Sir Merrick stood as they entered. The moment she laid eyes on him, Caroline forgot all about the sunny yellow room with the thick green and bronze carpet. Twin shivers coursed down either side of her spine and she knew at once she was going to have to regretfully decline the position.
Households with men were dangerous to a young, relatively attractive governess.
Households with men like this were dangerous to any woman with blood in her veins.
He was even more devastatingly handsome than she’d remembered, tall and broad-shouldered, in an impeccably cut black morning coat. Dark brown hair with just a hint of a wave had been tamed ruthlessly back from a wide forehead, leaving his intelligent golden brown eyes unshadowed, except for slashing dark brows and absurdly thick black lashes. Perhaps thirty or thirty-five, he had fine lines about his eyes and mouth, but no trace of infirmity in his powerful physique and no silver strands in his hair. His features were strong and sharp, his keen gaze giving Caroline the notion that he saw right through the bravado she wore as a shield.
“Merrick, you remember my friend, Miss Caroline Bristol. Caroline, once again, this is my nephew, Sir Merrick Hadrian.”
“Of course I remember, Miss Bristol.” Sir Merrick held out his hand for Caroline’s.
“Sir Merrick.” As if she could have forgotten him. Mentally squaring her shoulders, she held out her own gloved hand and dropped into a slight curtsey, one perfectly befitting a member of the upper gentry, such as a baronet. The tingling sense of connection she felt from his big warm hand had to be an illusion, as she could have gotten no such impression through the thin leather of her gloves.
“Have a seat, dear,” Miss Hadrian urged as a footman entered with a laden tea tray. “You take your tea with a little cream, no sugar, correct?”
“Yes, thank you, Miss Hadrian.” Caroline could barely take her eyes off Sir Merrick long enough to smile at her friend and accept the surprisingly sturdy and plain china cup and saucer she was handed. Then her gaze lit on the tea tray, and she was finally distracted. It was all she could do not to fall voraciously on the plates heaped with sandwiches and cakes. She hadn’t eaten a thing since last evening’s supper.
Sir Merrick accepted his own cup, but Caroline could tell his regard never wavered from her. “Forgive me, miss, but you’re significantly younger than I’d expect in a governess.” His dark brows drew together and his full lips pursed. “Are you certain you’re capable of managing four unruly children?”
Caroline allowed herself a hint of a smile. So the interview had commenced. “I’ve yet to meet the children I cannot teach, provided their parents or guardians allow me to do so.”
“Allow you to do so? Precisely what do you mean by that?” His voice, never warm, had grown colder.
After a fortifying sip of the marvelous tea, she took as deep a breath as her corset would permit, cursing herself for the vanity of having laced it rather tighter than usual. “In some households, the governess is permitted to administer neither punishment nor reward. I find that it is difficult to manage children without those tools.”
His spine stiffened even further. “What sort of punishments do you recommend?”
Here she was on comfortable ground. “Generally one that fits the crime. If one of the children does something to hurt another, the punishment might be to assist the one who was hurt with all of their chores for the rest of the day. If the offense was insulting someone, a written letter of apology might be in order, or a public admission of disgrace, whichever is more fitting. Loss of privileges can also be effective—for example, staying at home and working while the others visit the park.”
“Never physical punishment?” There was no indication in his demeanor to indicate whether he approved or disapproved of the examples she’d given, though, of course, the common wisdom was, “Spare the rod and spoil the child,” with which Caroline fervently disagreed.
Choosing her words carefully, she answered, “I have, upon occasion, physically restrained a child. There was a toddler determined to run into traffic, and another boy intent on beating his younger brother. Both of us sustained some mild bruising that time, though I never actually struck him. I realize my views are radical ones, but I hold them sacrosanct. I have walked away from employers who insisted upon corporal punishment, and will doubtless do so again during the course of my career.”
Sir Merrick tipped his head and let out his breath. “Fine. Have you ever taught…gifted children?”
“Gifted in what way?” She bit her lower lip and looked longingly at a lemon tart on the tea tray. “I’m no musical virtuoso, so couldn’t teach anything more advanced than the basics. The same is true of my ability with pencil or paint. My Greek, Latin, French and history are excellent, and my skill with mathematics and the sciences should be adequate for most young children.”
“I believe my nephew is speaking of supernatural gifts.” Miss Hadrian heaped a plate with food and handed it to Caroline. “I know we’ve discussed such things in the reading circle and you’ve professed an open mind upon the subject.”
Caroline lifted an eyebrow as she swallowed a bit of watercress and cucumber sandwich, savoring every morsel. She used the pause to compose her reply. “An open mind, yes. I do not profess to have any experience or expertise in the matter.” And this was the excuse she’d been looking for. There was no way she could work in a household headed by a man as virile and overwhelming to the senses as Sir Merrick, as much as she liked his aunt. “I’m so sorry, but clearly I’m not the governess you require. Thank you very, very much for considering me, and for the lovely tea.”
Just as she set her empty cup back on the tea tray, the door burst open, and what sounded like a herd of rhinoceros lumbered into the room. There were five, she noted as the running shapes sorted themselves into individual children, plus a rather remarkable collection of mechanical pets—a dog, a monkey and a bird. A cup smashed and suddenly she understood the lack of ornamentation in this otherwise lovely home. The horde been here just a few days, Miss Hadrian’s letter had said.
One of the youngest children, a thin boy of perhaps nine or ten, with straight, medium brown hair and a pallor that hinted at recent illness, skidded to a stop in front of Caroline and winked up at her. “I’m a bastard, you know.” He snatched a crumpet off the tray and flitted away, grinning wickedly.
Caroline couldn’t help the smile that emerged through her mask of propriety. “I see.” She helped herself to a raspberry tart off her plate. Delicious. “As am I. How nice that we have something in common.” The noisy cluster all stopped and stared at her with wonder as she bit into the tart and chewed.
After swallowing, she added, “However, most people would prefer us not to discuss such things with strangers. It makes them uncomfortable, you know, and the whole point of good manners is to avoid making people feel awkward.”
“We don’t need no governess.” One of the girls rubbed her toe on the carpet and stared intently downward. Her dark hair and almond-shaped eyes hinted at an exotic heritage, though her Cockney accent was all London.
“Of course you don’t.” Caroline found she was enjoying herself for the first time since she’d left the coach. These children were fun. It was a shame she couldn’t stay. Then her glance strayed over to a scowling Sir Merrick and the thrill of attraction she still felt reinforced her resolve. “And I shan’t be staying, so you needn’t worry. Perhaps, though, since I have been a governess, and I am here at the moment, I can help you understand the purpose of the species while we enjoy our tea?”
“You talk funny.” The youngest boy, a tow-headed imp, had his arm in a sling. He stuffed a lemon tart into his face, all in one piece.
“I probably do, sometimes.” Caroline saw the fear that lurked behind his pale gray eyes. These children were bold but terrified. It would be good to put their minds at ease before she went on her way—and she could have another bite or two while she was about it. The sandwiches were delicious, after all—if she nib
bled long enough, she wouldn’t have to buy supper tonight. “But never mind that. What do you think a governess is supposed to do?”
“Take away all our fun,” answered the thin, pale boy, his mouth full of sandwich. The other children nodded.
“I see.” Caroline sipped her tea. “So what do you consider fun? How do you like to spend your days?”
“Playing.” It was the young blond who piped up. Caroline patted the sofa beside her and he climbed up, allowing her to slip a pillow under his injured arm.
“Reading.” The middle boy, the thin, sickly one, injected the single word with reverence.
“Working on my machines.” The eldest girl, a lovely waif with rich auburn curls, wore coveralls stained with machine oil, but boasted a surprisingly proper accent.
The dark-haired girl shrugged, then whispered softly, “Singing.”
“Those are all excellent activities.” Caroline regarded each of them seriously. “But wouldn’t any of those things be easier to do with a bit of learning? For instance, one can play more games if one is able to read the rules. Isn’t that so? And how about all those books in Latin, or Greek, or French? Wouldn’t you like to learn to read those as well?” She turned to the girls. “One needs advanced mathematics to study engineering, and there’s a rather lovely pianoforte over in that corner. Someone to give lessons on that would certainly be helpful to a singer.”
Each of them stopped to consider her words.
She went on. “And of course, there are a thousand silly things to learn too—like which fork to use for shellfish or how to write a proper thank you note. Totally pointless, but people do expect one to know them. You wouldn’t want to embarrass Sir Merrick or Miss Hadrian, would you? It will look very poorly for them if their wards were unaware of proper behavior.”
“She’s right.” The eldest girl nodded her head sharply. “We do need to put on a good front for Sir Merrick’s sake.”
The others seemed to take their cue from her and nodded glumly.
“All right.” The littlest boy gazed up at Caroline plaintively. “But can we still play some of the time?”
Caroline laid her hand on the lad’s good one. “Of course. Play is an important part of everyday life. I’m sure that Sir Merrick and Miss Hadrian will find you a governess who will make time to play alongside you, as long as your lessons are done as well.” Even though she knew she wasn’t the right person for the job, she had confidence that Dorothy Hadrian would let no harm come to these orphaned youngsters. Still, she felt a small pang of loss at the idea of leaving. There was something about this raggle-taggle group that certainly tugged at the heartstrings. Guiding a cadre of street toughs into becoming ladies and gentlemen would be a monumental but rewarding task for a teacher.
Merrick cringed when the children burst through the door. This would be the coup de grâce to the idea of hiring Miss Caroline Bristol. Which was all for the best, he reminded himself. She was clearly far too young and far too attractive to make any kind of effective governess. He’d be forever distracted by wondering if her golden hair, which was scraped back into an inordinately unappealing bun on the back of her head, felt as soft as it looked, or if her green eyes could really be that bright. Most disturbing, though, was the hint of power she radiated—something about her made him think she was as gifted as any of the children.
Astonishingly, after a short conversation, the children came up to her one by one. “I’m Tommy,” said Merrick’s new protégé. Then he shook Miss Bristol’s hand before politely introducing each of the others.
“Very pleased to meet each of you.” Miss Bristol had spoken a few words with each child, though she shied back from patting George on the head.
Nell moved over to clutch Merrick’s sleeve and whispered, “Mum says we should keep her.”
He nodded, having almost grown used to commentary from Nell’s invisible mother. Miss Bristol swiveled her head, clearly having overheard.
“Nell sees ghosts.” Piers plopped onto a stool near Miss Bristol’s feet and took another sandwich. “Our mum still talks to her.”
“Well, that seems a little unfair, doesn’t it?” Miss Bristol clearly sympathized. “But surely the messages are for the rest of you as well.” She didn’t even blink at the mention of ghosts, which earned her a great deal more respect from Merrick.
“Mostly only Nell and Piers. She’s their mum. Not the rest of us.” Jamie was positively chatty now, it seemed. “My mum died too, though, and she never talks to me.”
“Mine either, dear.” Miss Bristol patted his knee. “But each of us has different circumstances, don’t we? And now you have Miss Hadrian and Sir Merrick, which makes you all very lucky indeed.”
“Please, Sir Merrick.” Nell tugged on his sleeve this time.
“I’m sorry, dear—Nell, right? But I’m not here to be your new governess.” Miss Bristol smiled sweetly. “Just visiting, I’m afraid. I’m sure though, that your guardians will find you the perfect teacher.”
“Nah, we want you,” Jamie argued. “You said you’d play with us.”
Miss Bristol bit her full lower lip, then licked away a crumb. Judging by the amount she’d consumed, she hadn’t eaten all day. Hell, she probably needed the position just to survive.
“No, Jamie. I said any good governess will play with you.”
“Children, are you all agreed on this?” Dorothy looked around at each of the now-sticky faces. They all nodded back, and Merrick groaned inwardly. He was pretty sure his preferences had been rendered irrelevant. Oddly enough, he didn’t care. There was something about this woman that just seemed to—to fit in his newly chaotic household. At the very least she’d gotten them to sit quietly for ten minutes—a miracle in itself.
Dorothy nodded decisively. “Then I suggest you all take yourselves back upstairs and try not to break anything for a few minutes. Your guardian and I need to talk to Miss Bristol privately.”
Merrick was amazed at how swiftly the children obeyed her, each one bidding Miss Bristol a polite good day as they left the room.
When the door closed behind them, Dorothy laughed. “Well, Merrick, I believe you owe me an apology for doubting my judgment.” She turned to Caroline. “He didn’t believe I knew someone who could calm them so quickly.”
Merrick shook his head. “I suppose I do. Miss Bristol, that was amazing. Whatever salary you normally require, consider it doubled if you’ll take pity on us and stay.” The one thing that might keep him sane with a beauty like this in the household was the reminder that Dorothy had mentioned Miss Bristol expressing her preference for teaching over marriage. Come to think of it, maybe she was like Dorothy and didn’t care for men at all. Though he had no evidence to support the idea, he clutched it like a lifeline. He’d never thought he’d be glad to assume that a desirable young woman preferred other females.
“I don’t think—” she began.
“Come, Caroline. You know you need employment rather urgently.” Dorothy’s tone was uncharacteristically cruel, but Merrick trusted his aunt’s instincts, so he didn’t say anything to soften her harsh words. Moments later, Dorothy did it herself. “And as you can see, these aren’t ordinary children. They need you, Caroline. Not just any governess, but one with your gift for understanding. They require that quite desperately.”
Miss Bristol sat silently with her hands folded in her lap as she thought. Finally, she gave a slight nod. “Very well. If you’d be so kind as to send a carriage, I can have my things packed and be back by tomorrow morning.”
Merrick heard a crash in the distance and winced. “We’ll send a servant to help you pack. You can be installed by suppertime.”
That entire day proved to be one Caroline would not soon forget. She gazed in amazement at the luxuriously appointed guestroom to which she was shown.
“Surely, this can’t be meant for me.” She turned back to Miss Hadrian who’d escorted her personally to her new quarters. “There must be some mistake.”
“You’ll see.” The older woman’s amusement was plain in the crinkling of her dark eyes. “This will be perfect. Tommy has the room next to you, and when his new tutor arrives next week, he’ll be placed on the other side. The nursery is directly across the hall.”
“Surely there’s a room in the nursery suite for the governess?”
“There is. But the girls have claimed it as their own—even though they were offered this one as an alternative. Besides, Caroline, I’m afraid your position in this household won’t be a normal one. Everything about this arrangement is topsy-turvy, so you might as well enjoy what you can about it. You’ve enough difficulties ahead, and Merrick and I want you to know how much we value your assistance. You’re to consider yourself a guest, whenever you’re not occupied with the children. It’s the least we can do.”
“Miss Hadrian, I’m still not certain this is the best of ideas—”
“Nonsense. You know you love a challenge, and you told me yourself that teaching is your true vocation. Can you imagine a greater achievement than civilizing that lot?” As she spoke, two of the children ran past the open door, yowling as they went.
“I suppose that’s true.” There was something appealing about the idea of being needed and actually valued by her employers. “Very well. What time do the children take supper? I assume they dine in the nursery?”
“We’ve been having them take one meal a day in the dining room with us—luncheon usually seems best. We do want them to see proper manners in action. For supper, I’ve mostly been joining them in the schoolroom, in a supervisory manner, even if I’m dining out afterward. Cook usually sends something up at seven.”
There was a pretty porcelain clock on the mantelpiece and to Caroline’s horror, it showed only ten minutes to seven. She had no time to unpack then, though she did spare a moment to unearth an apron to cover her skirts.
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