The Governess Heiress
The Governess Heiress
Elizabeth Beacon
Forbidden to the undercover earl!Hiding from society, heiress Eleanor Hancourt must live as ordinary governess Nell Court to escape her family’s scandals. But when the new estate manager arrives, her quiet existence is disrupted. He may be unspeakably arrogant, but he’s also irresistible!Fergus is really the Earl of Barberry, undercover to investigate his own estate. Instead, he discovers the new governess is an illicit temptation, a match that can never be! Yet when Nell’s secret inheritance puts her in peril, Fergus will do whatever it takes to save her…
Forbidden to the undercover earl!
Hiding from society, heiress Eleanor Hancourt must live as ordinary governess Nell Court to escape her family’s scandals. But when the new estate manager arrives, her quiet existence is disrupted. He may be unspeakably arrogant, but he’s also irresistible!
Fergus is really the Earl of Barberry, undercover to investigate his own estate. Instead, he discovers the new governess is an illicit temptation, a match that can never be! Yet when Nell’s secret inheritance puts her in peril, Fergus will do whatever it takes to save her...
How would it feel to be kissed by him as if she were lovely, sensuous and desirable?
How might it feel actually to be those things to a man she wanted so badly it didn’t matter about social distinctions or correct behaviour any more?
For the longest and most charged moments of her life so far those questions sang between them as if she had spoken them aloud. Her lips parted without her permission; his fascinated gaze was encouragement enough. Her entire body was aware of itself as never before. Every breath was a novelty as the scent and power and sight of him reached a curious and dangerous place inside her and whispered, Maybe.
A curve of almost tender amusement lifted his mouth in a wry smile. Her feet rose on tiptoe, inviting him to lower his head and let wild, reckless Eleanor Hancourt out of her cage the instant he kissed her...
Author Note (#ua1a4b546-33e0-5900-aeaf-011528afda02)
During the Regency period a governess wasn’t regarded as an equal by her employers, but she didn’t belong in the servants’ hall either. She had to earn the respect of her pupils and employers, and teach young ladies all the accomplishments that would fit them for high society, but not turn them into blue stockings. Then she had to hand them on to a suitable chaperon and find a new position where she could do it all again with another set of strangers—if she was lucky.
The moment I began to wonder if any of them enjoyed taking on such a challenge Eleanor Hancourt turned up, as if she’d been waiting for a chance to have her say. With enough secrets in her travelling box to keep a novelist happy for months, and a hero who tells almost as many lies as she does, she has been a joy to write about.
So this is Nell’s story. Anyone who read The Winterley Scandal, in which Nell’s brother Colm meets the love of his life, will recognise some characters in this book, but The Governess Heiress is also intended to stand alone—just as bright, determined and ever-so-slightly bossy Nell Hancourt had to when her wicked uncle turned her out into the world to earn her own bread.
The Governess Heiress
Elizabeth Beacon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ELIZABETH BEACON has a passion for history and storytelling and, with the English West Country on her doorstep, never lacks a glorious setting for her books. Elizabeth tried horticulture, higher education as a mature student, briefly taught English, and worked in an office before finally turning her daydreams about dashing piratical heroes and their stubborn and independent heroines into her dream job: writing Regency romances for Mills & Boon Historical Romance.
Books by Elizabeth Beacon
Mills & Boon Historical Romance
A Year of Scandal: Spin-off
The Winterley Scandal
The Governess Heiress
A Year of Scandal
The Viscount’s Frozen Heart
The Marquis’s Awakening
Lord Laughraine’s Summer Promise
Redemption of the Rake
Linked by Character
The Duchess Hunt
The Scarred Earl
The Black Sheep’s Return
Stand-Alone Novels
A Most Unladylike Adventure
Candlelit Christmas Kisses
‘Governess Under the Mistletoe’
Visit the Author Profile page
at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) for more titles.
Contents
Cover (#u4631ca3a-aec4-525b-bd31-c3e124226fa8)
Back Cover Text (#ua6c51147-9581-54ae-b831-eca4f9f5a94d)
Introduction (#ueeafd1db-ed77-5e98-9c8b-49f1c24f4bf9)
Author Note (#u610aec81-b7b8-5f31-ac6c-c584569683e1)
Title Page (#u40618dcb-0e9b-5074-a322-faa1e9faf1c1)
About the Author (#u950ebeeb-bd34-5865-b78f-c22c2463c33a)
Chapter One (#u156efdb7-1a74-5a15-b391-f72b209c98f6)
Chapter Two (#ueb09a4c6-51d0-55e9-8929-085d889f94c9)
Chapter Three (#u13c7d7ee-b661-5e54-8deb-2617d92db4c6)
Chapter Four (#ubf9dd944-fe33-5b11-ac82-46d4af575a99)
Chapter Five (#uebbd58f1-a1d6-5200-ab49-f0c5b332b996)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ua1a4b546-33e0-5900-aeaf-011528afda02)
‘I would rather be outside, too, Lavinia, but you said it was too cold to learn as we walked this morning. Now we’re inside you still won’t listen,’ Eleanor Hancourt said sternly. ‘Remind us how many rods make a furlong.’
Nell’s eldest pupil went on staring out of the high schoolroom window and it took Caroline’s nudge to jolt her cousin out of a daydream. ‘Archbishop of Canterbury, Miss Court,’ Lavinia said triumphantly.
‘We have moved on from Plantagenet kings and troublesome priests, Lavinia Selford. British history was this morning.’
‘Oh,’ said Lavinia listlessly. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter, does it?’
‘Kindly explain how the fate of Kings and measuring God’s creation are unimportant, Lavinia,’ Nell said softly, although she wanted to let her temper rip.
‘Because I don’t care. Knowing such rubbishy stuff won’t get me a husband and a fine house in London,’ Lavinia replied defiantly.
‘Being a well-bred mother to his children will be enough for you, then?’
‘No, he will adore me and when I make my debut I’ll dance and have fun while you sew for the poor and read improving books out loud of an evening.’
Nell mentally conceded the girl could be right about the dullness of their current lives, even if everything else she had to say showed how immature Lavinia was. It was dull in this half-closed-up house at the back of beyond. Even she, the girls’ governess, was only three and twenty and sometimes longed for more and now it was temptingly within reach. Except nobody else really cared if they were happy or miserable, so long as they didn’t cause trouble. So she would have to stay until the Earl of Barberry came to take responsibility for his wards and the estate, but that seemed about as likely as pigs learning to fly.
Her authority felt fragile even after two years teaching the man’s orphaned wards, but at least he wasn’t here to challenge it. He had never been here to see if she was doing her job properly. He hadn’t even bothered to meet his young cousins during the decade he’d been head of the Selford family. The Earl left the country as soon as he heard his grandfather was dead and had stayed away ever since. Even two years on from being brought in to try and drive knowledge and ladylike behaviour into the Misses Selford, Nell was too young for such a role. Now she was an heiress to add to her puzzles, but she could think about that when Lavinia wasn’t as slyly confident she was going to win their latest battle.
‘I am well born and pretty and I have a good figure and a fine dowry,’ the girl listed smugly, the difference between them sharp in her light blue eyes.
‘A true gentleman requires more than looks and a large collection of vanities in a wife,’ Nell replied coolly, pushing the unworthy argument she was well born and a lot wealthier than her eldest charge to the back of her mind. ‘A talent for flirting and dancing won’t fascinate the fine young man you dream of marrying when every second debutante has that as well. Wit and charm, a sincere interest in those around her, a well-informed mind and a compassionate heart make a true lady, Lavinia. Youthful prettiness fades; do you want to end up lonely and avoided since you have no conversation or common interest to keep your husband at your side when you are no longer as young as you were?’
‘Oh, no, Vinnie, imagine how awful it would be to end up like that lady who stayed at the manor last year. The one who bored on and on about imaginary illnesses and how hard her life was until her husband went out of his way to avoid her,’ Caroline exclaimed with genuine horror.
‘What sane gentleman would marry an empty-headed creature for aught but her money?’ Caroline’s elder sister Georgiana added with a sideways look at her least favourite cousin.
‘That’s enough, Georgiana,’ Nell said firmly.
Lavinia was the daughter of the last Earl’s eldest son and senior in status and years, but what did that matter when all four of the old Earl’s granddaughters were stuck here in the middle of nowhere? None of them could inherit the earldom and Nell counted herself lucky that she could only imagine the last Earl’s fury when his youngest son made a runaway marriage to Kitty Graham, still whispered of as the loveliest actress of her generation. Hastily doing some mental arithmetic, Nell supposed Kitty and the Honourable Aidan’s son hadn’t mattered to his paternal grandfather for over a decade. The fifth Earl’s eldest son had a robust heir and never mind if his wife refused to share his bed after the boy was born and she declared her duty done. Since the lady was the daughter of a duke the old Earl didn’t challenge her until the boy was killed in some reckless exploit at Oxford. Then he’d ordered his heir to mend his marriage and even the Duke agreed, so Lady Selford gave birth to Lavinia a year after she lost her son and was declared too fragile for further duty by the doctors. According to local gossip, the lady turned her back on her baby daughter and returned to her family. Nell marvelled at her indifference, but Lady Selford died when Lavinia was seven and Nell doubted the child had set eyes on the woman above once or twice.
At least Georgiana and Caroline seemed to have been loved by their parents, but a sweating fever killed Captain Selford and his wife and Nell imagined the girls had had a stony welcome from their grandfather, since the servants still gossiped about how bitterly he resented his granddaughters for daring to be born female. Only Penelope had escaped the fury of that bitter old man by being born three months after the Earl died, but as a posthumous child of his third son she had been his last hope of keeping the offspring of an actress out of the succession. The latest Earl of Barberry had carried off the family honours in the teeth of his grandfather’s opposition then, but the sixth Earl had done precious little with them. Nell supposed it was better for the girls to grow up without another angry lord glowering at them when he recalled their existence. Lavinia’s old nurse once told her how the old Earl cursed whenever Lavinia crossed his path, so little wonder if she grew up imagining a rosier future for herself. Nell hoped the girl would make a good marriage, but misery awaited her if she wed the first young man who asked her to so she could escape her lonely life.
‘Forty, Miss Court,’ Lavinia said casually at last.
Nell wondered what she was talking about, then remembered the rods and furlongs. ‘Very good, Lavinia. So, Georgiana; how many feet in a fathom?’
‘Even a land sailor knows there are six and we were at sea until Papa died.’
‘You and your stupid sister insist on telling us about him all the time. As if we care,’ Lavinia said, quite spoiling the novelty of joining in a lesson for once.
‘Then why don’t you go and count your rubbishy ribbons, or gaze at your own ugly face in the mirror for hours on end, since you love it so much? At least then we won’t have to look at your frog face or listen to you rattle on about who you’re going to marry this week, Lavinia Lackwit,’ Georgiana scorned as tears flooded Caroline’s wide blue eyes at the thought of what the two sisters had lost when their parents died.
Nell felt sorry for Lavinia when even little Penny glared at her for upsetting the most vulnerable of the cousins and all three looked as if they’d be glad if Lavinia disappeared in a puff of smoke.
‘Georgiana, that’s an inexcusable thing to say. You will stand in the corner until I say you can come out. Lavinia; apologise to your cousin, then copy out the One Hundredth Psalm twice in a fair hand. Maybe that will make you humbler about your own shortcomings and a little kinder to others, but your guardian will be displeased to hear you refuse to make any effort at your lessons and fall out with your cousins.’
‘He doesn’t give a snap of his fingers for any of us and I hate this place and all of you as well. You’re always such good little girls for your darling Miss Court and she’s only a servant when all’s said and done. You make me sick. I hate you all, but I hate Cousin Barberry most. Why should I care what he thinks? I doubt he remembers we exist,’ Lavinia railed at the top of her voice, stamped her feet as if words couldn’t express her anger, then ran out of the room on a furious sob. Nell listened to the sound of her charge thundering downstairs and the garden door slamming with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that her day was about to get even worse.
‘I hope she took a shawl,’ Caroline said with a sympathetic shiver.
‘And I hope she didn’t,’ nine-year-old Penny argued vengefully.
Georgiana flounced to the corner she’d been ordered into with a sniff and a contemptuous glower and Nell tried to do what came next instead of feeling defeated.
‘Georgiana, stay there for ten minutes without saying a word or pulling faces at Caroline and Penelope. I shall ask Crombie to sit with you. Caroline and Penelope, you can read quietly, but you will not tease Georgiana or speculate about Lavinia. As soon as the ten minutes are up you may read as well, Georgiana,’ she told her charges as calmly as she could.
Seeing how impatient Penny’s one-time nurse was about being fetched away from her comfortable coze with the housekeeper, Nell knew they wouldn’t be allowed to riot in her absence. Now she only had to worry about organising a search for Lavinia with the daylight already fading. She gave orders for all the available staff to comb the gardens and parkland, then went outside to search her own section of the shadowy gardens.
* * *
Fergus Selford, Earl of Barberry, rode into the stableyard of Berry Brampton House for the first time in his life and found it strangely deserted. He hadn’t expected a fanfare on the arrival of an errant earl nobody knew was coming. Or much of a welcome even if they did, but it felt a bit of come down to stable his own horse. He owned the dratted place from cellar to rafters, yet he’d settled the tired animal in a convenient stall and retrieved his unfashionable boat cloak from the tack room before he met a single soul.
‘We’re not expecting visitors, so if you’re the new land agent you couldn’t have arrived at a better time, although you’re three weeks late and we had almost given up on you,’ a rather pleasant contralto voice told him from the shadowy doorway. ‘I saw the lamp and heard someone moving about in here as if he had a right to be here. All the stable boys are supposed to be out looking for one of my charges so I came to see if one of them was shirking. Now you’re here we need all the help we can get before Lavinia hurts herself or one of us falls into the ha-ha. You can help me search, since you’ll get lost if you wander about on your own and we’ll have to find you as well.’
‘If you’ve managed to mislay one of the Selford girls that’s your problem,’ Fergus told her gruffly, blaming his shabby cloak for her mistake. He was almost inclined to tell her who he was and that he employed her to take care of his wards, so why should he bother himself with a search for one of them when he was weary and uncomfortable and didn’t want to be here in the first place?
‘It’ll be yours if the Earl finds out we couldn’t keep one of his wards safe because you refused to help.’
‘Is she mad or just simple? It has to be one or the other since you believe she’ll do herself a mischief in his lordship’s private grounds.’
‘Miss Selford is a bright and spirited young girl who has trouble keeping her temper in check. A trait I sympathise with at this very moment,’ the governess said through what sounded like clenched teeth.
Now why was arguing with her in the semi-darkness more stimulating than flirting with sophisticated beauties? He heard her take a deep breath and she seemed to call on the reserves of patience his wards hadn’t already tested to the limit. Reminding himself he was here to do his duty, not amuse himself at the governess’s expense, he ordered himself to stop provoking her and get on with it.
‘Never mind, we’ll find her without your help and I suppose you wouldn’t be much use anyway,’ she said haughtily. ‘If you can exert yourself long enough to cross the yard and find Cook, I expect she will feed you, then direct you to your quarters. I wish you joy of the land steward’s house, by the way. You should have told us you were coming—since you are so tardy we had given up on you and abandoned the attempt to make it more welcoming.’ Even in the gloom he could see the glare the Amazon shot him before she turned to march back the way she came.
‘Stop,’ he ordered and she turned as slowly as an offended queen. He wanted to kiss the temper off her lips for a shocking moment. She would slap him and quite right, too, and he hadn’t come here to prove that every hard word his late grandfather had said about him had turned out to be true.
‘No, I’m busy,’ she said and strode towards a path he could only just see in the fast fading light.
‘Two pairs of eyes and ears will be better than one in this gloom,’ he said as he caught up with her, bowed ironically and indicated she carry on leading the way. ‘You know where you’re going,’ he explained, beginning to enjoy himself now he had such a prickly lady to annoy and this new disguise to settle into.
He told himself he wouldn’t have thought of such an impersonation until she thrust it on him, but not announcing who he was to a household he never wanted to inherit in the first place was too tempting to turn his back on. As a ruse for finding out what was going on without putting the entire neighbourhood on alert that the new Earl was home at last it could hardly be bettered. Pretending to be the land steward would save him the huge effort of being the sixth Earl of Barberry and he could spy out the land, then decide if he could endure being here. Perhaps it was as well the Moss boy, who he’d lined up to act as land steward, had backed out of this post for an easier one since his lack of backbone had forced Fergus to come here, but taking up his inheritance in the teeth of the late Earl’s bitter opposition still rasped his pride somehow.
Everything the Selfords had worked so hard to keep from a whore’s son, as they so charmingly called him, was his, but it felt like a hollow victory. After living on his own terms in Canada for almost a decade the rules of a polite little English society felt petty. As a heedless and rather angry young man he had been determined to defy his grandfather and all those who made his time at Eton and Oxford a mixed blessing. There was always some aristocratic sprig ready to deride him as grandson of Lord Barberry on one side and an Irish gypsy on the other. None of them would believe he never really wanted the titles and lands hanging around his neck like a millstone, so he’d left the country when the old Earl was barely cold in his grave. There were so many things he could do elsewhere, so many adventures to have, but he’d been doing his best to ignore the voice of his conscience and his mother’s pleas to come home ever since he’d fallen in love with the vastness and promise of the so-called New World. Another thing he could blame being Earl of Barberry for, having to leave a place he could have made his home if not for all the responsibilities he’d been so intent on running away from ten years ago.
Still, as Moss he could learn what he wanted to know, then go away again if he chose to and nobody here would even know he’d been. He ought to thank the woman striding along the path ahead of him as he stumbled in her wake like a rowing boat chasing a stately galleon.
Now what was her name? He was ashamed to find he couldn’t remember it, despite the quarterly reports she insisted on sending him of the state of his cousins’ health, happiness and progress, or lack of it. Still, she was the latest in a long line of governesses who’d all insisted on writing to him about their woes with the Selford girls when they were paid handsomely to deal with them. Just as well this one had no idea who he was, because he paid little attention to her meticulous lists of how Miss Lavender or Miss Patty, or whatever they were called, were progressing when his lawyers sent them on. Thousands of miles away he’d had to trust that his senior lawyer knew what he was doing when he’d insisted that young girls needed someone youthful to care for their happiness as well as teach them to paint screens and sew samplers, or whatever young ladies did until they were old enough to marry. Considering this female had carelessly mislaid one of his wards, he was beginning to wonder about the fellow’s wisdom and sanity right now.
‘Where are we going?’ he asked as he followed Miss Whoever into a generous old orchard.
‘If I told you it would mean nothing, unless you’ve been studying estate maps before taking up your employment?’ she said with too much irony for his taste.
‘I’m here now, aren’t I?’ he said defensively.
‘And only three weeks late as well. How very diligent, Mr Moss.’
‘That discrepancy is between me and my employer.’
‘And he doesn’t sound the most patient or tolerant of them. In your shoes I’d be careful how I conducted myself, now you’re here at last.’
‘Is that a threat?’ he asked, with what his half-sisters said was his most annoying sneer. Annoying or not, it was wasted on this woman. She was peering at what looked like a tall hutch in the twilight as if he didn’t exist.
‘An observation,’ she said absently. He felt like a fly so trivial it wasn’t even worth slapping him. ‘Don’t get too close,’ she warned and he instantly wanted to.
He was beginning to sympathise with his absent ward’s need to escape her governess’s authority. Then he got too close and an angry buzz shot past his ear. He stepped back hastily as the persistent little creatures took exception to him but, annoyingly, left the governess alone as if she belonged here and he didn’t.
‘I did warn you,’ she said with I told you so in her voice.
‘What is this place?’ he asked gruffly.
‘A bee house, of course,’ she said and followed him away as if nothing about this place troubled her, which it didn’t, he supposed—she wasn’t the one in danger of being royally stung.
‘Oh, of course, and what an ideal place for a runaway schoolgirl to hide.’
‘Lavinia is a fanciful creature and local lore insists the bees be told whatever happens in a household if they are to be part of it.’
‘And they really want to know when a girl is out of sorts with her governess?’
‘It was a possibility. Now maybe you’ll go back to the house and ask for your dinner so I can get on,’ she said as if tired of indulging him.
‘While you wander about in the dark and risk life and limb? Even I’m not that much of a yahoo, Miss... Who are you anyway?’ he demanded irritably, glad now he hadn’t remembered her name and given himself away.
‘Miss Court and I’m not in any danger since, as you pointed out just now, we are in his lordship’s private grounds. And I’ll get on a lot faster if you leave me be.’
‘No, if the wench has done something to herself in the dark you can’t carry her, great girl of fifteen or sixteen as she must be.’
‘How do you know the age of my eldest charge?’
Curse the woman, but now she sounded suspicious. Fergus searched his memory for lies he’d already told her. Even the son of a country squire would know enough to guess how old the Earl of Barberry’s wards must be now.
‘Everyone knows Barberry was left with a stable of female cousins when he inherited,’ he said and even managed to sound plausibly impatient. ‘The old lord’s quest for another male heir is hardly a secret and if those girls were old enough to be presented they wouldn’t need a governess, so even the eldest cannot be out yet.’
‘Clever,’ she said flatly and why didn’t he think it a compliment?
Chapter Two (#ua1a4b546-33e0-5900-aeaf-011528afda02)
They reached the end of the orchards and the interfering female found a wicket gate out into the park as if by instinct, or perhaps she came here rather too often in the dark, a jealous impulse prompted Fergus. The notion she was so familiar with his grounds because she came here to meet a lover and flit through the moonlit park at the idiot’s side for a stolen idyll goaded him to the edge of fury for some odd reason. He hadn’t even seen her properly yet, but she sounded just the sort of woman to order some poor besotted idiot to dance attendance on her in the dusk so they wouldn’t be caught courting and risk dismissal. He employed the woman to look after his cousins, he told himself uncomfortably. She should be keeping a close eye on his little cousins, not planning to run off with a local curate or farmer’s son even her family might consider a misalliance.
‘Where are we going now?’ he demanded rudely, but he’d ridden all the way from Holyhead and felt as if he was entitled to be a little out of temper.
Miss Court might have a lover lurking nearby and she was being rude to the very person she ought to impress if she wanted to keep her post. Was he more impressed by his title than he thought, then? No, he didn’t want to be an earl today any more than he had ten years ago. Miss Court made him feel like a grubby schoolboy who hadn’t washed behind his ears even as his inner demons tempted him to kiss the wretched female and find out if she was as headlong and determined a lover as she was as a rescuer of wild girls in the semi-darkness. And it would be nice to find a way to make her stand back and take notice. Not that she’d waited for him to fight his inner demons back where they belonged. She was almost beyond reach by the time he realised he didn’t want to be left here like the last lame nag in a stable. He speeded up and almost fell over a tree root in the shadows.
‘Devil take it, woman, will you slow down?’
‘No. You didn’t want to come in the first place, so I don’t understand why you won’t go away. I should never have made you come, you’re no help at all.’
‘If the girl doesn’t want to go home, you won’t be able to drag her back,’ he pointed out rather sharply.
Had she paled at the idea of having to force her errant charge to obey her? Hard to tell in the gloom and why should he care if she endured the role of governess or loved it? Catching himself out thinking like the spoilt aristocrat he’d sworn not to be, he wondered if his half-brother was right and he was as arrogant as any Selford in his own way.
‘Hush,’ she whispered. ‘Do you hear something over there, on our right?’
‘No,’ he said in a normal voice, telling himself he was bored with looking for unruly schoolgirls who didn’t want to be found.
‘I wish I hadn’t bothered to find out who was lazing about in the stables when the lads were supposed to be looking for Lavinia,’ she informed him crossly and strode into the night yet again.
‘The wages of curiosity,’ he called, then scurried after her like a tardy footman before she could disappear. ‘Where are we going?’ he asked when he almost ran into her standing still under a tree as if she could hear her way to what she wanted if she tried hard enough. She was warm and rather delightfully curved and he felt passion thunder through his senses until he reminded himself the woman was his cousins’ governess and he was her employer.
‘Will you go away?’ she demanded as if she was oblivious to him and his unruly masculine urges, then she started off again without giving any indication where she was heading.
‘No,’ he said, grabbing the back of her cloak and holding on when she did her best to snatch it away. ‘Tell me, or I’ll shout a warning we’re on our way.’
‘Can’t you hear the poor girl, you blundering great idiot? She isn’t going to run in that state,’ she whispered furiously as she towed him forward by his hold on her cloak.
He wondered how he’d managed to miss it as well now; self-preservation, he decided ruefully. Noisy sobs and the odd pathetic little moan carried on the cooling air as the girl fought for breath against all that sorrow. Fergus wished he’d left the governess to cope with a soggy storm of tears and almost melted into the darkness as Miss Court ordered. On the one hand, he would be obliging a lady, on the other he’d be a coward. He let go of Miss Court’s cloak and meekly followed in her footsteps.
‘It’s me, Lavinia,’ Miss Court said so gently he wondered if he’d been wrong to class her as an irritable she-wolf in petticoats when she’d first loomed out of the darkness. ‘You must be hungry and cold, and you sound as if you need a shoulder to cry on.’
Fergus could make out a Grecian-style temple. As they emerged from the trees he saw the first stars reflected in the lake beyond it and wondered how it would feel to meet Miss Court here for a twilight tryst. Exciting, a forbidden voice whispered in the back of his mind and he uneasily tried to ignore it. He didn’t even know the woman; even if he did it would be wrong to lead her on when he was really her absentee employer and never mind this odd feeling of connection to the wretched female.
‘Oh, Miss Court,’ the girl gasped and Fergus backed away when an overgrown schoolgirl pelted down the steps of the summer house, then flew into her governess’s arms with such force he stepped forward to steady the woman and never mind feminine tears and his dread of a scene. ‘I’m so sorry,’ the girl managed to gasp out between sobs. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever learn to behave properly or keep my temper as you say I must.’
‘Hah!’ Fergus muttered darkly. He felt Miss Court stiffen beside him and knew she must have heard him, but she had lost hers with him several times and if she was going to pretend to be a pattern card she should get her emotions under better control.
‘Never mind that now. I’m so glad you’re safe, even if you are more than a little bit woebegone. And it’s getting dark and chilly, so why not come home and be pampered a little for once? We can talk about your troubles when you’re feeling better. I only want the best for you and, whatever your cousins say when you all lose that fiery Selford temper, they love you, Lavinia. At times I’m even quite fond of you myself.’ Miss Court ended with a laugh in her voice that made Fergus smile in the darkness, so he wasn’t at all surprised to hear a watery chuckle from the drooping young lady snuggled in her governess’s arms as if they’d never had the argument that probably caused this fuss in the first place.
How unworthy of him to envy the girl and wish he was enjoying all that warmth and welcome. Miss Court was a lady and he certainly wasn’t a land steward. He hadn’t even met the woman in the clear light of day, he reminded himself hastily and if this was what pretending to be Moss did to him, he might have to reconsider the plum she’d handed him when she’d made that hasty assumption about who he was. He could have been anyone, he condemned her with a frown it was as well she couldn’t see. Who knew what sort of rogue could be stumbling about in the dark silently lusting after her if he hadn’t found her first?
‘Thank you, but I do wish Mama hadn’t died, Miss Court. There’s nobody left to love me,’ Lavinia confessed in a whisper and reminded him they had a very effective chaperon and Miss Court had only ever seen him as an extra pair of eyes and ears to help her find her charge.
* * *
Nell knew how it felt to be lonely, but at least her brother had always loved her, however determined their eldest uncle might be to keep them apart. ‘All the wishing in the world won’t bring her back, I fear,’ she said gently, ‘but soon you’ll be able to show the world how a true Selford lady behaves and what a shame to waste it on the first callow youth to pluck up the courage to ask you to wed him.’
‘Heaven forbid,’ Nell thought she heard muttered with heartfelt sincerity by the annoying man behind her. She turned around with Lavinia in her arms and the silence that met her glare was so innocent she knew she’d heard aright.
‘Who are you?’ Lavinia demanded and Nell didn’t correct her manners for once because he didn’t deserve any better.
‘Miss Court will tell you I’m the new land steward,’ he said in the lazy drawl that made Nell’s palms itch.
‘And are you?’
‘So it would seem.’
‘You are a very odd person if you need someone to tell you who you are, isn’t he, Miss Court?’
‘Mr Moss seems quite deaf, the poor gentleman. He certainly takes no notice of anything I say.’
‘You don’t look very old, sir,’ Lavinia observed sagely.
Nell had to argue with herself before she corrected her gently. ‘Remember what I said about it being impolite to make comments on the odd behaviour of others, Lavinia?’ she said, but Mr Moss saved the girl an apology Nell hadn’t quite demanded.
‘I could lie and say I’m a mere stripling of five and fifty, I suppose, but it’s hard enough being Methuselah without making things any worse, Miss Lavinia,’ the rogue said with such self-mocking laughter in his voice Nell wanted to smile, briefly.
‘Now you’re teasing me, sir, and, as you don’t seem offended by what Miss Court insists are my bad manners, are you telling the truth about yourself?’
‘Oh, I never do that,’ the new land steward said brazenly. ‘If you choose to believe me, I’ll admit to being one and thirty, Miss Lavinia. If you don’t; I’m five years less because even we gentlemen have our vanity.’
‘Since he has confessed to being a work of fiction, maybe we should add five years to the total and make Mr Moss quite an elderly young gentleman instead, Lavinia,’ Nell said lightly, wishing he could see her best frown through the gloom. She wondered how he managed to irritate her so much when they’d only just met; it was a special gift, she decided, one she was glad most men didn’t share.
‘You have my sympathy, Miss Lavinia. Your governess makes me feel like a small boy with a dirty neck and I thought I was grown up until we met.’
‘Miss Court is a wonderful governess and a very kind person, Mr Moss,’ Lavinia surprised all three of them by saying earnestly.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ Nell said, giving her most challenging pupil another hug and draping most of her cloak around her shivering shoulders. ‘But we must get you inside before you take a chill. Never mind Mr Moss and his poor opinion of anyone who doesn’t fawn on him as if he was your guardian and not the Earl’s new land steward, we must scurry home as fast as may be now I’ve found you at last.’
‘And I have travelled far today, so let’s hope my manners will mend after a good night’s sleep. The lawyers tell me I have a great deal to do if things are to be run smoothly here once more,’ Mr Moss said in what Nell felt sure was a rather kind attempt to divert Lavinia from the last of her sobs and the convulsive shivers that followed them.
‘They’re right,’ she replied as calmly as she could with the chill reaching both their bodies now. The cold was biting even through her sensible gown with Lavinia wrapped up in most of her cloak. ‘Your predecessor should have retired sooner with such a large and complex estate to manage,’ she went on, mainly to distract herself from her own need to shiver and in the hope it would take Lavinia’s mind off her physical woes as they had to pick their way back over roots and rabbit holes in the ever-deepening twilight.
‘Poor man,’ Lavinia said and Nell heard the shake in her pupil’s voice and pushed their pace as hard as she could without one of them falling flat on their faces.
‘Aye, and if you’re not set on catching a chill in order to be thought interesting for the next week, we’d best get you home faster than this, Miss Lavinia,’ Mr Moss said and hefted the girl into his arms when they paused for breath.
‘Gracious, you’re very strong,’ Lavinia said breathlessly.
‘I’ll run ahead to warn everyone you’re on your way if you will direct Mr Moss, Lavinia? You should be safe with him, by the way. He has atrocious manners and a misplaced sense of humour, but he made no attempt to molest me on the way here,’ Nell managed to say brusquely and scampered away before either of them could argue.
* * *
‘Why, thank you, Miss Court,’ Fergus muttered as he eyed the darkness in her wake.
‘She is a very definite sort of person,’ Lavinia said with a catch in her voice that told him she was fighting the last of her tears.
‘Here, let’s wrap you up in this cloak since she’s left it behind. If you can face her wrath if you catch a chill, I’m not sure I can and don’t get us lost, will you? I don’t know the way even by daylight.’
‘How thoughtless of Miss Court,’ the schoolgirl in his arms said sleepily and Fergus suspected he’d have to get them back as best he could, dark or not.
What a good thing he didn’t lead the sort of life most idle earls about town did, he decided, finding a path through the woods almost by instinct. Slight as this girl was, he was weary from his journey and she was almost an adult. He was oddly touched when she fell asleep in his arms, but wasn’t it as well she didn’t know who he was? His wards probably regarded him as a devil incarnate. He changed his hold on the Selford sleeping so trustingly in his arms and marvelled at the toll too much emotion could take on a young lady. Memory of how it felt to be torn between childish simplicity and the need to find your own way in the world made him feel sorry for his young ward.
His mother had dealt with his rebellious and confused younger self with her usual common sense and his stepfather would shrug and take him on one of his adventures whenever he got out of hand. Saints, but he was lucky, wasn’t he? Not for him the starch and disapproval of a Miss Court; or the memory of parents who saw their own child as a failure simply because she was born female. His mother would have loved him if he had been born a dumb, cross-eyed lunatic, but at least Lavinia’s governess hadn’t ripped up at her. Indeed, Miss Court seemed truly concerned that the girl felt she had to sob out her woes alone. The woman could stay until he found out more about her, he decided grudgingly. Now he would take the role she had thrust at him by mistaking him for Moss and what better way to find out if he could trust her with his wards until they were ready to be brought out in polite society? Then he could go somewhere he would like better and forget Miss Court and his stupid reactions to her in the dark.
* * *
What with racing back to the house, making sure the stableyard bell was rung to signal Miss Lavinia was safe and organising a welcome for her, Nell should have no time to think about rude and disobliging Mr Moss. So, of course, she thought of little else while she ordered a hot bath for Lavinia and a warming pan for her bed. Then there were the other girls to reassure that their cousin was in one piece and being brought home safely. The stir of the man’s arrival with Lavinia seemed oddly muted and Nell went to peer over the wooden banister of the staircase leading to the nursery wing. Why did the sight of Lavinia fast asleep in his arms make her heart ache so?
Puzzled by her own emotions at the sight of the girl cradled protectively in a stranger’s arms, she ran up to Lavinia’s room to announce she was on her way. ‘We’ll forget a bath and get her straight into bed as she seems to be fast asleep. The new land steward is on his way upstairs with her right now.’
‘He’s turned up at long last then, has he?’ Mary said, showing more interest in the steward than she ever did in her young mistress. ‘He must be much fitter than old Mr Jenks to carry Miss Lavinia here, then have breath enough to bring her upstairs.’
‘Only just,’ the man himself announced ruefully as the butler shepherded him into the room as if he was important. Mr Moss had impressed someone tonight then, Nell thought ungratefully. No, some were too impressed, she decided, as she watched Mary making sheep’s eyes at the newcomer. The buxom little maid seemed to have forgotten she was employed to look after the young lady they must now try to get into bed without waking her up.
‘Thank you, sir. Mary and I will manage now,’ she told the man coolly as he gently sat his burden in the comfortable chair by the fire.
‘I know I’m in the way now, Miss Court.’
‘Goodnight then, sir,’ she said repressively.
‘I fear not; the housekeeper has insisted I stay here for dinner while my house is being hastily got ready for occupation. It seems it was got unready and left cold when I failed to arrive at the appointed time.’
‘You are very tardy,’ Nell said shortly.
‘But also sharp set after such a mighty journey,’ he told her with a knowing grin, then sauntered out as if he owned the place.
* * *
‘Insufferable man,’ Nell spluttered when the door was shut behind him.
‘He’s very handsome, Miss Court,’ Mary said with a longing gaze at that very door, as if wishing might bring him back.
‘Not really,’ Nell said as she tried to decide why he was so uniquely attractive.
Not wanting to discover the secret of it, Nell set about undressing Lavinia as gently as she could and shot the maid a sharp look to remind her of her duty. Between them they coaxed Lavinia to raise her arms so they could strip off her muslin gown, stockings, indoor shoes and flannel petticoat without rousing her fully.
‘Let her sleep in her petticoat this once,’ Nell said as they each put an arm about the girl’s waist and walked her over to the bed. ‘She needs rest more than food right now,’ she warned and put a finger to her lips to tell Mary not to argue until they were out of earshot.
‘What if she wakes up hungry later?’ the girl whispered when they were out in the corridor with the door almost shut.
‘I must persuade Cook to make her something that won’t spoil. If she sends your dinner up, will you listen for her while I go downstairs? If the poor child has one of her nightmares I don’t want her to be alone.’
Nell could sense the young maidservant wanted to argue, but it was her job to look after the eldest Selford girl. Mary probably wanted to giggle with her fellow maids at the thought of such an exciting addition to the local pool of bachelors. Nell would stay and watch Lavinia’s slumbers herself if she didn’t have three other charges and a disturbing stranger to keep an eye on. Mr Moss might regret accepting the housekeeper’s invitation to stay to dinner while she scurried her staff over to his house to give it a hasty airing. Or at least he might when he found out Nell was in the habit of instructing her pupils in the art of fine dining and good manners and he would be a tame gentleman to practice on.
Chapter Three (#ua1a4b546-33e0-5900-aeaf-011528afda02)
‘Mr Moss has gone upstairs to wash and shave. Parkins showed him into the Red Room and sent Will to wait on him,’ Penny told Nell when she went along to the night nursery to make sure her youngest charge was ready for the meal ahead.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to move into a proper grown-up bedchamber, my love?’ Nell asked to divert them both as she caught Penny’s sash and hauled her gently back into the room to be made as neat and presentable as she already thought she was.
‘No, I like it in here and Crombie is next door if I have a bad dream.’
‘Sooner or later you’ll have to become a young lady,’ Nell said as she brushed Penny’s wavy nut-brown hair to shining perfection. It struck her that Penny might well be the most sought-after Miss Selford one day, for all Caro’s potentially stunning looks. As Penny was nine years old at least Nell could put off worrying about her future for a while.
‘Not until I’m too big to have a choice,’ Penny said with a grimace of distaste.
Nell knew it was wrong to have favourites, but she secretly doted on her youngest pupil. She pronounced Penny perfectly turned out even for dinner with a strange gentleman now and reminded her that her manners ought to match her appearance.
‘Of course,’ said Miss Penelope Selford with a solemn nod and a hop, skip and jump to show how excited she was by even this much company.
Memory of how it felt to be the daughter of a scandalous lord had kept Nell here, trying to fill some of the gaps in the girls’ narrow lives, even if they were lonely for a very different reason. Now her brother Colm’s fortune was restored and her own dowry doubled by her father’s efforts to protect his children before he died. She wondered what Mr Moss would make of a governess with a handsome fortune and a scandalous father. As the third son of a country squire he might court her for her fortune, whatever he thought of her and her blighted family name, and that was another reason Nell refused to join Colm and his new wife for the upcoming London Season. Fortune hunters. Even the thought of men pursuing her solely for her money made her shudder with dread. Then there was the unscrupulous lecher who had been trying to force her sister-in-law to marry him on the very night Eve and Colm met. Nell knew she would find even less determined ones difficult to fend off and she didn’t understand how to do it without a fuss, as Eve had learned to during her rather trying three years as a single society lady with that same scandal hanging over her. Nell had spent most of her life in the company of women and girls, so how would it feel to be put on show for the poorer gentlemen of the ton to decide if they could endure marrying her for her moneybags? Appalling, she decided with another shudder and snapped back to the here and now with a sigh of relief.
‘Are we going downstairs soon, Miss Court?’ Penny asked. ‘Mrs Winch will not be happy if you leave her to make sure that Caro and Georgie behave like proper young ladies in company.’
Nell shot a look at her own reflection in the small mirror. She was neat enough in a dark blue stuff gown and at least her hair had stayed in place. It took a legion of hairpins to keep it neat and she had no intention of making a special effort so that would have to do. Mr Moss would have to endure the sight of her everyday clothes. How silly to have a vision of dazzling him in a fine silk gown with her hair arranged to flatter instead of disguise her charms. Even if she had such a gown she wouldn’t wear it for Lord Barberry’s land steward.
‘We had best hurry before they go down without us,’ Nell said and braced herself for the ordeal ahead, wishing they could have nursery tea in the schoolroom and retire betimes instead of having to meet Mr Moss again today.
Before they went downstairs she had to make Georgiana remove the pins from her hair, then take off her late mama’s second-best pearl necklace and do up the buttons of her gown all the way to the top. Drat him, but the man was disruption in breeches, she decided with a long-suffering sigh. As she plaited the girl’s tawny mane neatly she tried not to be disturbed by the idea of dangerous adult company herself and sincerely hoped he was less intriguing by the light of several wax candles than he was in the dark.
* * *
Oh, confound the man, she decided when they finally got downstairs; he looked every inch the gentleman. How on earth did a lowly steward afford to have his coats made by a master tailor? Scott had crafted her brother’s fine new coats and was a firm favourite with former military gentlemen. Perhaps Mr Moss had engaged Weston instead, but that midnight-blue superfine coat wasn’t the work of a provincial tailor. Nor did his snowy linen and spotlessly sleek knee breeches seem quite right on the younger son of a country squire. Nell frowned as her charges meekly curtsied to him, rendered almost speechless with awe for a few brief moments as they took in the splendour of their unexpected guest. There was something very much out of kilter about a hired man appearing here in clothes that must have cost most of his annual salary before he had even begun to work for it.
‘Good evening, sir,’ Nell managed coolly, as all the reasons for his unexpected style clamoured in her head and she couldn’t find one that didn’t spell trouble. ‘Miss Georgiana, Miss Caroline and Miss Penelope Selford, meet your guardian’s new land steward, Mr Moss.’
‘Good evening, ladies,’ he replied with a courtly bow. Now thoroughly out of sorts, as she worried about the reasons Moss had left his last post, Nell had to whisper a sharp aside to Caro and Georgie before they remembered their manners and returned his greeting.
‘You look very fine, sir,’ Nell said as her eyes met his and he seemed to mock her conclusions some besotted lady had paid for her lover to appear every inch the gentleman in her company. She wished she had someone ready to whisper good conduct in her ears and tried hard to ignore a sharp pang that couldn’t be jealousy. Why didn’t she have the wit to invent a headache and excuse them all this supposedly quiet dinner with his lordship’s new land agent?
‘My godmama pays my tailor’s bill once a year, so I can present a better appearance than a younger son is usually able to do,’ he replied smoothly.
Nell looked for mockery in his acute blue eyes and met bland innocence, but did she believe him? No, yet she could hardly challenge him in front of the girls. She gave him a polite, insincere smile and waved the girls to sit on a sofa the other side of the fire from their unexpected guest. She didn’t approve of him looking so at home by his employer’s fireside, but the Earl didn’t want it, so she had no real reason to object. If he took advantage she would deal with him in private, but she suspected he was far too subtle a man to do anything so obvious.
‘Were you waiting for your new clothes to arrive before you came?’ Penny asked innocently. Nell was ready to rebuke her, but Mr Moss shook his head and smiled at her youngest pupil.
‘A land steward needs gaiters and homespun more than a fine coat and expensive boots, Miss Penelope, but the Earl had another use for me so I did as I was bid. I hope my workaday clothes turn up on the carrier’s cart soon, because I certainly can’t ride about the countryside in my town finery if I wish to be taken seriously as Lord Barberry’s steward,’ he said.
Nell hoped the girls didn’t notice his mocking look in her direction, as if he’d read every doubt in her mind about that tall tale. He could have as many lovers as he needed to keep him in style, so long as he didn’t impart his dubious morals to her pupils, she concluded, with a militant frown he ignored with annoying ease.
‘That would be sensible, considering the dire spring we have endured so far,’ she agreed as if she almost believed in his doting godmother instead of a foolish lover.
‘I promise to be ill dressed and muddy next time we meet, ma’am. You Misses Selford have a very conscientious governess. I doubt you get away with putting a foot wrong without her knowing about it almost before you do.’
‘Miss Court is kind and looks after us very well,’ Penny said loyally.
Even Caroline nodded and Georgiana looked as if she was disappointed in him and Nell would have hugged them all if he wasn’t looking.
‘I’m sure she does all a good governess should,’ he approved with a sly smile Nell didn’t trust one bit.
‘Thank you, Mr Moss,’ she said calmly, although it sounded more of a challenge than a compliment. ‘I do my best.’
‘And who can ask for more?’ he asked and she wasn’t sure she could endure much more of being laughed at by an estate manager who looked more like a society rake without telling him exactly what she thought of him.
She couldn’t do anything of the sort, but his questionable standards of behaviour felt like a betrayal and what was between them for him to betray? Nothing; she was Miss Hancourt and he the son of a country squire with a living to earn and never mind any side benefits he had fitted in along the way.
‘I feel quite famished tonight,’ Caro said quietly.
Nell was concerned enough about her least garrulous pupil to look for signs of girlish infatuation in her eyes. No, from the spark of anger when she eyed the man warily, Caro was trying to stop this exotic newcomer mocking her governess. It warmed Nell’s heart to think shy Caro wanted to defend her from this puzzling stranger.
‘I expect dinner will be served as soon as Mrs Winch is able to join us,’ she said with a fond smile at Caro to say she was excused the minor faux pas of admitting to hunger in public.
‘Lavinia will be very sharp set by morning,’ Penny said cheerfully.
‘I asked Cook to make something cold for her to eat if she wakes up hungry,’ Nell said with a slight frown at her youngest pupil to warn her not to gloat about Lavinia’s exhausting bout of tears.
‘Good, because she really can’t help it,’ Georgiana said earnestly.
‘I know, Georgiana, and I’m sure Penelope will forget what her eldest cousin said in the heat of temper, especially if she wishes to take dinner with us tonight,’ Nell said firmly.
‘She said...’
‘There are faults on all sides,’ Nell pointed out. ‘Your cousins were rude to each other and the slate is clean now, unless you would like to do penance for your own hot words and uncaring sentiments?’
‘No,’ Penny said with a sidelong look at her cousins to confirm she would be an idiot to work out a grudge against Lavinia when the alternative was dinner and far more exciting company than usual.
‘Miss Court the peacemaker, who would have thought it?’ the company said as if he had every right to pass judgement on her.
‘And Mr Moss, the peace breaker, what of him?’ she replied so quietly the girls couldn’t hear when she crossed the room to find Parkins and get him to tell Mrs Winch dinner was overdue. The lady’s services as chaperon to her and her pupils felt more important than whatever was delaying her and the sooner this meal was over the better.
‘Oh, him. He’s a rascal,’ Moss murmured when she was on her way back to the stiff-backed chair as far away from him as she could get and still feel warmth from the fire. She had taken it because she disliked him, she reassured herself, and gave a little nod of confirmation she hoped he’d take so badly he wouldn’t tease her again.
The girls needed practice at polite dining and proper topics of conversation when gentlemen were present and she would usually admit she needed more adult company. As a single lady who might end up alone and at her last prayers, the whole neighbourhood would assume Miss Court was doing her best to marry any spare bachelor who came along. No doubt everyone in the area would assume she was intent on catching the wretch now he’d turned out to be vigorous and well looking. The thought of speculative eyes watching them at church every Sunday made her shudder. The last thing she intended to do was break her heart over Moss and she doubted he had one to break if she was so inclined. She would stick to the schoolroom or wait for the paragon who might inspire even half the love and passion in her as her brother Colm and his new wife Eve had for one another.
In public the newlyweds acted like a very proper young couple. There was no sitting gazing into each other’s eyes and sighing for a bed and just a bit more privacy for them. Yet they showed how much they loved each other by small glances and little touches. One always knew where the other was without having to watch every little movement and, whereas most people grew heavy eyed and weary the later it got in the day, those two glowed with delicious anticipation of being alone again at last. Nell had never seen two people so silently and discreetly delighted at the idea of being wrapped up in the night when nobody else would expect them to be polite for a few precious hours.
Something told her Moss would never let his cynical detachment drop long enough to allow a female that far into his life. What would she find if he did offer to share it with her? A hardened heart and calculating mind? Or perhaps, a protected heart—because he had such a tender, ardent spirit under all that cynicism? And look where misplaced love got your late father, Nell reminded herself, resolving to get on with real life before it got out of control.
A suitably bland topic of conversation eluded her. She doubted Mr Moss would let the mild amusement of speculating who the new rector of Great Berry might be run for long. It was impolite to wonder who was up or down in local society when he didn’t know them; which left the state of the nation or the arts. Nell opted for the latter until Mrs Winch finally tore herself away from other duties and they could go in to dinner and get this difficult evening over with the sooner.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Mrs Winch said breathlessly as she hurried into the room a few minutes later. ‘One of the maids has managed to scald herself and tip half the fish course on the floor,’ she murmured in Nell’s ear before greeting their guest graciously and signalling to Parkins it was time to announce dinner was served.
Nell hoped that part of the meal went to the pigs, however spotless the kitchen floor was before it fell. And what would Moss make of the simple dishes they were used to in the Earl’s absence? The girls were too young for elaborate sauces and the clever touches of a French chef and Nell and Mrs Winch were happy with Cook’s beautifully cooked but simple meals. If the man usually took his dinner in the sort of company his evening attire indicated he must, he’d be disappointed. He seemed to enjoy it though, so perhaps he really was a simple man in dandy’s clothing. If so, his godmother’s folly in outfitting him so splendidly was no kindness when he must earn his own bread. Why, he could sit down to dinner with the Earl and not be outshone and what a mistake that would be in an underling.
How had she got from hoping her food had never been on the floor to worrying about the social niceties of Moss’s wardrobe? The man was old enough to look after himself and if he chose to ride around the country fine as fivepence or dressed in the meanest homespun it wouldn’t matter to her.
‘Surely a fine novel can outshine the shady reputation of its kind, Mrs Winch?’ she intervened in the conversation she had started earlier, before Georgiana could recite a list of those she had read and enjoyed. That might reveal the fact Nell had allowed her to read books many would consider unsuitable for a young girl.
‘A fine novel might, but the occasional triumphs are lost in the morass of sensation and fantasy,’ Moss answered before the worthy but upright lady could condemn the whole genre and Georgiana might argue hotly for her most-loved examples and let out their secrets. ‘I have neither the time nor patience to work my way through stacks of three-decker novels to find the occasional gem. Poetry and plays are an established form and I can trust time to sieve out the worst and keep the best of them,’ he added as if dropping stones into a pond just for the pleasure of making ripples.
‘Some might say that makes you a lazy reader, sir, but I hope you will concede that Dean Swift and Mr Defoe tower above their imitators,’ Nell argued because she couldn’t seem to help herself.
‘I grant you those excellent examples, ma’am, and Sir Henry Fielding’s works, although these young ladies must be ignorant of all but Amelia now society thinks the rest improper, which says more about society than Sir Henry if you ask me.’
Hiding a smile as Mrs Winch tried to decide if she should argue, Nell shot Georgiana a warning look. It had seemed a good idea to let her read The History of Tom Jones as well as Amelia at the time, to show her the world wasn’t always kind to an innocent abroad. Luckily Lavinia had no interest in any but the popular novels Moss was being so scathing about, so Nell needn’t worry she would let Mr Jones’s name out unwarily. Caro was worried enough about what lay outside the gates of Berry Brampton House not to burden her with such vivid misadventures.
Luckily talk soon moved on and Nell could relax while they argued for this or that favourite poem. It was a chance to listen instead of having to instruct her pupils. The elder girls seemed much like any on the verge of womanhood and, considering what a pair of hostile little savages they were when she’d arrived here, Nell was proud of them. Penny was confident enough to sit and listen when she had nothing to say, but Nell couldn’t rest on her laurels. Even Penny would soon feel the changes in mind and body that transformed little girls into women. The others were well launched on that stage when Nell arrived and she tried not to shudder at the memory.
For once Mr Moss was a welcome diversion. He was a strong man, she decided after a few furtive glances at him to take in what the shadows hid earlier, long-limbed and oddly graceful, despite his air of suppressed energy and to-hell-with-you manner. Something about him recalled Lavinia for an instant, but she looked again and thought it was a trick of the light. They both had intensely blue eyes, but he was dark as the devil and Lavinia was fair and the shape of their faces were quite different.
And what did an almost-handsome man think of the governess? That she was a middling sort of person and quite unremarkable, she concluded. Her once angelically fair locks were halfway between gold and brown and her eyes were plain brown. She was neither tall nor short and even at seventeen Lavinia outdid her in womanly curves. All Mr Moss’s worst fears must be realised by candlelight, not that it mattered; once he settled into the agent’s house he’d be in such demand among local society they would not meet except by chance.
It was no small thing to be land steward to the Berry Brampton Estate and, as the Earl did not live here, some of his status would fall on Mr Moss. Genteel young ladies would badger their fathers and brothers to call and invite him to dinner or an informal party so he’d soon be too busy charming the local beauties to dine with four unfledged young ladies, their plain governess and Mrs Winch. The Selford cousins were above his touch and Nell beneath it. What if he wasn’t Mr Moss and she wasn’t Miss Court, though? With a fortune like hers he could buy his own estate to manage. Revolted at the idea of being courted for her money, Nell decided if she ever married it would be to a man who loved her for herself. She came out of her daydream to find the others all but done with their meal and Mrs Winch more than ready for a cup of tea and half an hour nodding by the fire.
‘Parkins will bring in the port, Mr Moss,’ the lady said. ‘It’s time we left you to it and Miss Penelope looks half-asleep and ready to say goodnight.’
‘It is early for the other young ladies to retire, don’t you think, ma’am?’ he said as if he was the master here and not his man.
He must have seen Caro’s wry grimace at the thought of another early night and Nell couldn’t let herself be charmed that he seemed to be trying to save Caro and Georgiana from dull routine. It seemed a simple act of kindness, but was anything about him truly simple?
‘Mrs Crombie is waiting to take Miss Penny up, Miss Court,’ Parkins told her when he came in with the decanters, treading the fine line between housekeeper and governess with his usual impassive gloom.
‘Are you happy to take that sleepy head of yours up to bed?’ Nell whispered to her smallest charge.
Penny nodded and smothered another yawn behind her hand. ‘I’m half-asleep,’ the girl said with a smile that won Nell’s heart anew. ‘I know you must stay and help chaperon Caro and Georgie, so goodnight, Miss Court. Goodnight, Mr Moss,’ she said with a curtsy to gladden any governess’s heart. She kissed Nell, wished her cousins goodnight and seemed likely to tumble into bed and sleep as soon as she was undressed.
Chapter Four (#ua1a4b546-33e0-5900-aeaf-011528afda02)
Fergus watched pupil and teacher bid each other goodnight. The dragon seemed almost soft-hearted so perhaps Poulson wasn’t as far abroad in his judgement as he’d first thought. Of course, she was still too young for the post and two years ago could hardly have been long out of the schoolroom herself. Take away the spotless wisp of lawn and lace perched on her shining golden-brown curls and he could take ten years off the ones he’d first put in her dish. Her assured manner and limited patience fooled him at the time, but a very different person was revealed by candlelight. This Miss Court might pretend to be at her last prayers, but her mouth gave her away. It was less certain than he imagined when he met her in the gloomy stables. The young lady under the front of a no-nonsense governess had soft and expressive lips to go with her pert nose and brown-velvet eyes. Miss Court was a shade under the average height for a woman and slim as a whip, with the sort of slender yet intriguing womanly curves even a blue stuff gown made high to the neck couldn’t quite conceal. A connoisseur of feminine beauty might not rank her a diamond of the first water, but she would be very pretty if she threw away that dire gown and ridiculous cap. It wasn’t right to long to discover the vulnerable and generous woman under her would-be stern exterior. He usually liked his lovers buxom and bold and wished his mistress was nearby to visit when the need arose, because it might arise right now if he wasn’t very careful where his thoughts wandered in Miss Court’s presence.
‘I promise to restrict myself to one glass, ladies,’ he said as Mrs Winch and her chicks rose, looking uncertain about this whole enterprise. As well they might, he told himself sternly. He blinked away a vision of the lovely young woman under Miss Court’s armour and stood up politely.
‘Very well, Mr Moss, we shall see you shortly,’ Mrs Winch said.
He caught a sceptical governess look from him to decanter and was tempted to live down to Miss Court’s low expectations and get roaring drunk before he staggered into his smallest drawing room and gave himself away as the owner of all this faded glory. He wasn’t prepared to do that, he decided, and if the truth ever came out he must remember to thank the starchy female for the disguise she’d thrust on him, because he wasn’t sure he wanted to be ‘my lord’ now he was here. His grandfather might have found the vast portrait of a Cavalier ancestor and family an aid to good digestion, but he did not. The Baron Selford portrayed so skilfully had an arrogance that must have had recruits rushing to join the Parliamentarian Army in order to escape his tyranny. A master painter had caught hints of rebellion in the man’s son and heir and a sidelong glance from the old lord’s lady said she didn’t blame her eldest one for wondering if he wanted to die for the same cause.
God forbid any child of his would ever look at him with such cool dislike in his eyes. If it wasn’t for his uneasy conscience about shirking his duty as Earl of Barberry for so long, he’d turn tail and catch the next tide to Ireland and his stepfather’s comfortable home. No, he had a chance to observe his estate and mansion as he never would in his own shoes. He girded Mr Moss’s loins and took him back to the Small Drawing Room by proxy.
‘Do continue, Miss Caroline,’ Fergus said as the piano playing stopped the instant he pushed opened the door. ‘I am very fond of Herr Mozart’s sonatas, at least when they are played with such a delicate touch,’ he added and the obviously very shy girl smiled and carried on.
He had expected his cousins to be haughty and aloof, but they were brighter and more thoughtful than most of their kind, which he put down to their own spirit and Miss Court’s influence. According to Poulson’s reports, the laziness of a junior partner he had dismissed the moment he found out how negligent he’d been meant these girls had had little real guidance before their young governess arrived to try and bring sense, order and a little compassion into their lives. Once more he found himself oddly drawn to the young woman who sat as far away from him as she could. The sooner he was installed in the land steward’s house and busy about the estate the better. Miss Court and Mrs Winch had his wards and his house in order and it was high time he could say the same for the land, and that would keep him out of Miss Court’s way until it was time to go away again or reveal his true identity.
* * *
‘Do you think Mr Moss will like the steward’s house, Miss Court?’ Caro asked Nell sleepily as they finally went upstairs, at long last.
‘I’m sure he will and he can’t stay here with us. That would be dreadfully improper in the Earl’s absence, or even with it now I come to think about it. For either gentleman to move into Berry Brampton, we would have to leave.’
‘I suppose so, but it’s such a long time since Mr Jenks decided to retire and live with his daughter. I know the house was cleared out and dusted when we were told a new steward was coming, but that was weeks ago. The whole house could be damp after this dreadful weather and all sorts of things might have happened while it was lying empty, don’t you think?’
‘Not if I can help it,’ Nell said with a weary sigh. ‘If Mr Moss couldn’t send a message to warn us he was coming, at long last, he must accept the fact his house needs airing before it is quite comfortable. Mrs Winch will have kept an eye on the place, so I doubt it will be as difficult to sleep there as you imagine. Mr Moss will not find the land in good heart, though. I suppose I should have found a discreet way to let his lordship know how bad things were before Mr Jenks admitted his sight was failing and left.’
‘Oh, no, Miss Court, Jenks said he owed it to Grandfather to carry on managing the estate and he was so loyal to the family we couldn’t betray him, could we? He has such old-fashioned ideas—perhaps it’s as well Jenks had to go all the way to Yorkshire to live with his daughter so he can’t argue with everything Mr Moss wants to do,’ Georgiana said with a wise nod that left Nell trying not to smile at her unusual interest in estate management.
Georgiana enjoyed a combative relationship with the local squire’s eldest son. One day it might grow into something more and Nell thought them well matched. Persuading Lord Barberry that the heir of a mere squire would make a good husband for one of his wards would be a challenge, but not one she need worry about now Georgiana was fifteen and the lad a year older.
‘Yorkshire is not so very far away,’ she teased gently as she urged the sisters upstairs to the modest room they insisted on sharing, despite the many splendid bedchambers in this grand old house.
‘It is as far as Mr Jenks is concerned,’ Caro put in and smiled her thanks when Nell loosened her laces and helped her out of her simple round gown, then began brushing Caro’s thick blonde locks while their maid undid Georgiana’s gown.
‘You can’t help wondering why he agreed to go there in the first place though, can you?’ Georgiana observed with a frown and Nell wondered if it was odd that the man had finally left in such a hurry.
‘The love of family can lead us to the most unexpected places,’ Nell said with a shrug and a last look around. Becky had everything in hand and her charges looked so tired they should sleep soundly. Wishing them all a good night, she went to check on Lavinia and found Mary nodding in the dressing room.
‘Miss Lavinia hasn’t stirred all evening, miss. I’ve never known her so quiet or so little trouble,’ the maid admitted sheepishly.
‘You might as well go to bed now, Mary. If Miss Lavinia was going to take a chill, we would know by now and no doubt you’ll hear if she wakes up and needs you in the night,’ Nell told the maid with a nod at the truckle bed already set up in the narrow little room for her to sleep in and still be close if Lavinia needed her.
‘Thank you, miss,’ the young maid said dutifully.
Nell wondered why nobody found it odd Mary was Lavinia’s age and yet a maid had to be far more sensible and self-disciplined than the girl she was employed to wait on. ‘This isn’t a fair world,’ she murmured when she shut the door on her responsibilities for the night. ‘You ought to know that by now.’
She was only three and twenty herself and had taken responsibility for four young girls when she was barely of age. Looking back, she wondered why Mr Poulson picked her from the list of mature and experienced applicants for this job and decided it could only be because she wasn’t either of those things. Add Miss Thibett’s hard-won praise for Nell’s five years spent as a pupil teacher at her school and she supposed Mr Poulson thought she would understand her charges better and perhaps grow up with them. She recalled her giddy, schoolgirlish rush of excitement when she’d met Mr Moss’s deceptive blue eyes for the first time tonight and wondered if it might not be better if she knew a little more about men and their odd quirks and unlikely preoccupations.
Nell had grown up apart from her brother and she wondered why aristocratic gentlemen were so harsh with dependent children as she recalled the servants’ gossip about how little time the last Earl of Barberry had for his female grandchildren. Her uncle certainly didn’t have any for her. Parting her and Colm when her brother was old enough to be sent to school at eight years old was cruel. The more she pleaded with her uncle for one holiday a year or even Christmas together, the less he was inclined to grant them even a day. The memory of being desperately lonely in her late uncle’s house made her shudder even now. She’d cried herself to sleep for months after Colm had gone away and memories of how it felt to be alone and unwanted in an echoing house was one reason she’d agreed to apply for this job when Miss Thibett suggested she should. The thought of four lonely and abandoned girls got her here when Mr Poulson chose her for the post of their governess and memories of being unwanted by her own family made her grit her teeth and stay, although she wanted to run as far and as fast as her legs would carry her as soon as she met Lavinia’s hostile glare and realised the younger Selford cousins took their cue from her and had very good glares of their own.
Was she sorry she had stayed now? It had taken months of patience to wear their hostility down, but she truly wanted the best for them. She recalled the feel of poor Lavinia sobbing in her arms and letting out so much pent-up unhappiness and at least she understood her a little better now. If she didn’t have responsibility for these lonely girls she might have agreed to join Colm and Eve for the coming Season in London, though. Maybe there she would have found a gentleman quiet and steady enough to marry and make the family she’d always longed for with. Oddly enough an image of Moss interrupted her daydream and mocked her with a cynical smile. He might be right, if he was actually here and knew what went on in her head, because by the side of him her paragon did sound dreadfully dull.
With thoughts like that jostling about in her head wasn’t it just as well she wasn’t about to join the polite world as Miss Hancourt, heiress and elderly debutante? She stared into a mirror softly lit by the candle in the nightstick. Imagining what the so-called polite world would say about her behind her back made her shiver. They would laugh and call her a quiz, she decided, and glared into her looking glass as if they were already on the other side being airily amused by her.
Her father was wild Lord Chris Hancourt, lover of the most notorious woman of her generation and her partner in reckless death when they’d raced to a party in a land at war with Britain. What would Moss make of her shady history if the truth came out? Never mind him, the Earl of Barberry would dismiss her, heiress or not. The mud that stuck to her father’s name would finish his daughter’s career as guide and mentor to young girls. She hated the thought of all the snide whispers that would do the rounds wherever she went if she did as her family wanted her to and tried to ignore them for a Season.
In a decade or so, when Penny was old enough to be presented as the last of the beautiful Selford orphans, it might be time to consider what she would do with the rest of her life, but until then she had a job to do. Nell unpinned her flimsy cap, managed to unlace her dull blue gown without the aid of a maid and sat at the dressing table to unpin her hair and brush it the vast number of times Miss Thibett had always insisted on to transform it into a shining, silken mass that fell heavily about her shoulders and reached as far as her waist.
Was this the true Nell at the heart of Miss Court’s dreary plumage? The girl looking back at her seemed far too young to be the guide and protector of four vulnerable young ladies. She looked too uncertain to resist the charm and experience of a gentleman who wasn’t anywhere near as humble as the third son of a country squire ought to be. Her brown eyes were soft and dreamy as she stopped brushing and felt the silky thickness of those tawny waves tumbling around her like a shining cape. Her workaday locks felt sensuous and heavy and a little bit wicked against her shift, as if a lover might loom out of the soft shadows of this familiar room and run his hand over the silken ripple of it at any moment, then whisper impossible things in her eagerly listening ears.
Nell shivered, but it wasn’t from cold; the hand she pictured adoring and weaving a sensuous path through her thick pelt of shining hair to find the woman underneath was firm and muscular, but gentle and a little bit reverent. The owner of that hand was intent on her, his blue eyes hot as he watched the way her creamy skin looked through fine lawn and a veil of glossy golden-brown hair that didn’t feel ordinary any more. As she went breathless with anticipation his touch would get firmer and his gaze even more intent and wickedly sure she was ready for more.
No, here she sat, shivering with hot nerves and anticipation—like the caricature of a frustrated, dried-up spinster governess, longing for a lover in every personable man she met and never finding one to watch her with heat-hazed eyes as he stepped into her dreams and took them over. Nell snapped her eyes shut, squeezing her eyelids so tight it almost hurt. Then she took up her comb to part her heavy locks, ready to make plaits for the night ahead and forget imaginary lovers of any sort. She swiftly wound it into two thick tails of hair without looking at herself in the mirror, her fingers deft and driven to tighten the silky mass as her thoughts raced. Argh, but that hurt. She couldn’t sleep with hair that pulled at her scalp like a harsh saint’s scourge for sinful thoughts. She must begin again and pay attention to what her fingers were up to this time. That was it, her hair was tied easily enough for sleep and just tight enough to remind her to sin no more, even in her dreams.
Now for her formidably proper nightgown. Plain and buttoned sternly to the neck, made up from warm and practical flannel, it was a garment without a hint of sensuality. Let anyone find a hint of seductress in such a respectable get-up and she’d shout her true identity from the rooftops. She gave herself a severe nod, knelt to say her prayers and begged to be delivered from such silly fantasies, then got into bed. Staring into the night, she ordered herself not to dream of dark-haired, piratical gentlemen who could raise such silly fantasies in a spinster’s heart without even trying as she snuffed her candle and hoped for quiet sleep against the odds.
* * *
In a faded corner of the great city of London another member of the nobility was finding it impossible to sleep. ‘Thought I’d never get away from the jackals, Lexie,’ Lord Derneley told his wife as he settled into a grim corner of a wine cellar in this rotten old house on the Strand with a sigh of relief. It might not be much for a man born to splendour and great wealth, but at least it wasn’t the Fleet Prison.
‘So did I, my love,’ she whispered back, as if their creditors might manage to hear them even down here if she wasn’t very careful. ‘Lucky for us that my Aunt Horseforth is such a misery nobody will believe you’re here. I think she expects me to be an unpaid companion and skivvy for the rest of my life,’ she added gloomily.
‘She’s a dour old trout, but it’s the only port we have in a storm. At least everyone knows she can’t abide me and wouldn’t have me in her house if she knew I was here. I could always come out of hiding and scare her into an apoplexy.’
‘No, no, Derneley, don’t do that. Her grandson will come down from Scotland and put me out on the street before she’s cold if you do and you’ll starve to death down here without me. There’s nowhere else for us to go now the creditors are after you as if you murdered someone instead of taking their horrid loans when we ran out of things to sell. Heaven knows I got nothing but snubs and refusals to acknowledge they even knew me for my pains when I tried to visit my friends,’ she said mournfully and even her selfish, careless lord looked humble and almost defeated for a moment, before his true nature reasserted itself.
‘Have you found anything worth selling yet?’
‘No, her grandson’s man of business has everything locked up that isn’t already in the bank. He doesn’t trust me,’ she said, sounding very put out.
‘If we could only lay hands on a few hundred guineas we can slope off to Italy and at least be warm while we think what we’re going to do next. Right now I can’t even afford a decent bottle of wine, for if there were ever any in here someone drank it years ago.’
‘If only Lord Chris hadn’t deceived poor Pamela so badly we’d have all the Lambury Jewels in our possession now and none of this would have happened.’
‘Except if he wasn’t dead she wouldn’t be either and if you think we’d have got a single jewel out of her, you’re more of a fool than I thought. Chris was a lot more cunning than we gave him credit for being once she’d got him under her spell though, wasn’t he?’ Lord Derneley sounded almost admiring for a moment. ‘Who would have thought he’d be able to palm her off with paste versions of the emerald and sapphire sets after she had the rubies tested to make sure they were real the moment he handed them over.’
‘Everyone said the rubies were cursed and it turned out to be true, didn’t it? My poor sister was dead within six months of wheedling the wretched things out of him. And he never even pretended to hand over his wife’s diamonds to her, so he must have put them somewhere for that horrid little girl to find.’
‘We could make far better use of them,’ her lord said thoughtfully, ‘but nobody said a word about the Lambury Jewels turning up when young Hancourt came into that blind trust thing, did they? You could be on to something, Lex,’ he added and his wife stared at him in wonder.
‘You mean we could find them?’ she said.
‘I daren’t show my face, but that tough your sister used to play with when Chris wasn’t looking might track them down for you if we promise to share.’
‘No, he’s dead and I was too frightened of him to go anywhere near him if he wasn’t. I might be stuck upstairs waiting on my nip-cheese aunt most of the time, but I suppose I could find out when they were last seen if I get her talking about the old days long enough, but are you sure we’ll be able to find them, my love?’
‘Why not? And we have nothing to lose, do we?’
‘No, we’ve already lost it,’ her ladyship said gloomily, the fabulous wealth her lord inherited the day he came of age seeming to haunt her for a moment. ‘They only let me leave Derneley House in what I stood up in and they searched me for anything valuable before they even let me do that,’ she remembered mournfully.
‘You can keep a ring and one of the small necklets when we sell the rest,’ her lord said almost generously.
‘Thank you, my love,’ she said meekly.
‘Hmm, it might work, but Hancourt’s too tough a customer for us to get anything out of him and he knows us too well.’
‘Yes, and he must be dangerous with all those scars and fighting in all the battles he survived when Gus Hancourt sent him off to be killed in the army,’ her ladyship said matter of factly, as if she saw nothing very wrong in the late Duke of Linaire’s heartless scheming to gain his nephew’s fortune.
‘Cunning as well—think how he deceived us. He was only a secretary when he came to Derneley House to take my father’s books away. He must be hiding that sister of his somewhere though, because she certainly ain’t doing the Season, is she?’
‘No, I would have heard. Aunt Horseforth may not go out much, but she corresponds with half the old dowagers of the ton.’
‘I dare say the Hancourt wench is as plain as her mother was then, or he’d have insisted she came to town by now.’
‘I wish Pamela never met their father, but she and Chris would have had far more beautiful children together if he’d been able to marry her.’
‘You’re the aunt of the wench Hancourt married though, ain’t you? You must call at Linaire House when she and Hancourt get back from the north and make sure he feels a pressing need to write to his sister. That way we’ll be able to find out her address and somehow get her to lead us to the jewels. Chris must have realised how plain she would turn out to be and he knew a man needs a good reason to wed an antidote. Lady Chris could never have hooked the son of a duke without the Lambury Jewels and the old man Lambury’s fortune as bait. The diamonds would set us up nicely and the old man gave them to Chris’s wife after the marriage, so they weren’t part of the settlements and he could leave them to his daughter if he wanted to.’
‘You’re so clever, Derneley,’ his wife said with an admiring sigh. ‘I can’t imagine how I’m to make that horrid boy of Chris’s so worried he’ll give her address away by writing to her, though.’
‘Oh, really, Lex, do I have to think of everything?’ her lord said sleepily and waved her away so he could sleep after a strenuous day of escaping his creditors and looking for new money to waste.
Chapter Five (#ua1a4b546-33e0-5900-aeaf-011528afda02)
‘Oh, do stop the carriage, Binley!’ Georgiana shouted before Nell could check her. ‘Good morning, Mr Moss.’
Nell managed a sickly smile for the man who had been haunting her dreams.
‘Good morning, Miss Georgiana, Miss Court,’ he said politely.
‘But we are keeping you standing in the rain, Mr Moss,’ Nell said in the hope he’d agree and hurry on without further ado.
‘A mere drizzle, Miss Court. We land stewards have to accustom ourselves to the whims of the English weather.’
Now why did she think he was mocking himself as much as her this time? ‘All the same it is another cold and dreary day—can we take you up as far as Brampton Village?’ she offered as politely as she could manage when she didn’t want to be shut in a closed carriage with him even for that long.
‘That is very kind, ma’am. My horse is being re-shod so it will save me a half-hour’s walk to collect him from the forge,’ the man said cheerfully and Nell bit back a protest she was being polite and didn’t mean it.
At least he sat with his back to the horses, but that meant she must look at him instead of feeling his muscular male limbs next to her and it was only marginally better. He had acquired more suitable clothes in the three days since he appeared out of the night to plague her. In practical leathers and countryman’s boots and coat he should be quite unremarkable, but somehow he was nothing of the sort. His linen was spotless and his plain waistcoat was cut by a master, but it wasn’t his clothes that made him stand out, it was the man underneath them. His masculine vitality seemed almost too big for a confined space and Nell felt she couldn’t even breathe without taking in more of him than she wanted to. And she didn’t want to, did she? Her doubts about that had been creeping into her dreams. Every morning she had to tell herself they were nightmares when she woke up with those fading rags of unthinkably erotic fantasies shaming her waking hours. How was she to look him in the face with the thought of them plaguing her with impossible things?
‘The others are sewing with Mrs Winch this morning,’ Georgiana informed him happily. ‘I share Maria Welland’s music lessons and Miss Court comes with me to have tea and a comfortable coze with Maria’s Miss Tweed while our teacher shouts at us in French.’
‘You unlucky creatures, no wonder the other Misses Selford prefer their embroidery frames.’
‘Lavinia has no ear for music; Madame says she would rather—’
‘Never mind her exact words, Georgiana,’ Nell interrupted hastily, having overheard the lady’s agonies before she’d declared Georgiana the only Selford girl with even the suggestion of a voice and refused to hear the others sing ever again.
‘I was only going to say she would rather teach cats to sing than Lavinia, Miss Court,’ Georgiana said with such mischief in her eyes that Nell would usually have to laugh, except she refused to do so in front of Mr Moss.
‘Well, don’t,’ she said crossly instead. ‘Lavinia can’t help being about as unmusical as possible without being tone deaf.’
‘I know and she does embroider exquisitely,’ Georgiana admitted. ‘She can paint far better than the rest of us as well. But that’s why we’re out and about on our own this morning, Mr Moss,’ she went on with an expectant look at him that said it was his turn to recite a list of engagements for the day.
‘I am engaged to meet several of your guardian’s tenant farmers at the market in Temple Barberry, so I shall have to hurry there as soon as my horse has his new shoe, Miss Georgiana,’ he replied obediently.
Contrarily, Nell felt excluded as they chatted about the market and how most farmers were gloomy about prospects for the harvest, whatever the weather. They conceded this was a very peculiar spring and this time they were right to be pessimistic. Being brought up in London, and then Bath, Nell had had to learn even to like the countryside when she first came here and she was the first to admit she didn’t know its ways and habits as well as her pupils. She felt like a town mouse as Georgiana and Mr Moss happily discussed the difficulty of sowing crops and getting them to grow when it was cold and the skies so grey nothing seemed likely to thrive. Sunshine was now needed to make it all work and Nell felt she might be withering for the lack of it herself by the time the carriage rolled into Brampton and pulled up at the smithy.
‘You seem unnaturally quiet this morning, Miss Court,’ Mr Moss observed as he gathered up his crop, hat and a leather case that must contain tenancy agreements or leases, or some such dry stuff it was as well not to be curious about.
‘I have nothing to say, Mr Moss. I am an urban creature and know little of agriculture and country lore.’
‘Then it was rude of me to bore you with them.’
‘Not in the least, sir. I hope I can still listen and learn as well as hold forth about what I do know.’
‘Then I shall send over one of the agricultural reports on this county for your further education, ma’am, since you want to know it better.’
‘Only if you are not using it, sir,’ she said coolly. She could imagine nothing more likely to send her to sleep so perhaps it would have its uses.
‘Oh, no, I’m a quick study when a topic interests me and the state of land is important. I suppose that’s one reason my wider family disapprove of me and mine,’ he said, then seemed to regret his frankness and his expression was closed and formal as he jumped down and gave them a fine bow, before waving goodbye to Georgiana and nodding stiffly at Nell as the carriage drove past on its way to the Wellands’ manor house. Why would a country squire regard his interest in the land as undesirable? Mr Moss might not be able to inherit the family acres, but not all younger sons were destined for the army, the navy or the church. Becoming a land steward was a perfectly respectable ambition in a gentleman of slender means. On a large estate like Berry Brampton the position was often filled by a junior line of the family who owned it. So why was Mr Moss so defensive about his chosen way of life?
* * *
By the time Brampton Village was behind them at least Georgiana had stopped speculating about Mr Moss and the reception he would get from the notoriously close-mouthed farming community, so that was a relief, wasn’t it? Hearing her most lively pupil shift her attention from the steward to what her friend Maria might have been about since they last met might make her head spin, but Miss Welland’s sayings and doings were a much safer subject and she let her pupil chatter on unchecked. It didn’t matter how well or badly the man got on with his family, he was here, at last, and Nell hoped the injustices and oddities Jenks had closed his eyes to on the estate would come to an end. Anyway, she could hardly condemn Moss for being so late to take up his post when she had deserted hers twice in the last year. Governess or not, responsible for the girls as she was with no resident guardian to look out for them when she was gone, nothing could have stopped Nell finding her brother after Waterloo and, six months later, attending his wedding to the love of his life. It had been a joyous marriage ceremony, despite the time of year and the rough weather and terrible roads. At last Colm had looked as joyous and carefree as a man of his age, birth and fortune ought to when he stood up so proudly to wed his unexpected bride. The last marriage in the world anyone would have predicted for the children of the Hancourt–Winterley scandal and there they both were, as shiningly happy as any couple Nell had ever met. It felt strange coming back here from Darkmere Castle and those bright celebrations to be Miss Court again and pretend nothing had changed. Until Mr Moss arrived she’d been plagued by a feeling this world seemed dangerously unstable after the bustle and common purpose in Lord Winterley’s northern heartland. If she left Berry Brampton House as her brother and sister-in-law wanted her to, what would become of the girls? Without a competent manager, the estate had been like a rudderless ship in these hard times. The war was over, but the whole country sometimes seemed about to plunge into chaos as they floundered from one crisis to the next. Now her worry about the lack of a strong man to keep all steady here was gone, she realised how uneasy she’d been before he arrived.
Mr Moss was an unlikely protector of a pack of schoolgirls, but he would still do it if he had to. The footmen and butler were tall and strong and the formidably respectable Mrs Winch gave the household gravitas, but nobody else had the status of my lord’s land steward. She didn’t have to like him for it, though. He had sat opposite her and talked to Georgiana of matters she didn’t understand, then offered to lend her a book. Well, she’d read the dratted thing if that would stop him doing it again. As for that habit he had of calling her ma’am—there might be more exasperating ways to address a lady not yet four and twenty, but she couldn’t currently think of any.
‘Mr Moss was right; you are quiet today, Miss Court. Do you have the headache?’ Georgiana asked as the carriage turned towards the next village and the Wellands’ neat manor house.
Not yet, Nell thought, but I soon will have if I brood about the impossible man for much longer. ‘No, but I couldn’t get a word in when you two were chattering nineteen to the dozen.’
‘Papa always said my tongue ran on wheels when we were little...’ She paused and looked out of the small carriage windows at the dull grey sky before sighing heavily. ‘I know I was only a child when he died, Miss Court, and I was so lucky my parents loved me and Caro, but will I ever stop missing them, do you think?’
‘Now that really is a hard question.’
‘I know I shouldn’t pry into the feelings of my elders, since you told me so, but do you still miss your mama and papa?’
‘At times; although my mama died when I was little more than a babe, so I don’t really remember her, and my father was more often away from home than in it during the last few years of his life. I do still miss him though, yes. I found it very hard to be parted from my brother when he was sent to school as well, so I’m glad you and Caroline are together and can share your feelings as well as your memories. Lavinia and Penny love you both as well, however little they choose to show it at times. I suppose the pressure on the heir to produce a boy was so strong in your family that Lavinia has always felt herself at a disadvantage and she is unsure of herself and a little jealous of those who seem to be more fortunate.’
‘I will remember that and try to make allowances, but you don’t like to talk about yourself, do you, Miss Court?’ Georgiana responded with a direct stare that made Nell feel she was the younger of them for once.
She had hoped nobody would notice her habit of turning the subject and not giving anything away about her past that she didn’t have to, but Georgiana was a lot more perceptive than most people realised. ‘I’m not a very interesting topic,’ she replied warily.
‘Now there you are quite wrong, Miss Court. Mr Moss finds you as much of a mystery as we Selfords do. All the time we were talking about farmers and cows and fields at least half his attention was fixed on you.’
‘No, it wasn’t. He thinks me an antidote and was very happy to talk to you this morning instead of me, so please don’t start imagining otherwise, Georgiana. Your matchmaking efforts are unwelcome at the best of times and Mr Moss would laugh himself hoarse if he could hear you now.’
‘Which would be very ungentlemanly of him, don’t you think? Although I doubt he would; he seems a kind man under that teasing manner of his.’
‘I don’t think we know him well enough to say if he is kindly or not yet, Georgiana, and if I did want more to do with the gentleman than I have to because we work for the same employer he’d be horrified. I doubt I ever came across a gentleman less likely to be in search of a wife than that one and I’m certainly not the woman to make him change his mind.’
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Elizabeth Beacon
Forbidden to the undercover earl!Hiding from society, heiress Eleanor Hancourt must live as ordinary governess Nell Court to escape her family’s scandals. But when the new estate manager arrives, her quiet existence is disrupted. He may be unspeakably arrogant, but he’s also irresistible!Fergus is really the Earl of Barberry, undercover to investigate his own estate. Instead, he discovers the new governess is an illicit temptation, a match that can never be! Yet when Nell’s secret inheritance puts her in peril, Fergus will do whatever it takes to save her…
Forbidden to the undercover earl!
Hiding from society, heiress Eleanor Hancourt must live as ordinary governess Nell Court to escape her family’s scandals. But when the new estate manager arrives, her quiet existence is disrupted. He may be unspeakably arrogant, but he’s also irresistible!
Fergus is really the Earl of Barberry, undercover to investigate his own estate. Instead, he discovers the new governess is an illicit temptation, a match that can never be! Yet when Nell’s secret inheritance puts her in peril, Fergus will do whatever it takes to save her...
How would it feel to be kissed by him as if she were lovely, sensuous and desirable?
How might it feel actually to be those things to a man she wanted so badly it didn’t matter about social distinctions or correct behaviour any more?
For the longest and most charged moments of her life so far those questions sang between them as if she had spoken them aloud. Her lips parted without her permission; his fascinated gaze was encouragement enough. Her entire body was aware of itself as never before. Every breath was a novelty as the scent and power and sight of him reached a curious and dangerous place inside her and whispered, Maybe.
A curve of almost tender amusement lifted his mouth in a wry smile. Her feet rose on tiptoe, inviting him to lower his head and let wild, reckless Eleanor Hancourt out of her cage the instant he kissed her...
Author Note (#ua1a4b546-33e0-5900-aeaf-011528afda02)
During the Regency period a governess wasn’t regarded as an equal by her employers, but she didn’t belong in the servants’ hall either. She had to earn the respect of her pupils and employers, and teach young ladies all the accomplishments that would fit them for high society, but not turn them into blue stockings. Then she had to hand them on to a suitable chaperon and find a new position where she could do it all again with another set of strangers—if she was lucky.
The moment I began to wonder if any of them enjoyed taking on such a challenge Eleanor Hancourt turned up, as if she’d been waiting for a chance to have her say. With enough secrets in her travelling box to keep a novelist happy for months, and a hero who tells almost as many lies as she does, she has been a joy to write about.
So this is Nell’s story. Anyone who read The Winterley Scandal, in which Nell’s brother Colm meets the love of his life, will recognise some characters in this book, but The Governess Heiress is also intended to stand alone—just as bright, determined and ever-so-slightly bossy Nell Hancourt had to when her wicked uncle turned her out into the world to earn her own bread.
The Governess Heiress
Elizabeth Beacon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ELIZABETH BEACON has a passion for history and storytelling and, with the English West Country on her doorstep, never lacks a glorious setting for her books. Elizabeth tried horticulture, higher education as a mature student, briefly taught English, and worked in an office before finally turning her daydreams about dashing piratical heroes and their stubborn and independent heroines into her dream job: writing Regency romances for Mills & Boon Historical Romance.
Books by Elizabeth Beacon
Mills & Boon Historical Romance
A Year of Scandal: Spin-off
The Winterley Scandal
The Governess Heiress
A Year of Scandal
The Viscount’s Frozen Heart
The Marquis’s Awakening
Lord Laughraine’s Summer Promise
Redemption of the Rake
Linked by Character
The Duchess Hunt
The Scarred Earl
The Black Sheep’s Return
Stand-Alone Novels
A Most Unladylike Adventure
Candlelit Christmas Kisses
‘Governess Under the Mistletoe’
Visit the Author Profile page
at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) for more titles.
Contents
Cover (#u4631ca3a-aec4-525b-bd31-c3e124226fa8)
Back Cover Text (#ua6c51147-9581-54ae-b831-eca4f9f5a94d)
Introduction (#ueeafd1db-ed77-5e98-9c8b-49f1c24f4bf9)
Author Note (#u610aec81-b7b8-5f31-ac6c-c584569683e1)
Title Page (#u40618dcb-0e9b-5074-a322-faa1e9faf1c1)
About the Author (#u950ebeeb-bd34-5865-b78f-c22c2463c33a)
Chapter One (#u156efdb7-1a74-5a15-b391-f72b209c98f6)
Chapter Two (#ueb09a4c6-51d0-55e9-8929-085d889f94c9)
Chapter Three (#u13c7d7ee-b661-5e54-8deb-2617d92db4c6)
Chapter Four (#ubf9dd944-fe33-5b11-ac82-46d4af575a99)
Chapter Five (#uebbd58f1-a1d6-5200-ab49-f0c5b332b996)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ua1a4b546-33e0-5900-aeaf-011528afda02)
‘I would rather be outside, too, Lavinia, but you said it was too cold to learn as we walked this morning. Now we’re inside you still won’t listen,’ Eleanor Hancourt said sternly. ‘Remind us how many rods make a furlong.’
Nell’s eldest pupil went on staring out of the high schoolroom window and it took Caroline’s nudge to jolt her cousin out of a daydream. ‘Archbishop of Canterbury, Miss Court,’ Lavinia said triumphantly.
‘We have moved on from Plantagenet kings and troublesome priests, Lavinia Selford. British history was this morning.’
‘Oh,’ said Lavinia listlessly. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter, does it?’
‘Kindly explain how the fate of Kings and measuring God’s creation are unimportant, Lavinia,’ Nell said softly, although she wanted to let her temper rip.
‘Because I don’t care. Knowing such rubbishy stuff won’t get me a husband and a fine house in London,’ Lavinia replied defiantly.
‘Being a well-bred mother to his children will be enough for you, then?’
‘No, he will adore me and when I make my debut I’ll dance and have fun while you sew for the poor and read improving books out loud of an evening.’
Nell mentally conceded the girl could be right about the dullness of their current lives, even if everything else she had to say showed how immature Lavinia was. It was dull in this half-closed-up house at the back of beyond. Even she, the girls’ governess, was only three and twenty and sometimes longed for more and now it was temptingly within reach. Except nobody else really cared if they were happy or miserable, so long as they didn’t cause trouble. So she would have to stay until the Earl of Barberry came to take responsibility for his wards and the estate, but that seemed about as likely as pigs learning to fly.
Her authority felt fragile even after two years teaching the man’s orphaned wards, but at least he wasn’t here to challenge it. He had never been here to see if she was doing her job properly. He hadn’t even bothered to meet his young cousins during the decade he’d been head of the Selford family. The Earl left the country as soon as he heard his grandfather was dead and had stayed away ever since. Even two years on from being brought in to try and drive knowledge and ladylike behaviour into the Misses Selford, Nell was too young for such a role. Now she was an heiress to add to her puzzles, but she could think about that when Lavinia wasn’t as slyly confident she was going to win their latest battle.
‘I am well born and pretty and I have a good figure and a fine dowry,’ the girl listed smugly, the difference between them sharp in her light blue eyes.
‘A true gentleman requires more than looks and a large collection of vanities in a wife,’ Nell replied coolly, pushing the unworthy argument she was well born and a lot wealthier than her eldest charge to the back of her mind. ‘A talent for flirting and dancing won’t fascinate the fine young man you dream of marrying when every second debutante has that as well. Wit and charm, a sincere interest in those around her, a well-informed mind and a compassionate heart make a true lady, Lavinia. Youthful prettiness fades; do you want to end up lonely and avoided since you have no conversation or common interest to keep your husband at your side when you are no longer as young as you were?’
‘Oh, no, Vinnie, imagine how awful it would be to end up like that lady who stayed at the manor last year. The one who bored on and on about imaginary illnesses and how hard her life was until her husband went out of his way to avoid her,’ Caroline exclaimed with genuine horror.
‘What sane gentleman would marry an empty-headed creature for aught but her money?’ Caroline’s elder sister Georgiana added with a sideways look at her least favourite cousin.
‘That’s enough, Georgiana,’ Nell said firmly.
Lavinia was the daughter of the last Earl’s eldest son and senior in status and years, but what did that matter when all four of the old Earl’s granddaughters were stuck here in the middle of nowhere? None of them could inherit the earldom and Nell counted herself lucky that she could only imagine the last Earl’s fury when his youngest son made a runaway marriage to Kitty Graham, still whispered of as the loveliest actress of her generation. Hastily doing some mental arithmetic, Nell supposed Kitty and the Honourable Aidan’s son hadn’t mattered to his paternal grandfather for over a decade. The fifth Earl’s eldest son had a robust heir and never mind if his wife refused to share his bed after the boy was born and she declared her duty done. Since the lady was the daughter of a duke the old Earl didn’t challenge her until the boy was killed in some reckless exploit at Oxford. Then he’d ordered his heir to mend his marriage and even the Duke agreed, so Lady Selford gave birth to Lavinia a year after she lost her son and was declared too fragile for further duty by the doctors. According to local gossip, the lady turned her back on her baby daughter and returned to her family. Nell marvelled at her indifference, but Lady Selford died when Lavinia was seven and Nell doubted the child had set eyes on the woman above once or twice.
At least Georgiana and Caroline seemed to have been loved by their parents, but a sweating fever killed Captain Selford and his wife and Nell imagined the girls had had a stony welcome from their grandfather, since the servants still gossiped about how bitterly he resented his granddaughters for daring to be born female. Only Penelope had escaped the fury of that bitter old man by being born three months after the Earl died, but as a posthumous child of his third son she had been his last hope of keeping the offspring of an actress out of the succession. The latest Earl of Barberry had carried off the family honours in the teeth of his grandfather’s opposition then, but the sixth Earl had done precious little with them. Nell supposed it was better for the girls to grow up without another angry lord glowering at them when he recalled their existence. Lavinia’s old nurse once told her how the old Earl cursed whenever Lavinia crossed his path, so little wonder if she grew up imagining a rosier future for herself. Nell hoped the girl would make a good marriage, but misery awaited her if she wed the first young man who asked her to so she could escape her lonely life.
‘Forty, Miss Court,’ Lavinia said casually at last.
Nell wondered what she was talking about, then remembered the rods and furlongs. ‘Very good, Lavinia. So, Georgiana; how many feet in a fathom?’
‘Even a land sailor knows there are six and we were at sea until Papa died.’
‘You and your stupid sister insist on telling us about him all the time. As if we care,’ Lavinia said, quite spoiling the novelty of joining in a lesson for once.
‘Then why don’t you go and count your rubbishy ribbons, or gaze at your own ugly face in the mirror for hours on end, since you love it so much? At least then we won’t have to look at your frog face or listen to you rattle on about who you’re going to marry this week, Lavinia Lackwit,’ Georgiana scorned as tears flooded Caroline’s wide blue eyes at the thought of what the two sisters had lost when their parents died.
Nell felt sorry for Lavinia when even little Penny glared at her for upsetting the most vulnerable of the cousins and all three looked as if they’d be glad if Lavinia disappeared in a puff of smoke.
‘Georgiana, that’s an inexcusable thing to say. You will stand in the corner until I say you can come out. Lavinia; apologise to your cousin, then copy out the One Hundredth Psalm twice in a fair hand. Maybe that will make you humbler about your own shortcomings and a little kinder to others, but your guardian will be displeased to hear you refuse to make any effort at your lessons and fall out with your cousins.’
‘He doesn’t give a snap of his fingers for any of us and I hate this place and all of you as well. You’re always such good little girls for your darling Miss Court and she’s only a servant when all’s said and done. You make me sick. I hate you all, but I hate Cousin Barberry most. Why should I care what he thinks? I doubt he remembers we exist,’ Lavinia railed at the top of her voice, stamped her feet as if words couldn’t express her anger, then ran out of the room on a furious sob. Nell listened to the sound of her charge thundering downstairs and the garden door slamming with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that her day was about to get even worse.
‘I hope she took a shawl,’ Caroline said with a sympathetic shiver.
‘And I hope she didn’t,’ nine-year-old Penny argued vengefully.
Georgiana flounced to the corner she’d been ordered into with a sniff and a contemptuous glower and Nell tried to do what came next instead of feeling defeated.
‘Georgiana, stay there for ten minutes without saying a word or pulling faces at Caroline and Penelope. I shall ask Crombie to sit with you. Caroline and Penelope, you can read quietly, but you will not tease Georgiana or speculate about Lavinia. As soon as the ten minutes are up you may read as well, Georgiana,’ she told her charges as calmly as she could.
Seeing how impatient Penny’s one-time nurse was about being fetched away from her comfortable coze with the housekeeper, Nell knew they wouldn’t be allowed to riot in her absence. Now she only had to worry about organising a search for Lavinia with the daylight already fading. She gave orders for all the available staff to comb the gardens and parkland, then went outside to search her own section of the shadowy gardens.
* * *
Fergus Selford, Earl of Barberry, rode into the stableyard of Berry Brampton House for the first time in his life and found it strangely deserted. He hadn’t expected a fanfare on the arrival of an errant earl nobody knew was coming. Or much of a welcome even if they did, but it felt a bit of come down to stable his own horse. He owned the dratted place from cellar to rafters, yet he’d settled the tired animal in a convenient stall and retrieved his unfashionable boat cloak from the tack room before he met a single soul.
‘We’re not expecting visitors, so if you’re the new land agent you couldn’t have arrived at a better time, although you’re three weeks late and we had almost given up on you,’ a rather pleasant contralto voice told him from the shadowy doorway. ‘I saw the lamp and heard someone moving about in here as if he had a right to be here. All the stable boys are supposed to be out looking for one of my charges so I came to see if one of them was shirking. Now you’re here we need all the help we can get before Lavinia hurts herself or one of us falls into the ha-ha. You can help me search, since you’ll get lost if you wander about on your own and we’ll have to find you as well.’
‘If you’ve managed to mislay one of the Selford girls that’s your problem,’ Fergus told her gruffly, blaming his shabby cloak for her mistake. He was almost inclined to tell her who he was and that he employed her to take care of his wards, so why should he bother himself with a search for one of them when he was weary and uncomfortable and didn’t want to be here in the first place?
‘It’ll be yours if the Earl finds out we couldn’t keep one of his wards safe because you refused to help.’
‘Is she mad or just simple? It has to be one or the other since you believe she’ll do herself a mischief in his lordship’s private grounds.’
‘Miss Selford is a bright and spirited young girl who has trouble keeping her temper in check. A trait I sympathise with at this very moment,’ the governess said through what sounded like clenched teeth.
Now why was arguing with her in the semi-darkness more stimulating than flirting with sophisticated beauties? He heard her take a deep breath and she seemed to call on the reserves of patience his wards hadn’t already tested to the limit. Reminding himself he was here to do his duty, not amuse himself at the governess’s expense, he ordered himself to stop provoking her and get on with it.
‘Never mind, we’ll find her without your help and I suppose you wouldn’t be much use anyway,’ she said haughtily. ‘If you can exert yourself long enough to cross the yard and find Cook, I expect she will feed you, then direct you to your quarters. I wish you joy of the land steward’s house, by the way. You should have told us you were coming—since you are so tardy we had given up on you and abandoned the attempt to make it more welcoming.’ Even in the gloom he could see the glare the Amazon shot him before she turned to march back the way she came.
‘Stop,’ he ordered and she turned as slowly as an offended queen. He wanted to kiss the temper off her lips for a shocking moment. She would slap him and quite right, too, and he hadn’t come here to prove that every hard word his late grandfather had said about him had turned out to be true.
‘No, I’m busy,’ she said and strode towards a path he could only just see in the fast fading light.
‘Two pairs of eyes and ears will be better than one in this gloom,’ he said as he caught up with her, bowed ironically and indicated she carry on leading the way. ‘You know where you’re going,’ he explained, beginning to enjoy himself now he had such a prickly lady to annoy and this new disguise to settle into.
He told himself he wouldn’t have thought of such an impersonation until she thrust it on him, but not announcing who he was to a household he never wanted to inherit in the first place was too tempting to turn his back on. As a ruse for finding out what was going on without putting the entire neighbourhood on alert that the new Earl was home at last it could hardly be bettered. Pretending to be the land steward would save him the huge effort of being the sixth Earl of Barberry and he could spy out the land, then decide if he could endure being here. Perhaps it was as well the Moss boy, who he’d lined up to act as land steward, had backed out of this post for an easier one since his lack of backbone had forced Fergus to come here, but taking up his inheritance in the teeth of the late Earl’s bitter opposition still rasped his pride somehow.
Everything the Selfords had worked so hard to keep from a whore’s son, as they so charmingly called him, was his, but it felt like a hollow victory. After living on his own terms in Canada for almost a decade the rules of a polite little English society felt petty. As a heedless and rather angry young man he had been determined to defy his grandfather and all those who made his time at Eton and Oxford a mixed blessing. There was always some aristocratic sprig ready to deride him as grandson of Lord Barberry on one side and an Irish gypsy on the other. None of them would believe he never really wanted the titles and lands hanging around his neck like a millstone, so he’d left the country when the old Earl was barely cold in his grave. There were so many things he could do elsewhere, so many adventures to have, but he’d been doing his best to ignore the voice of his conscience and his mother’s pleas to come home ever since he’d fallen in love with the vastness and promise of the so-called New World. Another thing he could blame being Earl of Barberry for, having to leave a place he could have made his home if not for all the responsibilities he’d been so intent on running away from ten years ago.
Still, as Moss he could learn what he wanted to know, then go away again if he chose to and nobody here would even know he’d been. He ought to thank the woman striding along the path ahead of him as he stumbled in her wake like a rowing boat chasing a stately galleon.
Now what was her name? He was ashamed to find he couldn’t remember it, despite the quarterly reports she insisted on sending him of the state of his cousins’ health, happiness and progress, or lack of it. Still, she was the latest in a long line of governesses who’d all insisted on writing to him about their woes with the Selford girls when they were paid handsomely to deal with them. Just as well this one had no idea who he was, because he paid little attention to her meticulous lists of how Miss Lavender or Miss Patty, or whatever they were called, were progressing when his lawyers sent them on. Thousands of miles away he’d had to trust that his senior lawyer knew what he was doing when he’d insisted that young girls needed someone youthful to care for their happiness as well as teach them to paint screens and sew samplers, or whatever young ladies did until they were old enough to marry. Considering this female had carelessly mislaid one of his wards, he was beginning to wonder about the fellow’s wisdom and sanity right now.
‘Where are we going?’ he asked as he followed Miss Whoever into a generous old orchard.
‘If I told you it would mean nothing, unless you’ve been studying estate maps before taking up your employment?’ she said with too much irony for his taste.
‘I’m here now, aren’t I?’ he said defensively.
‘And only three weeks late as well. How very diligent, Mr Moss.’
‘That discrepancy is between me and my employer.’
‘And he doesn’t sound the most patient or tolerant of them. In your shoes I’d be careful how I conducted myself, now you’re here at last.’
‘Is that a threat?’ he asked, with what his half-sisters said was his most annoying sneer. Annoying or not, it was wasted on this woman. She was peering at what looked like a tall hutch in the twilight as if he didn’t exist.
‘An observation,’ she said absently. He felt like a fly so trivial it wasn’t even worth slapping him. ‘Don’t get too close,’ she warned and he instantly wanted to.
He was beginning to sympathise with his absent ward’s need to escape her governess’s authority. Then he got too close and an angry buzz shot past his ear. He stepped back hastily as the persistent little creatures took exception to him but, annoyingly, left the governess alone as if she belonged here and he didn’t.
‘I did warn you,’ she said with I told you so in her voice.
‘What is this place?’ he asked gruffly.
‘A bee house, of course,’ she said and followed him away as if nothing about this place troubled her, which it didn’t, he supposed—she wasn’t the one in danger of being royally stung.
‘Oh, of course, and what an ideal place for a runaway schoolgirl to hide.’
‘Lavinia is a fanciful creature and local lore insists the bees be told whatever happens in a household if they are to be part of it.’
‘And they really want to know when a girl is out of sorts with her governess?’
‘It was a possibility. Now maybe you’ll go back to the house and ask for your dinner so I can get on,’ she said as if tired of indulging him.
‘While you wander about in the dark and risk life and limb? Even I’m not that much of a yahoo, Miss... Who are you anyway?’ he demanded irritably, glad now he hadn’t remembered her name and given himself away.
‘Miss Court and I’m not in any danger since, as you pointed out just now, we are in his lordship’s private grounds. And I’ll get on a lot faster if you leave me be.’
‘No, if the wench has done something to herself in the dark you can’t carry her, great girl of fifteen or sixteen as she must be.’
‘How do you know the age of my eldest charge?’
Curse the woman, but now she sounded suspicious. Fergus searched his memory for lies he’d already told her. Even the son of a country squire would know enough to guess how old the Earl of Barberry’s wards must be now.
‘Everyone knows Barberry was left with a stable of female cousins when he inherited,’ he said and even managed to sound plausibly impatient. ‘The old lord’s quest for another male heir is hardly a secret and if those girls were old enough to be presented they wouldn’t need a governess, so even the eldest cannot be out yet.’
‘Clever,’ she said flatly and why didn’t he think it a compliment?
Chapter Two (#ua1a4b546-33e0-5900-aeaf-011528afda02)
They reached the end of the orchards and the interfering female found a wicket gate out into the park as if by instinct, or perhaps she came here rather too often in the dark, a jealous impulse prompted Fergus. The notion she was so familiar with his grounds because she came here to meet a lover and flit through the moonlit park at the idiot’s side for a stolen idyll goaded him to the edge of fury for some odd reason. He hadn’t even seen her properly yet, but she sounded just the sort of woman to order some poor besotted idiot to dance attendance on her in the dusk so they wouldn’t be caught courting and risk dismissal. He employed the woman to look after his cousins, he told himself uncomfortably. She should be keeping a close eye on his little cousins, not planning to run off with a local curate or farmer’s son even her family might consider a misalliance.
‘Where are we going now?’ he demanded rudely, but he’d ridden all the way from Holyhead and felt as if he was entitled to be a little out of temper.
Miss Court might have a lover lurking nearby and she was being rude to the very person she ought to impress if she wanted to keep her post. Was he more impressed by his title than he thought, then? No, he didn’t want to be an earl today any more than he had ten years ago. Miss Court made him feel like a grubby schoolboy who hadn’t washed behind his ears even as his inner demons tempted him to kiss the wretched female and find out if she was as headlong and determined a lover as she was as a rescuer of wild girls in the semi-darkness. And it would be nice to find a way to make her stand back and take notice. Not that she’d waited for him to fight his inner demons back where they belonged. She was almost beyond reach by the time he realised he didn’t want to be left here like the last lame nag in a stable. He speeded up and almost fell over a tree root in the shadows.
‘Devil take it, woman, will you slow down?’
‘No. You didn’t want to come in the first place, so I don’t understand why you won’t go away. I should never have made you come, you’re no help at all.’
‘If the girl doesn’t want to go home, you won’t be able to drag her back,’ he pointed out rather sharply.
Had she paled at the idea of having to force her errant charge to obey her? Hard to tell in the gloom and why should he care if she endured the role of governess or loved it? Catching himself out thinking like the spoilt aristocrat he’d sworn not to be, he wondered if his half-brother was right and he was as arrogant as any Selford in his own way.
‘Hush,’ she whispered. ‘Do you hear something over there, on our right?’
‘No,’ he said in a normal voice, telling himself he was bored with looking for unruly schoolgirls who didn’t want to be found.
‘I wish I hadn’t bothered to find out who was lazing about in the stables when the lads were supposed to be looking for Lavinia,’ she informed him crossly and strode into the night yet again.
‘The wages of curiosity,’ he called, then scurried after her like a tardy footman before she could disappear. ‘Where are we going?’ he asked when he almost ran into her standing still under a tree as if she could hear her way to what she wanted if she tried hard enough. She was warm and rather delightfully curved and he felt passion thunder through his senses until he reminded himself the woman was his cousins’ governess and he was her employer.
‘Will you go away?’ she demanded as if she was oblivious to him and his unruly masculine urges, then she started off again without giving any indication where she was heading.
‘No,’ he said, grabbing the back of her cloak and holding on when she did her best to snatch it away. ‘Tell me, or I’ll shout a warning we’re on our way.’
‘Can’t you hear the poor girl, you blundering great idiot? She isn’t going to run in that state,’ she whispered furiously as she towed him forward by his hold on her cloak.
He wondered how he’d managed to miss it as well now; self-preservation, he decided ruefully. Noisy sobs and the odd pathetic little moan carried on the cooling air as the girl fought for breath against all that sorrow. Fergus wished he’d left the governess to cope with a soggy storm of tears and almost melted into the darkness as Miss Court ordered. On the one hand, he would be obliging a lady, on the other he’d be a coward. He let go of Miss Court’s cloak and meekly followed in her footsteps.
‘It’s me, Lavinia,’ Miss Court said so gently he wondered if he’d been wrong to class her as an irritable she-wolf in petticoats when she’d first loomed out of the darkness. ‘You must be hungry and cold, and you sound as if you need a shoulder to cry on.’
Fergus could make out a Grecian-style temple. As they emerged from the trees he saw the first stars reflected in the lake beyond it and wondered how it would feel to meet Miss Court here for a twilight tryst. Exciting, a forbidden voice whispered in the back of his mind and he uneasily tried to ignore it. He didn’t even know the woman; even if he did it would be wrong to lead her on when he was really her absentee employer and never mind this odd feeling of connection to the wretched female.
‘Oh, Miss Court,’ the girl gasped and Fergus backed away when an overgrown schoolgirl pelted down the steps of the summer house, then flew into her governess’s arms with such force he stepped forward to steady the woman and never mind feminine tears and his dread of a scene. ‘I’m so sorry,’ the girl managed to gasp out between sobs. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever learn to behave properly or keep my temper as you say I must.’
‘Hah!’ Fergus muttered darkly. He felt Miss Court stiffen beside him and knew she must have heard him, but she had lost hers with him several times and if she was going to pretend to be a pattern card she should get her emotions under better control.
‘Never mind that now. I’m so glad you’re safe, even if you are more than a little bit woebegone. And it’s getting dark and chilly, so why not come home and be pampered a little for once? We can talk about your troubles when you’re feeling better. I only want the best for you and, whatever your cousins say when you all lose that fiery Selford temper, they love you, Lavinia. At times I’m even quite fond of you myself.’ Miss Court ended with a laugh in her voice that made Fergus smile in the darkness, so he wasn’t at all surprised to hear a watery chuckle from the drooping young lady snuggled in her governess’s arms as if they’d never had the argument that probably caused this fuss in the first place.
How unworthy of him to envy the girl and wish he was enjoying all that warmth and welcome. Miss Court was a lady and he certainly wasn’t a land steward. He hadn’t even met the woman in the clear light of day, he reminded himself hastily and if this was what pretending to be Moss did to him, he might have to reconsider the plum she’d handed him when she’d made that hasty assumption about who he was. He could have been anyone, he condemned her with a frown it was as well she couldn’t see. Who knew what sort of rogue could be stumbling about in the dark silently lusting after her if he hadn’t found her first?
‘Thank you, but I do wish Mama hadn’t died, Miss Court. There’s nobody left to love me,’ Lavinia confessed in a whisper and reminded him they had a very effective chaperon and Miss Court had only ever seen him as an extra pair of eyes and ears to help her find her charge.
* * *
Nell knew how it felt to be lonely, but at least her brother had always loved her, however determined their eldest uncle might be to keep them apart. ‘All the wishing in the world won’t bring her back, I fear,’ she said gently, ‘but soon you’ll be able to show the world how a true Selford lady behaves and what a shame to waste it on the first callow youth to pluck up the courage to ask you to wed him.’
‘Heaven forbid,’ Nell thought she heard muttered with heartfelt sincerity by the annoying man behind her. She turned around with Lavinia in her arms and the silence that met her glare was so innocent she knew she’d heard aright.
‘Who are you?’ Lavinia demanded and Nell didn’t correct her manners for once because he didn’t deserve any better.
‘Miss Court will tell you I’m the new land steward,’ he said in the lazy drawl that made Nell’s palms itch.
‘And are you?’
‘So it would seem.’
‘You are a very odd person if you need someone to tell you who you are, isn’t he, Miss Court?’
‘Mr Moss seems quite deaf, the poor gentleman. He certainly takes no notice of anything I say.’
‘You don’t look very old, sir,’ Lavinia observed sagely.
Nell had to argue with herself before she corrected her gently. ‘Remember what I said about it being impolite to make comments on the odd behaviour of others, Lavinia?’ she said, but Mr Moss saved the girl an apology Nell hadn’t quite demanded.
‘I could lie and say I’m a mere stripling of five and fifty, I suppose, but it’s hard enough being Methuselah without making things any worse, Miss Lavinia,’ the rogue said with such self-mocking laughter in his voice Nell wanted to smile, briefly.
‘Now you’re teasing me, sir, and, as you don’t seem offended by what Miss Court insists are my bad manners, are you telling the truth about yourself?’
‘Oh, I never do that,’ the new land steward said brazenly. ‘If you choose to believe me, I’ll admit to being one and thirty, Miss Lavinia. If you don’t; I’m five years less because even we gentlemen have our vanity.’
‘Since he has confessed to being a work of fiction, maybe we should add five years to the total and make Mr Moss quite an elderly young gentleman instead, Lavinia,’ Nell said lightly, wishing he could see her best frown through the gloom. She wondered how he managed to irritate her so much when they’d only just met; it was a special gift, she decided, one she was glad most men didn’t share.
‘You have my sympathy, Miss Lavinia. Your governess makes me feel like a small boy with a dirty neck and I thought I was grown up until we met.’
‘Miss Court is a wonderful governess and a very kind person, Mr Moss,’ Lavinia surprised all three of them by saying earnestly.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ Nell said, giving her most challenging pupil another hug and draping most of her cloak around her shivering shoulders. ‘But we must get you inside before you take a chill. Never mind Mr Moss and his poor opinion of anyone who doesn’t fawn on him as if he was your guardian and not the Earl’s new land steward, we must scurry home as fast as may be now I’ve found you at last.’
‘And I have travelled far today, so let’s hope my manners will mend after a good night’s sleep. The lawyers tell me I have a great deal to do if things are to be run smoothly here once more,’ Mr Moss said in what Nell felt sure was a rather kind attempt to divert Lavinia from the last of her sobs and the convulsive shivers that followed them.
‘They’re right,’ she replied as calmly as she could with the chill reaching both their bodies now. The cold was biting even through her sensible gown with Lavinia wrapped up in most of her cloak. ‘Your predecessor should have retired sooner with such a large and complex estate to manage,’ she went on, mainly to distract herself from her own need to shiver and in the hope it would take Lavinia’s mind off her physical woes as they had to pick their way back over roots and rabbit holes in the ever-deepening twilight.
‘Poor man,’ Lavinia said and Nell heard the shake in her pupil’s voice and pushed their pace as hard as she could without one of them falling flat on their faces.
‘Aye, and if you’re not set on catching a chill in order to be thought interesting for the next week, we’d best get you home faster than this, Miss Lavinia,’ Mr Moss said and hefted the girl into his arms when they paused for breath.
‘Gracious, you’re very strong,’ Lavinia said breathlessly.
‘I’ll run ahead to warn everyone you’re on your way if you will direct Mr Moss, Lavinia? You should be safe with him, by the way. He has atrocious manners and a misplaced sense of humour, but he made no attempt to molest me on the way here,’ Nell managed to say brusquely and scampered away before either of them could argue.
* * *
‘Why, thank you, Miss Court,’ Fergus muttered as he eyed the darkness in her wake.
‘She is a very definite sort of person,’ Lavinia said with a catch in her voice that told him she was fighting the last of her tears.
‘Here, let’s wrap you up in this cloak since she’s left it behind. If you can face her wrath if you catch a chill, I’m not sure I can and don’t get us lost, will you? I don’t know the way even by daylight.’
‘How thoughtless of Miss Court,’ the schoolgirl in his arms said sleepily and Fergus suspected he’d have to get them back as best he could, dark or not.
What a good thing he didn’t lead the sort of life most idle earls about town did, he decided, finding a path through the woods almost by instinct. Slight as this girl was, he was weary from his journey and she was almost an adult. He was oddly touched when she fell asleep in his arms, but wasn’t it as well she didn’t know who he was? His wards probably regarded him as a devil incarnate. He changed his hold on the Selford sleeping so trustingly in his arms and marvelled at the toll too much emotion could take on a young lady. Memory of how it felt to be torn between childish simplicity and the need to find your own way in the world made him feel sorry for his young ward.
His mother had dealt with his rebellious and confused younger self with her usual common sense and his stepfather would shrug and take him on one of his adventures whenever he got out of hand. Saints, but he was lucky, wasn’t he? Not for him the starch and disapproval of a Miss Court; or the memory of parents who saw their own child as a failure simply because she was born female. His mother would have loved him if he had been born a dumb, cross-eyed lunatic, but at least Lavinia’s governess hadn’t ripped up at her. Indeed, Miss Court seemed truly concerned that the girl felt she had to sob out her woes alone. The woman could stay until he found out more about her, he decided grudgingly. Now he would take the role she had thrust at him by mistaking him for Moss and what better way to find out if he could trust her with his wards until they were ready to be brought out in polite society? Then he could go somewhere he would like better and forget Miss Court and his stupid reactions to her in the dark.
* * *
What with racing back to the house, making sure the stableyard bell was rung to signal Miss Lavinia was safe and organising a welcome for her, Nell should have no time to think about rude and disobliging Mr Moss. So, of course, she thought of little else while she ordered a hot bath for Lavinia and a warming pan for her bed. Then there were the other girls to reassure that their cousin was in one piece and being brought home safely. The stir of the man’s arrival with Lavinia seemed oddly muted and Nell went to peer over the wooden banister of the staircase leading to the nursery wing. Why did the sight of Lavinia fast asleep in his arms make her heart ache so?
Puzzled by her own emotions at the sight of the girl cradled protectively in a stranger’s arms, she ran up to Lavinia’s room to announce she was on her way. ‘We’ll forget a bath and get her straight into bed as she seems to be fast asleep. The new land steward is on his way upstairs with her right now.’
‘He’s turned up at long last then, has he?’ Mary said, showing more interest in the steward than she ever did in her young mistress. ‘He must be much fitter than old Mr Jenks to carry Miss Lavinia here, then have breath enough to bring her upstairs.’
‘Only just,’ the man himself announced ruefully as the butler shepherded him into the room as if he was important. Mr Moss had impressed someone tonight then, Nell thought ungratefully. No, some were too impressed, she decided, as she watched Mary making sheep’s eyes at the newcomer. The buxom little maid seemed to have forgotten she was employed to look after the young lady they must now try to get into bed without waking her up.
‘Thank you, sir. Mary and I will manage now,’ she told the man coolly as he gently sat his burden in the comfortable chair by the fire.
‘I know I’m in the way now, Miss Court.’
‘Goodnight then, sir,’ she said repressively.
‘I fear not; the housekeeper has insisted I stay here for dinner while my house is being hastily got ready for occupation. It seems it was got unready and left cold when I failed to arrive at the appointed time.’
‘You are very tardy,’ Nell said shortly.
‘But also sharp set after such a mighty journey,’ he told her with a knowing grin, then sauntered out as if he owned the place.
* * *
‘Insufferable man,’ Nell spluttered when the door was shut behind him.
‘He’s very handsome, Miss Court,’ Mary said with a longing gaze at that very door, as if wishing might bring him back.
‘Not really,’ Nell said as she tried to decide why he was so uniquely attractive.
Not wanting to discover the secret of it, Nell set about undressing Lavinia as gently as she could and shot the maid a sharp look to remind her of her duty. Between them they coaxed Lavinia to raise her arms so they could strip off her muslin gown, stockings, indoor shoes and flannel petticoat without rousing her fully.
‘Let her sleep in her petticoat this once,’ Nell said as they each put an arm about the girl’s waist and walked her over to the bed. ‘She needs rest more than food right now,’ she warned and put a finger to her lips to tell Mary not to argue until they were out of earshot.
‘What if she wakes up hungry later?’ the girl whispered when they were out in the corridor with the door almost shut.
‘I must persuade Cook to make her something that won’t spoil. If she sends your dinner up, will you listen for her while I go downstairs? If the poor child has one of her nightmares I don’t want her to be alone.’
Nell could sense the young maidservant wanted to argue, but it was her job to look after the eldest Selford girl. Mary probably wanted to giggle with her fellow maids at the thought of such an exciting addition to the local pool of bachelors. Nell would stay and watch Lavinia’s slumbers herself if she didn’t have three other charges and a disturbing stranger to keep an eye on. Mr Moss might regret accepting the housekeeper’s invitation to stay to dinner while she scurried her staff over to his house to give it a hasty airing. Or at least he might when he found out Nell was in the habit of instructing her pupils in the art of fine dining and good manners and he would be a tame gentleman to practice on.
Chapter Three (#ua1a4b546-33e0-5900-aeaf-011528afda02)
‘Mr Moss has gone upstairs to wash and shave. Parkins showed him into the Red Room and sent Will to wait on him,’ Penny told Nell when she went along to the night nursery to make sure her youngest charge was ready for the meal ahead.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to move into a proper grown-up bedchamber, my love?’ Nell asked to divert them both as she caught Penny’s sash and hauled her gently back into the room to be made as neat and presentable as she already thought she was.
‘No, I like it in here and Crombie is next door if I have a bad dream.’
‘Sooner or later you’ll have to become a young lady,’ Nell said as she brushed Penny’s wavy nut-brown hair to shining perfection. It struck her that Penny might well be the most sought-after Miss Selford one day, for all Caro’s potentially stunning looks. As Penny was nine years old at least Nell could put off worrying about her future for a while.
‘Not until I’m too big to have a choice,’ Penny said with a grimace of distaste.
Nell knew it was wrong to have favourites, but she secretly doted on her youngest pupil. She pronounced Penny perfectly turned out even for dinner with a strange gentleman now and reminded her that her manners ought to match her appearance.
‘Of course,’ said Miss Penelope Selford with a solemn nod and a hop, skip and jump to show how excited she was by even this much company.
Memory of how it felt to be the daughter of a scandalous lord had kept Nell here, trying to fill some of the gaps in the girls’ narrow lives, even if they were lonely for a very different reason. Now her brother Colm’s fortune was restored and her own dowry doubled by her father’s efforts to protect his children before he died. She wondered what Mr Moss would make of a governess with a handsome fortune and a scandalous father. As the third son of a country squire he might court her for her fortune, whatever he thought of her and her blighted family name, and that was another reason Nell refused to join Colm and his new wife for the upcoming London Season. Fortune hunters. Even the thought of men pursuing her solely for her money made her shudder with dread. Then there was the unscrupulous lecher who had been trying to force her sister-in-law to marry him on the very night Eve and Colm met. Nell knew she would find even less determined ones difficult to fend off and she didn’t understand how to do it without a fuss, as Eve had learned to during her rather trying three years as a single society lady with that same scandal hanging over her. Nell had spent most of her life in the company of women and girls, so how would it feel to be put on show for the poorer gentlemen of the ton to decide if they could endure marrying her for her moneybags? Appalling, she decided with another shudder and snapped back to the here and now with a sigh of relief.
‘Are we going downstairs soon, Miss Court?’ Penny asked. ‘Mrs Winch will not be happy if you leave her to make sure that Caro and Georgie behave like proper young ladies in company.’
Nell shot a look at her own reflection in the small mirror. She was neat enough in a dark blue stuff gown and at least her hair had stayed in place. It took a legion of hairpins to keep it neat and she had no intention of making a special effort so that would have to do. Mr Moss would have to endure the sight of her everyday clothes. How silly to have a vision of dazzling him in a fine silk gown with her hair arranged to flatter instead of disguise her charms. Even if she had such a gown she wouldn’t wear it for Lord Barberry’s land steward.
‘We had best hurry before they go down without us,’ Nell said and braced herself for the ordeal ahead, wishing they could have nursery tea in the schoolroom and retire betimes instead of having to meet Mr Moss again today.
Before they went downstairs she had to make Georgiana remove the pins from her hair, then take off her late mama’s second-best pearl necklace and do up the buttons of her gown all the way to the top. Drat him, but the man was disruption in breeches, she decided with a long-suffering sigh. As she plaited the girl’s tawny mane neatly she tried not to be disturbed by the idea of dangerous adult company herself and sincerely hoped he was less intriguing by the light of several wax candles than he was in the dark.
* * *
Oh, confound the man, she decided when they finally got downstairs; he looked every inch the gentleman. How on earth did a lowly steward afford to have his coats made by a master tailor? Scott had crafted her brother’s fine new coats and was a firm favourite with former military gentlemen. Perhaps Mr Moss had engaged Weston instead, but that midnight-blue superfine coat wasn’t the work of a provincial tailor. Nor did his snowy linen and spotlessly sleek knee breeches seem quite right on the younger son of a country squire. Nell frowned as her charges meekly curtsied to him, rendered almost speechless with awe for a few brief moments as they took in the splendour of their unexpected guest. There was something very much out of kilter about a hired man appearing here in clothes that must have cost most of his annual salary before he had even begun to work for it.
‘Good evening, sir,’ Nell managed coolly, as all the reasons for his unexpected style clamoured in her head and she couldn’t find one that didn’t spell trouble. ‘Miss Georgiana, Miss Caroline and Miss Penelope Selford, meet your guardian’s new land steward, Mr Moss.’
‘Good evening, ladies,’ he replied with a courtly bow. Now thoroughly out of sorts, as she worried about the reasons Moss had left his last post, Nell had to whisper a sharp aside to Caro and Georgie before they remembered their manners and returned his greeting.
‘You look very fine, sir,’ Nell said as her eyes met his and he seemed to mock her conclusions some besotted lady had paid for her lover to appear every inch the gentleman in her company. She wished she had someone ready to whisper good conduct in her ears and tried hard to ignore a sharp pang that couldn’t be jealousy. Why didn’t she have the wit to invent a headache and excuse them all this supposedly quiet dinner with his lordship’s new land agent?
‘My godmama pays my tailor’s bill once a year, so I can present a better appearance than a younger son is usually able to do,’ he replied smoothly.
Nell looked for mockery in his acute blue eyes and met bland innocence, but did she believe him? No, yet she could hardly challenge him in front of the girls. She gave him a polite, insincere smile and waved the girls to sit on a sofa the other side of the fire from their unexpected guest. She didn’t approve of him looking so at home by his employer’s fireside, but the Earl didn’t want it, so she had no real reason to object. If he took advantage she would deal with him in private, but she suspected he was far too subtle a man to do anything so obvious.
‘Were you waiting for your new clothes to arrive before you came?’ Penny asked innocently. Nell was ready to rebuke her, but Mr Moss shook his head and smiled at her youngest pupil.
‘A land steward needs gaiters and homespun more than a fine coat and expensive boots, Miss Penelope, but the Earl had another use for me so I did as I was bid. I hope my workaday clothes turn up on the carrier’s cart soon, because I certainly can’t ride about the countryside in my town finery if I wish to be taken seriously as Lord Barberry’s steward,’ he said.
Nell hoped the girls didn’t notice his mocking look in her direction, as if he’d read every doubt in her mind about that tall tale. He could have as many lovers as he needed to keep him in style, so long as he didn’t impart his dubious morals to her pupils, she concluded, with a militant frown he ignored with annoying ease.
‘That would be sensible, considering the dire spring we have endured so far,’ she agreed as if she almost believed in his doting godmother instead of a foolish lover.
‘I promise to be ill dressed and muddy next time we meet, ma’am. You Misses Selford have a very conscientious governess. I doubt you get away with putting a foot wrong without her knowing about it almost before you do.’
‘Miss Court is kind and looks after us very well,’ Penny said loyally.
Even Caroline nodded and Georgiana looked as if she was disappointed in him and Nell would have hugged them all if he wasn’t looking.
‘I’m sure she does all a good governess should,’ he approved with a sly smile Nell didn’t trust one bit.
‘Thank you, Mr Moss,’ she said calmly, although it sounded more of a challenge than a compliment. ‘I do my best.’
‘And who can ask for more?’ he asked and she wasn’t sure she could endure much more of being laughed at by an estate manager who looked more like a society rake without telling him exactly what she thought of him.
She couldn’t do anything of the sort, but his questionable standards of behaviour felt like a betrayal and what was between them for him to betray? Nothing; she was Miss Hancourt and he the son of a country squire with a living to earn and never mind any side benefits he had fitted in along the way.
‘I feel quite famished tonight,’ Caro said quietly.
Nell was concerned enough about her least garrulous pupil to look for signs of girlish infatuation in her eyes. No, from the spark of anger when she eyed the man warily, Caro was trying to stop this exotic newcomer mocking her governess. It warmed Nell’s heart to think shy Caro wanted to defend her from this puzzling stranger.
‘I expect dinner will be served as soon as Mrs Winch is able to join us,’ she said with a fond smile at Caro to say she was excused the minor faux pas of admitting to hunger in public.
‘Lavinia will be very sharp set by morning,’ Penny said cheerfully.
‘I asked Cook to make something cold for her to eat if she wakes up hungry,’ Nell said with a slight frown at her youngest pupil to warn her not to gloat about Lavinia’s exhausting bout of tears.
‘Good, because she really can’t help it,’ Georgiana said earnestly.
‘I know, Georgiana, and I’m sure Penelope will forget what her eldest cousin said in the heat of temper, especially if she wishes to take dinner with us tonight,’ Nell said firmly.
‘She said...’
‘There are faults on all sides,’ Nell pointed out. ‘Your cousins were rude to each other and the slate is clean now, unless you would like to do penance for your own hot words and uncaring sentiments?’
‘No,’ Penny said with a sidelong look at her cousins to confirm she would be an idiot to work out a grudge against Lavinia when the alternative was dinner and far more exciting company than usual.
‘Miss Court the peacemaker, who would have thought it?’ the company said as if he had every right to pass judgement on her.
‘And Mr Moss, the peace breaker, what of him?’ she replied so quietly the girls couldn’t hear when she crossed the room to find Parkins and get him to tell Mrs Winch dinner was overdue. The lady’s services as chaperon to her and her pupils felt more important than whatever was delaying her and the sooner this meal was over the better.
‘Oh, him. He’s a rascal,’ Moss murmured when she was on her way back to the stiff-backed chair as far away from him as she could get and still feel warmth from the fire. She had taken it because she disliked him, she reassured herself, and gave a little nod of confirmation she hoped he’d take so badly he wouldn’t tease her again.
The girls needed practice at polite dining and proper topics of conversation when gentlemen were present and she would usually admit she needed more adult company. As a single lady who might end up alone and at her last prayers, the whole neighbourhood would assume Miss Court was doing her best to marry any spare bachelor who came along. No doubt everyone in the area would assume she was intent on catching the wretch now he’d turned out to be vigorous and well looking. The thought of speculative eyes watching them at church every Sunday made her shudder. The last thing she intended to do was break her heart over Moss and she doubted he had one to break if she was so inclined. She would stick to the schoolroom or wait for the paragon who might inspire even half the love and passion in her as her brother Colm and his new wife Eve had for one another.
In public the newlyweds acted like a very proper young couple. There was no sitting gazing into each other’s eyes and sighing for a bed and just a bit more privacy for them. Yet they showed how much they loved each other by small glances and little touches. One always knew where the other was without having to watch every little movement and, whereas most people grew heavy eyed and weary the later it got in the day, those two glowed with delicious anticipation of being alone again at last. Nell had never seen two people so silently and discreetly delighted at the idea of being wrapped up in the night when nobody else would expect them to be polite for a few precious hours.
Something told her Moss would never let his cynical detachment drop long enough to allow a female that far into his life. What would she find if he did offer to share it with her? A hardened heart and calculating mind? Or perhaps, a protected heart—because he had such a tender, ardent spirit under all that cynicism? And look where misplaced love got your late father, Nell reminded herself, resolving to get on with real life before it got out of control.
A suitably bland topic of conversation eluded her. She doubted Mr Moss would let the mild amusement of speculating who the new rector of Great Berry might be run for long. It was impolite to wonder who was up or down in local society when he didn’t know them; which left the state of the nation or the arts. Nell opted for the latter until Mrs Winch finally tore herself away from other duties and they could go in to dinner and get this difficult evening over with the sooner.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Mrs Winch said breathlessly as she hurried into the room a few minutes later. ‘One of the maids has managed to scald herself and tip half the fish course on the floor,’ she murmured in Nell’s ear before greeting their guest graciously and signalling to Parkins it was time to announce dinner was served.
Nell hoped that part of the meal went to the pigs, however spotless the kitchen floor was before it fell. And what would Moss make of the simple dishes they were used to in the Earl’s absence? The girls were too young for elaborate sauces and the clever touches of a French chef and Nell and Mrs Winch were happy with Cook’s beautifully cooked but simple meals. If the man usually took his dinner in the sort of company his evening attire indicated he must, he’d be disappointed. He seemed to enjoy it though, so perhaps he really was a simple man in dandy’s clothing. If so, his godmother’s folly in outfitting him so splendidly was no kindness when he must earn his own bread. Why, he could sit down to dinner with the Earl and not be outshone and what a mistake that would be in an underling.
How had she got from hoping her food had never been on the floor to worrying about the social niceties of Moss’s wardrobe? The man was old enough to look after himself and if he chose to ride around the country fine as fivepence or dressed in the meanest homespun it wouldn’t matter to her.
‘Surely a fine novel can outshine the shady reputation of its kind, Mrs Winch?’ she intervened in the conversation she had started earlier, before Georgiana could recite a list of those she had read and enjoyed. That might reveal the fact Nell had allowed her to read books many would consider unsuitable for a young girl.
‘A fine novel might, but the occasional triumphs are lost in the morass of sensation and fantasy,’ Moss answered before the worthy but upright lady could condemn the whole genre and Georgiana might argue hotly for her most-loved examples and let out their secrets. ‘I have neither the time nor patience to work my way through stacks of three-decker novels to find the occasional gem. Poetry and plays are an established form and I can trust time to sieve out the worst and keep the best of them,’ he added as if dropping stones into a pond just for the pleasure of making ripples.
‘Some might say that makes you a lazy reader, sir, but I hope you will concede that Dean Swift and Mr Defoe tower above their imitators,’ Nell argued because she couldn’t seem to help herself.
‘I grant you those excellent examples, ma’am, and Sir Henry Fielding’s works, although these young ladies must be ignorant of all but Amelia now society thinks the rest improper, which says more about society than Sir Henry if you ask me.’
Hiding a smile as Mrs Winch tried to decide if she should argue, Nell shot Georgiana a warning look. It had seemed a good idea to let her read The History of Tom Jones as well as Amelia at the time, to show her the world wasn’t always kind to an innocent abroad. Luckily Lavinia had no interest in any but the popular novels Moss was being so scathing about, so Nell needn’t worry she would let Mr Jones’s name out unwarily. Caro was worried enough about what lay outside the gates of Berry Brampton House not to burden her with such vivid misadventures.
Luckily talk soon moved on and Nell could relax while they argued for this or that favourite poem. It was a chance to listen instead of having to instruct her pupils. The elder girls seemed much like any on the verge of womanhood and, considering what a pair of hostile little savages they were when she’d arrived here, Nell was proud of them. Penny was confident enough to sit and listen when she had nothing to say, but Nell couldn’t rest on her laurels. Even Penny would soon feel the changes in mind and body that transformed little girls into women. The others were well launched on that stage when Nell arrived and she tried not to shudder at the memory.
For once Mr Moss was a welcome diversion. He was a strong man, she decided after a few furtive glances at him to take in what the shadows hid earlier, long-limbed and oddly graceful, despite his air of suppressed energy and to-hell-with-you manner. Something about him recalled Lavinia for an instant, but she looked again and thought it was a trick of the light. They both had intensely blue eyes, but he was dark as the devil and Lavinia was fair and the shape of their faces were quite different.
And what did an almost-handsome man think of the governess? That she was a middling sort of person and quite unremarkable, she concluded. Her once angelically fair locks were halfway between gold and brown and her eyes were plain brown. She was neither tall nor short and even at seventeen Lavinia outdid her in womanly curves. All Mr Moss’s worst fears must be realised by candlelight, not that it mattered; once he settled into the agent’s house he’d be in such demand among local society they would not meet except by chance.
It was no small thing to be land steward to the Berry Brampton Estate and, as the Earl did not live here, some of his status would fall on Mr Moss. Genteel young ladies would badger their fathers and brothers to call and invite him to dinner or an informal party so he’d soon be too busy charming the local beauties to dine with four unfledged young ladies, their plain governess and Mrs Winch. The Selford cousins were above his touch and Nell beneath it. What if he wasn’t Mr Moss and she wasn’t Miss Court, though? With a fortune like hers he could buy his own estate to manage. Revolted at the idea of being courted for her money, Nell decided if she ever married it would be to a man who loved her for herself. She came out of her daydream to find the others all but done with their meal and Mrs Winch more than ready for a cup of tea and half an hour nodding by the fire.
‘Parkins will bring in the port, Mr Moss,’ the lady said. ‘It’s time we left you to it and Miss Penelope looks half-asleep and ready to say goodnight.’
‘It is early for the other young ladies to retire, don’t you think, ma’am?’ he said as if he was the master here and not his man.
He must have seen Caro’s wry grimace at the thought of another early night and Nell couldn’t let herself be charmed that he seemed to be trying to save Caro and Georgiana from dull routine. It seemed a simple act of kindness, but was anything about him truly simple?
‘Mrs Crombie is waiting to take Miss Penny up, Miss Court,’ Parkins told her when he came in with the decanters, treading the fine line between housekeeper and governess with his usual impassive gloom.
‘Are you happy to take that sleepy head of yours up to bed?’ Nell whispered to her smallest charge.
Penny nodded and smothered another yawn behind her hand. ‘I’m half-asleep,’ the girl said with a smile that won Nell’s heart anew. ‘I know you must stay and help chaperon Caro and Georgie, so goodnight, Miss Court. Goodnight, Mr Moss,’ she said with a curtsy to gladden any governess’s heart. She kissed Nell, wished her cousins goodnight and seemed likely to tumble into bed and sleep as soon as she was undressed.
Chapter Four (#ua1a4b546-33e0-5900-aeaf-011528afda02)
Fergus watched pupil and teacher bid each other goodnight. The dragon seemed almost soft-hearted so perhaps Poulson wasn’t as far abroad in his judgement as he’d first thought. Of course, she was still too young for the post and two years ago could hardly have been long out of the schoolroom herself. Take away the spotless wisp of lawn and lace perched on her shining golden-brown curls and he could take ten years off the ones he’d first put in her dish. Her assured manner and limited patience fooled him at the time, but a very different person was revealed by candlelight. This Miss Court might pretend to be at her last prayers, but her mouth gave her away. It was less certain than he imagined when he met her in the gloomy stables. The young lady under the front of a no-nonsense governess had soft and expressive lips to go with her pert nose and brown-velvet eyes. Miss Court was a shade under the average height for a woman and slim as a whip, with the sort of slender yet intriguing womanly curves even a blue stuff gown made high to the neck couldn’t quite conceal. A connoisseur of feminine beauty might not rank her a diamond of the first water, but she would be very pretty if she threw away that dire gown and ridiculous cap. It wasn’t right to long to discover the vulnerable and generous woman under her would-be stern exterior. He usually liked his lovers buxom and bold and wished his mistress was nearby to visit when the need arose, because it might arise right now if he wasn’t very careful where his thoughts wandered in Miss Court’s presence.
‘I promise to restrict myself to one glass, ladies,’ he said as Mrs Winch and her chicks rose, looking uncertain about this whole enterprise. As well they might, he told himself sternly. He blinked away a vision of the lovely young woman under Miss Court’s armour and stood up politely.
‘Very well, Mr Moss, we shall see you shortly,’ Mrs Winch said.
He caught a sceptical governess look from him to decanter and was tempted to live down to Miss Court’s low expectations and get roaring drunk before he staggered into his smallest drawing room and gave himself away as the owner of all this faded glory. He wasn’t prepared to do that, he decided, and if the truth ever came out he must remember to thank the starchy female for the disguise she’d thrust on him, because he wasn’t sure he wanted to be ‘my lord’ now he was here. His grandfather might have found the vast portrait of a Cavalier ancestor and family an aid to good digestion, but he did not. The Baron Selford portrayed so skilfully had an arrogance that must have had recruits rushing to join the Parliamentarian Army in order to escape his tyranny. A master painter had caught hints of rebellion in the man’s son and heir and a sidelong glance from the old lord’s lady said she didn’t blame her eldest one for wondering if he wanted to die for the same cause.
God forbid any child of his would ever look at him with such cool dislike in his eyes. If it wasn’t for his uneasy conscience about shirking his duty as Earl of Barberry for so long, he’d turn tail and catch the next tide to Ireland and his stepfather’s comfortable home. No, he had a chance to observe his estate and mansion as he never would in his own shoes. He girded Mr Moss’s loins and took him back to the Small Drawing Room by proxy.
‘Do continue, Miss Caroline,’ Fergus said as the piano playing stopped the instant he pushed opened the door. ‘I am very fond of Herr Mozart’s sonatas, at least when they are played with such a delicate touch,’ he added and the obviously very shy girl smiled and carried on.
He had expected his cousins to be haughty and aloof, but they were brighter and more thoughtful than most of their kind, which he put down to their own spirit and Miss Court’s influence. According to Poulson’s reports, the laziness of a junior partner he had dismissed the moment he found out how negligent he’d been meant these girls had had little real guidance before their young governess arrived to try and bring sense, order and a little compassion into their lives. Once more he found himself oddly drawn to the young woman who sat as far away from him as she could. The sooner he was installed in the land steward’s house and busy about the estate the better. Miss Court and Mrs Winch had his wards and his house in order and it was high time he could say the same for the land, and that would keep him out of Miss Court’s way until it was time to go away again or reveal his true identity.
* * *
‘Do you think Mr Moss will like the steward’s house, Miss Court?’ Caro asked Nell sleepily as they finally went upstairs, at long last.
‘I’m sure he will and he can’t stay here with us. That would be dreadfully improper in the Earl’s absence, or even with it now I come to think about it. For either gentleman to move into Berry Brampton, we would have to leave.’
‘I suppose so, but it’s such a long time since Mr Jenks decided to retire and live with his daughter. I know the house was cleared out and dusted when we were told a new steward was coming, but that was weeks ago. The whole house could be damp after this dreadful weather and all sorts of things might have happened while it was lying empty, don’t you think?’
‘Not if I can help it,’ Nell said with a weary sigh. ‘If Mr Moss couldn’t send a message to warn us he was coming, at long last, he must accept the fact his house needs airing before it is quite comfortable. Mrs Winch will have kept an eye on the place, so I doubt it will be as difficult to sleep there as you imagine. Mr Moss will not find the land in good heart, though. I suppose I should have found a discreet way to let his lordship know how bad things were before Mr Jenks admitted his sight was failing and left.’
‘Oh, no, Miss Court, Jenks said he owed it to Grandfather to carry on managing the estate and he was so loyal to the family we couldn’t betray him, could we? He has such old-fashioned ideas—perhaps it’s as well Jenks had to go all the way to Yorkshire to live with his daughter so he can’t argue with everything Mr Moss wants to do,’ Georgiana said with a wise nod that left Nell trying not to smile at her unusual interest in estate management.
Georgiana enjoyed a combative relationship with the local squire’s eldest son. One day it might grow into something more and Nell thought them well matched. Persuading Lord Barberry that the heir of a mere squire would make a good husband for one of his wards would be a challenge, but not one she need worry about now Georgiana was fifteen and the lad a year older.
‘Yorkshire is not so very far away,’ she teased gently as she urged the sisters upstairs to the modest room they insisted on sharing, despite the many splendid bedchambers in this grand old house.
‘It is as far as Mr Jenks is concerned,’ Caro put in and smiled her thanks when Nell loosened her laces and helped her out of her simple round gown, then began brushing Caro’s thick blonde locks while their maid undid Georgiana’s gown.
‘You can’t help wondering why he agreed to go there in the first place though, can you?’ Georgiana observed with a frown and Nell wondered if it was odd that the man had finally left in such a hurry.
‘The love of family can lead us to the most unexpected places,’ Nell said with a shrug and a last look around. Becky had everything in hand and her charges looked so tired they should sleep soundly. Wishing them all a good night, she went to check on Lavinia and found Mary nodding in the dressing room.
‘Miss Lavinia hasn’t stirred all evening, miss. I’ve never known her so quiet or so little trouble,’ the maid admitted sheepishly.
‘You might as well go to bed now, Mary. If Miss Lavinia was going to take a chill, we would know by now and no doubt you’ll hear if she wakes up and needs you in the night,’ Nell told the maid with a nod at the truckle bed already set up in the narrow little room for her to sleep in and still be close if Lavinia needed her.
‘Thank you, miss,’ the young maid said dutifully.
Nell wondered why nobody found it odd Mary was Lavinia’s age and yet a maid had to be far more sensible and self-disciplined than the girl she was employed to wait on. ‘This isn’t a fair world,’ she murmured when she shut the door on her responsibilities for the night. ‘You ought to know that by now.’
She was only three and twenty herself and had taken responsibility for four young girls when she was barely of age. Looking back, she wondered why Mr Poulson picked her from the list of mature and experienced applicants for this job and decided it could only be because she wasn’t either of those things. Add Miss Thibett’s hard-won praise for Nell’s five years spent as a pupil teacher at her school and she supposed Mr Poulson thought she would understand her charges better and perhaps grow up with them. She recalled her giddy, schoolgirlish rush of excitement when she’d met Mr Moss’s deceptive blue eyes for the first time tonight and wondered if it might not be better if she knew a little more about men and their odd quirks and unlikely preoccupations.
Nell had grown up apart from her brother and she wondered why aristocratic gentlemen were so harsh with dependent children as she recalled the servants’ gossip about how little time the last Earl of Barberry had for his female grandchildren. Her uncle certainly didn’t have any for her. Parting her and Colm when her brother was old enough to be sent to school at eight years old was cruel. The more she pleaded with her uncle for one holiday a year or even Christmas together, the less he was inclined to grant them even a day. The memory of being desperately lonely in her late uncle’s house made her shudder even now. She’d cried herself to sleep for months after Colm had gone away and memories of how it felt to be alone and unwanted in an echoing house was one reason she’d agreed to apply for this job when Miss Thibett suggested she should. The thought of four lonely and abandoned girls got her here when Mr Poulson chose her for the post of their governess and memories of being unwanted by her own family made her grit her teeth and stay, although she wanted to run as far and as fast as her legs would carry her as soon as she met Lavinia’s hostile glare and realised the younger Selford cousins took their cue from her and had very good glares of their own.
Was she sorry she had stayed now? It had taken months of patience to wear their hostility down, but she truly wanted the best for them. She recalled the feel of poor Lavinia sobbing in her arms and letting out so much pent-up unhappiness and at least she understood her a little better now. If she didn’t have responsibility for these lonely girls she might have agreed to join Colm and Eve for the coming Season in London, though. Maybe there she would have found a gentleman quiet and steady enough to marry and make the family she’d always longed for with. Oddly enough an image of Moss interrupted her daydream and mocked her with a cynical smile. He might be right, if he was actually here and knew what went on in her head, because by the side of him her paragon did sound dreadfully dull.
With thoughts like that jostling about in her head wasn’t it just as well she wasn’t about to join the polite world as Miss Hancourt, heiress and elderly debutante? She stared into a mirror softly lit by the candle in the nightstick. Imagining what the so-called polite world would say about her behind her back made her shiver. They would laugh and call her a quiz, she decided, and glared into her looking glass as if they were already on the other side being airily amused by her.
Her father was wild Lord Chris Hancourt, lover of the most notorious woman of her generation and her partner in reckless death when they’d raced to a party in a land at war with Britain. What would Moss make of her shady history if the truth came out? Never mind him, the Earl of Barberry would dismiss her, heiress or not. The mud that stuck to her father’s name would finish his daughter’s career as guide and mentor to young girls. She hated the thought of all the snide whispers that would do the rounds wherever she went if she did as her family wanted her to and tried to ignore them for a Season.
In a decade or so, when Penny was old enough to be presented as the last of the beautiful Selford orphans, it might be time to consider what she would do with the rest of her life, but until then she had a job to do. Nell unpinned her flimsy cap, managed to unlace her dull blue gown without the aid of a maid and sat at the dressing table to unpin her hair and brush it the vast number of times Miss Thibett had always insisted on to transform it into a shining, silken mass that fell heavily about her shoulders and reached as far as her waist.
Was this the true Nell at the heart of Miss Court’s dreary plumage? The girl looking back at her seemed far too young to be the guide and protector of four vulnerable young ladies. She looked too uncertain to resist the charm and experience of a gentleman who wasn’t anywhere near as humble as the third son of a country squire ought to be. Her brown eyes were soft and dreamy as she stopped brushing and felt the silky thickness of those tawny waves tumbling around her like a shining cape. Her workaday locks felt sensuous and heavy and a little bit wicked against her shift, as if a lover might loom out of the soft shadows of this familiar room and run his hand over the silken ripple of it at any moment, then whisper impossible things in her eagerly listening ears.
Nell shivered, but it wasn’t from cold; the hand she pictured adoring and weaving a sensuous path through her thick pelt of shining hair to find the woman underneath was firm and muscular, but gentle and a little bit reverent. The owner of that hand was intent on her, his blue eyes hot as he watched the way her creamy skin looked through fine lawn and a veil of glossy golden-brown hair that didn’t feel ordinary any more. As she went breathless with anticipation his touch would get firmer and his gaze even more intent and wickedly sure she was ready for more.
No, here she sat, shivering with hot nerves and anticipation—like the caricature of a frustrated, dried-up spinster governess, longing for a lover in every personable man she met and never finding one to watch her with heat-hazed eyes as he stepped into her dreams and took them over. Nell snapped her eyes shut, squeezing her eyelids so tight it almost hurt. Then she took up her comb to part her heavy locks, ready to make plaits for the night ahead and forget imaginary lovers of any sort. She swiftly wound it into two thick tails of hair without looking at herself in the mirror, her fingers deft and driven to tighten the silky mass as her thoughts raced. Argh, but that hurt. She couldn’t sleep with hair that pulled at her scalp like a harsh saint’s scourge for sinful thoughts. She must begin again and pay attention to what her fingers were up to this time. That was it, her hair was tied easily enough for sleep and just tight enough to remind her to sin no more, even in her dreams.
Now for her formidably proper nightgown. Plain and buttoned sternly to the neck, made up from warm and practical flannel, it was a garment without a hint of sensuality. Let anyone find a hint of seductress in such a respectable get-up and she’d shout her true identity from the rooftops. She gave herself a severe nod, knelt to say her prayers and begged to be delivered from such silly fantasies, then got into bed. Staring into the night, she ordered herself not to dream of dark-haired, piratical gentlemen who could raise such silly fantasies in a spinster’s heart without even trying as she snuffed her candle and hoped for quiet sleep against the odds.
* * *
In a faded corner of the great city of London another member of the nobility was finding it impossible to sleep. ‘Thought I’d never get away from the jackals, Lexie,’ Lord Derneley told his wife as he settled into a grim corner of a wine cellar in this rotten old house on the Strand with a sigh of relief. It might not be much for a man born to splendour and great wealth, but at least it wasn’t the Fleet Prison.
‘So did I, my love,’ she whispered back, as if their creditors might manage to hear them even down here if she wasn’t very careful. ‘Lucky for us that my Aunt Horseforth is such a misery nobody will believe you’re here. I think she expects me to be an unpaid companion and skivvy for the rest of my life,’ she added gloomily.
‘She’s a dour old trout, but it’s the only port we have in a storm. At least everyone knows she can’t abide me and wouldn’t have me in her house if she knew I was here. I could always come out of hiding and scare her into an apoplexy.’
‘No, no, Derneley, don’t do that. Her grandson will come down from Scotland and put me out on the street before she’s cold if you do and you’ll starve to death down here without me. There’s nowhere else for us to go now the creditors are after you as if you murdered someone instead of taking their horrid loans when we ran out of things to sell. Heaven knows I got nothing but snubs and refusals to acknowledge they even knew me for my pains when I tried to visit my friends,’ she said mournfully and even her selfish, careless lord looked humble and almost defeated for a moment, before his true nature reasserted itself.
‘Have you found anything worth selling yet?’
‘No, her grandson’s man of business has everything locked up that isn’t already in the bank. He doesn’t trust me,’ she said, sounding very put out.
‘If we could only lay hands on a few hundred guineas we can slope off to Italy and at least be warm while we think what we’re going to do next. Right now I can’t even afford a decent bottle of wine, for if there were ever any in here someone drank it years ago.’
‘If only Lord Chris hadn’t deceived poor Pamela so badly we’d have all the Lambury Jewels in our possession now and none of this would have happened.’
‘Except if he wasn’t dead she wouldn’t be either and if you think we’d have got a single jewel out of her, you’re more of a fool than I thought. Chris was a lot more cunning than we gave him credit for being once she’d got him under her spell though, wasn’t he?’ Lord Derneley sounded almost admiring for a moment. ‘Who would have thought he’d be able to palm her off with paste versions of the emerald and sapphire sets after she had the rubies tested to make sure they were real the moment he handed them over.’
‘Everyone said the rubies were cursed and it turned out to be true, didn’t it? My poor sister was dead within six months of wheedling the wretched things out of him. And he never even pretended to hand over his wife’s diamonds to her, so he must have put them somewhere for that horrid little girl to find.’
‘We could make far better use of them,’ her lord said thoughtfully, ‘but nobody said a word about the Lambury Jewels turning up when young Hancourt came into that blind trust thing, did they? You could be on to something, Lex,’ he added and his wife stared at him in wonder.
‘You mean we could find them?’ she said.
‘I daren’t show my face, but that tough your sister used to play with when Chris wasn’t looking might track them down for you if we promise to share.’
‘No, he’s dead and I was too frightened of him to go anywhere near him if he wasn’t. I might be stuck upstairs waiting on my nip-cheese aunt most of the time, but I suppose I could find out when they were last seen if I get her talking about the old days long enough, but are you sure we’ll be able to find them, my love?’
‘Why not? And we have nothing to lose, do we?’
‘No, we’ve already lost it,’ her ladyship said gloomily, the fabulous wealth her lord inherited the day he came of age seeming to haunt her for a moment. ‘They only let me leave Derneley House in what I stood up in and they searched me for anything valuable before they even let me do that,’ she remembered mournfully.
‘You can keep a ring and one of the small necklets when we sell the rest,’ her lord said almost generously.
‘Thank you, my love,’ she said meekly.
‘Hmm, it might work, but Hancourt’s too tough a customer for us to get anything out of him and he knows us too well.’
‘Yes, and he must be dangerous with all those scars and fighting in all the battles he survived when Gus Hancourt sent him off to be killed in the army,’ her ladyship said matter of factly, as if she saw nothing very wrong in the late Duke of Linaire’s heartless scheming to gain his nephew’s fortune.
‘Cunning as well—think how he deceived us. He was only a secretary when he came to Derneley House to take my father’s books away. He must be hiding that sister of his somewhere though, because she certainly ain’t doing the Season, is she?’
‘No, I would have heard. Aunt Horseforth may not go out much, but she corresponds with half the old dowagers of the ton.’
‘I dare say the Hancourt wench is as plain as her mother was then, or he’d have insisted she came to town by now.’
‘I wish Pamela never met their father, but she and Chris would have had far more beautiful children together if he’d been able to marry her.’
‘You’re the aunt of the wench Hancourt married though, ain’t you? You must call at Linaire House when she and Hancourt get back from the north and make sure he feels a pressing need to write to his sister. That way we’ll be able to find out her address and somehow get her to lead us to the jewels. Chris must have realised how plain she would turn out to be and he knew a man needs a good reason to wed an antidote. Lady Chris could never have hooked the son of a duke without the Lambury Jewels and the old man Lambury’s fortune as bait. The diamonds would set us up nicely and the old man gave them to Chris’s wife after the marriage, so they weren’t part of the settlements and he could leave them to his daughter if he wanted to.’
‘You’re so clever, Derneley,’ his wife said with an admiring sigh. ‘I can’t imagine how I’m to make that horrid boy of Chris’s so worried he’ll give her address away by writing to her, though.’
‘Oh, really, Lex, do I have to think of everything?’ her lord said sleepily and waved her away so he could sleep after a strenuous day of escaping his creditors and looking for new money to waste.
Chapter Five (#ua1a4b546-33e0-5900-aeaf-011528afda02)
‘Oh, do stop the carriage, Binley!’ Georgiana shouted before Nell could check her. ‘Good morning, Mr Moss.’
Nell managed a sickly smile for the man who had been haunting her dreams.
‘Good morning, Miss Georgiana, Miss Court,’ he said politely.
‘But we are keeping you standing in the rain, Mr Moss,’ Nell said in the hope he’d agree and hurry on without further ado.
‘A mere drizzle, Miss Court. We land stewards have to accustom ourselves to the whims of the English weather.’
Now why did she think he was mocking himself as much as her this time? ‘All the same it is another cold and dreary day—can we take you up as far as Brampton Village?’ she offered as politely as she could manage when she didn’t want to be shut in a closed carriage with him even for that long.
‘That is very kind, ma’am. My horse is being re-shod so it will save me a half-hour’s walk to collect him from the forge,’ the man said cheerfully and Nell bit back a protest she was being polite and didn’t mean it.
At least he sat with his back to the horses, but that meant she must look at him instead of feeling his muscular male limbs next to her and it was only marginally better. He had acquired more suitable clothes in the three days since he appeared out of the night to plague her. In practical leathers and countryman’s boots and coat he should be quite unremarkable, but somehow he was nothing of the sort. His linen was spotless and his plain waistcoat was cut by a master, but it wasn’t his clothes that made him stand out, it was the man underneath them. His masculine vitality seemed almost too big for a confined space and Nell felt she couldn’t even breathe without taking in more of him than she wanted to. And she didn’t want to, did she? Her doubts about that had been creeping into her dreams. Every morning she had to tell herself they were nightmares when she woke up with those fading rags of unthinkably erotic fantasies shaming her waking hours. How was she to look him in the face with the thought of them plaguing her with impossible things?
‘The others are sewing with Mrs Winch this morning,’ Georgiana informed him happily. ‘I share Maria Welland’s music lessons and Miss Court comes with me to have tea and a comfortable coze with Maria’s Miss Tweed while our teacher shouts at us in French.’
‘You unlucky creatures, no wonder the other Misses Selford prefer their embroidery frames.’
‘Lavinia has no ear for music; Madame says she would rather—’
‘Never mind her exact words, Georgiana,’ Nell interrupted hastily, having overheard the lady’s agonies before she’d declared Georgiana the only Selford girl with even the suggestion of a voice and refused to hear the others sing ever again.
‘I was only going to say she would rather teach cats to sing than Lavinia, Miss Court,’ Georgiana said with such mischief in her eyes that Nell would usually have to laugh, except she refused to do so in front of Mr Moss.
‘Well, don’t,’ she said crossly instead. ‘Lavinia can’t help being about as unmusical as possible without being tone deaf.’
‘I know and she does embroider exquisitely,’ Georgiana admitted. ‘She can paint far better than the rest of us as well. But that’s why we’re out and about on our own this morning, Mr Moss,’ she went on with an expectant look at him that said it was his turn to recite a list of engagements for the day.
‘I am engaged to meet several of your guardian’s tenant farmers at the market in Temple Barberry, so I shall have to hurry there as soon as my horse has his new shoe, Miss Georgiana,’ he replied obediently.
Contrarily, Nell felt excluded as they chatted about the market and how most farmers were gloomy about prospects for the harvest, whatever the weather. They conceded this was a very peculiar spring and this time they were right to be pessimistic. Being brought up in London, and then Bath, Nell had had to learn even to like the countryside when she first came here and she was the first to admit she didn’t know its ways and habits as well as her pupils. She felt like a town mouse as Georgiana and Mr Moss happily discussed the difficulty of sowing crops and getting them to grow when it was cold and the skies so grey nothing seemed likely to thrive. Sunshine was now needed to make it all work and Nell felt she might be withering for the lack of it herself by the time the carriage rolled into Brampton and pulled up at the smithy.
‘You seem unnaturally quiet this morning, Miss Court,’ Mr Moss observed as he gathered up his crop, hat and a leather case that must contain tenancy agreements or leases, or some such dry stuff it was as well not to be curious about.
‘I have nothing to say, Mr Moss. I am an urban creature and know little of agriculture and country lore.’
‘Then it was rude of me to bore you with them.’
‘Not in the least, sir. I hope I can still listen and learn as well as hold forth about what I do know.’
‘Then I shall send over one of the agricultural reports on this county for your further education, ma’am, since you want to know it better.’
‘Only if you are not using it, sir,’ she said coolly. She could imagine nothing more likely to send her to sleep so perhaps it would have its uses.
‘Oh, no, I’m a quick study when a topic interests me and the state of land is important. I suppose that’s one reason my wider family disapprove of me and mine,’ he said, then seemed to regret his frankness and his expression was closed and formal as he jumped down and gave them a fine bow, before waving goodbye to Georgiana and nodding stiffly at Nell as the carriage drove past on its way to the Wellands’ manor house. Why would a country squire regard his interest in the land as undesirable? Mr Moss might not be able to inherit the family acres, but not all younger sons were destined for the army, the navy or the church. Becoming a land steward was a perfectly respectable ambition in a gentleman of slender means. On a large estate like Berry Brampton the position was often filled by a junior line of the family who owned it. So why was Mr Moss so defensive about his chosen way of life?
* * *
By the time Brampton Village was behind them at least Georgiana had stopped speculating about Mr Moss and the reception he would get from the notoriously close-mouthed farming community, so that was a relief, wasn’t it? Hearing her most lively pupil shift her attention from the steward to what her friend Maria might have been about since they last met might make her head spin, but Miss Welland’s sayings and doings were a much safer subject and she let her pupil chatter on unchecked. It didn’t matter how well or badly the man got on with his family, he was here, at last, and Nell hoped the injustices and oddities Jenks had closed his eyes to on the estate would come to an end. Anyway, she could hardly condemn Moss for being so late to take up his post when she had deserted hers twice in the last year. Governess or not, responsible for the girls as she was with no resident guardian to look out for them when she was gone, nothing could have stopped Nell finding her brother after Waterloo and, six months later, attending his wedding to the love of his life. It had been a joyous marriage ceremony, despite the time of year and the rough weather and terrible roads. At last Colm had looked as joyous and carefree as a man of his age, birth and fortune ought to when he stood up so proudly to wed his unexpected bride. The last marriage in the world anyone would have predicted for the children of the Hancourt–Winterley scandal and there they both were, as shiningly happy as any couple Nell had ever met. It felt strange coming back here from Darkmere Castle and those bright celebrations to be Miss Court again and pretend nothing had changed. Until Mr Moss arrived she’d been plagued by a feeling this world seemed dangerously unstable after the bustle and common purpose in Lord Winterley’s northern heartland. If she left Berry Brampton House as her brother and sister-in-law wanted her to, what would become of the girls? Without a competent manager, the estate had been like a rudderless ship in these hard times. The war was over, but the whole country sometimes seemed about to plunge into chaos as they floundered from one crisis to the next. Now her worry about the lack of a strong man to keep all steady here was gone, she realised how uneasy she’d been before he arrived.
Mr Moss was an unlikely protector of a pack of schoolgirls, but he would still do it if he had to. The footmen and butler were tall and strong and the formidably respectable Mrs Winch gave the household gravitas, but nobody else had the status of my lord’s land steward. She didn’t have to like him for it, though. He had sat opposite her and talked to Georgiana of matters she didn’t understand, then offered to lend her a book. Well, she’d read the dratted thing if that would stop him doing it again. As for that habit he had of calling her ma’am—there might be more exasperating ways to address a lady not yet four and twenty, but she couldn’t currently think of any.
‘Mr Moss was right; you are quiet today, Miss Court. Do you have the headache?’ Georgiana asked as the carriage turned towards the next village and the Wellands’ neat manor house.
Not yet, Nell thought, but I soon will have if I brood about the impossible man for much longer. ‘No, but I couldn’t get a word in when you two were chattering nineteen to the dozen.’
‘Papa always said my tongue ran on wheels when we were little...’ She paused and looked out of the small carriage windows at the dull grey sky before sighing heavily. ‘I know I was only a child when he died, Miss Court, and I was so lucky my parents loved me and Caro, but will I ever stop missing them, do you think?’
‘Now that really is a hard question.’
‘I know I shouldn’t pry into the feelings of my elders, since you told me so, but do you still miss your mama and papa?’
‘At times; although my mama died when I was little more than a babe, so I don’t really remember her, and my father was more often away from home than in it during the last few years of his life. I do still miss him though, yes. I found it very hard to be parted from my brother when he was sent to school as well, so I’m glad you and Caroline are together and can share your feelings as well as your memories. Lavinia and Penny love you both as well, however little they choose to show it at times. I suppose the pressure on the heir to produce a boy was so strong in your family that Lavinia has always felt herself at a disadvantage and she is unsure of herself and a little jealous of those who seem to be more fortunate.’
‘I will remember that and try to make allowances, but you don’t like to talk about yourself, do you, Miss Court?’ Georgiana responded with a direct stare that made Nell feel she was the younger of them for once.
She had hoped nobody would notice her habit of turning the subject and not giving anything away about her past that she didn’t have to, but Georgiana was a lot more perceptive than most people realised. ‘I’m not a very interesting topic,’ she replied warily.
‘Now there you are quite wrong, Miss Court. Mr Moss finds you as much of a mystery as we Selfords do. All the time we were talking about farmers and cows and fields at least half his attention was fixed on you.’
‘No, it wasn’t. He thinks me an antidote and was very happy to talk to you this morning instead of me, so please don’t start imagining otherwise, Georgiana. Your matchmaking efforts are unwelcome at the best of times and Mr Moss would laugh himself hoarse if he could hear you now.’
‘Which would be very ungentlemanly of him, don’t you think? Although I doubt he would; he seems a kind man under that teasing manner of his.’
‘I don’t think we know him well enough to say if he is kindly or not yet, Georgiana, and if I did want more to do with the gentleman than I have to because we work for the same employer he’d be horrified. I doubt I ever came across a gentleman less likely to be in search of a wife than that one and I’m certainly not the woman to make him change his mind.’
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Elizabeth Beacon
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Forbidden to the undercover earl!Hiding from society, heiress Eleanor Hancourt must live as ordinary governess Nell Court to escape her family’s scandals. But when the new estate manager arrives, her quiet existence is disrupted. He may be unspeakably arrogant, but he’s also irresistible!Fergus is really the Earl of Barberry, undercover to investigate his own estate. Instead, he discovers the new governess is an illicit temptation, a match that can never be! Yet when Nell’s secret inheritance puts her in peril, Fergus will do whatever it takes to save her…