by Farr, Diane
Natalie hazarded a guess. “You call her Mrs. Mumbles because she hasn’t any mouth?”
Sarah looked surprised. “No. I call her Mrs. Mumbles because that is her name.” She handed Natalie a small block of crudely-carved wood, sanded and polished as if it were a work of art. “And this is Blinky,” she announced, beaming.
Blinky. Natalie turned it over in her hands, trying to distinguish what sort of animal it was supposed to be. A bear? A dog? A buffalo? Before she could decide, the door opened and her employer walked in. He looked at her with unruffled calm, as if hiring and firing governesses at a moment’s notice was nothing out of the ordinary. Natalie scrambled to her feet.
The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Pray don’t get up on my account. I consider you quite one of the family now.”
She hoped she wasn’t blushing again. “Hardly that, my lord,” she said primly, folding her hands before her. He didn’t blink when she called him “my lord,” so she must have heard Mrs. Thorpe aright. She abandoned her servile pose and looked accusingly at him. “It is ‘my lord,’ isn’t it? Forgive me, but you haven’t told me your name.”
He looked startled. “Haven’t I? How extraordinary.”
“This entire morning has been extraordinary,” she muttered, brushing the carpet dust from her skirt.
A smile of genuine pleasure lit his face for a moment. “So you accepted my offer of employment without even knowing who I am. I call that flattering.”
“Do you? I call it rash.”
“Whatever possessed you, Miss Whittaker?”
“Lunacy, I suppose.”
“In that case, I hope you are mad enough to forgive the omission.” He bowed. “Malcolm Chase, at your service.”
She began a curtsey, but froze. Chase. She had heard Mrs. Thorpe call Sarah by that name, but it had not rung a bell. Until now.
“Chase,” she repeated faintly. “Malcolm Chase. Not—not Lord Malcolm Chase? The Duke of Oldham’s son?”
“The same. Are you acquainted with my family? We have a small property in the neighborhood —”
“My lord, I am your neighbor! My family’s property adjoins your land.”
He did not look at all perturbed. “Well, well. What a coincidence.”
“Coincidence! It’s a calamity.” Natalie pressed one hand to her cheek, appalled. “I can’t work for a neighbor.”
He looked puzzled. “Why not?”
“Well, I—I—I don’t know.” She felt foolish, but only because she didn’t know how to explain it. “I suppose it won’t matter, really, since you reside at your father’s estate. That’s in the midlands somewhere, isn’t it?”
“It is, but I no longer reside there. I reside here.”
She stared at him. “Here? In this inn?”
“No, I mean Larkspur. I have come to take possession of my estate. Larkspur traditionally houses the second sons of my family, and I am my father’s second son.” When she continued to stare at him, nonplussed, he added patiently, “Larkspur, Miss Whittaker. The property that adjoins your family’s.”
“Yes, yes, I know Larkspur well, but—but no one has lived there for years! Oh, heavens. Why now? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a Chase at Larkspur.”
His lips twitched. “Not a very effusive welcome, I must say.”
“Well, for pity’s sake!” She placed her hands on her hips, exasperated. “It’s not that the neighborhood won’t be glad to see you, for they will. And I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance at last. But, Lord Malcolm—you have just employed me!”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Everything! I never would have agreed to such a mad bargain, had I known who you were—and that you meant to make your home here!”
His brows snapped together in a swift frown. “Miss Whittaker, I hope you do not mean to break your word.”
Natalie stared helplessly at him. “Of course not,” she said lamely, then rallied. “There is no question of my breaking my word. You employed me under false pretenses, my lord.”
“Now, see here—”
“False pretenses,” she repeated firmly. “I had thought you would take me somewhere far away. I assumed you must live at a great distance.”
His brows lifted in incredulity. “I never said anything to make you think so.”
“Well, no, you did not, but when one encounters a stranger in the local inn, one assumes that the stranger is en route from one place to another! The business of an inn, in case you were not aware, is to temporarily house persons who live at some distance from the inn. It naturally did not occur to me that you might, in point of fact, be my nearest neighbor!” Her eyes narrowed. “In fact, sir, why are you stopping at the inn, if you truly have a house nearby?”
“Because the house is not ready for me, of course.” His frown was formidable. “Sarah and I are staying here for dinner so that the caretakers need not trouble themselves putting a meal together for us. We will, however, spend the night at Larkspur.”
“You did not send ahead to have the house made ready? Gracious! You must have come here on the spur of the moment.”
His frown darkened. “If I did, Miss Whittaker, what is that to you?”
“Why, nothing. I am in a poor position to criticize anyone for behaving impulsively.” She sank onto the nearest chair, shaking her head in despair. “This is the stuff of nightmare.”
“I don’t know why it should be,” he said stiffly. “What possible difference can it make to you where I live? I would think that moving you far from your home would be an inconvenience, not the other way round.”
Men. Why couldn’t they perceive the obvious? Natalie shot him a darkling glance. “Very well,” she grumbled. “I will explain.” Her reasons did not cast her in a flattering light, but she supposed she had to give them. She took a deep breath.
“I was looking forward, in a perverse sort of way, to telling my detestable brother that I preferred life as a governess to life beneath his roof. But that was when I was picturing a hasty exit directly after the conversation.” She felt her cheeks reddening. “And an immediate departure for some unknown, but distant, destination.”
“Ah. I see.” He rubbed his chin in a rueful manner. “You are not expecting your family to greet the news of your employment with enthusiasm.”
“Naturally not. And the neighborhood will be scarcely less scandalized. My conduct will be viewed, and rightly so, as inexplicable—and a shocking indictment of Hector and Mabel. You know as well as I do that only the direst circumstances force a gently-born lady from her home.”
Something sly gleamed in his shadowed blue eyes. “I rather fancy that the neighborhood’s ill opinion of Hector and—Mabel, was it?—distresses you not at all.”
“You’re right,” Natalie admitted, trying not to laugh. “It doesn’t. But you are asking me to stay in the parish while disapproval rains down upon me. I had rather leave the neighborhood, quite frankly, and let them all exclaim and shake their heads while I am miles away.” She bit her lip. “It’s all very well for you to chuckle at my cowardice —”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Well, whatever you are laughing at, you may stop,” said Natalie, exasperated. “This situation is deadly serious, sir, for you as well as for me. You have just sacked Mrs. Thorpe. I suggest you rehire her at once.”
If her purpose was to nip his amusement in the bud, she succeeded. The frown settled back on his features immediately. It struck her that a grim expression appeared more at home on his face than the lurking smile had.
She felt a set of small fingers close on the edge of her sleeve. Natalie looked down into the anxious face of Sarah. “Mrs. Thorpe is gone,” said Sarah plaintively. “I heard her go. Is she coming back?”
Oh, dear. Natalie hesitated, at a loss, and Lord Malcolm’s deep voice rumbled into the breach. “Mrs. Thorpe is not coming back, little one. I doubt if I could call her back now even if I wanted to. I didn’t ask where she was headed
.”
“She can’t have gone far,” said Natalie stubbornly. “I won’t be boxed into a corner by such a trifle.”
Sarah’s hand tightened. “Aren’t you staying after all?”
Natalie glanced back down at Sarah. Her gray-green eyes were huge in her pale, pinched face. The child’s whisper was so woebegone, her expression so pleading, Natalie could scarcely bear to disappoint her. “Oh, dear,” she murmured ruefully, this time aloud. She placed one hand on Sarah’s hair and gently stroked the silky strands of pale brown, baby-fine beneath her touch. “Sarah, sweetheart, it’s not that I don’t want to stay with you. I can’t.”
Sarah looked hurt. “Why not?”
Natalie sighed. “Your papa will explain it to you.”
“No, he won’t,” said Sarah’s papa. “For he doesn’t understand it himself.”
“Sir, if you would but think for a moment—”
“You were prepared to leave your home and take up residence with strangers in an unknown place. Now you find you need only move next door, and you suddenly wish to renege. I confess, I do not understand it. You can stay here among your friends and family, close to everything you know and love. You hardly need to bother with packing, let alone traveling. My dear Miss Whittaker, this is an advantage, not a disadvantage.”
She held up one hand to stop him. “Hold a moment. It has just now occurred to me ... merciful heavens! Will the household consist of only you and your daughter?”
“Certainly. A small household, but—”
“A bachelor household?”
He looked uncomfortable. “I suppose so,” he admitted grudgingly. “If you call a widower a bachelor.”
Natalie covered her eyes with her hands and moaned.
“This is pure foolishness.” Lord Malcolm’s voice was crisp with exasperation. “Do you think I would expose my little daughter to—”He stopped in mid-sentence. “Mine will be a respectable household,” he finished grimly. “No one will gossip about you.”
She dropped her hands to glare at him. “Of course they will gossip. About both of us. For heaven’s sake, your sudden return to Larkspur will cause a sensation! It will be the main topic of conversation here for weeks. If your arrival coincides with my moving in with you, I shudder to think what conclusions will be drawn.”
He looked haughtily at her. “Does it matter what people say? Let them talk. We will know the truth.”
She flushed. “You are a duke’s son. I daresay it needn’t matter, to you.”
“Do you think being born among the aristocracy shields one from gossip?” His voice rose sharply. “Quite the opposite, I assure you. The minutia of our daily life is endlessly fascinating to others, for reasons that quite escape me. I often feel that I live beneath a microscope. One learns to ignore it.”
“People may talk about you—in fact, I know they do; I am not an imbecile. But their criticism has no real effect. At least, not on the male members of the aristocracy. I daresay it may damage the ladies from time to time.” She lifted her chin at him. “You don’t know the trials that would be in store for me, my lord, because you are a man.”
His eyes narrowed. “I am a man who cares about upright conduct.”
“But not appearances?”
“No.” His nostrils flared with scorn. “I have known too many people, Miss Whittaker, who cared only for appearances. I know how deceptive appearances can be.”
“I don’t care only for appearances—” she began, stung.
“You shouldn’t care for them at all. God will judge us, Miss Whittaker, not our neighbors.”
She eyed him askance. “You obviously haven’t met Mrs. Beasley.”
A glint of laughter returned to his eyes. “Certainly I have. There’s one in every parish. But I promise you, Miss Whittaker, the Mrs. Beasleys of the world need not concern us.”
Natalie had to look away; the laughter lurking in his voice tempted her, against all reason, to smile. “I wish that were true.” She sighed and shook her head. “I confess, I don’t know what to do.” She was suddenly aware of Sarah, leaning against her knee and regarding her gravely. The child had been listening intently, trying to follow the twists and turns of the adults’ conversation.
It did seem cowardly, to abandon and disappoint Sarah just because she was afraid of what people might say.
Lord Malcolm seemed to sense her wavering. She heard his booted feet cross the floor, and suddenly, to her surprise, he knelt beside her. Now she had two faces to contend with, both too near to escape, and both focusing their energy on winning her over. Lord Malcolm slipped one arm around Sarah. The little girl leaned back against his broad chest, but her solemn gaze was still fixed on Natalie. The tableau of entreaty they made tugged anew at Natalie’s heart. She felt her defenses crumbling. “Oh, unfair,” she said, rueful laughter in her voice.
Lord Malcolm smiled at her over Sarah’s head. “We need you,” he said softly. “Don’t we, Sarah?”
Sarah nodded obediently.
“Come, now, Miss Whittaker. You promised to help us. And I know you won’t go back on your word.”
“Oh, that’s not it at all—”
“What would your grandmother say?” He almost winked at her. “Remember the stars.”
“The stars?”
“Terrible things happen to those who defy the stars. Haven’t you read your Shakespeare?” He shook his head with mock solemnity. “Really, Miss Whittaker, I think you can hardly say no.”
A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. She liked Lord Malcolm. And she liked Sarah. And, come to think of it, she didn’t like Hector and Mabel.
Would her choice really come down to that? Was it really so simple?
An irresistible vision flashed into her mind, one of bidding Hector and Mabel farewell. Even if she only moved as far as next door, she would be out from under their roof. She wouldn’t hear their bickering, or be the constant target of their petty digs and snide remarks. It would almost be worth it just to know she wouldn’t have to dine with them every day. And, of course, if anything untoward occurred at Larkspur, she could dash home again in the twinkling of a bedpost. She would be quite safe. Lord Malcolm was right. There were some advantages to his living in the neighborhood.
“Look, Papa.” Sarah pointed at Natalie, pleasure lighting her face. “She’s going to say yes.”
Natalie rolled her eyes, but laughed. “Yes, I suppose I am. But only because I am too milk-livered to defy the stars.”
“Very wise,” said Lord Malcolm approvingly. “We thank you—Sarah, the stars, and I.”
* * *
Not long after, Natalie was tramping briskly back across the fields. Amazing, thought Natalie, what a difference a few hours could make. The breeze had ushered in a few swiftly-scudding clouds and the temperature had dropped dramatically. The landscape, the colors, the smell of the air, all the world seemed fresh and new. The cold wind spanked color into her cheeks and lifted her spirits.
Lord Malcolm had offered the use of his carriage but Natalie had declined it, saying she needed the walk in order to compose her thoughts and plan what she would say to Hector and Mabel. Now that she was involved in that exhilarating task, an irrepressible smile played across her face. She only wished Derek were home to witness her rebellion. She knew he would egg her on; he always did when she was at her most outrageous.
She was certainly at her most outrageous today. She could remember a dozen minor mutinies in her girlhood, but nothing to equal this colossal nose-thumbing.
Natalie searched her soul and waited for that familiar guilty feeling to creep up on her. It didn’t. Her heart was light as a feather. She went over, in her mind, all the reasons why she should feel afraid of the prospect of becoming Sarah’s governess. Fear failed to surface. She felt good about this decision, whole-hearted and eager. Had she run mad? Possibly, but even that bogey failed to frighten her. It seemed that all her objections, all her hesitations, all her resistance to the idea had poured out in her co
nversation with Lord Malcolm. She had none left.
She did like Lord Malcolm. And Sarah, she amended hastily. She liked them both. How well did one really need to know a person before deciding that? Sometimes one just knew. After all, she had disliked Mabel within a few hours of making her acquaintance. And her instincts had certainly been right on that one.
Farewell, Mabel. Fare thee well, Hector. She could hardly wait to tell them.
She entered the house giddy with pleasurable anticipation, flung her hat onto the peg in the kitchen passage, and, humming under her breath, marched up the stairs to beard the dragons in their lair.
Chapter 5
“No,” said Hector flatly. He crossed his arms over his thin chest for emphasis. “You can’t.”
Natalie’s pleasant smile did not waver. “On the contrary, I can. I am joining the Chase family at Larkspur directly after dinner.”
My, it felt good to defy them. She had found Hector drinking tea with Mabel in her morning room, and had simply walked in and told them. Their tea had grown cold while they listened, apparently in shock, to Natalie’s brief, but pithy, tale. Neither had said a word until she finished her announcement and rose to leave. She paused now, one hand on the doorknob. She had seldom felt so powerful. “If you need me, Hector, I will be in my rooms.” Her smile broadened. “Packing.”
“Wait a moment!” Hector rose, his expression turning ugly. “I’m still the head of this family. You will listen to what I have to say.”
Mabel picked pettishly at the fringe of her shawl. “Let her go, Hector. She may shock the world if she wishes; it’s all one to us. I’m sure we do not care one way or the other what Natalie chooses to do.”
“I care.” Hector’s nostrils flared with anger. “It will reflect on me. On you, too, if that’s all that matters to you. People will say we drove her to it.”
“They won’t say that of me. Why, I only met her a few weeks ago.”