by Aston, Alexa
She stood and the men followed suit. “I’ll keep that in mind in case governessing doesn’t work out for me,” she said lightly, her magnificent green eyes lighting with mirth.
After she left, Gray asked, “I haven’t seen any records for salaries. How much is Miss Nott paid?”
Bonham named a figure and Gray winced. “Only that per quarter?”
“No, sir. That is per annum.”
“That’s ridiculous. Especially with all she’s done to help get the estate into shape. Triple that figure—and that is what she should earn each quarter.”
“Of course, sir. I can prepare a list for you of the other servants’ compensation.”
“Do so. I need to know if they’re as severely underpaid, as well.”
The men spoke of a few other matters and then Bonham took his leave. They arranged for the Grayson coach to be at his office at nine o’clock the day after tomorrow in order to ferry back prospective workers to be interviewed. After shaking hands, Bonham departed, leaving Gray alone—but not for long.
Smith appeared again. “Mrs. Rook would like to discuss something with you, Mr. Grayson.”
“I can see her now.”
Within minutes, the rotund cook with abundant white hair appeared. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Grayson.”
“What’s this about, Mrs. Rook? Menus? Until we hire a housekeeper, you’re free to prepare what you like. I’ve never been particular and after army rations for the last several years, I’m happy with anything you put on my plate.”
“Miss Nott has seen to the menus until now. I’d prefer she keep doing so. Such a lovely young woman, Miss Nott.”
“Anything else?” he asked.
“I’d like to see what time you’d like dinner served each evening, Mr. Grayson. It will only be you.”
“We’re in the country, Mrs. Rook. Early is better for me. I know my brother preferred dinner at eight but you can push it up an hour at least. No, let’s say half-past six. That will allow the servants to eat at a decent hour and get to bed.”
The cook beamed. “Thank you, sir. We’ll start tonight. In the small dining room, if that suits you. Let me know if there’s anything you fancy. It’s good to have you home again. You’ve been missed.”
Gray didn’t know about that. He didn’t think of Gray Manor as home anymore. He was glad he’d informed Bonham of his plan to remain in London most of the year. He could supervise things from there easily.
It would also keep the delectable Miss Nott out of his sphere.
He returned to the desk and sat at it, contemplating the scope of the various projects that would soon begin. Once they’d begun and he had the right staff in place, he would retreat to London. It would be easy to come down periodically to check on things. Besides, with the wonderful Miss Nott in residence, he wouldn’t be needed that much.
The clock’s chiming let him know it was half-past six and he went to the smaller of Gray Manor’s dining rooms. Seating himself, a footman served him the first course of soup. After a few spoonfuls, he thought it would be lonely each night dining alone. Turning to the footman, he asked, “Does Miss Nott eat with the other servants?”
The footman shook his head. “No, sir. Mrs. Rook sends a tray to her room each evening. It’s not like a governess eats with the others. They never have.”
Once again, Gray felt sorry for her, a woman caught between two worlds of upper and lower, fitting in neither place. He thought of how lonely she must be and how she’d mentioned missing her father every day. He’d been lucky enough to have Reid and Burke in his life for years on a daily basis and couldn’t fathom how isolated Miss Nott had been for her entire adult life.
“Send for her,” he ordered. “Let Mrs. Rook know that Miss Nott will be dining with me each evening while I’m in residence.”
Startled, the footman said, “Yes, sir. I’ll see to it now.”
Gray went ahead and had almost finished his soup when Miss Nott arrived. The color was high in her cheeks and for the first time since he’d met her, she looked uncertain of herself.
“You’ve asked me to dine with you tonight, Mr. Grayson?”
“Yes. And every night.” He indicated the chair on his right. “Have a seat, Miss Nott.”
She moved toward it but remained standing. “I’m not sure if this is quite appropriate.”
“Why not? You have to eat. So do I. You’re not eating with the other servants.”
“No, Mrs. Rook has a tray brought to my room for the evening meal.”
“I’m alone. You are, too. After a day spent in the company of children, I would think you would long for some adult conversation. I would like that, as well, Miss Nott. Did you eat with the duchess when you served as her companion?”
“Yes, but that was different,” she said reluctantly.
“How so?”
The blush on her cheeks deepened. “It just was,” she said stubbornly.
Gray dug in his heels, determined to win this small battle. “I’d prefer to have companionship during dinner. We will be able to talk of your lists and what progress is being made inside the house and out on the estate.” Looking to lure her in, he added, “By dining together and discussing it then, it wouldn’t take away any time from your pupils during the day.”
She thought a moment and then conceded. “It would be an efficient use of time.”
With that, the footman came and pulled the chair from the table and Miss Nott seated herself.
“See to the next course,” Gray said and the footman removed his soup bowl and left the room. Looking to the governess, he said, “Dinner will be at half-past six each evening. That way, it won’t conflict with your reading hour with Harriet and Jane.”
“Thank you. It’s my favorite part of the day,” she shared. “That and strolling through the gardens after dinner.” She paused. “I hope you don’t mind that I make use of them.”
“Not at all. It’s been many years since I walked through them myself.” He smiled. “Would you allow me to accompany you tonight?”
Chapter Ten
Charlotte didn’t know what to say. Already, Mr. Grayson had flustered her. She rarely felt out of control in any situation but this man had her at sixes and sevens. Her time in Gray Manor’s gardens had come to be her haven, a place away from all of the demands placed upon her. She drank in the solitude while enjoying a bit of nature. Still, she didn’t want to seem churlish. After all, it was the family garden. And Mr. Grayson had proven to be an enigma, one Charlotte was interested in solving.
“Yes, I’d be delighted to have your company this evening,” she replied, her attention focused on the empty spot in front of her. She didn’t trust herself to look into his hypnotic eyes.
The footman returned with their next course and also brought her a wine glass. He poured the liquid for her and then stepped back toward the wall. At least someone else would be present during their evening meals together. Then she almost laughed. Mr. Grayson didn’t view her as a woman. It wasn’t as if she were alone with him and tongues would wag. She was the family governess. No more, no less. He’d also promised to be a gentleman with her. While she appreciated his words, a small part of her longed for more from him. He was the kind of man any woman of the ton would have been attracted to, with his handsome looks and tall, broad frame. The kind of man Charlotte had thought she would one day wed and have children with.
She forced such idle thoughts from her mind. She was employed by Mr. Grayson. They were to discuss business and the children. They had no relationship beyond that—and never would.
“Shall we talk about the upcoming interviews?” she asked. “What are you looking for in the new housekeeper and estate manager?”
They spent the rest of dinner going over the things that he felt were most important for both positions, as well as the fact that he wanted someone with experience assuming both posts.
“I’m not saying they would have to have run something as large as Gray Manor but I can�
�t see elevating someone unless they truly know what they’re doing. Things have been lax for far too long as is it. The estate needs someone dependable. A person who can commit to serving the family indefinitely.”
By now, they’d finished eating and the footman brought a tray with port and a cigar. Mr. Grayson waved it away.
“None for me. I’ve never been one who enjoyed a cigar.”
Her father had been much the same, not liking the way tobacco lingered on his clothes and stained his teeth. Charlotte almost mentioned it and bit her tongue. She was a governess now. It did no good to speak of things from long ago.
The footman removed the tray from the room and Mr. Grayson helped her from her chair.
“Are you still interested in a stroll through the gardens?” he asked.
“Yes. I’d like that.”
They went outside. The warmth of the August day still lingered in the night air as they reached the gardens. Suddenly, he took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. Surprise filled her. For a moment, she closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet smell of roses, wishing things could be different. Charlotte opened her eyes and almost withdrew her hand but thought it would be rude after he’d made an effort to treat her graciously.
Strolling down the paths, he asked her about the various flowers. She pointed out gladioli, delphiniums, and dahlias and explained how all were mid-to-late summer flowers.
“You enjoy gardening?” he asked. “You seem quite knowledgeable on the topic.”
She had once upon a time but that time was long gone.
“My father liked flowers. He taught me about them.” Let him think her father was a gardener on some lofty estate. The truth, if it came out, would hurt too much. She had seen respect in his eyes for her knowledge. She couldn’t bear to see it replaced by pity at how she’d fallen in society.
“My father taught me nothing about this estate. As a second son, I was never destined to be in charge and gain the title. I was always meant for the army. That’s why all of this seems so foreign to me. Seymour was brought up knowing he would become the earl someday. Unfortunately, my brother was more interested in the fortune that came with the title and not much for running an estate.”
“I know you haven’t had the time but I do want you to examine the ledgers closely.”
“What am I to look for? I told you I enjoy numbers but it would help me to know what you wish me to see.”
Charlotte hesitated. If she were wrong, she wouldn’t want to have accused a man falsely. “Just let the numbers speak to you, Mr. Grayson. If you see something amiss, then we may discuss it.”
“You’re speaking in riddles, Miss Nott,” he said, exasperation apparent in his voice.
She shrugged. “Then we’ll see how skilled you are at solving riddles.”
He laughed. The sound was rich and vibrant and it made her wish to always make him laugh.
“You are certainly a governess, Madam, even when conversing with adults.”
She knew he meant to tease her but his words pained her all the same. It just let Charlotte know how far she was from the almost-debutante she had been. Nowadays, she was practical. Competent. Useful. Wearing her plain clothes. No jewelry. No ribbons in her hair. She was as far away from that naïve schoolgirl than she’d ever been.
Mr. Grayson halted and turned to her. “Have I upset you in some way, Miss Nott?”
She would have to watch herself. This man was much too observant. “No, Mr. Grayson. Not at all. Once a governess, always a governess, I suppose. Even with adults. I will try to refrain from attempting to teach you lessons.”
Without warning, his large hands cupped her cheeks. Charlotte’s heart slammed against her ribs. She ceased to breathe as his thumbs stroked her face gently.
“I will always be happy to learn your lessons, Miss Nott. You have much to teach me. I only wish I could return the favor.”
He could—if he kissed her.
Charlotte had only been kissed by that despicable viscount who slobbered all over her. She thought she’d never want a man close to her again. Never want a kiss if that’s what it was like. But now, here, suddenly everything had changed. Danforth Grayson caused so many conflicting emotions within her. She wanted to throw herself at him. She wanted to kiss him.
“I am grateful for how you’ve cared for the children,” he said softly, his blue eyes drawing her in.
“I . . . am only doing what I was hired to do,” she said breathlessly.
“No,” he contradicted. “You might have been hired to teach grammar and history but you are doing much more for them. You show interest in them as people. You make them see their worth after no adult has done so.” He smiled gently. “I would say you love them, Miss Nott, and that they love you.”
She swallowed hard, her gaze locked with his. “I do my best. And I do love them,” she admitted. “They are sometimes a mess but all three are loveable in their own way.”
Something in his eyes changed and she sucked in a quick breath.
He was going to kiss her.
And he did.
It was nothing like Viscount Waverly’s kiss had been. This was soft. So soft. Like a gentle breeze brushing against her lips. Warmth flooded her. Then he stopped. His lips moved to her brow and pressed against it tenderly. His hands fell from her face and he stepped back. Dazed, Charlotte looked up at him.
And saw regret.
“I’m sorry, Miss Nott,” he apologized, his body stiffening. “I’m not sure what overtook me. I merely wished to show you my gratitude for all you have done for my nephew and nieces.” He paused. “I’m not like the men you spoke of. I would never—”
“I know,” she said, placing a hand on his forearm. “I take no offense, Mr. Grayson.” She dropped her hand. “We care for the children. We have that in common. I’m pleased to see you concerned for their welfare.”
“It won’t happen again,” he said brusquely. “Shall we return to the house? I wish to pen a note to the Duke of Gilford and ask him for recommendations regarding a physician that might come to see Rodger.”
“Of course,” Charlotte said and turned.
He did not take her arm this time as they returned to the house. She knew he wouldn’t again and understood. They’d shared something for a brief moment that would never be repeated. Her heart ached but she couldn’t risk her future and this post by giving in to what she was feeling. Begging him to kiss her again. She’d already seen the remorse he carried and wouldn’t trouble him.
“Let the duke know of the earl’s frequent shortness of breath and coughing, especially at night. That his chest tightens and pains him, especially when he is wheezing.”
“That’s good to know. I’ll be sure to let His Grace understand the severity of Rodger’s complaints.”
They entered the house and Charlotte said, “Good night.” She quickly made her way up the flights of stairs until she reached the floor where the schoolroom was. Her chamber was just beyond it. Opening the door, she entered and closed it, leaning heavily against it. The tips of her fingers touched her lips. Where his lips had been. As tears streamed down her cheeks, she gave in to the tremendous yearning that ran through her. She went to the bed and curled up, her fist against her mouth, keeping the sobs inside.
She would think about this once only and never again.
*
Why the bloody hell had he kissed her?
Gray sat at the desk, pulling out parchment and ink, cursing himself.
He shouldn’t have kissed her. He didn’t mean to. It had just happened. Without thinking, his hands had gone to her face. The smooth skin felt like silk and he longed to caress it. To caress more than her face. He wanted to see what lay beneath the shapeless, colorless gowns she wore. He longed to run his hands along her gentle curves. Kiss his way from her head to her toes and back up again.
Their kiss had been chaste. A mere brushing of his lips against hers. And a moment of reverence as he kissed her brow. Gray longed to ta
ste her and had fought those urges. He’d promised her he would be a gentleman and yet the first time they were truly alone, he’d been the exact opposite.
He wondered if she could ever trust him again. She’d been gracious. Understanding. She hadn’t seemed panicked by his actions or outraged. She’d been the one to reassure him. It felt as if he’d betrayed her and yet at the same time, he wanted more. He wanted all of her. Which was ridiculous. He couldn’t compromise the family governess. He’d have to marry her if he did and Gray never wished to marry. He never wanted to feel responsible for a woman. Didn’t want one clinging to him, wanting his protection. Wanting his love. Wanting more than he had to give.
He had nothing left to give. All emotions had been left on the battlefield. He was at Gray Manor to see to the running of the estate and that the children were in good hands. They were, with Miss Nott. She would not only feed their minds but their souls. She would lavish the love on them they desperately needed. While Gray liked all three a good deal already, he didn’t want to become close to them. Didn’t want to care for them. He wanted them to remain at a distance. Not look at him with worshipful eyes. He wasn’t worthy of it.
Reaching for a quill, he quickly wrote to Reid’s father, explaining the situation from him leaving the army to his new responsibilities at Gray Manor, including the children. He wrote in-depth of his nephew’s ailments and how the asthma had worsened since Gray had last seen the boy five years earlier. He begged the duke to help him find a physician that might bring relief, if not a cure, for Rodger.
He sealed the letter, using the Crampton ring he found inside the desk. Gray supposed Seymour had grown too large to wear it and kept it here for convenience. He left the message on a tray in the foyer, where Masters would see to its delivery in the morning. Or Smith, he supposed. It would be prudent to follow up and make sure the message reached its destination.
With that, he made his way to the stables. Though it was growing dark, he thought about riding to Wilton, the nearest village. There he could lose himself in drink.
And maybe a woman.