Dangerous Lord, Innocent Governess

by Christine Merrill

  ‘A little would not hurt,’ Lily insisted. ‘You would have spat it out. It tastes horrid.’

  ‘Suppose I had not spat out the tea after getting a comical blue smile. Suppose I had swallowed it. Who knows what it is made of, or what harm it might have done? Do you wish to go to your father and admit that you poisoned the governess?’

  Without warning, little Sophie started to cry with great gulping sobs. And both the older children looked not just guilty, but disproportionately frightened.

  Daphne reached out and scooped the little one into her lap. ‘There now, Sophie. No harm has been done. I am all right, as will your brother be, once he has rinsed the colour from his teeth.’

  ‘Will you tell Father?’ the older girl asked, in a hoarse whisper. ‘We never meant to hurt you. We never meant to hurt anyone. Do not make him send us away.’

  And Sophie cried even harder.

  The situation was rapidly getting out of hand, and Daphne suspected that the real Miss Collins would have been better equipped for it. But she would manage as best she could. She put an arm around the helpless Sophie, and gestured that the older girl should sit close beside them. She glanced back at Edmund in a way that she hoped was neither angry nor judgemental, and said, ‘Take some water from the pitcher and wash out your mouth. Then bring the cakes and come sit with us.’

  When the children had surrounded her on the couch, she cuddled Sophie until the crying stopped, and let Edmund pass the teacakes back and forth amongst them. ‘Now, there. See? I am not such a great ogre, am I? And I am not about to be a ninny and run downstairs to trouble your father with schoolroom foolishness, if you will leave off tormenting me. I have three older brothers, who most enjoyed playing pranks on their little sister. I doubt there is a trick you will try on me that I have not already experienced. But now that I am grown I had hoped that I would not be bothered with ink in my tea cup and worms in my writing desk.’

  ‘Worms?’ Edmund asked, obviously fascinated.

  She nodded. ‘Great long ones from the garden. My older brother Thomas shut the poor things up with the sealing wax, meaning to surprise me.’ She grinned at the memory. ‘I dare say it was an even bigger surprise to him when he found them in his cucumber sandwich later in the afternoon. Half of them, actually. That quite put him off worms, and cucumber sandwiches as well. To this day, he lifts the bread before he eats.’

  Both the girls laughed, and Edmund followed, after a brief indignant look.

  ‘Now, you are afraid, are you, that your father means to send you away?’

  They returned solemn nods.

  ‘You know that it is almost time for Edmund to go away to school? Possibly even past time.’

  ‘I will not leave my sisters,’ he said, looking not so much at the older girl as he did at Sophie.

  ‘Then it is in your best interest to keep your current governess happy, rather than frightening her away. If you have someone to monitor your education here, your leave-taking can be prolonged.’

  ‘We do not like strangers,’ Edmund said stubbornly.

  ‘You have little choice in the matter,’ she answered him. ‘Someone must do the job. But a stranger is not the same as an enemy, unless you wish to make me one. It might go easier for all of us if you keep me as an ally. For I mean you no harm.’

  There, that was vague enough.

  ‘And even if you must go away to school, your sisters will be in good hands.’

  Of which she had no proof at all. She felt a pang of guilt. There was no telling what chaos she might make of their little lives, if she succeeded in her plans.

  The children seemed to consider, and there were sly looks passed one to another. At last Lily, as the oldest, spoke for the group. ‘We wish, above all else, to remain here, just as we are.’

  ‘And while I wish you to be well educated, I am also most concerned for your happiness. I doubt that an unhappy child makes a better pupil.’

  ‘If you could explain to Father…’

  ‘I hardly know him well enough to make demands, or even suggestions about your education. But in time, I will try to speak to your father on the subject. I cannot guarantee that you won’t be sent to board elsewhere. That is often the way of things. But I will do my best to see that your wishes are considered, rather than just the conventions of society.’

  The children seemed to relax a little at this. They were looking at her differently, as though seeing her for the first time. She offered them her hands, and said, ‘Do we have a bargain?’

  Little Sophie announced, ‘It is a bargain, Miss Collins.’ They were the most words that Daphne had heard from the girl since she had arrived. They came as rather a surprise, for Daphne had begun to suspect that the girl was mute. But the phrase was spoken loud and clear enough, as though she did not wish for her meaning to be mistaken.

  The other two children looked equally surprised, but shrugged their shoulders and took Daphne’s hands, shaking them in agreement.

  ‘Very good. Then I think it is time that we went back to lessons. If you can help me with the maps, we shall spend the rest of the afternoon on geography.’ For she suspected that she could not make nearly such a hash of it as she might on languages or maths. Any fool with a pointer and an atlas ought to be able to manage the subject without embarrassing themselves.

  She’d barely begun her lesson when the master of the house entered the room, quietly, so as not to disturb her pupils.

  But of course he did. At the sight of him the children lost all interest in what she was saying. They turned to look back, smiles on their faces, although Sophie’s was hesitant. It was as though she enjoyed looking upon him, but enjoyed even more that it was from a distance, as one might like to view a tiger in a cage.

  Daphne made to stop, for there was little point in continuing the lesson with him standing at the back of the room, arms folded across his chest.

  ‘No, pray continue, Miss Collins. I am very interested in the education of my children.’

  Oh, dear. The last thing she needed was for him to take an interest in her teaching, since she had little interest in it herself. But she soldiered on through the lesson, pointing out locations on the big map of the world, and sharing what little she knew of them. The minutes seemed to drag by. But, finally, she heard a hall clock chiming the hour. It seemed as good a time as any to release the children to their father.

  The greetings went very much as they had done on the previous day, with the older two speaking formally to him, and Sophie hanging back, tangled in Daphne’s skirts.

  ‘Go, now, and prepare for dinner. And remember to wash your hands and faces,’ she called after them, thinking she sounded very much like her own governess.

  ‘Miss Collins.’

  When she turned, her employer was still in the room, staring at her with a hard expression. And she became suddenly conscious of how alone they were. ‘My lord?’

  ‘I would like a word with you. In my study.’ He turned and walked from the room, not waiting to see if she followed. It surprised her to see him turn right instead of left, eschewing the main staircase, to take the servants’ stairs to the ground floor. But the door to his study was very near to the bottom of them, as was his conservatory. Perhaps that explained his choice.

  Once in the hall, he opened the door to his study, and allowed her to precede him, shutting it tightly behind them. Then he turned upon her, and said, ‘Explain yourself.’ He gave no further clue as to what he might mean. But, if possible, his expression became even more forbidding.

  She struggled to think what she might have done that he’d found objectionable. There were probably a hundred things. She was unable to settle upon any one that was worse than the others. Since she did not wish to give away any more than she had to, she said, ‘In what sense?’

  ‘You are no more a governess than I am. I wish you to explain what it is that you are doing, here in my house, caring for my children.’

  ‘I do not understand, my lord.’ She
carefully wiped any trace of guilt from her face, and replaced it with a look that she hoped was suitably puzzled. ‘Were my references not to your liking?’

  ‘It matters little whether I liked your papers or no, since the decision to hire you was totally that of my neighbour. And I suspect, should I look closely at your letters of reference, I would find them to be in your own hand.’

  ‘Sir!’ This was too close to the truth, so she fell back on outrage as her only defence.

  He paced the room, hands waving in agitation. ‘I could forgive a small mistake made when teaching maths. For who among us does not, on occasion, transpose a number, or forget to carry a one? And a mistake in French or Latin could be passed off as colloquial, were I to be in a charitable frame of mind.’

  He turned suddenly, and pointed at her. ‘But do not tell me you are qualified as a teacher, if you cannot find our colonies on a map.’

  ‘Whatever do you mean, my lord?’

  He snatched a ruler from his desk and brought it down with a sharp crack against the surface of the globe on the table top. ‘This, Miss Collins, if you wish to know, is the former colony known as New York. And the location to which you were pointing—’ he brought the pointer down again, with another loud slap ‘—is Canada. Which is, if I am to believe The Times, still a colony of Britain. And this—’ he slashed with the pointer ‘—is the border between the two.’

  She leaned forwards, and peered at the map. ‘So it is,’ she said weakly.

  ‘The principal export of the area is not tobacco, which needs a much more temperate climate to thrive.’

  ‘Well, you should know, for you have a much more complete knowledge of horticulture than I.’

  He glanced at the ruler, and for a moment she feared he meant to use it upon her in anger. But he threw it aside and turned to face her.

  Without thinking she took a step back, and felt her shoulders bang squarely into the wall behind her.

  He smiled, realising her fear, and took another step to close the distance between them. Then he said, so softly that she doubted anyone would hear, ‘Can you explain the errors you have made?’

  She could hardly blame her own governesses for her inattention when the subjects had been covered in lessons. And so she muttered, ‘It is just that I become nervous when I am observed.’

  ‘Oh, really. My presence unnerves you?’ And he took a step closer, until there was very little space between them at all. ‘Is it just me, I wonder? Or are you flustered by other men as well?’

  ‘Not you at all, my lord. It is just that I am unaccustomed to such attention. While teaching.’

  He laughed softly, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose as he whispered, ‘You are lying again and not very skilfully.’

  ‘I swear, I am not.’ But her voice became breathy as she said it, with a tone that was all wrong for the earnest denial she should mount.

  ‘I will agree that you are not accustomed to teaching. But, looking as you do, I find it hard to believe that you are unaccustomed to masculine attention.’ He was making no effort to hide an interest that she suspected had little to do with her knowledge of geography. ‘A simple governess would not dress the way you do.’

  She glanced down at her gown, which was one of her own, a simple day dress of pale green muslin. ‘There is nothing exceptionable or immodest about what I am wearing.’

  ‘Other than it does not belong to a servant. Is it yours, or did you steal it, I wonder?’

  Now that she was ensconced in the household, she’d felt it safe to put aside the simple frocks she’d borrowed from Miss Collins, and return to wearing her own clothes. But apparently she’d been wrong, for it had made him suspicious. ‘It was a gift. From a previous mistress. A cast-off.’

  ‘But brand new.’ He reached out a finger to touch the fabric at her throat. ‘But what is this you have stuffed into the front of it?’

  She should slap the man for such impudence. But she suspected he was only trying to frighten her, and it would not do to let him succeed. So she muttered, ‘Chemisette.’

  He took a pinch of the cotton, and plucked at it, and she could feel the ties give way, as he drew the neckpiece out of the gown. She found the little ruffled blouse to be oppressive and unnecessary, and there was some part of her that rejoiced at its removal. As the air touched her skin she had a flash of memory from her forbidden walks in the dark paths of Vauxhall Gardens. The sense of anticipation, and the furtive rush of desire.

  Colton saw the look in her eyes, and smiled. ‘You prefer it this way, don’t you? It is the way you normally wear it. With your throat bare and your bodice low, so that men may admire your breasts.’

  He was staring at her, and she felt her nipples tighten in response.

  He nodded as though aware of her reaction. ‘The gown is yours, but the modesty is false.’ He looked into her eyes again. ‘Tell me, now. Why did you come to my house? Nothing about you is as it seems, Miss Collins. And if you do not give me the truth, you cannot blame me for assuming the worst about you.’

  She snatched the fabric from his hand, crumpling the starched cloth in frustration. ‘I came to help your children, since you seem unwilling or unable to do so.’ It was not a complete truth, but neither was it a total lie. Then, she risked a threat of her own. ‘And if you try to remove me from my post, I shall tell the Duchess. And she shall take action.’

  He stood very close to her. Too close, for she could feel the heat of his body on the bare skin of her throat. His voice was hoarse when he answered, and barely above a whisper. ‘Perhaps I shall not have to remove you. It will be better if you decide to remove yourself. For you must realise that it is dangerous for you to remain under this roof with me. Time will tell if you truly care so much for my children that you are willing to risk your honour to teach them.’

  And, for a moment, she knew how Timothy Colton had been able to escape justice. For when he stared at her with those bottomless dark eyes, his threats against her felt more like promises of illicit pleasure from a man who did not care for law or sin. The sort of man who would have what he wanted, and the whole world be damned. She put her hand to his chest and pushed him away, breaking the spell of his gaze. ‘I care for your children, Lord Colton, and my honour as well. But I do not now, nor will I ever, care for you. Not for your title, your money or your designs upon me.’

  And then she turned and fled the room, before he could see that she was lying, yet again.

  As the door closed, Tim reached out to grab his desk for support. It was as though her sudden absence had left him physically weakened. He should not have even invited her into this room, where they were alone and the door was closed. And he certainly should not have touched her. He had meant to give her a stern warning, or dismiss her without one. For though the children seemed to have no complaints, what good was a teacher who knew less than her students?

  But in the absence of prying eyes, his mind had filled with strange fantasies. He had wanted to see the skin of her throat, and the bared swell of her breasts above the gown. And the foolish girl had done nothing to stop him. She had trusted her virtue to his fragile self-control.

  He wished he could write to Penny and explain the problem. If she would not permit him the care of his own children, then at least she could show mercy and remove Miss Collins from his house. Send him another woman who was less attractive, older, more timid. Someone who did not stare into his soul with her cat-like green eyes, as though daring him to kiss her.

  He stared at the door that she’d slammed behind her and let his lust settle into a bone-deep longing. He was not thinking rationally if he’d consider, even for a moment, admitting to the Duchess that he was unable to master his reactions to Miss Collins.

  But it did not matter how he felt. After what had happened with Clare, he did not deserve female company. Better to lock himself in the conservatory, far away from temptation and the new governess. For he’d come to believe that the two things were one and the same
.

  Chapter Six

  Daphne opened the window, desperate to catch the last breath of summer air. She could see by the falling leaves that the season was almost done with its change. After the interview of the previous day, she had decided to postpone searching the ground floor for a time. It would be best to stay away from Timothy Colton, until his interest waned. She had returned to wearing Miss Collins’s cast-off clothes to forestall any further harassment. But the stiffness and starchiness of them felt unnatural against her skin, just as Miss Collins’s job did on her mind. Why must they stay in the boring old schoolroom, when there was so little time left to play before winter came?

  After the night’s rain, the room was stuffy and damp in a way that the garden would not be, for the sun had dried the grass and was burning off the last mist in the valleys that she could see in the distance. She longed to take out her own sketch pad and draw it, just as Sophie would.

  And then she smiled. She had had thoughts just such as that often enough when she was a child. And there was always a nurse or governess with a stern expression to lay those thoughts to rest and send her back to her books.

  But for now, she was in charge of the classroom, and there was no reason things could not be different.

  ‘Come, children. To the garden. It is too fine a day to be trapped inside.’

  They seemed to hunker down in their desks, as though they expected her to pull them out into the sunshine, against their will. ‘We should stay here,’ Lily said firmly. They were looking at her as though she had failed yet another test, proving herself to be less a true schoolteacher. But what sort of children were they, that they preferred the schoolroom to the trees, on the last fine day of autumn?

  Daphne smiled. ‘We can take our books with us and manage just as well, sitting under a tree. You do have a garden, I am sure. For I saw it as I was entering the house.’

  ‘It is very fine, although better in summer,’ said Edmund, smiling as a point of pride. ‘Father has an amazing selection. Rare plants from America. And the roses of course, in all colours. And the herbs, but everyone has those.’