Читать книгу Dangerous Lord, Innocent Governess - Christine Merrill - Страница 11

Chapter Four

Daphne took the picture and placed it between the pages of her own sketchbook. It was too disturbing to hang on the schoolroom wall, but the information in it was too important to discard. She would conceal it for now, then take it to her room where she might examine it in detail. She encouraged the children to work on what they wished, and gave only the barest supervision, assuming that they would come to little harm reading from their texts.

At lunch time, Cook delivered trays of food to the nursery dining room, and they paused in their lessons to eat. The same seemed to hold for tea, and would happen at supper just as Mrs Sims described. The household had given the children no reason to come below stairs at all, if they did not wish to. She wondered if the intent was to keep them away from their father. For if it was, it told the real truth about the loyalty of the servants to their master. They would support him, of course. They took his side in what had happened to his wife, and frowned on gossip about it.

But they feared him, feared for the children and kept them far out of his path.

When a maid had come to clear away the tea things, and they were almost ready to return to the classroom, she noticed a shadow from the doorway that fell across the room.

Lord Colton was there, observing them. She had not heard him approach, and could not shake the feeling that he had been standing there for quite some time, unnoticed. It put her on her guard. Though she doubted he had seen or heard anything of interest, it was disquieting to think him so adept at spying.

‘Miss Collins.’ He gave the same curt bow he had given her on the previous day, and she feared he was ready for another disquieting battle of wills.

Before he could catch it, she broke her gaze, and gave another curtsy, eyes downcast to hide her discomfort. ‘Lord Colton.’

‘How are the children today?’

‘Very well, my lord.’ She hoped that she was not expected to go into detail on their progress, for she had nothing to add.

‘We shall see about that. For if I find otherwise, I will turn you out, no matter what the Duchess might say.’

She flinched at the suddenness of the threat. And when he saw her reaction, and that she was showing none of the bravado of yesterday, he gave a faint laugh and went to greet his children.

She felt her muscles tense in instinctive defence of them. They were stubborn little beasts, to be sure. But what could one expect, when they had a monster for a father? What poison had he poured in their ears about their mother? And what abuses had they undergone to leave them so suspiciously quiet?

Colton’s smile changed as he approached the children. As he looked at them, the lines seemed to smooth from his forehead, and his lips were turned upwards not in a cynical parody of mirth or seduction, but with joyful anticipation. The tension in his body disappeared, making his movements easy. He seemed to become younger with each step, almost as if he were a denizen of the nursery wing and not the master of the whole house.

He came to the boy first, bending down, smiling and offering his hand, which his son took and gave a pale imitation of a manly clasp. The father asked how the studies were progressing, and the boy answered that they were satisfactory. And then Colton said something in what sounded like Latin, and the boy answered quickly and easily, as though in his native tongue.

They conversed thus, for a few minutes, and the child cast a sidelong look in her direction. They were talking about the new governess again, were they? If she lasted long enough to make a difference here, she would take an opportunity to teach the children some manners. It was quite rude to switch languages, and take advantage of the ignorance of others. Even more so when the other was your teacher and had so much ignorance to abuse.

The boy said something adamant, his jaw set in a stubborn parody of his father’s.

The older man shrugged. With a half-smile, he glanced in Daphne’s direction and shook his head. Then he turned to the older girl and dropped to one knee so that he could greet her face to face.

‘Bonjour, Papa.’ She gave him a shy kiss upon the cheek, but her smile had a wicked glint to it. She continued in French, as though she wished to prove that she could best her brother in something.

Her father answered her in the same language, and they proceeded to discuss the day. Daphne had less trouble with this, for she knew more than a little French, although the girl did speak quickly for one so young. Apparently, the day was bon, as was the new teacher. Although the girl was equally adamant that such guidance was not necessary, and that they would show him how well they could manage, if left to their own devices.

Her father answered with a c’est la vie. If Tante Penny wished it, then what were they to do? The children must prove that they could take care of themselves by giving no more trouble to the new teacher, for he knew what mischief they were capable of. While he did not wish her here, neither did he wish to see Miss Collins running to his study in fits, or, worse yet, to the neighbours, because his children were being naughty. But if the governess were to try any of the evil tricks that the last one had, they were to send word. He would come and deal with her, and there would be no more trouble. He looked up at Daphne, to make sure that she had understood the warning.

She looked back at him, and raised her chin a fraction of an inch to show that she did not fear him. She had to admit, if the last woman had been as bad as the servants said, the family had a reason to be less than trusting of her.

But while Lord Colton obviously disliked her, his conversation was surprisingly innocent, and he was even tempered with both children. It came as rather a surprise, for she had expected some sign of the problems there. Perhaps the children did not understand what had happened to their mother, or their father’s part in it. He must be a master actor, to be so calm and pleasant with them that they felt nothing of what he had done.

And then he turned again, dropped to both knees and held his arms wide. ‘And where is my little Sophie? Come here, darling, and give your papa a hug.’

She turned and looked, expecting to find the strange, haunted child warming to the sight of her father, as the other two had done. But instead, she heard a quick scurrying behind her, and felt the tug upon her skirts. When she looked down, she saw Sophie’s little face turned up to hers, the tear-stained cheeks pressed tight to the fabric of her dress, fingers white and claw-like, twisted into the cloth so tightly that Daphne was afraid that there would be holes worn in it, when she managed to get the girl to release her.

And the little eyes were shut tight, screwed closed, as the mouth murmured something silently, over and over again, like a prayer.

‘Sophie, sweetheart, come here and tell me about your day.’ She would have expected the tone to be more demanding, in response to such obvious disobedience. But instead it was even softer, and more gentle then it had been the first time. ‘Did you draw a picture? You love to draw.’ There was a wistfulness to the tone, and Lord Colton cleared his throat, and addressed Daphne directly, as though she might not have heard. ‘She very much loves to draw, and is surprisingly proficient, for a girl of such small years.’

The little girl burrowed further into her skirts, clinging even tighter, as though each word from her father’s mouth was a blow upon her back.

Daphne looked helplessly at the master of the house, afraid that he would demand that she pry the poor creature loose, and turn her over to him. Then she put her hand upon the head of the child in a gentle caress, and felt the girl snuggle against it, eager for protection.

Still on his knees, her employer dropped his hands to his sides in a gesture of defeat. ‘No hug today then, little Sophie? Tomorrow, perhaps. I will wait.’ If she wished to see the man punished for his deeds, perhaps it had already happened. He was brought to his knees before her, and his daughter’s rejection was sufficient to leave him broken, his shoulders slumped, his expression downcast. As he rose to his feet, he seemed a much older man than he had when entering the room.

‘It is good to see you all doing well.’ He glanced at Daphne as though she were a canker in a rose. ‘And so, I will leave you in the capable hands of Miss Collins.’ It appeared she had bested him, without even realising they were competing. Lord Colton turned to leave.

The two older children took a step forwards, as though to stop him, but then froze in their tracks, afraid to signal.

And young Sophie was the strangest of all. For though she was obviously terrified of the man when he came close to her, she watched his retreating back with a hunger greater than the others. Daphne could feel the girl tensing, ready to spring after the man in the doorway, to throw herself upon him like a little animal.

But if she wanted her father to stay, why would she not just say so? It was clear that he wanted to be with her, and the other children as well. It was only Sophie’s rejection that was keeping them away.

Daphne shook her head, confused at her response to the scene. She was not here to make it easier to reconcile father and daughter. She was here to get the horrid man away from them, so that they had a chance at a normal life.