CHRISTINA DODD
Rules of Engagement
Book Two of the Governess Brides Series
With thanks to George Burns, Bob Hope,
and especially Jack Benny,
who taught generations of Americans how to laugh.
Humor never dies, it just gets recycled.
Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
This was the best day of the month, payday.
Chapter 2
At the sight of Hannah’s confusion, Lord Kerrich raked his…
Chapter 3
His butler announced her with an air of gravity befitting…
Chapter 4
Boys were such obnoxious creatures. Pamela pondered that truth as…
Chapter 5
My God, what have I done?
Chapter 6
“Gardner Mathewes, the marquess of Reynard, has arrived,” Moulton intoned,…
Chapter 7
With schoolmistresslike briskness, Miss Lockhart said, “If that is all,…
Chapter 8
Kerrich arranged the pillow behind him on his bed, leaned…
Chapter 9
A groom led Beth’s mare on leading reins, Lord Kerrich…
Chapter 10
“I cannot believe you allowed me to take that child…
Chapter 11
Pamela woke and sat up with a sense of panic…
Chapter 12
That woman. Annoyance ate at Kerrich. Miss Lockhart was either…
Chapter 13
“What a mess.” Kerrich looked around the foyer.
Chapter 14
Kerrich saw her flinch and at once realized his mistake.
Chapter 15
But tomorrow was Pamela’s half-day off, and she could scarcely…
Chapter 16
Pamela stood on the step outside the coach and surveyed…
Chapter 17
As the carriage pulled to stop before his townhouse and…
Chapter 18
Pamela came barreling around the edge of the screen, ready…
Chapter 19
When she untied the waist of her pantalettes, Pamela wasn’t…
Chapter 20
Slowly the passion that consumed her senses retreated, and Pamela…
Chapter 21
Pamela stepped out of her bedchamber, vaguely sore in unmentionable…
Chapter 22
“How was your trip, my lord?” Moulton asked late the…
Chapter 23
Pamela crumpled the note. She couldn’t believe Kerrich’s gall. He…
Chapter 24
Pamela stood before Kerrich without a stitch on, and she…
Chapter 25
“We didn’t believe the young man could be so violent,…
Chapter 26
Kerrich straightened himself as best he could in the antechamber…
Chapter 27
In unison, every face turned toward her and Lord Reynard,…
Chapter 28
Lady Colbrook kept her composure admirably. She didn’t scream, didn’t…
Chapter 29
“Lord Kerrich wanted to take you to his house to…
Chapter 30
“Kerrich, tell me, why did you want to come to…
Chapter 31
Hannah hurried toward the study, her brow knit with puzzlement.
Chapter 32
Kerrich’s sharp tone startled Pamela, and the greyhound of perhaps…
About the Author
By Christina Dodd
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
Miss Pamela Lockhart and Miss Hannah Setterington,
Proud proprietors of
The Distinguished Academy
of Governesses
Are desperately attempting to make
their endeavor a success and
Offer the finest in governesses, companions
and instructors to fill any need
Without being too fussy about the details of the position
Although they certainly won’t do anything
immoral or illegal
Serving fashionable society on this day
July 1, 1840
This was the best day of the month, payday.
Miss Pamela Lockhart gave a light-hearted skip as she made her way toward home. The residential London street might be prematurely dark from the rain, she might be chilled and wretched, and once again she’d had to try to teach tone-deaf little Lorraine Dagworth how to play “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” on the pianoforte, but she had easily collected the month’s fee from Lorraine’s mother. She had also, after a bit of struggle, collected from the aristocratic Lady Phillips. And finally she had given Lord Haggerty’s son his dancing lesson and—while fending off both the younger man’s groping and the older man’s offer of an ignominious affair—secured the month’s reimbursement without offending either of the loathsome gentlemen.
Yes, a governess’s work proved difficult and occasionally abhorrent, but payday, glorious payday, made it all worthwhile, and as Pamela cut through the filthy, garbage-filled alley, she tipped up her head to the raindrops and laughed aloud—and stumbled to a halt.
Something snagged her skirt. A protruding board, perhaps, or…
A sharp point jabbed at her back and a rough voice snarled, “Give me that purse ye’ve got hidden in yer bosom, miss, an’ I might spare yer life.”
Pamela froze, heart pounding. That object…a knife! A thief held a knife to her back. He might stab her. She might die.
He wanted to steal her money.
The knife prodded her, and the man snarled right in her ear, sending the stench of gin and tobacco on the puff of foul breath. “I said, give me that purse. No denyin’ ye’ve got it, miss. I saw ye at th’ greengrocers payin’ fer them pretty strawberries.”
She clutched the bag with her purchase. Rain sluiced endlessly down. No one remained in sight; everyone with any sense had hurried home to sit before his fire and toast his toes. Only she remained, bait for this footpad who planned to steal her beautiful, hard-earned, just-collected cash.
The blade jabbed again, and the thieving fiend grabbed her arm hard enough to bruise it. “Are ye a half-wit? I said give me yer money or I’ll kill ye.”
Frustration roiled within her. Frustration, anger and despair.
The knife jabbed deeper. She felt the pop of threads as it cut through her gown and corset cover.
She snapped, “Let me think about it.”
Miss Hannah Setterington smiled at the nervous eighteen-year-old girl seated before her desk in the study. “I can find you a position,” Hannah said. “That is what we do here at the Distinguished Academy of Governesses. But because we supply only the finest governesses to the ton, and you have no experience as yet, you must work through our rigorous month of training. This teaches you to deal with the situations that arise with children and with your employers.”
Still damp from the rain, the girl shivered a little and glanced longingly at the flames that leaped in the hearth. “Thank you, Miss Setterington, but…I’ve just arrived from the country. I have nowhere to live and…I can’t pay…for any schooling…”
Her choked dismay almost brought a tear to Hannah’s eye. She’d been young like this once, unsure, desperate…running away. She was older now, wiser, in control of her life, but she could never completely leave behind the memories. Rising, she said, “Let’s talk over here. It’s cozier.” She led the way to the grouping of chairs beside the fire and indicated a seat, then waited while young Miss Murray composed herself. “You do not pay for our training, and you will remain here, under our roof, while you p
articipate in it.”
Miss Murray frowned in suspicion. “Why would you be so kind without reimbursement? I’m from the country, but I’m not stupid. I’m a good girl.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Hannah said steadily. “But we do expect reimbursement. In return for your bed, board and instruction, we will place you in a position and collect the fee which your employer will pay us for the guarantee of a learned and accomplished governess.”
“Oh.” Settling back into the chair, Miss Murray said, “I…I suppose that’s reasonable.”
“Quite. The first week of your training is a time for us to get to know you, to decide if you are the high caliber of governess we want to represent and for you to decide if this is the career you wish to follow.”
Miss Murray snuffled into her handkerchief. “I have no choice.”
“One always has a choice.” Hannah was not one to countenance self-pity. “We represent females in every capacity. Sometimes one teaches young children better than older children, sometimes one proceeds better as a finishing governess, sometimes one is superior as a companion to the elderly.”
Miss Murray brightened. “I hadn’t considered that. I used to care for my grandmother, and I liked that very much.”
Hannah nodded. “You see. We have already discovered a direction for you. We do provide companions, and also daily and weekly teachers of pianoforte, needlework and dancing. We here at the Distinguished Academy of Governesses pride ourselves on finding an instructor for every need.”
She heard a knock on the front door—a still infrequent occurrence and one that brought her to her feet. The butler would of course open the door, but he had instructions to bring any customer to her immediately.
Hannah said, “Our housekeeper waits for you at the head of the stairs. Mrs. Knatchbull will show you to your bedchamber, where you may unpack, and tomorrow you will join our other two students in learning to be the type of governess our school is proud to call our own.”
Miss Murray recognized a dismissal when she heard one. She bobbed a curtsy, gathered her bag and went to the door. The girl was well bred and courteous, if unsure, and with training she would prove an asset to the school.
Smiling timidly, Miss Murray stood aside to let the butler Cusheon by. Then she stopped. Her mouth dropped open. And she gawked at the gentleman who trod on his heels.
Indeed, Hannah judged it a lucky circumstance Miss Murray had reacted as she had, or Hannah herself would have been the one dumbfounded. The gentleman, dressed in the height of fashion, was marvelously, languidly, seductively handsome. Tall and long-legged, he wore a dark blue suit that amply displayed his breadth of shoulder. He carried a gold-headed cane and wore gloves of leather dyed to match his suit. His black hair, trimmed close against his collar, hung in loosely curled and rumpled splendor over one side of his forehead. His aristocratically proud nose had been broken at one time—probably from a fall off his pony, Hannah decided uncharitably. His eyes were so soft and brown a woman could lose herself in them, yet a sharp intelligence operated beneath their fathomless depths, for he summed up Miss Murray and dismissed her in a single glance. Then his focus sharpened on Hannah. He didn’t wait for Cusheon to introduce her, but bowed curtly. “Miss Setterington, I presume?”
Hannah took an instant dislike to the man. Rude, abrupt creature. “Yes, and you are…?”
“Devon Mathewes, the earl of Kerrich,” Cusheon proclaimed, and only one who knew the old butler well could tell that the earl’s presumption exasperated him.
The earl disdained to notice Cusheon’s displeasure, nor did he remain to observe Hannah’s curtsy. Instead, he strode forward into the study and trusted she would follow.
Of course she did follow, and Cusheon took up his guard at the door.
“How may I help you, my lord?” She made her way to her chair behind the desk.
Sinking into a chair in front of the desk, Lord Kerrich proclaimed, “I need a governess.”
The front door of the townhouse again opened and quietly shut. Hannah hoped it was Pamela, for it was raining and almost dark. She worried about her friend and fellow owner of the Distinguished Academy of Governesses, out on the London streets day after day pursuing the jobs that kept the academy alive during its first crucial months.
But Hannah dared not take her attention off her client—a widower with children, she presumed. “You wish to hire a governess, and you have come to the right place. We supply only the finest governesses. How many children do you have?”
He reared back as if offended. “Good God, I don’t have a child!”
Hannah paused in the act of sitting. “My lord?”
“Don’t you understand, woman? I need a child, too.”
Chapter 2
At the sight of Hannah’s confusion, Lord Kerrich raked his fingers through his hair, mussing it completely and making himself, for some obscure reason, even more attractive. “A child. I need a child. I have a great wish to be seen as re-spect-able.” He carefully sounded out respectable, as if women who taught children couldn’t easily assimilate big words.
If his explanation was supposed to make Hannah comprehend, it did not, but it occurred to her he didn’t care whether she understood his dilemma, only that she understood what he wanted. Which she still didn’t.
“If you could elucidate a little more, my lord?” she prompted.
His teeth snapped together—white teeth, evenly spaced, Hannah saw—and he glared as if she could somehow be blamed for his predicament. His voice stung with mockery as he explained, “There are those in our country who see me as…improper. A rake. A philanderer. In other words, unsuitable to associate with…decent people.”
Through the doorway, Hannah saw a woman’s silhouette. Pamela was back, and hovering just out of eyesight.
“To be seen as respectable matters to you?” Hannah could scarcely believe that. He didn’t seem the type of man to whom public opinion mattered.
“A man who is ruled by the beliefs of the ignorant is a shadow of a man. In fact, one might call such a man a woman.” He chuckled as if he had amused himself.
Hannah did not chuckle.
He didn’t require even that imitation of politeness. “But I am a banker. My grandfather founded Mathewes Bank. He would be most disappointed if my reputation proved to be of detriment to that institution for which he labored for so long and assiduously.” Cupping his cravat in his hand, he said, “Indeed, I will not allow anyone to tarnish the family name of Mathewes.”
His sentiments sounded almost admirable, almost a vow, although Hannah cynically wondered if he truly worried about the bank, his grandfather and his family name, or if his personal income was his primary concern.
“It is a sad day in England when a man who keeps a mistress is seen as more respectable than a man who embraces a wider range of females.” He chewed his fine lip.
“An obvious injustice.”
He disregarded her sarcasm. “Indeed. So I want an orphan. I’ll take him into my home, make it look as if I have been overcome with the milk of human kindness. I’ll keep the foundling long enough to secure Her Majesty’s favor once more, and in the meantime you can’t expect me to care for him on my own!”
Hannah understood his plan now, and caught her breath at the callousness of his intent. “You wish to hire a governess to go to an orphanage and get you a temporary child to befool society and the queen? My lord, I wouldn’t be able to sleep an eye-wink if I—”
Pamela stepped into the doorway, into the light. She looked like a drowned rat, with hair scraggling into her face and her eyes glaring like a demon’s. Glaring at Hannah. Nodding vigorously, she pointed at the seated Lord Kerrich, then at herself.
Hannah shook her head no.
Lord Kerrich thought she was shaking her head at him, and he lounged back in his chair and smiled, exposing those perfect white teeth. “Come, Miss Setterington. Scruples? You can’t afford them. You started this academy a mere two months ago, and to the be
st of my knowledge you’ve placed only one governess full-time. She is marrying Viscount Ruskin this Wednesday, if I read the invitation correctly, and as his wife she is unlikely to bring you further income. You and your other governesses are working piecemeal as dance instructors or some such.”
He knew far too much, and Hannah was torn between staring at him and observing Pamela as she continued her little pantomime.
“I listen to gossip, Miss Setterington. There is a great deal of gossip about your school, little of it kind. You need me. You need my money.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and placed a check upon the desk.
She didn’t want to look at the neatly scripted handwriting, but she couldn’t help it. Even upside down she could read it. One hundred pounds.
She was glad she was sitting down.
She and Pamela didn’t have to have the money. With what Pamela had collected today, they could survive for another month. But…they had three female young mouths to feed, three young minds to shape. Only then could Hannah and Pamela find them employment in respectable households and collect a placement fee. Cusheon and Cook and Mrs. Knatchbull depended on Hannah and Pamela, also. Even Hannah had developed the habit of eating on a daily basis. As long as nothing untoward happened in the next month, they could place the new girls, and the future of the Distinguished Academy of Governesses was secure.
As long as nothing untoward happened…
“That is how you work, isn’t it? You charge a placement fee and guarantee satisfaction in the governess one hires? Well, I will give you an additional fifty pounds right now for the suitable governess, and fifty pounds for procuring a suitable orphan. In addition, I’ll pay all expenses the governess incurs in finding the child. I don’t know what the going rate to buy an orphan is these days, but I can afford it. Twenty-five pounds a month for the governess while she works for me, and at the end, when I succeed in convincing Queen Victoria and her wretchedly formal consort that I am the man to”—he caught himself on the verge of an indiscretion—“well, when I am once again in Her Majesty’s good graces, I will pay a final compensation of two hundred pounds.”
Rules of Engagement Page 1
