“Does your aunt know you’re here?”
“She passed away a short time ago. The school is now closed.”
“Humph. So there will be no future graduates from the Beasley Governess Academy?” He drew nearer, continuing to hold her gaze. What he looked for she couldn’t begin to guess.
She lifted her chin, relieved she no longer had anything to hide. “No, my lord. Your best hope is to hire a former graduate, though I understand they’re difficult to find.”
“Interesting.” He crossed the room and pulled the bell.
Amelia waited for whoever answered his summons to show her the door, her thoughts on what to do next. If she walked to the train station, she’d save some money. She would find a discarded news sheet and search the adverts for possible employment before she went to her mother’s. That way, she could arrive with some hope rather than the despair that filled her now.
A maid entered the room with two young children at her side, much to Amelia’s surprise. The earl held out his hands and the children stepped forward to take them then faced Amelia as the maid quit the room.
“This is Charlotte.” The girl’s green eyes looked too big for her thin face. She stared at Amelia with wariness. Her golden hair was fastened with a blue bow and hung in waves down her back. A black band was wrapped around her upper arm, a sign of mourning.
“And this is Ronald.” Charlotte’s brother had the same large green eyes as his sister’s in a rounder face. One rebellious lock of dark blond hair stood upright on the crown of his head.
Both watched her carefully, their expressions far too serious for children their age.
“How nice to meet both of you,” Amelia said.
Their somber faces along with those black armbands squeezed her heart. She bent down to look them in the eye. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss. My father passed when I was fourteen years of age. Losing someone you love is difficult.” How she’d hated it when people avoided the topic. As if not mentioning it made it go away.
“Thank you. Do you like dolls?” the little girl asked in a quiet voice.
“Yes, I do. Do you?”
She nodded. “I have two.”
“Do you know how to ride a pony?” the boy asked with skepticism, as if not to be outdone by his sister.
“I do, though I haven’t done so in many years.” Memories of better days when her father still lived, and all had been good in her world, filled her. She hoped the children’s memories brought them the same comfort. “Do you enjoy riding?”
The boy shrugged then glanced up at his grandfather. “I don’t know. I think I used to, but I can’t quite remember. I should like to try again though.”
“What else do you enjoy doing?” Amelia asked.
“I like to draw, but neither of us like lessons very much,” the little girl whispered as if sharing a secret. “Especially French.”
“I see.” Amelia glanced at the earl to see his reaction to his granddaughter’s admission, but his expression revealed little. “French can be a challenge. The secret is to make it fun.” Her father had made a game of conjugations, taking some of the tedious memorization from it.
“Our grandfather believes lessons should only take a small part of our day,” Charlotte continued, eyes narrowed. “Do you agree?”
“That is up to your family.” Amelia risked another brief look at the earl who stared out the window as if his thoughts were elsewhere. “However, there are many ways for you to learn, not just through lessons conducted in the schoolroom.”
The earl cleared his throat, and Amelia straightened, her hands folded before her. Why had he introduced her to the children? Did she still have a chance to win the position even after she’d told him the truth?
“Children?” he asked.
Charlotte and Ronald shared a long look, communicating silently as siblings often did. Then both nodded.
“Excellent,” he said. “Why don’t you show your new governess the schoolroom?”
Amelia gasped with surprise, staring at the earl to determine if he jested.
The children smiled as they took her hands and pulled her toward the door. She glanced over her shoulder at the earl, and he nodded with approval, a smile on his lips.
Her heart thudded with excitement, hardly able to believe that she had the position after all. Yet she couldn’t help but pause to ask, “What of the viscount?”
“Don’t worry about my son. I’ll share the details of our discussion with him.”
Though his statement caused a niggle of worry to form, her happiness quickly overshadowed it. She’d told the truth and still had the position—relief made her knees weak. She couldn’t wait to begin.
Chapter Two
“The national passion for gambling...and the excitement of seeing this or that ‘event’ decided has increased chiefly because the people have much more leisure now than of yore.”
~The Seven Curses of London
Christopher Easton, Viscount Beaumont, arrived home and handed the butler his hat and gloves, his thoughts still whirling with what he’d just learned. After nearly a year of no contact, his late sister’s father-in-law had shared disturbing news suggesting Christopher was right to believe his sister’s death hadn’t been a simple accident.
“Did all go well?”
Dauber had been with his family for as long as Christopher could remember and knew all their secrets yet surprisingly remained in their employ, a fact for which Christopher was grateful.
When his older sister, Margaret, and her husband, Edward, had been killed in a cabriolet accident over a year ago, Christopher had been stunned. As the Millstone heir, Edward had always been the cautious sort. The idea of him driving recklessly on a narrow lane in a vehicle known to tip easily with Margaret at his side had been difficult to believe. But from what little evidence the police had gathered, that was what had happened.
Christopher sighed. “The Marquess of Millstone allowed me to have the letter demanding payment but was reluctant to share much else.”
“Blackmail is a nasty business, but wasn’t he the one who asked for your assistance?”
“Indeed. Though it seems he doesn’t intend to tell me all he knows about what Viscount Wright was involved in prior to his death.” Millstone was only willing to provide information on a need-to-know basis. As far as the marquess was concerned, no one needed to know anything about his son’s activities.
But in Christopher’s opinion, the arrival of a letter threatening to reveal Edward’s gambling habits changed the marquess’s need for privacy. Millstone refused to contact the authorities, insisting that if Christopher couldn’t resolve the issue, he’d pay for the blackmailer’s silence.
After learning about the blackmail letter, Christopher suspected Edward’s gambling had led to the accident in some way. What had upset Edward so much that he would do something so out of character? Christopher needed to know not just for himself but for the children who would surely ask one day.
Unfortunately, Millstone had refused Christopher’s request after the funerals to look over Edward’s desk for a hint of anything that had been amiss in the days leading up to the accident. He hadn’t been willing to speak about his son or the terrible day that took his life until the arrival of the threatening letter a year later.
Nor had the marquess replied to numerous invitations to visit his grandchildren, which was a shame. Christopher could only surmise seeing them was too painful for the lord.
“There are a few details in the letter that might help track down who sent it. At least I have a starting point.” The letter was tucked in his waistcoat so he could study it further though he’d practically had to pry it out of the marquess’s hands.
Christopher already suspected Edward had developed a gambling habit thanks to a remark he’d overheard from one of Edward’s friends just over a month ago. Since then, he’d spent what little spare time he had trying to find out more.
He’d have to delay his investigat
ion until he hired a new governess. Only then would he feel comfortable being away from home as often as was necessary to get to the truth of the matter. His father’s sometimes erratic behavior made Christopher reluctant to be gone for more than a few hours at a time, particularly since Charlotte and Ronald had come to live with them.
With luck, he’d soon receive details from the governess academy as to when their applicant would be available for an interview. Then the children would have someone in their lives on whom they could rely. The two previous governesses hadn’t lasted more than a month each, due in a large part to his father.
Christopher was determined to make certain that didn’t happen again. He knew firsthand that living in this house wasn’t easy, but the children needed stability in their lives, especially after losing their parents.
The earl was brilliant but eccentric, an inventor of sorts. His odd behavior could be difficult to overlook at times. He didn’t always make sense nor did his actions. Christopher worried Charlotte and Ronald would be adversely affected by his idiosyncrasies, something Christopher had struggled with during his own childhood.
Some days, it required at least two of the staff to convince his father to dress for the day. He kept odd hours and thought nothing of interrupting others’ schedules. He’d left candles burning unattended, causing three minor fires.
The last governess stated her nerves couldn’t take the earl popping into the schoolroom whenever the mood struck him, offering advice she felt was inappropriate and was certainly unwanted.
Aunt Eloise, his father’s younger sister who also lived with them, was traveling abroad but was expected back soon. Not that she was much assistance with his father or the children, but having her home provided an additional female presence that might reassure the next governess.
Now that Millstone wanted Christopher’s help, the situation was even more imperative. He needed someone with Charlotte and Ronald on whom he could rely. A steadfast, calm individual experienced in a variety of unusual circumstances. Then he could assist the marquess and perhaps discover what had happened on the day of the accident.
“Criminals usually reveal themselves if given enough time,” Dauber said.
“A lack of time is part of the problem. Patience is not a common trait of a blackmailer.” The person promised to send another letter with details of his demand soon. Christopher supposed the first letter had been vague with the hope of causing worry, making the marquess more likely to comply with the demands that would surely follow. He needed to discover as much as he could before the next letter arrived. “How is Father this morning?”
The butler frowned. “Unfortunately, we have a situation that requires your attention.”
Christopher stilled. “I was gone for less than two hours. What’s happened?”
“Miss Amelia Tippin arrived from the Beasley Governess Academy. The earl interviewed her.”
“Oh no.” An experienced applicant from the prestigious school was his best hope. He could only guess what his father had said to the woman. His stomach dropped at the thought. “Is she still here?”
“Yes, she’s in the schoolroom. But—”
Christopher didn’t wait to hear more. He dashed up the three flights of stairs to the nursery, hoping he could find a way to salvage the situation.
The servants had watched over the children since the last governess left well over a month ago. But they already had their hands full with their regular duties and his father. After hiring the right governess, he intended to send her and his niece and nephew to live at the country estate.
They’d have room to roam, fresh air to breathe, and plenty to keep them busy. He’d make certain Ronald had the pony he wanted, and one for Charlotte as well, along with a new doll. They’d be away from his father’s unpredictability and form a routine that would allow them to thrive.
The house wouldn’t be the same without them, but he had no doubt his plan was for the best. They deserved to have as perfect of a childhood as he could provide, assuming he hired the right governess.
A feminine chuckle reached his ears as he arrived at the closed nursery door, and he knew for a fact it wasn’t Charlotte’s.
He opened the door to see a young woman standing near the window where sunlight streamed in, creating a halo of sorts around her. Her dark brown hair was pulled back tightly and though it should’ve looked severe, instead it revealed her smooth complexion and even features. The hint of pink on her cheeks added to her beauty. Blue eyes that appeared almost too big for her face sparkled in the sunlight and were framed by long lashes and dark brows.
Her looks distracted him momentarily from the fact that she stood on one foot with her knee raised and an arm in the air.
Certain she couldn’t be the experienced governess he’d requested he searched the room for Miss Tippin but his father, Charlotte, and Ronald were the only other occupants. All three held the same pose as the woman, staring at him with grins that matched hers.
“Uncle Christopher, we’re learning French.” Ronald’s enthusiasm for a subject he detested added to Christopher’s confusion.
His gaze sought the stranger’s again, trying to make sense of the situation. He’d expected to find an older woman on the verge of fleeing after enduring absurd, possibly inappropriate questions from his father. Instead, this woman was young, far too attractive, and standing in a ridiculous pose that suggested she had no intention of leaving.
As he stared, her joy quickly faded. She straightened, her pleasure replaced by a wariness he didn’t care for, especially since he was the cause of it. Christopher frowned as he wasn’t normally the member of his household who caused concern.
She looked at his father, then back at him, then again at his father as if expecting...
What? He couldn’t imagine. Relying on his father for anything was a gamble not worth taking.
Charlotte walked forward to take his hand. “Uncle, come and meet our new governess.”
He stared at his niece in disbelief. How had this come to pass?
The woman brushed her hands along her skirts as if to smooth them and then quickly curtsied. “I’m pleased to meet you, my lord.”
“I wasn’t aware I hired a governess,” he said, unable to keep the irritation from his voice.
The woman’s blue eyes went wider if that were possible. “I spoke to your father.”
“I’m afraid his opinion doesn’t matter.”
“Here now,” his father sputtered. “Miss Tippin and I came to an understanding.”
The woman in question looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I’m terribly sorry if my presence is causing an issue.” She sent another worried glance at his father then pursed her lips, giving Christopher the impression that she didn’t approve of his behavior toward his father. “I understood from your letter that you were in need of a governess.”
Christopher ran a hand through his hair in frustration even as Charlotte tugged his other one. “It’s all right, Uncle. Ronald and I agreed that we should keep her.”
“So did grandfather,” Ronald added. “We each got a vote.”
“How democratic of you.” Christopher returned his attention to Miss Tippin. “Why don’t we have a few words in private before this goes any further?”
“Of course, my lord.”
“I’ll accompany you.” His father strode toward the bellpull.
Christopher gritted his teeth. “That won’t be necessary, Father.”
“Nonsense. Happy to help.”
Christopher gave up and gestured toward the door. “Shall we, Miss Tippin?”
She preceded him to the door only to stop short at the sight of Sally, the maid, answering the summons.
“You rang, my lord?” she asked.
“Would you stay with the children for a few minutes?” Christopher asked, resigned to his father joining them.
She nodded and bustled into room, a smile on her face as she greeted the children.
“Au revoir,” Ro
nald called out as they left.
Christopher glanced back at the boy in surprise before leading the way down to his library with Miss Tippin and his father following close behind.
His father knew how important the position of governess was to their household. Why had he taken it upon himself to interview her? Heaven knew what he’d told her. But Christopher’s biggest concern was her obvious lack of experience. He wanted a governess of more advanced years who had the skills and knowledge to be a steady guide for the children.
He opened the door of his library to allow the woman and his father entrance. His father took a seat in a wingback chair before the fire and gestured for Miss Tippin to take the other. Leave it to his father to choose not to sit before the desk. Unwilling to argue the point, Christopher sat on the settee and turned to Miss Tippin who perched on the edge of the chair with perfect posture.
She appeared rather thin but there was also a strength to her that suggested an active life, which he admired. Her gown didn’t fit well, making him wonder at the reason. He gave himself a mental shake. None of that mattered. His concern was her experience, or lack thereof, as seemed to be the case.
“I wasn’t aware you were arriving today,” he began.
“Your letter suggested the unfilled position was a matter of some urgency. Since I was able to travel to London sooner than expected, I thought it best to come as quickly as possible.”
“Quite logical,” his father said as he rose to take a book from a shelf.
Christopher ignored him. “The most important requirement of the position is experience.”
“Humph.”
“Did you have something to add, Father?”
“Only that experience is relative.” He glared at Christopher. “Don’t mess this up.”
Christopher scowled. “I’m merely trying to make certain Miss Tippin is well suited for the position for both her sake and ours.”
This was one of the times when Christopher wished for a normal father. One who behaved in a consistent, predictable manner. Christopher had promised his mother on her deathbed that he’d watch over his father. She’d been much better at it than he was. He lacked her patience and understanding. He loved his father but often found him frustrating.
Gambling for the Governess: A Victorian Romance (The Seven Curses of London Book 9) Page 2
