Ann Lethbridge – The Governess and the Earl (страница 2)

Sarah jumped and the little boy burst into tears.

Ralston leapt to his feet and strode to the window. He gripped the curtain as if he’d like to tear it to shreds. He looked like a man pushed to the edge of his patience, a man trying to regain control. Well, she knew what that was like; children could be absolute monsters when they wished.

After a moment or two, the Earl drew a deep breath and turned back to his son, his face stern, his eyes dark with regret. ‘Enough, Jonathon. Nurse Maddy is gone. Be a gentleman and shake Mrs Drake’s hand.’

Gone where? Sarah wondered. And why, if the child loved her so much?

Tears running down his cheeks, Jonathon crossed his arms tight over his chest and tucked his hands beneath his armpits. ‘Don’t want to.’

‘I’ll take you up on my horse tomorrow,’ Ralston coaxed.

Oh, dear. No wonder the child threw tantrums. Sarah pressed her lips together: criticism of an employer only led to dismissal.

‘Promise?’ Jonathon said, looking a touch triumphant. At his father’s nod, he untangled his hands.

Ralston beamed. A ray of light shafting down between storm clouds could not have been a more awe-inspiring sight. ‘Good boy.’

Sarah couldn’t prevent a shiver of feminine appreciation as she took the boy’s outstretched hand.

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs Drake,’ the lad said in a small high voice.

‘Excellent.’ Ralston said. ‘Now that’s done, I will show Mrs Drake to her room.’ He leaned down and gave his son a brief kiss on the forehead. It was a mere brush of lips against delicate blue-veined skin, but it made her heart ache. Whatever his reputation, this man loved his son.

Ralston headed for the door. ‘This way, Mrs Drake.’

What an odd household, to be sure. In the absence of a wife, normally the housekeeper looked after these duties. At the very least a footman should have answered the door.

Sarah smiled at her new pupil. ‘I will see you in the morning, Lord Jonathon. We have lots to learn.’

The boy hunched his shoulder and turned on his side. Clearly the effect of the bribe hadn’t lasted more than a moment.

She followed Ralston out.

‘The candles should be extinguished before the child goes to sleep,’ Sarah said to the footman.

‘Yes, miss. I’ll see to it.’ He stepped inside and closed the door.

It was strange for so young a child not to have a nurse, but a footman would do just as well, she supposed.

An impatient-looking Ralston waited further down the hallway beside an open door. ‘This is your room,’ he said, gesturing her in.

Quelling her continuing astonishment, she squeezed past his large form. Once more the stains on his shirt caught her eye. They really did look like blood. Had he been hunting and not yet changed? Or did his wild appearance have something to do with the nurse’s disappearance? Had the woman sparked the simmering anger she’d just witnessed?

Her heart beat a little faster.

Use your head, Sarah. Only a murderer in one of Mrs Radcliffe’s novels left the evidence of his crime all over his shirtfront. And the nurse must have left weeks ago, when Ralston had contacted Iris about employing a governess.

And yet her stomach felt as if those pigeons were swooping around in there again.

Ralston made a sound in his throat.

She jumped with an audible gasp and stared at him.

‘Does it not meet with your approval?’ he asked, his voice chilly.

Oh! Busy with her runaway thoughts, she’d scarcely noticed her surroundings. He must have taken her silence as disgruntlement.

Her eyes widened. Cream and pink furnishings gave the spacious chamber an elegant look. It was far better than anything she’d been offered in years.

Her trunk sat beneath the window, and she dropped her valise next to it. ‘It is perfect. Thank you.’

‘Good. I’ll see you in my study in one hour to discuss your duties.’

She whirled around.

He’d already closed the door.

Sarah sank onto the edge of the bed. Discounting rumour as vicious gossip had been easy in London, but now, face to face with this brooding man, she wasn’t so sure.

A shudder ran down her spine.

Desperation had put her in an impossible position. And whose fault was that? Her own, mostly.

Well, she was here and she would do her best. After all, this really was her last chance.

Damn!

Brand stripped off his shirt and he splashed cold water on his face.

Why had he hired her sight unseen?

Just because his aunt had said Mrs Chivers’s school produced the best governesses, it didn’t mean he had to take the first one she’d offered. Except he couldn’t spend all his time keeping his son happy, and no one else had applied. He was lucky she had such an impeccable reference, but why someone of her calibre would want to work for him was certainly suspicious.

He dried his face and stared into the glass. The letter from Iris Chivers hadn’t said a word about her being more than passably handsome. He glared at his reflection. Oh, she looked modest enough, in her drab grey pelisse and brown skirts, but with her sapphire eyes and wheat-blonde hair she was far too young and attractive for a man sworn to celibacy.

Hell.

Wister, his ancient valet, barged in. He picked up the shirt and gazed at the stains with raised eyebrows.

‘Plum jam,’ Brand said.

Wister cocked his head and tugged at his thinning forelock with a pointed nod. ‘Ye’ve something …’

Brand put a hand to his head. It came away sticky. He touched it to his tongue. ‘Blancmange.’

No wonder Mrs Drake had looked at him with pursed lips. She must have thought him a veritable pig at the trough. He caught the wet towel tossed by Wister and rubbed at his hair.

‘Master Jonathon still not eating?’ Wister asked.

Brand let go a sigh. ‘No. He misses Maddy, damn her.’ The recollection of the nurse’s betrayal sent a surge of red-hot fury to his brain. Maddy was lucky he hadn’t strangled her on the spot.

He didn’t need another death added to his list of crimes. He pulled on a clean shirt and shrugged into his waistcoat.

‘Miles says she’s pretty,’ Wister said, brushing lint from Brand’s coat.

Brand looked up from the buttons.

‘The governess,’ Wister added.

‘Hmph.’ He’d expected a woman of experience, one with a gimlet eye and a large bosom who would make Jonathon listen. Not that Mrs Drake was lacking in bosom endowment. It wasn’t large, but it swelled above her small waist in a very … He squeezed his eyes shut and willed his body under control. ‘Miles needs to concentrate on his work.’

Wister grinned. ‘He said she seems like a nice lass.’

God, yes. A nice, calm, practical woman. Deliciously soft in all the right places. The kind of female who would be happy in the country teaching a child. The kind of woman he should have married. Would have, if he’d known.

‘He needs a mother,’ Wister added.

Bile rose in Brand’s throat. ‘One more word and you’ll find yourself following Maddy down the road.’

The craggy old Yorkshireman grinned. ‘Temper, temper, lad.’

Somehow Brand stopped himself from throwing his hairbrush at his valet’s head and used it on his hair. ‘She’s a governess. She will occupy Jonathon’s mind until his tutor arrives in two months’ time and then she will leave. In the meantime, perhaps she can teach him some blasted table manners.’ He snatched his coat and resisted Wister’s efforts to help him into it.

‘Cook wants to know if Mrs Drake is to take supper in her room?’ Wister said.

Lord, he should have remembered she’d had a long journey from York and would need feeding. ‘She can dine with me.’

The words were out of his mouth before he thought. To change his mind now would give Wister more grist for his mill, so he merely glowered.