Beyond the lawns, Isabella could see the shimmering lake and extensive parklands, as well as the newly planted grain fields and numerous herds of grazing cattle and sheep. Clearly The Grange was as productive as it was magnificent.
When the coach finally came to a halt, Isabella was struggling to master her nerves. She chewed her lip in agitation, straightened her bonnet several times, and repeatedly smoothed the folds of her cloak. Suddenly, the carriage door opened. Isabella straightened her bonnet one last time, took a deep breath, and held out her hand.
Jenkins assisted Isabella out of the coach, and she was grateful for his support. Her legs felt stiff from the long hours of confinement in the carriage, and as she paused a moment to stretch her tired limbs, she heard a deep voice call out.
“So you have finally arrived, Jenkins. We were expecting you last night. I was wondering where you had gotten to.”
Isabella did not have to turn around to identify the speaker. She recognized the earl’s voice instantly. With her back still to him, she listened alertly to the steady crunch of his booted feet on the gravel as he approached, silently willing herself to remain calm. When she gauged that the earl stood no more than a few feet from her, Isabella whirled around, hoping to gain the advantage by shocking him with her sudden appearance.
“Good afternoon, my lord,” Isabella exclaimed in a breathless voice.
“Miss Browning.” The earl’s voice was so calm and emotionless that for a moment she thought he must have been informed of her imminent arrival, but she did not think that was possible.
“Did you have a pleasant journey, Jenkins?” the earl inquired conversationally.
Isabella kept a rein on her emotions with an effort. She was relieved the earl had addressed his question to Jenkins, instead of to her, since Isabella doubted she could have equaled the earl’s casual tone. She was determined, however, to follow the earl’s lead and tried to act as nonchalantly as he did at finding her, uninvited and unannounced, at his doorstep.
“The roads were quite passable, my lord,” Jenkins responded to the earl’s inquiry. “Today’s sunshine is succeeding in drying up some of the larger puddles.”
While the earl and his valet exchanged pleasantries, Isabella openly studied him. The earl’s was a sizable, nearly overwhelming presence. Tall, broad of shoulder, and uncommonly handsome, he was a man who easily inflamed a woman’s senses.
Isabella abstractly noted that the pale, tight breeches covering the earl’s powerful thighs were stained with dirt and grass, and his well-worn riding boots were caked with mud. His dark blue jacket was open, and the white linen shirt he wore underneath was unbuttoned at the throat. She could see a sprinkling of dark, curly hair and a glimpse of tanned, muscular chest. It made her feel flushed. Damien St. Lawrence was a truly dashing figure, even in his soiled and half-buttoned clothes.
It would not have been possible to mistake him for a common laborer, even though he was sweating and filthy. The earl’s bearing was commanding, almost regal, and even a bit threatening.
Isabella suddenly felt his gaze upon her, and she lifted her head. She met his frosty silver eyes calmly, with a facade of confidence gained through years of practice.
“Is there somewhere private we may speak, my lord?” Isabella suggested, deciding to take the initiative, since the earl appeared to be content standing in the drive conversing with Jenkins until darkness fell.
“Of course, Miss Browning.”
Mutely, Isabella followed the earl through the heavy oak doors of Whatley Grange. The foyer they entered was enormous in size, with massive pillars and round arches of dark carved oak soaring thirty feet into the air. Isabella’s eyes were immediately drawn upward to the lavish mural that decorated the tops of the high walls and the ceiling. Mythical demons and animals, along with birds, lambs, and lions, were among the figures included in the elaborate design.
The enchanting paintings were unlike anything Isabella had ever seen, but the earl did not allow her time to admire her surroundings. Still wearing her traveling cloak and bonnet, she followed him across the massive hallway. He stopped at the end of a long corridor and opened the wooden door. Peering down expectantly at Isabella, he waited for her to proceed him into the room.
She scurried inside, deciding at once that this must be the earl’s private study. The room had a masculine feel to it, from the sturdy, heavy wooden furniture to the plush, dark-hued carpets and mahogany-paneled walls. A richly carved desk stacked high with piles of papers, correspondence, and ledgers stood in front of a wide bay window. Isabella was relieved with the earl’s choice of room. At least he understood that the reason for her unexpected appearance at his home was business and not social.
The earl politely indicated a seat, but Isabella shook her head. “I’ve been sitting in the carriage all day, my lord. If you have no objections, I prefer to stand.”
“As you wish, Miss Browning,” Damien responded, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms over his chest. He gave no outward sign of his emotions.
Instead, he looked carefully at Isabella. Her sculptured face showed signs of fatigue, but her brilliant violet eyes were sparkling. Damien’s body tightened instinctively in masculine appreciation of her beauty. Surprised and annoyed at the sudden appearance of his baser inclinations, the earl resolutely pushed those feelings aside. “Now that we are alone, perhaps you will be kind enough to explain why you are here?”
Taking a deep breath, Isabella plunged in. “I have come to Whatley Grange in search of a position, my lord. It is my understanding that you have two young children. I would like to offer my services as governess.”
The slight twitching in his jaw revealed his surprise.
“How do you know of my children?”
“Jenkins mentioned them to me,” Isabella responded carefully. “You have two children, a girl and a boy. Six and three years old, I believe. Jenkins also said they did not have a governess. I was hoping you might consider me for the post.”
“I am not looking for a governess, Miss Browning,” the earl declared flatly.
His answer was precisely what she had anticipated, had even come to hope for, and yet for some perverse reason it rankled her. Isabella knew she should calmly accept the earl’s rejection and be on her way, but she could not.
Apprehension flared momentarily in Isabella’s violet eyes before she spoke, but she skillfully hid her feelings of self-doubt. Quietly she listed her qualifications. “I have received an excellent education, my lord. I am fluent in both French and Italian. I have studied Greek, Latin, history, and geography in addition to the more traditional female pursuits of piano, voice, painting, drawing, and several forms of needlework. I also have a sound knowledge of basic arithmetic, English, and French literature and poetry.”
The earl scowled slightly, but Isabella valiantly continued. “Coupled with my extensive education is several years of practical experience. I have served as a governess in households with as few as three and as many as six children under my care.”
“I am sure your qualifications are impeccable, Miss Browning,” the earl replied, grudgingly impressed by Isabella’s accomplishments. “Nevertheless, the fact remains, I am not searching for a governess.”
“But you cannot deny that you need one. Surely you understand the importance of education. It is never to early for children to begin learning.”
He knew she had a valid point. Most noble families engaged a governess to supervise the early education of their children, some when the child was just learning to talk. But the earl’s was hardly a typical household. Damien tried a different approach.
“I strongly doubt you would be comfortable living here, Miss Browning. The Grange is an exceedingly unorthodox household.”
“So I have been given to understand.”
The earl straightened up from his causal pose. “By whom?”
Isabella felt a chill run up her spine, but she did not break their eye contact. “I met Lady Edson at t
he posting inn near Buckingham this morning. She was most anxious to relate some rather bizarre tales about you and your staff. Naturally, I do not believe such malicious gossip.”
“Perhaps you should, Miss Browning.” The earl spoke in an unemotional voice.
Isabella’s color heightened as she remembered Lady Edson’s preposterous accusations claiming that the earl impregnated three female members of his staff. Even though she felt certain these rumors were lies, she would have liked to hear the earl deny them, but Isabella knew she lacked the courage to directly confront him on such an indelicate personal subject.
“Idle gossip does not interest me, my lord,” Isabella declared truthfully. “I am more concerned about securing a position.”
“After what happened between us yesterday morning, I am very surprised you would wish to work for me,” the earl said in a soft voice.
Isabella lowered her eyes, not wanting him to see how near the mark his words hit. “I bear you no ill feelings, my lord. Since our unfortunate incident, other individuals have commented on my resemblance to Emmeline. In retrospect, I have come to the conclusion that you made an honest mistake.”
The earl’s mouth formed a tight line. “If you worked for me, Miss Browning, your reputation would in all likelihood be severely compromised, perhaps even ruined irreparably.”
Isabella shrugged philosophically. “A sterling reputation does not provide an adequate living, my lord. I need this job. Badly.”
Damien felt a twinge of guilt, knowing he was responsible for her current unemployed status, but he ignored it. “Have you nowhere else to go, Miss Browning?”
“My stepbrothers are scattered throughout the country. It has been years since we’ve corresponded. I’m not precisely certain of their current direction.” Isabella strove for lightness. “I suppose my grandfather could be forced to tolerate my presence for a while. However, the earl’s generosity is rather limited in my case. I prefer not to rely on it.”
“The earl? Your grandfather is an earl? Yet you insist you must earn your living as a governess.”
Isabella almost groaned out loud at her unintentional slip. She did not want him finding out about her parentage. It was too deep a wound, too personal a hurt.
“My maternal grandfather is the Earl of Barton. He and my mother were estranged before I was born. I did not even know of his existence until I was sent to live at his estate in York when I was seventeen. After staying there for three years, I took my first position as a governess. It was my only means of escape.”
Damien stroked his chin thoughtfully at her revelations. She was obviously alienated from her stepbrothers, and he heard the subtle contempt in Isabella’s voice when she spoke of her grandfather. He got the distinct impression that if he asked her additional questions concerning her family and her past, she would truthfully answer him, but he did not press the point. It was none of his business, even if she did become governess to his children.
Damien stopped short when he realized where his thoughts were taking him. Could he actually be seriously considering offering her a job? The benefits to his children aside, did he really want this enchanting, disturbing creature living under his roof?
“I still find it difficult to believe you do not have grave misgivings about working for me, Miss Browning.”
“I would not be here if I did, my lord,” Isabella stated softly, surprising them both with her answer.
Damien considered her carefully as Isabella anxiously awaited his response. He supposed she could have tried to shame him into offering her a job, since he was ultimately responsible for her losing her position with her former employers. She might have pleaded with him or even wept over her predicament, although years of listening to Emmeline’s crying on cue had hardened the earl against a woman’s tears. But she had done none of these things. Instead she forgave him for his boorish actions. Damien made his decision.
“You are hired, Miss Browning.”
The smile she gave him was dazzling. “Thank you, my lord. I promise you will not regret this decision.”
“I sincerely hope you are right, Miss Browning,” Damien replied with a frown, determined to repress the odd stirring he felt in his chest at her enchanting smile. The very last thing he needed was an attraction to his children’s new governess. “I am sure you are tired from your long journey. I shall instruct our housekeeper, Mrs. Amberly, to show you to your room immediately.” He reached out and pulled the bell cord to summon the housekeeper.
Isabella hesitated. “I would like to meet the children first, please.”
Damien’s frown deepened. This was an unexpected request. “I am certain tomorrow will be soon enough for introductions, Miss Browning. Besides, I wish to speak privately to my son and daughter before you meet.” The earl reached over and pulled hard on the bell cord a second time, not about to reveal that he had no idea where his children were at the moment.
Isabella curtly nodded her head in acquiescence. Damien could tell she was displeased by his reply, but with an effort she held her tongue.
After an uncomfortably long, silent wait, the earl’s summons was finally answered. A short, dour-faced elderly woman entered the study and was introduced to Isabella as the housekeeper, Mrs. Amberly. The women exited the study as Jenkins entered it, and Isabella gave the valet a warm smile when they passed in the doorway.
“Judging by the scowl on Mrs. Amberly’s face and the sweetness of Miss Browning’s smile, I assume you have engaged a governess,” the valet remarked the moment the women were gone.
“Stop looking so smug, Jenkins,” the earl warned. “I can clearly see your fine hand in all of this. And I intend to hold you personally responsible if this little arrangement blows up in my face.”
Jenkins appeared unimpressed by the threat. “You worry too much. I predict the entire household will benefit from Miss Browning’s presence, not just the children.”
“Hmmmm.” The earl was not convinced. “And speaking of my children, Jenkins, I require your assistance in tracking them down. It will be necessary for me to have a long talk with Ian and Catherine before they are introduced to Miss Browning tomorrow morning and I have no inkling as to their whereabouts.”
“They are most likely down at the stables with Fred,” Jenkins said. “I’ll tell them you want to speak with them.”
Giving the earl an exaggerated bow, Jenkins left the study with a smug grin of satisfaction on his face.
Isabella dutifully followed Mrs. Amberly up the long, winding staircase, attempting several times to engage the housekeeper in conversation. Her friendly overtures were met with unintelligible grunts and Isabella quickly abandoned her efforts. A less than warm welcome to a household was not an unfamiliar experience for her.
After taking numerous twists and turns down the long, narrow corridors, they finally reached their destination. Isabella glanced suspiciously at the housekeeper. The route they had taken seemed deliberately designed to disorient her, making it difficult, if not impossible, for Isabella to find the way back on her own.
The bedchamber was shrouded in darkness as they entered. Mrs. Amberly walked gingerly across the room, flinging back the heavy draperies and opening the leaded glass windows. Brilliant sunlight flooded the room, and the crisp, fresh air was a welcome relief from the musty odor. Isabella wondered if it would be necessary to sleep with her window wide open to dissipate the unpleasant smell.
Looking beyond the dust and grime, Isabella could clearly see that this had been an impressive room at one time. The heavy brocade draperies were a deep rose color and matched the delicate silk hangings around the canopied four-poster bed. The furnishings were of a style popular fifty years ago, but they were rich and elegant. The chairs and chaise were obviously designed for a woman; they were daintily proportioned and covered in silk patterned with blue, pink, and cream roses. The carpets echoed the same colors.
“There appears to have been a misunderstanding, Mrs. Amberly,” Isabella said, waving he
r hand at the misty particles of dust floating in the late afternoon sunlight.
“I should be occupying a bedchamber next to the children’s sleeping quarters. I am their new governess.”
“There is no mistake, miss,” Mrs. Amberly insisted briskly. Pointing diagonally across the hall, the housekeeper announced, “The children sleep in that bedchamber. The majority of the rooms on the upper floors are closed off. They haven’t been used in years.”
“If you’re certain the earl has no objections,” Isabella said slowly, “this room will do nicely once it has been properly cleaned.”
Mrs. Amberly stiffened noticeably. “There is no time for cleaning today, miss,” the housekeeper responded in a voice that brooked no argument. “I’ll send one of the housemaids up with bed linens when I get a chance. That’s the best I can do. If you have a complaint, I suggest you speak directly to Lord Saunders. His bedchamber is next to the children’s.” With a mocking smile on her thin lips, Mrs. Amberly left the room, leaving Isabella no opportunity to marshal a response.
The earl’s bedchamber was across from her own! Isabella felt a moment of unbridled panic, but soon convinced herself she was overreacting. Mrs. Amberly had already explained that most of the upper floors of the house were closed up. And it was important that she sleep near the children. It was merely a coincidence the children happened to sleep next to their attractive, imposing father.
Wasn’t it?
By the time the maid arrived with her bed linens, Isabella had restored her sense equilibrium. She was annoyed with herself for allowing her strange feelings about the earl and the vicious gossiping of Lady Edson to influence her common sense.
His Wicked Embrace Page 7