His Tempting Governess: Delightful Doings in Dudley Crescent, Book 2 Read online

  He turned to consider her as she sat, her gaze on the empty doorway. “She has been with me a few weeks. Each day seems more difficult than the last. But I understand her deportment. She’s had terrible shocks. Her mother’s illness, then her father’s, leaving her alone and now to be thrust here with me, a stranger, are unsettling occurrences for a young child.”

  “My lord, you are kind not only to fulfill your obligation to her parents, but also to recognize her challenges.”

  “I don’t understand children. Never been near any. But I want her properly educated. My friend was a kind man, his wife too. Both perhaps were too lax in the manner in which they reared their only child, but I’m certain he meant well. Daphne is of a good family and needs a sound grounding in all subjects. She will then be able to marry wisely as befits her station.”

  Miss Swanson acknowledged that with a wide-eyed look. “And you’d like her to make a smart choice of husband?”

  “If she wishes to marry at all. I shall see to it that she has enough income that she need not marry, if she does not wish it. Can you ensure she has the education and discernment to do that?”

  “Teach her to become a level-headed woman who can rule her own income and choose wisely her friends and lovers?” she asked with dark shadows crossing her lovely brow. “Oh, sir. I welcome the task.”

  Her solemnity washed over him like a vow. This was the strength he wished for in a governess for Daphne. For any child of his. He’d learned it alone. By trial and error. But if a child could be empowered early enough, she or he could conquer worlds. “She’ll become a bluestocking, Miss Swanson. I count on you to make her a strong, happy one.”

  “I welcome the challenge,” she said with a bravado that removed all doubt about her own character.

  “I offer you the position, Miss Swanson. Are agreed?”

  “I’d be delighted to accept, my lord, but for one matter.”

  In honor of the number of smiles she’d earned from him, he could deny her little. “What is that?”

  “My wages.”

  Money. He had more than he’d ever require. “Very well. I am told a governess earns twenty pounds her first year.”

  She stiffened her backbone and fixed him with her luminous eyes. “That is not acceptable.”

  “What do you propose?”

  “An advance of ten pounds on an annual salary of thirty pounds, paid quarterly.”

  Most unusual. His friends told him he could expect to pay a higher salary if the teacher in question taught more than sums and embroidery. French was certainly beneficial additions to his charge’s lessons. Plus he liked Miss Swanson. Her assertiveness, her good humor, her qualifications, her lovely self. Daphne did, too.

  Win inclined his head. Proud of her conviction, but without any right to know why she required more money, he accepted her proposal. “When may you take up your duties?”

  Her tension drained away. She favored a smile. “Now?”

  “Superb. Do you have belongings?”

  “Not much. I left a trunk at my lodgings.”

  “I’ll have Shrewsbury get our coachman to bring the carriage around. Retrieve your items, Miss Swanson. You begin today.”

  She shot to her feet. “Thank you, my lord. I am honored.”

  And I am ridiculously pleased.

  Chapter 2

  In a daze of euphoria, Izzy followed the butler up the grand staircase. A footman followed behind them, dragging one of her trunks. Baldwin Summers, Colonel of the Life Guards, that renowned icon of heroism, ‘Win’ to the British public who’d thrilled to his countless victories, had hired her! And granted her the wages she needed, too. How could she be so fortunate?

  He was easy in his skin, unlike the austere military man she’d expected. He was tall, muscular and imposing. With a thick shock of golden hair and bright blue eyes, he was a marvelous specimen of manhood. According to town gossip, he searched for a bride, too.

  If she’d had her due, she might have set her sights on him. Been invited to balls and country parties where she might have planned marriage, love…

  But I am not that woman any longer.

  I am this. A governess. Not a servant, but not anything else, either.

  She inhaled, accepting her lot. For now. She counted her blessings. Her employer was a noble man. She liked her charge quite well. Daphne Lennard would be a delight to teach. A scamp, too. So like me.

  “The fifth earl.” Shrewsbury pointed toward the portrait at the top of the landing as they took the turn up to the next floor. “One of Charles the Second’s men. A fine fellow, so say the royal records.”

  She paused, gazing at the cavalier who peered down at her from his haughty height upon the wall. He wore yards of lace at his sleeves and collar, his honors dripping from his scarlet-clad chest. Though he’d donned a black wig which complemented his fair skin not one whit, he had the long face and sapphire blue eyes of his descendant, the current earl. And that man was much more handsome, his face not as long and his jaw not as sharply square as his ancestor.

  “Fought with Charles, did he?” she asked.

  “Indeed. Most of our earls have been in the military,” the servant added with pride. “Save for our two previous to our current lord.”

  “And the lady?” She stared at the figure of the lady on the left.

  “That is Caroline, this fellow’s countess.”

  Izzy thought the woman shockingly beautiful with wine red hair and piercing blue eyes. “She’s stunning.”

  “Thank you, dear woman.”

  Izzy felt a spark up her spine. Who said that? It had been a woman’s voice. Caroline’s? She narrowed her eyes at the lady. But as Izzy expected, the woman did not move.

  Silly. I imagined the response.

  “Infamous, the two of them,” the butler said without a hint of regret. “Roderick and Caroline Summers. The Scandalous Duo we call them. Great lovers of each other, fashion, food and fun. Too much fun, or so the stories go.”

  “Devoted themselves to their estate, too, I would suspect.” She’d be kind and offer something complimentary.

  Did the cavalier nod at her? She stopped to stare.

  No. No, no, no. I’m dreaming.

  “Shall we proceed?” the butler asked.

  “Of course.” She feigned delight. Before her stretched the long hall, studded with finely carved black walnut credenzas and on the walls, portraits of other men and a few women.

  “Our new lord is most attentive to our holdings in the country and this new house of his. Been here only three years, brought some of the furniture and a few of us from Cartwell House. Included those portraits of our Scandalous Duo, there. Our new lord loves them.”

  Shrewsbury’s willingness to share such intimate facts about the family and its holdings struck her as helpful…but odd. Dare she ask for more information and appear to be a gossipmonger?

  “Why does his lordship like them?”

  “They make him laugh. Family myth that the two talk. His mother declared she’s heard them. But he says he hasn’t.”

  “I see.” She gulped.

  “Not surprising. They’ve been known to talk to the mistresses of the house.” He beckoned her along the hall.

  “Oh.” She threw the two on the wall a backward glance. But I’m not a lady here. “Odd.”

  “Truly. But his lordship saved the portraits. His mother wanted to throw them out.”

  “A good idea to keep such items in the family.” She shook off her skepticism. “But why hasn’t his lordship moved into Cartwell House since he became earl?”

  Shrewsbury examined her with a critical eye. “His lordship bought this house, Miss Swanson, with his campaign prize money and runs it on his annual pension. He’s proud, Miss, of his achievements, but not boastful. And he wanted his independence. His mother still lives in the family mansion and but she visits here. Brings her mother, too. You will meet them, I’m certain.”

  “How wonderful.” But it wasn’t. L
ord Cartwell’s grandmother had known her grandfather. Izzy did not wish to meet either of Lord Cartwell’s relatives, lest they recognize the family’s signature traits of ink black hair and emerald eyes.

  Shrewsbury tipped his head toward the hall. “You’ll have the room at the end. The window looks out upon the mews and our kitchen garden. You have a connecting door to the nursery where Miss Daphne has her suite.”

  Passing other Cartwells as they posed in their frames upon the walls, Izzy stared at a few. But none winked at her. None nodded. None spoke.

  What a relief.

  I’m sane, after all.

  The butler led her toward her own room, pushed open the door and strolled inside.

  The sight of the appointments had her in awe. The pale pink walls shimmered in the afternoon sun that shone through the ivory lace curtains swathed by rose draperies. Her bed was large, big enough for two, covered in the same rose damask with a heavy canopy fit for better than a governess in the house.

  “This is quite lovely.”

  “His lordship outfitted it recently. Wishing to provide well for staff.”

  She clasped her hands together. No man had done anything so nice for her in years. Just the opposite. “Oh, I shall tell him how I appreciate it.”

  Shrewsbury threw her a satisfied smile. “Do. He’ll like that. He’s a man who’s had few compliments from those for whom he cares. Except for the men he led. Who loved him dearly. Still do.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “His name tells the tale.”

  “‘Win’,” she said, proud to have been in his presence, thrilled to serve the man who was decorated almost as many times as the Duke of Wellington.

  The butler motioned to the footman to place her trunk near the chiffonier. “Thank you, Fowler. You may leave us.”

  When the man had departed, Shrewsbury folded his hands before him and gazed at her with wrinkled bushy brows. “His lordship does wish you to be comfortable. His attention is not entirely to improve the house or to provide for your comfort. Although he is a bachelor and knows little about children, he’s concerned about Miss Daphne and he worries about her. She has nightmares. She walks in her sleep. I tell you this in hope that you will keep her far door ajar. We fear—the staff and Lord Cartwell—that our new charge may wander blindly and fall down the stairs.”

  Alarmed, Izzy glanced at the door to the nursery which at the moment was closed. “That is good to know. I will be watchful.”

  “You seem a kind young woman, Miss Swanson. I urge you to show that to Miss Daphne. She appears to be carefree, but we in the staff do question that.”

  “So the dog and the monkey are suitable companions.”

  “They are. Though few here like them.”

  “Oh? Who do not?” She’d campaign to change their minds.

  “Our housekeeper, Miss Wiggins, does not care for the monkey. And Cook does not care for the dog.”

  “Is there a reason?”

  The old man frowned. “The monkey rummages through drawers. Anyone’s. Everywhere. He takes things and hides them. His lordship does not approve. He, as you might imagine, likes order. The monkey does not conform.”

  “I can understand that. And why does Cook not like Kringle?”

  “The creature grabbed a roast of beef last week and made off with it. Gulped it down before Cook could snatch it back.”

  “Then we must teach him manners.”

  Shrewsbury gazed at her with a painful wince. “If you can.”

  She grinned. “I shall try.”

  “Anything you need, Miss Swanson, please tell me. I will obtain it. His lordship is generous.”

  Very much so, my handsome salary the indicator. “May I ask for a tour of the house? Later, perhaps?”

  “Of course. Shall we say in an hour after you’ve settled your belongings?”

  “That would be wonderful, Shrewsbury. I am in your debt.”

  “Not at all, Miss Swanson. My purpose is to ensure that the house runs smoothly. And that my master has no new worries to add to his responsibilities.”

  She applauded staff who saw their duty as greater than menial service. Her grandfather had had quite a few splendid servants, save for his estate manager. “I shall make that my purpose too, Shrewsbury.”

  “A fine goal, Miss. See it done and you shall find the house a pleasant place to live.” Shrewsbury nodded and left her.

  A pleasant place to make her home. Oh, she would try. Try to forget her previous one.

  Use the generous salary Lord Cartwell granted her to reclaim some pieces of her home. Perhaps even her dignity.

  For now, she would begin to build her relationship with her charge and make life here a pleasant home for her.

  * * *

  She knocked on the door to the nursery. Izzy knew no self-respecting governess announced her approach to her charge, but she did not wish to frighten Daphne.

  No answer came in response.

  She tried again.

  But the door fell away from her hand.

  “Miss Swanson?” Daphne was polite, but nervous as she inclined her head in homage.

  “I wish to talk with you, Daphne.”

  The monkey scampered up to them and yanked on Daphne’s skirts. She shooed him away. “Not now, Pan.”

  The dog appeared at the girl’s side, his long snout raised to take in a whiff of Izzy’s scent. She patted his head and he closed his eyes, appreciative fellow.

  “Shall you come in?” Daphne asked her, hesitant and more polite than she’d been downstairs during Izzy’s interview.

  “I’d like that.”

  The girl swept wide the door to her rooms and walked behind Izzy.

  The nursery consisted of a classroom and a far bedroom. Izzy noted in this room, a table, small chairs for a two or three year old, a tiny tea set of blue and white Ming china upon the table, a tall bookcase lining one wall and blackboard. The bookcase contained only a dozen books, most of which were thin and poorly bound. The blackboard was small, old and well used. The whole was suitable enough beginnings for their sessions. Perhaps later, Izzy might persuade his lordship to purchase new books and equipment to aide her instructions.

  She walked toward the upholstered wing chair and sat. Pointing to the matching chair, she indicated Daphne should take it.

  The little girl scrambled into it while the monkey climbed up on the arm of her chair and the dog perched like a thin black soldier at her feet.

  “During our first meeting, you told me what you liked to learn. I shall pay particular attention to those subjects.”

  Daphne’s pale brows arched.

  Hmmm. The child did not believe her. Well, so much for the integrity of the child’s previous instructors.

  “I wish to know why you like them. Who exposed you to them and how I might ensure your continued interest in them.”

  Daphne rolled a delicate shoulder. “I like to dig in the dirt. Find ants and worms. They seem…happy.”

  Carefree. “I understand.”

  “They don’t have to go to school. Learn things they don’t want to know about.”

  “Is that why you like Pan and Kringle?”

  The girl nodded. “They’re smart.”

  “They learned manners and attitudes from some one somewhere. Where or who was that?”

  “My mother gave me Pan before she died. She got him from an Araby trader when she lived in Portugal. Before she married Papa.”

  “How wonderful! And how old is Pan?”

  “I don’t know, Miss.” The child shrugged and blinked at Izzy. She did not wish to have this conversation as if she thought this inquiry was intrusive.

  “And has he always been your faithful friend?”

  “He was my mother’s friend. She taught him to be kind.”

  Except when he riffles through others’ belongings. “And what of Kringle here? Is he also kind?”

  “Yes. Always. He protects me.”

  Izzy grinned at the s
leek hound. He was thin as an Egyptian racing dog. “Was he your mother’s too?”

  “No. Kringle was always mine. From a puppy.”

  Izzy waved a hand at the beautiful animal. “He has the looks of an ancient hound, the type the pharaohs loved.”

  “I don’t know these pharaohs.”

  “Would you like to?”

  The little girl tipped her head. “May I?”

  “Why not? The world is yours to be discovered.”

  Daphne looked into the face of her dog. “That’s what Papa said. Mama thought it too, he told me.”

  “Well then, we have their blessing, don’t we, Daphne, to show you whatever you wish?”

  “You’re very brave.”

  That took Izzy aback. “Am I?”

  “Mama didn’t like any of the women who came to our house to teach me lessons.”

  “Why was that, do you suppose?”

  “They were never happy.” Daphne drew her brows together. “Did you ever have a governess?”

  “I did once.” She was a horrid creature, hiding her true self from my grandfather. “She was satisfactory.”

  “What happened to her? How long was she your teacher?”

  “She left to take another position.” Hurriedly. She was caught stealing money from my grandfather’s purse. A trait of so many my grandfather employed.

  “And after that, did your parents send you off to school?”

  “No. My grandfather taught me my lessons.”

  The girl wrinkled her brow. “I didn’t think men did that.”

  “He believed in education. Even my own. He taught my brother and me our maths. And literature.”

  “He seems a good man. Rich. Why do you not live with him now?”

  He was a good man before time had dulled his wits. “He died a few weeks ago.”

  “And your brother does not want you?”

  Daphne’s curiosity outpaced her courtesy, but Izzy understood her true intent was not to insult. “My brother died during the wars. At Waterloo.”

  “Oh. Papa was in the army. With Lord Cartwell.”

  “I understand your father and Lord Cartwell were friends. Had you met his lordship before you came here to live?”

  Daphne shook her head. “No, ma’am.”