she said neutrally.

‘Well, my cousin did most of the interviewing—left just a few minutes before you arrived. I’m afraid we’ve different ideas about what makes a person suitable. She supplied me with six terribly proper women of mature years. They were nothing like you.’

She flushed with anger. ‘I’ve been reminded of my shortcomings all week. You needn’t remind me, as well.’

He frowned slightly. ‘I didn’t say you had any. The women were ghastly, and the post is still open. Just thought perhaps you might also want to apply for it, while you’re here. It wouldn’t be any trouble.’

Work for him? She couldn’t think of anything worse. She could barely look at him without her knees turning to porridge. ‘I’m not qualified.’

He sighed patiently. ‘Right. Well, for the future that’s probably not the best way to begin. Have you introduced yourself like that to everyone you’ve met?’

‘No. I should have, though, for it would have saved a lot of time. Additionally, I’ve no references.’

He leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs. She suspected he was laughing at her silently. ‘None? And you expected someone to hire you?’

She rose. ‘I think our interview is over.’

‘Sit down, Miss Thomas,’he ordered, rising himself. His voice was firm, and he looked prepared to pick her up and toss her back on to the sofa if she didn’t obey him.

So she sat. He might be warm and kind most of the time, but she still didn’t want to test the limits of his generosity.

He didn’t return to his seat. He crossed the room again to deposit his teacup on the side table. ‘What you ought to be doing is drawing attention to your strong suits. For example, you’re honest.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘I know that you returned my watch. Still short sixpence—’

She reddened defensively. ‘I forgot about the sixpence. Do add absentmindedness to the list.’

‘—but you’ve a sense of humor. You’re attractive, too—some might see that as a drawback in a governess, but I for one see it only as an advantage.’ He turned around as he spoke, and she was reminded once more of how very attractive he was. But he must be teasing her. She didn’t think she was very pretty—how could he?

She wouldn’t let him fluster her. ‘Surely my education is more important.’

He sat again, not looking terribly interested in her education. ‘I was getting to that. What languages do you know?’

‘French and Latin, a bit of Greek and German.’

‘Far too many. How old are you?’

‘What?’

‘How old, Miss Thomas? I wouldn’t normally ask such a personal question, but it is relevant.’

She was touchy about her age. ‘I’m seven and twenty.’

He considered that for a moment. ‘Well, that’s a very sensible age. If you were a flighty nineteen-year-old I’d have to worry that you might elope with one of my footmen.’ He paused. ‘So why are you not married?’

Because she’d known very few men her age. Because she hadn’t had a mother to introduce her to new people and take her to parties—just a rather cerebral father who didn’t see the point of such trivial things. ‘I’ve been holding out for a duke.’

He burst out laughing.

‘Do I amuse you?’

He stopped, but he couldn’t get his grin in order. ‘Very much so, Miss Thomas.’

She rose and headed straight for the door. ‘I will not waste your time, nor do I wish you to waste mine.’

Unfortunately, he beat her to it, literally standing in front of the door to prevent her from leaving. He looked as if he were losing patience with her. ‘But I thought you wanted a job.’

She just raised her chin.

‘I’m offering you one, you know. It wouldn’t be too difficult. Mary’s twelve, so she’s fairly independent.You’d just have to spend a few hours doing lessons with her each day.’

Perfect, if only he wasn’t be part of the deal. ‘I imagine her mother would prefer to make these decisions.’

‘Her mother is dead.’

Isabelle’s irritation fizzled instantly, and she experienced a tinge of unwanted sympathy. He wasn’t married after all. A widower. It was rather sad, and even rather romantic.

Stop it, you fool, she ordered herself. Be sensible, like your father taught you.

‘I’m sorry for your loss, my lord. If you’ll step aside, then I will bid you good morning.’

He looked momentarily confused, but then it dawned on him what she’d meant. ‘It wasn’t my loss, Miss Thomas. Mary is my ward. She was left in my care when her father died three months ago. Her mother’s been dead for years.’

She took this in slowly. Not a widower. Not his child. She’d no reason to feel sorry for him. Instead, she felt suddenly defensive, as if he’d been misleading her. ‘It was brave of her father to entrust her to you.’

‘Then you agree I need your help?’

‘Help, yes, but not mine. I’ve no experience, and you’ve seen half-a-dozen competent governesses this morning alone. I suggest you hire one of them.’

‘But I prefer you.’

Strange sensations, making even her toes tingle. ‘I’ve already told you how I feel about your charity.’

‘I assure you, my motives are completely selfish. I did mention I was desperate? You wouldn’t have to work here for very long. I’ll soon start looking for a school to take her in the autumn, so I’d probably only require you for a matter of months.’

Ah—an escape route. ‘Months? But I need a permanent position. It will be better if I just keep looking.’ And keep getting rejected…

‘You won’t find one without experience.’

It was true, and she knew it. He’d persuade her if she didn’t leave soon. ‘I recognise that is a problem—’

‘Do you think I would simply leave you to wander the streets with no money?’ he asked, irritation entering his voice. ‘Do you know what happens to penniless young women with nowhere to go?’

‘I imagine many such women wander the streets without you noticing them.’

He couldn’t argue with that. She’d managed to fluster him, but not for long.

‘If you accept this position, Miss Thomas, I will give you a reference.’

‘For a summer’s work?’

‘It would be better than nothing.’

It would be. She realised that he would continue to obstruct the door until she agreed, so she returned to the sofa, feeling deflated.

She closed her eyes briefly and saw an image of Sebastian Cowes, who most likely knew where she was staying and had sent a man to follow her. Who she suspected had the most ignominious designs on her person and who would no doubt have her charged with debt if she didn’t give in. She didn’t know if the charges would hold, considering she hadn’t committed her father’s crimes, but they might if it could be proved she’d known about and benefited from them. And if not…well, no matter how badly her father had behaved, she didn’t want his reputation to suffer—as it surely would, if his secret was made public.

She thought also of her diminishing funds and of the long list of people who might one day realise what a fraud her father had been. Lord Lennox had returned to his desk, and she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She felt, instinctively, that he wouldn’t hurt her, and living in his house would at least offer her temporary protection. True, she half-suspected that he harboured dishonourable designs of his own, but she was fairly certain she was imagining most of it. He probably flirted with every woman he met.

As it turned out, when she reasoned his offer through, she had little choice but to accept. It was the best she could hope for. She couldn’t pretend that she was a sheltered young lady any more.

‘I will consider it.’

‘There’s nothing to consider,’ he said without looking up from the documents he was perusing. ‘I need an answer now. You can always leave if you find you don’t like working for me.’

‘I will…yes, I will do it.’

He met her gaze, and she found herself startled by the emerald intensity of his eyes. Greener than she’d seen them before, and mesmerising. It must be the light.

‘Then you can start tomorrow. I’ll expect you here at ten.’

And that was that. He rose to open the study door and she found herself floating into the hall, unmoored and uncertain.

He spoke to Rogers, the footman, who was waiting to open the front door. ‘Miss Thomas will return tomorrow morning. She is to be Mary’s governess.’

Rogers nodded impassively. She turned around, looking for Lord Lennox, but he’d already returned to the study.

So she faced instead the bright afternoon, thinking that only the devil could have eyes like that.

Chapter Five

All of Isabelle’s possessions fit snugly into her three bags. Lord Lennox had made no provision to help her transport her things, probably overlooking the fact that unlike him she didn’t have her own carriage. For the time being she carried only one bag, containing just enough clothes for the next few days. If she hadn’t been sacked by the end of the week, she would come back to collect the rest.

She opened the front door, but hesitated before stepping outside. Portentous grey clouds filled the sky, and the smooth paving stones were already lightly specked with rain. She turned her head and glanced behind her. The other two bags were neatly stowed beneath Miss Standish’s dust-free hall table; her umbrella was at the bottom of one. Which one, she’d no idea, and she’d no time to look.

She stepped out and debated not going at all as a raindrop gently hit her cheek. What would happen if she simply didn’t show up? Will didn’t know where she lived, and he’d have no way to find her. She’d been awake half the night wondering if she’d made the right decision. Had she made a decision? As was her lot these days, she’d never really had a choice to begin with, and she was starting to think that Will had behaved rather highhandedly.

These were just cavils, though. He’d offered to help her, and she’d never been more sorely in need. She descended the steps, telling herself that it wasn’t raining very hard and that the light shower would soon pass. The bag tugged heavily on her arm as she walked down the street, but she tried not to think about it. If she didn’t get lost, she would reach his house in less than half an hour.

‘Miss Thomas.’

She started at the familiar voice, but she quickly regained her composure. What was he doing there?

‘Mr Cowes. Good heavens, you frightened me.’

Sebastian Cowes smiled slightly. He was attractive enough, with light brown hair and eyes, but Isabelle thought there was something unpleasant about his appearance, something calculating and cold in his overly starched, elaborately arranged cravat. ‘I apologise, Miss Thomas. I’ve been waiting for you.’

‘You might have knocked on the door, then. It’s more respectable than lurking in bushes.’ She spoke sharply, but she immediately wished she could revoke her words. Obviously the reason he hadn’t gone to the door was that he wanted to find her alone, with no one to protect her, and it wouldn’t be wise to provoke him. Although he was just a fraction of an inch shorter that her, she wasn’t going to fool herself—in any physical struggle he’d easily be the victor.

She started walking again. He fell in next to her. She glanced at him sideways, wondering if he planned to lead her down a deserted street and force her into a carriage.

‘How did you find me?’ she asked.

‘Were you hiding?’

‘No, of course not,’ she said irritably. ‘But I don’t recall telling you where I was or inviting you to visit. Have you had me followed?’

‘Your housekeeper told me where to find you. She must not have known it was a secret.’

‘It isn’t,’ Isabelle said, wishing again she hadn’t given Mrs Vincent the boarding house’s address.

‘Not any more, at least.’

She flushed with anger. She’d always been intimidated by him, by his wealth, and power and handsome face. But she felt less impressed now. Compared to Lord Lennox, Mr Cowes seemed completely second-rate.

‘Why are you here?’ she asked, gaining confidence.

He put his hands nonchalantly in his pockets. ‘I was worried when you disappeared so suddenly—visited your house one day and found it occupied by perfect strangers.’

‘Yes, I sold it to pay you. And I did pay you.’

‘Not in full. You do realise that if you fail to uphold your side of our agreement, then I’ll have to approach the authorities.’

‘I’d hardly call blackmail an agreement.’

‘You’ve paid me only half of what you owe me, and you seem dangerously close to breaking your word. Since you’ve nothing left to sell, I can’t fathom how you’ll acquire the other half.’

‘I’ll use my imagination,’ she said sarcastically.

‘Even your imagination can’t be that good,’ he said, pausing to look at her face. ‘But then, perhaps you do have something to sell?’

She was going to ignore that insinuating remark. He was too insignificant to fluster her. She could handle him.

She could.

She just wished her audible voice sounded as robust as the one in her head. Instead it quivered slightly. ‘I…I did not come to London to hide from you as you suggest, you know.’

He looked amused. ‘Oh?’

‘Yes. I knew I needed further funds, so I came to find employment.’ Feeling surer, she added, ‘And I have.’ As she spoke, she was eternally grateful that she’d accepted Will’s offer.

‘You’ll be that well paid, will you? And what is it you’re doing?’

‘It is none of your affair.’

‘I can think of only one position in which a woman could earn enough. Shall I tell you what it is?’ He leaned in closer as he spoke, grabbing her tightly by the arm. Her stomach listed dangerously, and she thought she might be sick. This was the bit where he pushed her in a waiting carriage. Why had she been so impertinent?

‘Do you not want to know?’ he asked.

She shook her head. Softly, she pleaded, ‘Let me go. I will be late.’

He released her. She was so surprised that for two seconds she just stood there, waiting for him to grab her again. But he didn’t.

She took two steps backwards without taking her eyes from his face before turning to run. She didn’t care if she drew attention to herself, and she didn’t stop until she reached the end of the road. At the corner she paused, to see if he had followed, but he still stood where she’d left him, watching her smugly. She kept running.

Even though Isabelle had been to Will’s house once before, she still managed to lose her way. It didn’t help that she’d gone down an unfamiliar road in order to distance herself from Sebastian Cowes. Only after winding down a series of unfamiliar streets had she regained her bearings.

Then it began to rain in earnest.

She was sponge-wet when she finally reached the house, her hair dripping at the ends and her shoes squelching with every step she took.

She was also almost an hour late.

She knocked, consoling herself with the fact that at least her day couldn’t get much worse. Rogers, the footman, opened the door, looking annoyed with her yet again. ‘We were expecting you at ten, Miss Thomas.’

Oh, what an awful way to begin. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Haven’t you an umbrella?’

It was a stupid question, with an answer so obvious she didn’t bother to reply. She stepped inside, trailing water behind her. She dropped her bag on the polished marble floor. ‘I accidentally went down the wrong road. I got lost.’

He harrumphed. ‘His lordship wished to see you when you arrived.’ He walked to the study door and knocked, looking over his shoulder at her as he did so. ‘Do not move, Miss Thomas. You are dripping.’

A few seconds later, Will emerged from the study. If it were possible, he looked even more handsome today. His attire possessed none of the fussiness of Mr Cowes’s ludicrous cravat—his own was simply tied, and his jacket and breeches were again a sober blue and buff. Normally, the austerity of his dress was tempered by the playful spark in his eyes, but today he seemed merely irritated.

That is, until he looked at her. Then he just seemed confused. ‘Good God, did you swim here?’

She glared at him. She knew she was late and that she’d annoyed him, but she didn’t want to be the butt of his sarcasm. ‘You may have noticed the rain.’

‘It didn’t rain that hard here.’He turned to Rogers. ‘Tell Mrs Wright to come.’ And, to Isabelle as the footman walked off, ‘I have rather a busy morning.’

He still sounded peeved, and an awful sense of dread settled around her shoulders. Would she ever learn to control her temper and hold her tongue? For all that she might have protested yesterday, she truly needed this position—particularly in light of what had just happened. At least she’d be safe in his house.