“Miss Knight?” he gently prompted.
She shot him a look of pure hostility. “Yes, my lord. Of course the same standards apply.”
“Good. Then what I wish you to do is remind my brothers what those standards are. They were raised as gentlemen, but certain events have caused them to forget themselves. A refresher course is required.”
“And what would such a course entail?” She cast a disapproving glance at his brothers. “Beyond the obvious.”
Nick shrugged. “The usual one—how to engage in polite conversation with young ladies, how to conduct oneself appropriately at a dinner party, how to dance—”
“They already know how to dance,” barked Angus.
“Just reels, Grandda,” Grant said. “Oh, and the sword dance. But I don’t think many girls know that one.”
Alec choked, trying not to laugh. When Nick shot him a glare, his friend simply gave him a bland smile.
“And it would be fun to learn how to waltz,” Graeme said, suggestively waggling his eyebrows at Miss Knight.
“Ye wish to be caperin’ about like dandies?” Angus growled.
Miss Knight seemed to shake herself free of some sort of mental paralysis. “I am not a dancing teacher, my lord. I’m an educator.”
“For God’s sake, Arnprior,” Alec said. “Why don’t you simply hire a dancing master? Surely he could help the lads with those other”—he waved a vague hand—“social things.”
“I tried that. It didn’t work.” The horrific experiment of a few months ago remained vivid in his memory. The dancing master had barely survived the week.
“Bloody caper merchant,” Angus muttered.
“Let me see if I understand you correctly, my lord,” Miss Knight said. “You wish me to tutor your youngest brother. As well, I am to train your older brothers to be accomplished, well-mannered gentlemen for the purpose of putting them out on the marriage mart. And I am to do that without the help of other instructors who specialize in such matters.”
Nick met her irate gaze with an approving smile. “That sums it up nicely, I think.”
“Would you also like me to teach them fencing and boxing?” she asked sarcastically.
“Oh, we already know how to do those,” Grant piped up.
“Good Christ,” Royal said, shaking his head. “This is a complete joke.”
“I am forced to agree with your brother, Lord Arnprior,” Miss Knight said. “This must surely be a joke.”
“It surely is not,” Nick said. “And I never joke.”
“That’s actually true,” Graeme said.
Miss Knight momentarily pressed a hand to her forehead. “Please forgive my lack of manners, my lord, but you are not paying me enough to take on such an insane task.”
“Actually, we’ve yet to discuss your wages, Miss Knight,” Nick said.
“Whatever it is, it won’t be enough.”
Nick tamped down the frustration stirring in his gut. If she refused the position, God only knew what he would do. He’d envisioned a scenario that would have allowed him to judge the governess in a calm and reasonable fashion. His family, as usual, had blown his plans to smithereens.
As had Miss Knight. Because she’d not been what he was expecting, she’d initially thrown him off his game. Now, though, he was convinced she was the perfect person for the job.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Sir Dominic assured me that you were more than capable of taking on these additional duties and would be happy to do so.”
“He did?” she asked with disbelief.
Nick nodded. “Indeed, and I assured Sir Dominic that I would pay you handsomely for your efforts. I’m disappointed you do not feel up to the task.”
She jerked as if someone had jabbed her with a pin.
“Arnprior,” Alec said, “she’s entirely capable of whatever you ask.”
“Apparently not.”
“Sheer nonsense,” Alec growled. “She’s worked in some of the best houses in England.”
When Miss Knight shot Alec a glare, he looked perplexed before wincing on the realization he’d undercut her. She did not, however, contradict his assertion.
“My lord, while I am flattered by Sir Dominic’s confidence in me . . .” she said.
“You should be flattered,” Nick interrupted with a smile. “He is not a man who gives his approval lightly, as we both know.”
“Yes, but—”
“In addition to paying you exceedingly well, I will give you a sterling recommendation when you wish to leave my employ.”
From the way her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, it was clear that a good recommendation was even more important than money. He would be happy to exploit that bit of knowledge, too.
But then she shook her head. “You are generous, my lord, but I am doubtful this plan will succeed.”
Royal hauled himself up from his chair. “Stop badgering the girl. She doesn’t want to be here, and we don’t want her, either.”
Nick also rose. “Sit down, Royal.”
Every line of his brother’s body spoke of mutiny, but Nick stared him down. He’d led a regiment for five years, and had been Royal’s commanding officer. His brother had never defied him during the war. Now, though, defiance was a regular event for Royal and for everyone else in the blasted household. The fact that Nick was willing to employ a slip of a girl to help him impose order at Kinglas was a measure of how desperate he’d become.
Royal muttered an oath and plunked back down in his chair.
“Coward,” Angus muttered at Royal, who ignored him.
When Nick resumed his seat, he was surprised to see Miss Knight regarding him with a wariness that was quite at variance with her previous pert demeanor. Had she expected him and his brother to start pummeling each other?
“There’s no cause for concern, Miss Knight,” he said. “My brothers do have enough sense to refrain from brawling in the presence of a lady.”
One of her eyebrows went up in a haughty arch. “It was not your brother I was worried about.”
“Touché, lass,” Alec murmured.
Nick forced an apologetic smile. “Forgive me if I frightened you, Miss Knight.”
Angus leaned forward in his chair. “If the lass is too dainty to put up with a little brawlin’ and argumentation, then she should leave. We have no need of her fancy English ways here at Kinglas.”
She threw daggers at the old man but kept her lips firmly shut.
Nick hung on to his last bit of patience, because he needed to make this work. He needed her. “Miss Knight, I realize this might be considered something of a challenging assignment . . .”
When she let out a ladylike snort, he ignored it.
“All I ask is that you defer making a decision for another few days,” he continued. “Kade has been under the care of our family physician in Glasgow, but he will be arriving home tomorrow. I hope you will meet him before deciding to stay or go.”
Her full, pink lips pursed sideways in a girlish gesture he found unexpectedly charming. Then she shook her head. “I truly don’t think—”
“Is it not the least you could do for Sir Dominic?” he gently interrupted.
When she flinched, Nick knew he’d scored a hit. He calmly regarded her troubled expression, letting her sense of guilt do the work for him.
“You’ve come all this way, lass,” Alec said, resting a hand on her arm. “What’s the harm in meeting the boy and then making your decision?”
For several long seconds, Alec and Miss Knight seemed to hold a silent conversation, during which Nick had to repress the urge to knock his friend’s hand from her arm. He didn’t like that Alec was so possessive with her and he surely didn’t like that he was so bothered by it.
Finally, the girl gave a tight nod. “Very well, my lord. But I must tell you that I’m not inclined to give a favorable answer unless I’m convinced your family is prepared to welcome both my presence and my guidance. I will not take up a position tha
t is destined from the outset to fail.”
“Duly noted,” Nick said dryly.
When Angus let out a triumphant little snicker, he wanted to dump the teapot on the old codger’s head.
* * *
Victoria was braiding her hair when a soft knock sounded on the door.
“Enter.” She rose from her chair in front of the scrolled walnut dressing table. The carved and gilded pier mirror mounted above it was lovely, but so old that the glass was cloudy. In the soft light of the candles, the mirror made her look fuzzy and rather worn. Or perhaps that was simply the way she truly appeared after the long, gruesome day.
Mrs. Taffy—who Victoria had decided was the only sane member of the household—bustled in, carrying an armful of fluffy white towels. “I came to see that ye had everything ye needed,” she said in her soft, pleasant brogue, putting the bundle down on the washstand by the hearth.
By the critical look the housekeeper cast about the room, Victoria suspected she’d come up to make sure the room was up to her exacting standards. Mrs. Taffy had snowy-white hair, neatly confined under a lace cap, and a wrinkled face that suggested she was approaching her seventies. But she was sturdy and moved with a briskness that would put a woman half her age to shame. When she ran a finger across the mantel, Victoria bit back a smile.
Kinglas might be rather worn around the edges, with furnishings and carpets years out of date, but it was a well-maintained house. She suspected that the servants knew their duties and carried them out with a minimum of fuss. The redoubtable housekeeper was clearly responsible for that, since there was no butler or house steward.
“Yes, thank you,” Victoria said. “This room is lovely. I imagine it’s one of the nicest bedrooms in the castle.”
She’d been surprised by how lovely. From what she could tell, most of the rooms in the tower house—the true castle part of the castle—were compact rather than spacious. Like narrow, stacked blocks, each floor held only three or four rooms. The drawing room, where they’d had tea this afternoon, was in the newer, more elegant wing of the manor, as were the dining room, the library, and a number of other public rooms.
Compared to the newer wing, the tower house was positively medieval, with thick walls of stone, low-timbered ceilings, and wooden floors and wall panels mellowed by age to a dark smoky brown. She could almost wish to remain at Kinglas simply for the opportunity to explore such a noble castle.
Almost.
Living with the Kendrick men was a daunting prospect. The idea of spending the winter with them, in the remote Scottish Highlands, was gruesome to contemplate.
Except for the earl. You wouldn’t mind spending time with him, would you?
She squashed the temptation to dwell on Arnprior’s handsome face and compelling gaze.
Mrs. Taffy gave her a warm smile. “This was her ladyship’s room. It’s one of the coziest in the castle.”
Victoria blinked. “This was the bedroom of the Countess of Arnprior?”
“Aye, of the previous laird’s second wife, that is. There’s a suite of formal rooms in the east wing, but her ladyship wanted to be closer to her husband. The laird’s bedroom is directly below this room. His lordship used to just nip up the stairs and be with her ladyship in a trice.”
Victoria felt her face heat at the notion of the formidable Laird of Arnprior sleeping so close by.
“Thank you for putting me in so comfortable a room, Mrs. Taffy. It’s much too grand for a governess, but I do appreciate your consideration.”
“Och, it’s the least I could do. I’d prepared one of the more modern rooms in the west wing, but that blocked chimney caused quite a mess. The only other bedrooms in a fit state are in the old barracks wing, near Mr. Royal and his brothers. That wouldna be proper for a young lady at all.”
“Thank you,” Victoria said with a grateful smile. The notion of sleeping anywhere near a boisterous group of males—even relatively harmless ones—made her chest tighten. Oddly, sleeping a short staircase away from the earl failed to evoke a similar anxiety.
“About that chimney,” she added, “I suspect it wasn’t a bird’s nest that caused it to smoke, was it?”
The housekeeper scoffed. “As if I’d let my chimneys get in such a state.”
“One of the twins, I suppose,” Victoria said dryly. When Grant commented on the state of the chimney at dinner, with a small smirk on his face, she’d guessed that trying to smoke her out of her room had been part of the scheme to drive her away.
“They don’t mean any harm. Not really. They were left to run without a strong hand to guide them, when the laird was off to the war. I’m sorry to say they went a bit wild.”
Despite her firm intention not to get sucked into the affairs of Arnprior’s family, Victoria couldn’t entirely suppress her curiosity. “What of their grandfather? I understood he had the management of the estate and his grandsons during that time.”
“Och, that Mr. MacDonald. He encourages the lads in their bad behavior. He’ll have no truck with English ways, as if being civilized and good-mannered is only fit for foreigners.”
“We’re all subjects of the Crown and members of one union, are we not?”
“Many a Highlander would disagree. Especially one whose clan fought on the wrong side at Culloden.”
“But that was decades ago,” Victoria said.
The housekeeper sighed. “Some of the older generation willna get over the loss. They cling to the old ways, when men were warriors and not afraid to live rough.”
“Lord Arnprior is both a warrior and a civilized man. Surely Mr. MacDonald sees that.” No one in his right mind would accuse the earl of being soft. One only had to look at his brawny physique and his stern features to know the idea was laughable.
“Aye, but Mr. MacDonald thinks the laird is too modern. That he’s turning his back on the past. To some of the older folk, that’s nothing short of betrayal to the clan and to Scotland. That’s why Mr. MacDonald encourages the lads. He’s afraid they’ll forget who they are.”
“I’m sure the earl simply wants his brothers to behave in a more gentlemanly fashion.”
From what she’d seen at dinner, it seemed a hopeless task. Although the earl had done his best to manage the situation, the twins had been especially ridiculous. They’d done their grandfather proud, speaking out of turn and wolfing their food like barbarians. Royal, on the other hand, had barely said a word, eating like an automaton, then throwing down his napkin and stalking from the table before the dessert course was served. Alec and Lord Arnprior had manfully tried to carry on a normal conversation, but by the end of the evening his lordship had looked ready to murder everyone at the table.
He’d taken to scowling at Victoria halfway through the evening, which she thought unfair. She’d tried her best to be polite, but after being repeatedly rebuffed by Royal or ridiculed by Angus for her “Sassenach ways,” she’d descended into silence, which had obviously displeased the earl. Could anyone blame her from excusing herself from tea in the drawing room and fleeing upstairs to bed?
Mrs. Taffy fixed her with an earnest gaze. “The laird is doing his best, but he’s at his wit’s end. He needs a fine, ladylike teacher such as yerself to assist him.”
“He may even need an Act of Parliament.” Victoria winced as soon as the caustic words passed her lips. “I’m sorry, that was very rude of me. I can only suppose I’m more fatigued than I thought.”
The housekeeper rearranged a porcelain shepherdess on the mantel. “No one could blame ye, miss, and that’s a fact. Yer a saint to take on the job.”
A bubble of laughter welled up in Victoria’s chest at the idea of anyone calling her a saint. After all, she’d killed a man only a few short weeks ago, which was a most unholy, if unintended, act.
Mrs. Taffy turned down the bedclothes, then fetched the bed warmer from the hearth and began passing it between the sheets. “And never ye fear. The lads will eventually do what the laird tells them to do.”
Victoria was startled by the accusatory tone in the housekeeper’s voice. “I . . . probably not. I don’t think I’d be able to do much good here,” she said.
She mentally winced at the crestfallen expression on Mrs. Taffy’s face. While feeling guilty was silly, since she’d been all but lured here under false pretenses, she hated letting people down. Even as a child, Victoria had done her best to please her aunts and uncles, working hard to make up for the fact that her very presence was a stain on the Knight family’s reputation.
But if disappointing a few strangers—or even Dominic—was the price of avoiding a hopeless situation, then so be it. Her position in Lord Welgate’s household had certainly taught her the devastating outcomes that could result from ignoring one’s instincts.
But under the older woman’s frowning gaze, Victoria found herself wanting to shuffle her feet. She almost felt like a naughty child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“I don’t agree with ye, miss,” said the housekeeper. “Lord knows the earl could use help from a lass such as yourself. He needs someone with yer bonny face and kind nature.”
Victoria felt her cheeks flush. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“The laird has seen a lot of trouble and heartache over the years,” Mrs. Taffy said in a somber tone. “It takes a toll on a man. Turns him grim. Hard, even.”
Although Victoria nodded sympathetically, the observation wasn’t exactly an incentive to accept a position in the earl’s household. “I’m sure that most men who’ve been to war have seen terrible things. I have no doubt it’s a burden.”
Mrs. Taffy flashed a humorless smile. “Aye, war takes its toll on a man, but I wasn’t referring to that.”
“Then what, may I ask?”
The housekeeper seemed to consider for a few moments, then simply shrugged. Victoria got the sense that Mrs. Taffy had been about to reveal something personal about Lord Arnprior, but had changed her mind.
That seemed for the best, she told herself, squashing an unseemly curiosity. The earl was a compelling man, but after tomorrow she would probably never see him again.
The Highlander's Princess Bride Page 7
