Gambling for the Governess: A Victorian Romance (The Seven Curses of London Book 9)

by Lana Williams

  “I think we all have.” Christopher had tried to tell his father more about this project without success. He couldn’t bring himself to worry him needlessly. “But it would be better coming from you than seeing an unexpected headline in the news sheet or hearing gossip from a friend.”

  “My only hope is that because we venture out infrequently of late, she won’t have an opportunity to become aware of anything untoward with regards to Edward. Neither of us seems to have the heart for it. She might not hear the gossip, and I can make certain she doesn’t see the news sheet.”

  Christopher clenched his jaw yet couldn’t hold back the words that demanded to be heard. “The children have eased my father’s grief as well as mine. Visiting with them might bring comfort to you both.”

  “That’s simply not possible.” The marquess shook his head adamantly.

  Anger rushed along Christopher’s skin, causing his fingers to tingle with the urge to shake some sense into the man.

  Before he could argue further and point out all the reasons Millstone should reconsider, a peel of laughter had them both turning toward the windows. The merry sound came again, louder this time and even more infectious.

  Christopher’s temper eased as he stepped to the windows and drew back the drapes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the children.

  Ronald, Charlotte, and Amelia were in the garden with their jump ropes again. Ronald’s deep belly laugh made Christopher smile as it always did. The boy managed to catch his breath then successfully jumped several times but for some reason, his attempt caused more laughter.

  Amelia clapped her hands, her face alight with joy as she encouraged him. Something in Christopher’s chest tightened at the sight. If only she looked at him like that, without the mask of caution and wariness she so often wore when he was near.

  As if unable to stop himself, the marquess moved closer with halting steps. He stared out the window, drinking in the scene greedily despite his previous statement.

  Charlotte took her turn, successfully counting to eight in French before her body bent with giggles.

  “Your turn, Ronald,” Amelia called out.

  The boy chuckled but did as she requested, skipping the rope five times before laughter overcame him.

  “Now you must land on one foot,” Amelia ordered, her voice barely audible through the windows, as she gave a little hop to demonstrate.

  Charlotte and Ronald both tried at the same time.

  Christopher glanced at Millstone and saw a smile curve his lips.

  “They are a true delight,” Christopher said quietly. “And they would very much like to see you.”

  But even as the marquess hungrily watched the children playing, he drew back a step. “Some other time perhaps. I-I must be going.” He turned and hurried toward the door.

  Before he reached it, the door opened wider to reveal Christopher’s father. The two older men studied each other for a long moment.

  “You’ve come to see the children?” The earl stepped into the room, his expression hopeful.

  The marquess glanced over his shoulder at the window but shook his head. “No. Good day.” Then he rushed past Christopher’s father without another word.

  The earl watched as their visitor left as if the devil were on his heels. Then he sighed and moved to stand next to Christopher to look out the window. “I don’t understand.”

  Christopher shook his head. “Nor do I, but it is his loss.”

  “True. But it is also the children’s. I’m not the sort of grandfather they truly deserve.”

  “You’re wonderful with Charlotte and Ronald.” Christopher squeezed his father’s shoulder. “They enjoy spending time with you.”

  “I enjoy their company as well. But if I leave another candle unattended and burn down the place, none of that matters.” His father held his gaze briefly then turned and walked out of the room before Christopher could think of a response.

  He hated that his father felt that way but didn’t know how to argue.

  The marquess and marchioness had been a significant part of the children’s lives prior to the accident and they missed their grandparents. Though he was sorry to hear the marchioness wasn’t well, didn’t that make it all the more important for her to see the children while she was still able? What if something happened? Wouldn’t they both regret not visiting them?

  Once again, he had questions and no answers, a situation he didn’t care for in the least. He turned back toward the garden, and Amelia caught sight of him. Her joy dimmed, concern tightening her features.

  The sight made him growl with frustration. That was another area where he had more questions than answers. Why did she look as if her life was about to end each time she saw him?

  ~*~

  “We’re not going for a walk, right?” Ronald asked as he donned his coat the following afternoon.

  The day was a fine one and the children a bit restless as was she, so Amelia had decided on another outing to the park. The trip to the zoo would be the following week, something she looked forward to and dreaded with equal measure. It would be wonderful to experience the zoo with Christopher, but her trial period would be over by then. Would she still be there?

  Miss Singh continued to come by the schoolroom to sit with the children. While Amelia enjoyed the earl’s visits, Miss Singh’s were less welcome, especially when she stared at Amelia as if puzzled by whatever lesson she was presenting or tried to interject her own opinions into the lesson. Amelia had invited her to select a day she’d like to share details of her homeland with the children but thus far, she hadn’t done so.

  Amelia hoped time in the park would settle the children.

  However, Ronald was suspicious of her motive. “Why are we going to the park?”

  “Miss Tippin already told us we’re going exploring again,” Charlotte said.

  “But what are we exploring for?” Ronald asked, a frown marring his brow.

  Amelia paused, trying to think of an answer that would satisfy him. She’d hoped exploring would be enough to catch his interest, but he obviously needed more convincing. “We are in search of a tree we didn’t see the last time.”

  His wrinkled brow didn’t ease. “What else?”

  “I’ll tell you when we arrive at the park,” she said, hoping inspiration would strike by then.

  The carriage ride was far too brief. As they alighted at the park, Ronald turned to her. “Now will you tell us what else we’ll be doing?”

  “Today, we’re going to use our imaginations to solve a problem. What if one of the animals from the zoo escaped?” She added some drama to her expression and tone with the hope the children would play along.

  Ronald considered her words as his gaze swept over the park. “I don’t think that would happen.”

  “But what if it did?” Charlotte asked her eyes were wide at the thought.

  “It could be an elephant,” Amelia said, continuing the game. “Or a snake from the reptile house.” She gave a mock shudder as she looked about as if searching for the creature.

  Soon the children were looking high and low among the rocks and trees as they created stories about which animal might have escaped, how, where it would hide, and how to catch it if they found it.

  Amelia was delighted, despite knowing her aunt would disapprove of the silly game. But Amelia believed that if children were encouraged to use their imaginations more often, perhaps they could dream bigger and become more.

  They walked along a path, playing the game until they neared other people. Then, as if in silent agreement, they remained quiet until they passed them.

  Amelia was relieved as she wasn’t ready to join in the conversations with the other governesses who often gathered to visit while they watched their charges. Despite her growing confidence in her position, she didn’t want to discuss the what-if game she had the children playing.

  Her mind enjoyed performing its own version of the game when she tried to fall asleep at night.

>   What if Christopher had requested her references from the academy when she’d first started? Surely whoever was receiving her aunt’s correspondence would notify him that she’d never attended the school.

  What if the earl finally told Christopher she’d worked as a maid at the academy? Despite the lord’s insistence that they wait until the end of the trial period in less than a week, Amelia wanted the truth shared.

  What if she told him herself? Could she convince him to keep her based on her performance thus far?

  What if she fell in love with Christopher?

  The last thought caused her breath to hitch, just as it did each night when the possibility crossed her mind...and her heart.

  Amelia berated herself for applying for the position, but each morning when she greeted the children she was certain she’d done the right thing. Though inexperienced, she truly believed she was perfect for this position and Charlotte and Ronald.

  She stopped her spinning thoughts when she realized Ronald was speaking with two other boys near his age who’d been playing with hoops and sticks.

  From the scowl on his face, whatever they said displeased him. After checking to make certain Charlotte was nearby, Amelia moved toward them.

  “She is, too.” The fierceness of Ronald’s tone matched his expression.

  “Is not.” The taller boy poked a finger into Ronald’s shoulder.

  “Says who?” Ronald moved a step closer.

  “Our governess.” The boy gestured over his shoulder.

  Before Amelia could see at whom he pointed, Ronald shoved him.

  “Ronald.” She quickly grabbed his arm, shocked at his behavior even as she stepped between the three boys.

  “What do we have here?” The strident feminine tone sounded oddly familiar.

  Amelia glanced up, dismay flooding her limbs. Elizabeth Trunch. It couldn’t be.

  “Millie? Is that you?” The mocking expression on Elizabeth’s face was one Amelia had seen far too many times at the academy.

  Elizabeth had graduated from the academy just before her aunt’s death and been one of Aunt Beasley’s favorite students. Amelia had never cared for her. She’d gone out of her way too many times to remind Amelia that she was merely a maid.

  “Millie, you did a poor job of dusting my room.”

  “Millie, fetch me a tray. And don’t be so slow about it this time.”

  “Where is this boy’s governess?” Elizabeth asked, though from the knowing look on her face, she’d already guessed it was Amelia. “I’d like to have a word with her about his deplorable behavior.”

  “I act just fine,” Ronald said. “He’s the one who started it.” He pointed at the taller boy.

  “Charles, is that true?” Elizabeth asked the boy.

  “No, Miss Trunch.”

  “I didn’t think so.” She raised a brow. “Where is his governess?”

  “Miss Tippin?” Charlotte asked as she reached for Amelia’s hand, loosening Amelia’s frozen limbs.

  “Good day, Elizabeth,” Amelia managed. “I am their governess.”

  “You are no governess. You’re a maid.” Elizabeth’s loud tone echoed across the park, gathering unwanted attention.

  “Not any longer.” She looked at Ronald before glancing at the other boys. “Now then, why don’t you explain yourselves?”

  “They said the game we were playing was stupid because you weren’t a real governess.” Ronald’s bottom lip quivered with emotion.

  It took Amelia only a moment to realize there was only one possible reason the boys had told him that—Elizabeth. Amelia guessed the woman had been watching them, recognized Amelia, and sent the two boys to confront Ronald.

  Amelia glared at her, noting the smirk on her face. “How dare you.”

  “I speak the truth.”

  “What I do is no business of yours.”

  Elizabeth stiffened, lips tightening. “It is my duty as a graduate of the Beasley Governess Academy to look out for all children.”

  “You only wish to make yourself look better. But I won’t allow you to do so at my expense.”

  “I can tell by the way that boy acts that you have no idea what you’re doing.” The disdain on Elizabeth’s face as she gestured toward Ronald lit Amelia’s temper.

  “Ronald and Charlotte are wonderful children,” she said as she reached for his hand. “Do not dare to criticize them.” She glanced at the two boys but refused to lower herself to Elizabeth’s standards and bring them into the argument.

  Instead, she shook her head at Elizabeth. “How terrible that you can’t find joy in what you do, so you try to find fault with others.”

  She took a moment to enjoy the way Elizabeth’s mouth gaped as she searched for a response.

  “Come along, children.” Amelia tightened her grip on each of their hands. “It’s time to return home.” She drew several deep breaths to slow her racing heart, grateful the carriage had returned for them.

  “Who was that lady?” Charlotte asked as she hurried to keep up.

  “Someone I used to know.” Amelia kept her grip firm as she shortened her stride. The idea of letting go of the children terrified her as if somewhere deep inside she realized that she might never get them back again.

  “She’s not nice and neither were those boys.” Ronald glanced over his shoulder. “I hope we never see them again.”

  “I agree. Let us put them from our minds.” Amelia forced a smile. “I should welcome a cup of tea when we return. What about the two of you? A glass of lemonade perhaps?”

  “Along with some of the cook’s biscuits,” Ronald said, nodding enthusiastically.

  “That would be delightful.”

  Yet Elizabeth’s words tumbled through her mind again and again. She reminded herself that she was a governess now, and nothing could take the past two weeks away from her. But her future was a different story.

  By the time they returned to the house, and Dauber greeted them at the door, her upset had eased, replaced by resolve. She requested tea and refreshments be sent to the schoolroom then escorted the children up the stairs. The schoolroom had never felt as welcoming as it did now, a safe haven. But was it only temporary?

  When Sally arrived with the tea and refreshments, Amelia asked her to stay with the children then hurried downstairs to Christopher’s library and knocked on his door. Her stomach lurched even as she clutched her hands, willing him to bid her to enter.

  While she didn’t know how he’d react, neither could she continue on like this—living with the lie, fearing what might happen if she were unmasked. Surely, she could find a way to convince him to allow her to stay.

  But much to her disappointment, he didn’t answer. Desperation had her opening the door to peek inside only to find it empty. Unwilling to simply walk away, she moved toward his desk. Perhaps if she left him a note, telling him that she wished to speak with him, it would be a step forward.

  She looked for a piece of paper but found only a book on the desk. The Seven Curses of London. What an odd title. She couldn’t resist opening the cover and paging through to the table of contents, surprised by the topics. Neglected children, the curse of drunkenness, and other weighty issues. The sixth curse noted was professional gambling. A piece of paper tucked within the pages marked his place in the book.

  She turned to it, realizing it was the chapter on gambling. Aware of the maid who waited for her return, she skimmed the section, taken aback at what the author revealed—gambling schemes of all sorts, as if criminals were developing ways to spin the odds in their favor.

  Why was he reading this? She closed the book and returned it to his desk, unsettled by what she’d read. Perhaps the earl was right, and he was involved in something dangerous.

  Telling him the truth about herself would have to wait a little longer, but she was resolved to speak with him at the first opportunity, regardless of the possible consequences.

  ~*~

  Malcolm Conolly took up his usual positio
n at the Newmarket horse races near the betting enclosure. He nodded to several with whom he was on friendly terms and ignored the others. The advert he’d run in the paper had produced fewer customers than usual.

  Rather than call out to potential customers, he watched people wander by, knowing from experience he’d find more success if he waited for the right mark. He ignored those who marched past with purpose toward the bookmakers, preferring to help the ones with less experience who were more likely to appreciate his advice.

  “Hey, I want a word with you.”

  Malcolm turned at the angry voice to see a man he’d helped several days ago. Malcolm groaned in response. The horse he recommended had stumbled and come in dead last. While he always warned customers there was no such thing as a sure bet, those words often fell on deaf ears.

  The man drew close—too close—but Malcolm refused to back up. That would only encourage the man and his anger.

  “You lost me money,” the man shouted, practically nose-to-nose with Malcolm.

  “Here, now. There’s no need to shout,” Malcolm said, hoping to calm the man. “I only gave you my opinion. Nothing more. You can’t blame me because the horse stumbled. Offer your complaint to the jockey.”

  “I expected to win.”

  “As do we all. The best thing to do is to place another wager.” Malcolm patted him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. “You might win this time.”

  “I don’t have money to spare.” The man’s lip curled, chasing away Malcolm’s wish that this would end well. “Not after you lost it for me.”

  “Then why are you at the racetrack?” Malcolm asked. “They call it gambling for a reason. You take a risk when you come here. If you can’t afford to lose then don’t place bets.”

  “I was counting on your expert advice.” His voice grew louder, drawing the attention of potential customers.

  Malcolm didn’t appreciate that in the least.

  “Make your own bet next time without my advice. See how well you do on your own.”

  “I have a better chance of winning than if I take your word,” the man said angrily. “I want a refund.”