by Abby Ayles
One morning, after a brief trip into town, he pulled aside the governess and asked her to join him for lunch. Typically, none of his house staff would be invited to dine with him, but he felt that the situation warranted a break in tradition.
“Should I bring the children?” she asked.
Francis bit his lip to keep his agitation from showing.
“No,” he said tensely. “Get them settled in doing assignments, and then come to the dining hall.”
The governess looked at him speculatively but merely nodded.
Unsurprisingly, the governess was waiting in the dining room when he walked in. The meal was served as soon as he took his seat, and he waited until the servants had departed.
“Thank you for joining me,” he began.
“Of course, my lord,” she said. “I have been wanting to speak with you.”
“Oh?” he said, realizing then the mistake he had made.
“Yes,” she said. “The children have expressed to me, many times, that they so wish that you—”
“I am well aware of what the children are requesting,” Francis said sharply, interrupting her. “And, as I have explained countless times, work keeps me far too busy.”
“I am sure you are quite busy, my lord,” the governess said. “But surely you understand that your children need you, as well.”
Francis stared blankly at the governess. He could not believe that she would step so far out of her boundaries as his employee.
“With all due respect,” Francis said, feeling anything but respect for the brazen woman. “My family is none of your concern, aside from your duties as a governess.”
“I am speaking as the children’s governess,” she said harshly. Again, Francis was taken aback by her audacity. “As a governess, the children’s development is very much my concern, and I believe that it would help them a great deal if you spent a bit more time with them.”
Francis slammed down his fork and stared at his half-eaten lunch.
“I appreciate that you are so invested in the children’s well-being, Miss Baker, but perhaps your attentions should be more directed toward their education.”
The governess slammed her utensil, as well, and Francis felt heated anger boil in his stomach at her blatant disregard for her station.
“I believe that the children’s education is being directly affected by your lack of interaction with them,” she said.
Francis grew angrier, and he was not sure whether it was because of her complete lack of respect for him as her employer, or because she was very likely right.
“I will say this once, and once only, since you still seem to be unclear on the boundaries of your duties,” he said, his gaze now fixed on the governess’s face with a heated warning in his eyes. “Your job begins and ends with the children’s education. Nothing else is of your concern.”
The governess opened her mouth to speak again, but Francis rose from his seat and stormed out of the dining room before she was able.
Satisfied that the matter was resolved, Francis finished his work for the day early and did not bother secluding himself in his study.
However, his next encounters with the governess later that day told him at once that the matter was not, in fact, closed, at least as far as she was concerned.
Although she said nothing to him, the curious, contemplative looks she was giving him prior to their conversation turned into expressions of disapproval and disappointment. He took extreme care to not make eye contact with her, and he felt sure that she believed he did not see the looks she was giving him.
He did see them, however, and they were far more agitating than her hints to join the children at story time.
Francis was infuriated by the governess’s presumption. Now, more than ever, he thought of officially reprimanding her for her blatant disregard for his authority, and even considered firing her.
However, he knew that he could not afford to lose her, at least not yet. It would take him weeks to find another governess, and now that the children’s lessons had begun, it was even more imperative that they continue on a proper schedule.
A deep, secret part of himself also could not deny the fact that he found the bold, insubordinate woman quite attractive, which only served to anger him further. With her impertinent manner, dark-blond hair and piercing, inquisitive eyes, she looked and behaved nothing like his fair-haired, soft and shy Caroline.
Whether that was good or bad, he was uncertain, but he was furious with himself for even taking note of these things, let alone feeling an attraction to them.
Anticipating another confrontation with the governess that night, he attempted to slip away to his study a full hour before the children’s bedtime.
He had assumed that she would be finishing her dinner and that he could safely lock himself away in there before she spotted him. But when he reached his study door, there stood the governess, her arms crossed and her eyes accusing.
“Was something I said earlier unclear, Miss Baker?” he asked, avoiding her gaze. His anger was mixing with the strange attraction he felt for her, and he did not wish for her to see.
“Quite clear to me, my lord,” she said coldly. “However, the children do not understand why you avoid them so.”
“The children know very well that my work keeps me busy,” he said.
He understood how weak those words were beginning to sound, but his reasons should be irrelevant, regardless of what they were. She should be doing what was asked of her, not questioning him about anything.
“Yes, it seems that to get your attention, the children must become a part of your work,” she said.
His rage boiled over at last, and he stepped toward the governess, stopping about two feet away from her. His eyes burned into hers.
“They are my children, and I decide how much or how little I interact with them,” he said. “I will remind you that that is none of your business.”
Unsurprisingly, the governess did not cower from his burning gaze.
“When their disappointment reflects in their lessons, it becomes my business to do what I can to help them,” she said defiantly.
He stared at her in silence for a few moments, angrier than ever.
He would not allow himself to overhear the thought that she was right once again. Regardless of her reasons, she was once again deliberately going against his orders, and he was beyond fed up.
“I am retiring for the evening,” he said. “And as of this moment, this matter had better remain closed, if you value your job here.”
At last, he saw a wavering in her defiant expression. Her eyes widened and her tense jaw relaxed. Only her eyes retained their piercing interrogation.
Having satisfactorily silenced the disobedient woman, Francis turned and made his way to his quarters. Once there, he slammed the door and collapsed onto his bed.
With each passing day, the governess tested more of his patience. He wanted to believe that she was simply being meddlesome, that the children’s lessons were not being disturbed by his absence in their lives.
If she were instructing them properly, they would have no time to notice my lack of interaction, he thought.
The thought gave him an idea.
On the grounds of her complete lack of professionalism, he would begin sitting in on her lessons. Once he could prove that she was not, in fact, an adequate governess, he could be rid of her and replace her with someone who could follow her employer’s commands, without meddling in his affairs.
Satisfied with his solution, Francis fell into a restless sleep, ignoring that part of him that whispered that sitting in on her lessons had little to do with evaluating her work and much to do with seeing her more.
Chapter 5
Emma tossed and turned for much of the night.
She could not believe her unabashed confrontation with Francis Blackburn. He was frustrating and cold, to be sure, but he was also her employer, and she would do well to remember that.
She could hardly afford to lose her job, especially almost as soon as she had gotten it. She doubted she would be lucky enough to find another position, and she was beginning to grow quite fond of the children.
However, she also could not bring herself to entirely regret her conversations with her employer. He might be an earl, but he was also a father, and she felt that he should do more to spend time with his children.
Her heart broke for the poor little dears. She knew that, with their mother dead, they needed their father more than ever, and Francis Blackburn was being incredibly selfish and cruel by not doing more with his precious children.
After hearing Rowena crying softly to herself one night after bedtime, Emma had decided that she needed to do her best to get the Earl to interact more with his children. His persistent refusal to do so angered Emma more every day and made her more determined to wear him down until he relented.
However, as she thought again about the Earl’s warning, it occurred to her that she would be able to do nothing for the children at all if she lost her job.
The following morning, Emma was greeted by the sight of the Earl standing outside the closed door of children’s quarters. When he heard Emma approaching, he looked at her, meeting her surprised, confused gaze with a bitter one.
“Good morning, Miss Baker,” he said dryly.
Emma’s heart began to race, but she fought to stay calm.
“Good morning, my lord,” she said, giving the Earl a brief curtsey. “What can I do for you?”
The Earl smiled again, and the look in his eyes terrified her. She felt sure at that moment that he had come to relieve her of her duties and send her home right then.
“You have been petitioning for me to spend more time with the children, have you not?” he asked, nonchalantly examining his fingertips.
“Yes, I have,” Emma said.
“Well, consider your wish granted,” the Earl said. “Until further notice, I will be watching over your lessons.”
Emma felt the color drain from her face. She had, indeed, felt that the Earl should spend time with the children, but this was nothing close to what she had in mind.
She was still acclimating to her role as a governess and she still lacked a great deal of confidence. She could not handle the added pressure of being under close, constant scrutiny.
Afraid that her voice would betray her fear, Emma merely nodded and proceeded into the children’s room, with the Earl following right behind her.
When the children saw their father, their faces lit up. Emma’s heart ached because she knew that he was only there to observe her, not to interact with them. He made this clear when both children ran up to hug him and he stiffened, making no move to return the affectionate gesture.
“Come, children, take your seats so we can begin,” she said, some of her nervousness giving way to familiar anger at seeing the Earl behave in such a manner with his children.
“What is Father doing here?” Winston asked. Emma thought she detected a note of resentment in his voice, and she did not blame him.
“He wishes to sit in on some of our lessons today,” she said, not looking at the Earl.
“Carry on as though I am not here,” he said.
Emma opened her mouth to say that that should not be terribly difficult since they rarely saw his face, but she promptly closed it. She understood that her job could well be in jeopardy, and such remarks would do nothing to improve her situation.
“Alright, children, let us begin by picking up where we left off in the book we are reading by Dom Thompson,” she said.
Rowena immediately raised her hand.
“Miss Baker? The author’s name is Tom Thompson, not Dom,” she said.
Emma pulled the book from the shelf, her face flushing as she read the name of the author. She cursed herself for making such a mistake, and more so because the Earl had flustered her so much that she did so.
“Thank you, Rowena,” she said, pretending to study a page in the book with great care. She could feel the Earl’s piercing glare, and she willed herself to regain her composure.
For a few moments, as she began reading aloud to the children, she all but forgot about Francis Blackburn’s judgmental gaze from the corner of the room. Until, that is, she noticed movement from the edge of her vision.
She glanced up from the book and saw that Rowena had turned around in her seat to look at her father. When Emma looked up, she saw that, rather than looking at his daughter, he was staring at Emma with a deep scowl. She blushed again.
“Rowena, please pay attention,” Emma said, her voice trembling. “I will be asking you questions on what I just read when I am finished, just like yesterday.”
“I am sorry, Miss Baker,” Rowena said absently.
Emma noticed with chagrin that Rowena did not turn back to face Emma. She turned the lower half of her body slightly, but she kept her eyes locked firmly on her father.
Emma took a breath. She did not know what to do. She had never had to compete for, or demand, the children’s attention during lessons. Now that she must, she had no clue how. She could feel her cheeks burning, only now it felt as though it were the Earl’s harsh glare setting them ablaze.
Emma reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a couple of pieces of candy.
“Rowena, if you pay attention really well to what we are reading, I will give you one of these whenever you come back after lunch,” she said, giving the little girl a hopeful smile.
The bribe worked, but as Rowena turned around, Emma heard the Earl quietly, but firmly, clear his throat.
Emma did not need to look at him to understand her error. She instantly regretted resorting to bribing Rowena to get her attention. She also regretted not attempting to persuade the Earl to come sit in on lessons another day, when she could be better prepared.
As it was, she could not help but be flustered by him. He was easily one of the most handsome men Emma had ever seen, and certainly the most intimidating.
In the days following the arrival of the Earl’s letter, Mr. Rowley had told Emma that Francis Blackburn was easy-going and charming. The surly man glowering at her from the corner of his children’s room was many things, but charming and easy-going were two things he was not.
That man looked as though he had not smiled warmly and genuinely once in his entire life and would not know charm if it hit him over the head with a candlestick.
Emma trudged along through the rest of the morning’s lessons, glad to allow the children to discuss the topics amongst themselves and remain silent herself whenever possible. She understood that that, too, would likely be seen as a mistake, but she thought it made little difference now.
She knew that a harsh reprimand was imminent, especially since Rowena kept turning in her chair to look at her father, even after Emma’s bribe.
At last, it was time to dismiss the children for lunch.
“Will you eat with us?” Winston asked. The question was directed at Emma, but his father answered.
“I have a meeting shortly,” he said curtly. “Miss Baker, I would like to have a word with you.”
Winston looked questioningly at Emma, completely ignoring his father.
“Go on ahead, children,” she said. “I will see you when you finish lunch.”
The children left the room, leaving Emma alone with the Earl. As soon as the children were out of earshot, he spoke.
“That was quite probably the worst teaching I have ever seen,” he said.
Emma blushed furiously.
“I—I have never had such trouble teaching the children,” she stammered, weakly attempting to defend herself. “I—if not for you watching so intently, I would not have been so flustered and made such mistakes.”
The Earl laughed dryly.
“If you cannot maintain order with the children amidst distractions and disruptions, you will do very poorly as a governess,” he said. “Rowena did not even respect you enough to do as you told her witho
ut you having to resort to bribing her.”
“She has always done precisely as I ask in previous lessons,” Emma said.
“Yes, and now you have taught her that, if you cannot get her to comply by simply asking or telling her to do something, you will offer her treats,” he said, shaking his head. “Children take time and investment, and they must be taught properly. If you cannot focus any better and successfully give them that, I will have no choice but have you sent home.”
Anger rose above Emma’s humiliation. She put her hands on her hips and looked at the Earl defiantly. Chastising her was one thing, but condescension was something by which she could not abide.
