When Malcolm wasn’t at his other job, he spent as much time as he could at the tracks, offering advice in exchange for a small fee. He wasn’t always right, but earning money by simply sharing his knowledge was pleasing and easy.
However, he’d realized after the first year that his income was limited by the number of people he could talk to. He’d expanded his business by placing an advert in a couple of the papers. To his surprise doing so brought him a steady stream of customers. It never failed to astound him that people were willing to mail him money or stamps with only hope that he’d send them the information they’d requested.
However, the racing season was short, and even after several years, he hadn’t earned enough to quit his other job of running lotteries for one of the worst criminals in London. Some were legitimate but most weren’t. Heaven forbid Jack McCarthy learned what Malcolm was doing lest he find himself on the wrong side of the grass. The sooner he quit McCarthy’s operation, the better.
That realization had forced him to take a hard look at his business and determine a way to take more money by any means necessary. He’d spent the past year working on that endeavor and expected that within a few short weeks, he could walk away from McCarthy.
Malcolm drew a relieved breath as the gentleman in the fancy suit at last strolled away without a backward glance. He hoped that was the last he saw of him.
That was the danger in running the same scheme for too long. People started to notice. He needed to press harder to identify a few more marks so that he could say goodbye to the racetrack as soon as possible.
~*~
“How do you say ‘I like flowers’ in French?” Charlotte asked, an adorable crinkle in her brow.
“J’aime les fleurs,” Amelia answered. “Can you say it?”
“J’aime les fleurs.”
“Very good.” Amelia hid a smile at how eager the girl was to learn French considering her supposed aversion to it only a week ago.
Before Amelia could say more, an older woman looked in the room. “Am I interrupting?”
“Aunt Eloise!” Charlotte rose to hurry across the room, Ronald directly behind her.
“Darlings, how I missed you.” She embraced them tightly.
“Come and meet Miss Tippin,” Charlotte said. “She’s our new governess.”
“What happened to the other one?” the woman asked with a raised brow as she allowed them to draw her forward.
“We didn’t like her.” Ronald wrinkled his nose. “She smelled funny.”
“Grandfather didn’t care for her either,” Charlotte added.
“Hmm. Interesting.” The family resemblance to the earl was unmistakable if softened in the woman.
“I’m Amelia Tippin.” Amelia curtsied.
“Lady Eloise Beaumont.” A tall, stately woman, she was dressed in the height of fashion with a blue and cream striped gown with a modest bustle. The sleeves fit tightly with satin trim at her wrists and along the bodice. Her dark hair held streaks of grey and was coiled on the back of her head.
“How nice to meet you.” Amelia offered a smile, but it wasn’t returned, leaving her uncomfortable.
“Eloise? Where are you?” a feminine voice called out.
Lady Beaumont turned toward the door. “In here, dear. I wanted to check on the children.”
A beautiful woman near Lady Beaumont’s age stood in the doorway. The exotic look to her features with high cheekbones and inky black eyes made Amelia feel like an ugly duckling. Her thick, black hair was plaited into an intricate coif. A crimson gown with gold accents that hinted of India enhanced her looks. Here was a woman who knew her own worth. Confidence brimmed from her dark eyes as she examined each occupant of the room.
Lady Beaumont held out her hand to the new arrival. “Priya, come and meet my darlings. Children, this is Miss Singh. I met her in India, and we’ve become the best of friends.”
“I feel as if I already know them.” Miss Singh glided toward them, her gait smooth, her posture perfect, and a smile gracing her lips. “This beautiful young lady must be Miss Charlotte.” She dipped into a curtsy then took Charlotte’s hand and held it in both of hers. “I have heard wonderful things about you from your aunt. She told me you have two pretty dolls I might get to see.”
Charlotte glanced at Amelia then dipped her head at the woman. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
Miss Singh released Charlotte’s hand and gave a mock bow to Ronald then reached out to shake his hand. “Master Ronald, such a pleasure to know you. I understand you prefer lemon biscuits over almond ones.” When Ronald nodded, she heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Thank goodness as I couldn’t agree more.”
The boy giggled at her antics only to be elbowed by his sister to remember his manners. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The woman’s gaze swept over Amelia but dismissed her, adding to Amelia’s discomfort.
“Did you bring us presents?” Charlotte asked her aunt then bit her lip.
“Charlotte, it’s not polite to ask,” Amelia reprimanded her gently.
“Nonsense.” Miss Singh glared at Amelia. “If one doesn’t ask for what one wants, it might never be offered.”
Amelia said nothing, despite being surprised by the woman’s animosity. A significant part of her duties included teaching the children proper manners, but she certainly wasn’t going to argue with a guest. She’d speak with Charlotte later to explain why her request didn’t reflect good manners.
Lady Beaumont ignored the exchange as she smiled at Charlotte. “I might have an item or two in my luggage for the pair of you, but it will have to wait until everything is unpacked.”
Ronald bounced up and down on his toes. “How long will that take?”
Lady Beaumont chuckled even as she shook her head. “Impatient as always, eh? Perhaps Miss Tippin will allow you to have a break from lessons so you can tell me what you’ve been doing.”
“Of course,” Amelia agreed, even though the request hadn’t been phrased as a question.
The lady and her companion joined the children at the worktable, the children taking turns telling them what they’d been doing.
Amelia moved to her desk to review her lesson plans as if she didn’t already know them. She refused to take offense that she hadn’t been introduced to Lady Beaumont’s friend. Hopefully, the hint of hostility the woman displayed would fade. She’d already encountered enough of that at the academy.
“Miss Tippin, you may go,” Lady Beaumont said. “We’ll send for you when you’re needed. Perhaps after luncheon.”
“Very well.” Amelia curtsied and left the room, worry building.
Why did she feel as if the arrival of Lady Beaumont and Miss Singh was a threat to her position? She wouldn’t be nearly as concerned if she’d forced herself to tell Beaumont the truth. Taking the position when the viscount didn’t know her true background made her employment all the more precarious. Heaven forbid the ladies discovered the truth before Beaumont.
Rather than retire to her room, she decided to venture to the library with the hope of finding a book on French phrases. To her surprise, there hadn’t been one in the schoolroom. Charlotte’s interest in French was admirable, but she would soon surpass Amelia’s memory of the language if she weren’t careful.
She’d prefer the viscount didn’t learn about her lack of skill. If he was in the library and questioned her, she’d say she wanted to check the spelling of a word. Surely that was a sufficient excuse.
She went down the stairs and knocked on the library door only to have it open at her touch. A peek inside revealed the room to be empty. Though she felt guilty for entering when the viscount wasn’t there, she reminded herself that he’d offered the use of the globe.
His presence unsettled her, especially the way he watched her. The other night in the garden when he’d touched her hair caused her to think of him in a whole new way—as a man rather than simply her employer. Everything from the subtle, appealing scent of him to th
e slight tilt of his head as he listened to her, but especially the kindness in his green eyes.
Ignoring the nerves fluttering inside her, she pushed open the door and entered. She drew a deep breath when she noted his scent lingered in the air. How ridiculous that she could already recognize that. She shook her head at her thoughts.
She perused the shelves to determine how the books were organized. Some were quite old based on the appearance of the cracked leather bindings, while others were more recent. If any titles were in French, they might be helpful. But what she really needed was a book that had both languages, if such a thing existed.
The sound of male voices in the entrance hall gave her pause. The viscount must’ve arrived. A mix of dread, guilt, and excitement flooded through her.
“There was no chance of a fire this time.” Dauber’s even tones were easily recognizable. “I believe the earl simply forgot he left the candle burning.”
“Are you quite certain?” the viscount asked. “The last thing we need is another fire.”
“He often reads late into the night and prefers candles over the lamp you provided.”
The viscount sighed. “I will speak with him again and explain why the lamp is a safer option.”
“Very well, my lord. Thank you.”
Sympathy filled Amelia at how difficult it must be to watch over the earl and keep him safe when he forgot things like candles left burning. The idea of a fire was frightening, even more so with the children living here. She already knew the earl kept odd hours. He didn’t seem to need much sleep.
The viscount certainly had his hands full between safeguarding the children and his father. She’d almost forgotten the new project the earl had mentioned. Was that where Beaumont spent his time?
She turned back toward the bookshelves, preferring to be caught looking at them rather than listening to a private conversation.
“Oh. Good day, Miss Tippin.”
“And to you, my lord,” she said as she turned to face him, uncertain how to proceed. Should she pretend like she hadn’t heard? “I hope you don’t mind if I borrow a book to help with one of the children’s lessons?”
“Of course not. You’re welcome to whatever you require,” he said as he walked forward.
“How does the day find you?”
He frowned as he glanced briefly over his shoulder. No doubt he realized she must’ve heard his conversation with the butler. “Well enough, I suppose.”
“I’m sorry but I couldn’t help but overhear your concern,” she began.
“As you already know my father’s thoughts aren’t always where they should be, but the staff watches over him closely.”
“If there’s anything I can do, I’d be pleased to do so. I’ve spent a fair amount of time with him and would be happy to raise the topic.”
“You have?”
“He tends to visit us in the schoolroom and often joins us for our lessons.”
The viscount’s brows lifted in surprise. “I hope that isn’t a problem.” Though he said the words as a statement she could see the question in his eyes.
“Not at all. The children enjoy his presence, and he often has a unique way of looking at whatever it is we’re working on.”
The tension in his expression eased as he stepped closer. “I’m pleased to hear that. However, if it’s interfering with your work in any way or making you uncomfortable—”
“Not at all.” She couldn’t help but reach out to pat his arm to reassure him only to jerk it back as she realized what she’d done.
To her shock, the viscount took her hand and returned it to his arm, holding it there. “I appreciate your help with the children as well as with my father. I have been gone more than I wanted to be in the past few days.”
When she pulled her hand away this time, he didn’t try to take it back. “I’m certain you’re very busy.” She knew he’d been out in the evenings as well as gone part of the day. The house never felt quite the same without him. “You must be pleased that Lady Beaumont has returned.”
“It’s certainly more interesting when she’s here,” he said with a smile. “Will you join us for dinner this evening? I’d appreciate a few moments of your time for an update on the children’s progress.”
“Of course.” Her stomach tightened at the thought. What information did he want? She worried her lack of experience would be revealed under scrutiny. Now was her chance to tell him the truth.
As she looked at him, those green eyes of his filling with interest, she bit her lip. Though the words were on the tip of her tongue, she couldn’t force them out. Not yet. Perhaps once he’d shown approval for her efforts with the children thus far, she’d have the courage to tell him. Would that be this evening? She dearly hoped so.
He glanced at the books that she stood near, bringing her thoughts back to her search.
“I was looking for a book with both French and English words. There are a few Charlotte asked about, and I wanted to make certain I gave her the correct spelling.” Was it just her imagination, or was he scrutinizing her weak explanation?
He turned to walk along the shelves, his gaze sweeping over the books. “I believe I have something along those lines if I remember correctly. Here it is.” He retrieved a book and opened it to flip through several of the pages before handing the slim volume to her. “This might be of assistance.”
“Thank you.”
“I look forward to this evening.”
As she returned to the schoolroom, she realized she should’ve offered a few details on the children when he’d asked. Yet she couldn’t deny the tingle of anticipation that filled her at spending a little time with him this evening.
Chapter Six
“For the thousandth time one cannot help expressing amazement that men who have to work so hard for their money—shrewd, hard-headed, sensible fellows as a rule—should part with it on so ludicrously flimsy a pretext.”
~The Seven Curses of London
Christopher slowly opened the door of the children’s bedroom that evening before dinner, careful to be quiet in case they already slept. He’d come to bid them good night, something he did whenever possible as he enjoyed hearing about their day.
To his surprise Amelia sat on a chair between the two beds with her back to the door, reading a book. Normally, one of the maids watched over the children and slept nearby. Amelia had already been with them all day, yet here she was, using her personal time to read to them. The previous governesses had been very insistent about being off duty in the evenings.
“The boy said, ‘Where could he have gone?’
The king shook his head. ‘I fear he’s lost to us forever.’
‘No,’ insisted the boy. ‘Do not worry. He will return.”
Her quiet voice was soothing, he decided as he stood in the doorway listening. Ronald rolled onto his side, tucking his hands beneath the pillow, a sure sign he was about to fall asleep. Charlotte yawned then a small smile tilted her lips as her eyes closed.
A pang of longing struck him. This was exactly the kind of moment he wanted the children to experience despite their parents’ deaths. He wanted to hug Amelia for the precious gift she was giving the children and him. He listened for a moment longer, cherishing the moment too much to interrupt.
“Uncle Christopher?” Charlotte had no qualms about doing so once she’d noticed him. “Did you come to tuck us in?”
Amelia rose to face him, color rising in her cheeks as her gaze met his.
Ronald opened heavy eyelids and smiled. “Uncle Christopher.”
“I did, but I don’t want to intrude.” Since he already had, he moved to Charlotte first and sat on the edge of the bed. “Miss Tippin is excellent at reading bedtime stories.”
Charlotte nodded. “Yes, she is.”
He leaned over to kiss his niece on the forehead. “Did you have a good day?”
“Very good. Did you?”
His heart melted at her question. Her concern for others r
eminded him of Margaret. Not only had she been involved with her own family, but she had also been active in several charities to help those less fortunate. “Indeed.” He smoothed her blanket and tucked it along her sides, tickling her in the process. “Good night, Charlotte.”
The young girl giggled. “Good night, Uncle.”
Christopher rose and moved to the opposite side of the room to sit on the edge of Ronald’s bed. “And how was your day?”
“Good. I like Miss Tippin. She’s very smart.”
Christopher shared a smile with Amelia, enjoying the continued blush in her cheeks. “I noticed that as well. Sleep well, Ronald.” He repeated the process of tucking in the blanket, managing to tickle him as well. The boy’s belly laugh had Christopher chuckling.
“Good night, Uncle Christopher.”
He rose and smiled at Amelia. “I’ll see you in the drawing room shortly?”
“Yes.”
“Are you having dinner together?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes, along with your grandfather, Aunt Beaumont, and her friend.”
Charlotte frowned as she settled onto her side, her eyes drifting closed again. “I don’t know if I like Aunt Beaumont’s friend. She wasn’t very nice to Miss Tippin.”
“Oh?” Christopher raised a brow as he looked at Amelia.
“Not at all,” she denied, though he could see it was true from the tightness of her expression.
“Hmm.” His urge to protect her couldn’t be denied. He didn’t care if the woman was a guest of his aunt’s. He didn’t want anything upsetting Amelia when she was so good with Charlotte and Ronald.
“Good night.” He smiled at the children as he moved to the door before shifting his attention to Amelia once again. Her hair was different tonight—looser, softer. That must be why he couldn’t seem to keep his gaze from her. She looked more like a woman than a governess.
He caught himself before his thoughts went further down that path and closed the door behind him. Hopefully, he hadn’t disturbed the children so much that their falling asleep was delayed.
Gambling for the Governess: A Victorian Romance (The Seven Curses of London Book 9) Page 7
