Читать книгу The Earl and the Governess - Sarah Barnwell Elliott - Страница 10

A fortnight later, Isabelle stood on William Stanton’s doorstep, flanked by fluted, white columns and facing a glossy, black door. The house was so imposing she almost hoped she’d come to the wrong address. Which was silly, since she should be used to grand houses by now. During the two weeks that she’d waited for Samuel to return with his information, she had attended interviews for five governess positions at large houses in Mayfair—although none, perhaps, quite as large as this one.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t been well received at any of those houses, which now only added to her discomfort. She’d actually felt quite optimistic at her first few interviews; she was polite and neat and well spoken, and even though she didn’t know how to be a governess she hoped those qualities would count for something.

But the mothers of Mayfair didn’t see it that way. On one occasion she’d even been turned away before setting foot inside the house, although not before the awful woman who lived there, Mrs Grubb—pronounced groob as Isabelle was mortified to learn—had looked her up and down disapprovingly and said she simply wouldn’t do. Perhaps she appeared to be too young. Maybe it was her dratted red hair again.

At any rate, returning Lord Lennox’s watch could hardly be much worse. She took a deep breath and knocked.

A footman answered promptly. He seemed surprised and confused to see her, as if she were the last person he expected.

‘You’re here to see his lordship?’ he asked.

She nodded uncertainly. It was an oddly direct greeting.

‘There were only six names on the list,’ he said accusingly. ‘I thought we’d finished for the morning. What is your name?’

Now it was her turn to feel confused. What list? ‘Miss Isabelle Thomas. I…perhaps I should explain—’

He sniffed disapprovingly and ushered her inside. ‘Quickly, quickly. There’s little time for explaining. His lordship had hoped to complete these meetings half an hour ago and won’t be too pleased to see you. You might as well sit, Miss Thomas.’

And then he briskly crossed the hall and disappeared behind a door before she had another chance to protest. She sat on a mahogany hall chair, nervously fingering the watch in her pocket. This wasn’t going as planned. Perhaps she should just leave the watch on the table, cross her fingers and run.

She didn’t have time. The footman reappeared. ‘This way, Miss Thomas,’ he said impatiently.

She rose, feeling unsteady. But she didn’t need to feel scared. The theft had been an accident, and she was now returning the watch as was correct and honourable. Lord Lennox would surely understand. He’d been kind to her before.

The footman held the door open wider for her to enter and, somehow, she did so without fainting. She stood anxiously, keeping her gaze fixed on the grey marble chimney-piece that dominated the room. Only when the footman closed the door solidly behind her did she allow her eyes to focus on the tall, masculine form sitting behind the desk.

He was staring right back at her, and he didn’t bother to rise out of respect. He was as handsome as the memory she’d carried around with her for the past fortnight, but now his green eyes were cold and assessing. She should say something…something…anything…

Instead she turned the colour of a radish.

He smiled at her embarrassment, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I must admit, when Rogers told me that a Miss Isabelle Thomas was waiting I thought it must be a coincidence. But it is you, isn’t it?’

‘I…perhaps I should have written first?’

‘Oh? Would you have warned me to hide my silver? I assume that’s what you’ve come for.’

‘I—’ She frowned at his sarcasm. ‘No, I have not.’

‘You haven’t seriously come about the position, have you?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘You saw the advertisement. You must have.’

She shook her head. ‘No—’

‘Then why have you come?’He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

With unsteady hands, she removed the watch from her pocket. She crossed the room and placed it on the desk in front of him. ‘I’ve come to return it,’she explained, when all he did was stare at it. Then she took three steps backwards.

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.