“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Jamie muttered. “After she made you polish all the silver and scrub the big pots, you want Seton to stay? Why this one and not any of the others?”
“She was a true sport about being tied up, and she didn’t blink an eye over the slop water. She did squeal a bit when she found the slugs,” he added, “but she’s still heaps better than any other nanny we’ve ever had.”
“And she’s nice, too,” Owen added, “even if she does make us scrub things. She’s not mean.”
Jamie tensed, momentarily diverted. “You’ve had mean nannies?”
“The Hornsby,” Colin said promptly. “She was awful, always rapping our knuckles with a ruler.”
A ruler, Jamie thought, trying to console himself for past mistakes in judgment, wasn’t so bad, was it? Unless . . .
He drew a deep breath. “Is that all she did? Rap your knuckles with a ruler?”
“She’d pinch, too. Hard. Left a bruise on my arm once.”
Jamie felt like a rotter. “I’m sorry. But why didn’t you tell me about any of this? I’ve told you to tell me when nannies are cruel like that. I’d have sacked her at once.”
“Maybe so,” Owen answered, “but we don’t tattle, Papa. It’s not playing the game. And if the nanny is mean, we can take care of it ourselves.” He grinned suddenly. “It’s easy to get rid of the ones we don’t like.”
There was no arguing with his sons’ success in this regard, but Jamie knew that wasn’t the point. “You should have told me—”
“Forget about the Hornsby, Papa,” Colin cut in impatiently. “She’s gone. What about Seton?”
“She’s leaving in the morning.”
“Why? Because she played a smashing trick? How silly.”
“It wasn’t just a trick,” Jamie said. “She lied.”
“But, Papa,” Colin persisted, “why does that mean she has to leave? We lie . . . not very often,” he amended at his father’s raised eyebrows. “But you don’t kick us into the street.”
“It’s a bit different.”
“Can’t you just dock her wages, or take away her day out, or something? You do realize,” he added when Jamie shook his head, “that she hasn’t anywhere to go? She’s got no family. She’s all alone in the world.”
Jamie refused to be mollified by a hard-luck story. “And how do you know that? She told you, I suppose? Well, how did you find out, then?” he asked when they shook their heads. “Samuel?”
He turned to the footman, who raised both hands, palms toward him in a gesture of denial.
“It wasn’t Samuel,” Colin said. “We overheard Mrs. Richmond talking to her about it.”
“Overheard?” Jamie frowned. “You mean you eavesdropped on a private conversation.”
“We didn’t!” Colin denied at once. “We were having our high tea in the kitchen, and they went into the butler’s pantry, which is right next door. They shut the door, but the transoms were open, so we heard everything without even moving from our seats. And we think it’s ripping heartless of you to kick her out when she’s got nowhere to go.”
“And without her pay, too,” Owen added. “We never thought you could be such a tyrant, Papa.”
“I am not a tyrant,” Jamie denied, irritated by the accusation and by the idea that his sons seemed to adore someone who’d made a right fool of him. “She—”
“Mrs. Richmond asked her if she had any family, and Seton said no one she could go to. And then Mrs. Richmond asked her if you’d paid her wages to date and given a character, and she said no, but that she didn’t ask for them and that you didn’t offer. She didn’t blame you, she said.”
“That was good of her.”
Like his brother, Owen was impervious to sarcasm. “Mrs. Richmond got very cross then, and said you were being callous.”
“Callous? Me? Of all the cheek!”
“She said if you didn’t give Seton a reference, no one else would hire her. Is that true?”
Jamie stirred. “Possibly,” he admitted, feeling a nudge of guilt, “but—”
“If that happens, she’ll be dest—dest—what’s the word?”
“Destitute,” Samuel supplied.
Jamie refused to be moved by this mention of the inevitable future that awaited the Miss Setons of the world. “What she does and where she goes from here is not our concern.”
“It’s not ours, Papa,” Colin said as if correcting him. “It’s yours. When Uncle Geoffrey died, and you became Grandpapa’s heir to the title, you told us all about what that meant. You would become the marquess one day, you said, and it would be up to you to take care of our people. Isn’t Seton one of our people?”
“Not anymore. Seton,” he said with emphasis, “is not our people. Seton is a liar. I cannot have a liar teaching my children. And someday, Colin, when you are the marquess and you have children of your own, you will understand.”
“But we like her, Papa. She makes lessons fun.”
“And she doesn’t fuss over stupid things,” Owen put in. “We want her to stay. We want her to be our tutor.”
He ignored this chorus of protest and praise. “She can’t. A woman cannot be a tutor. It’s quite improper.”
“Things that are improper aren’t always wrong,” Colin said adamantly.
He tensed. “Who told you that?”
“Mama.”
That was so much like something Pat would have said that Jamie had to pause and take a breath before he could reply. “When was this?” he managed after a moment.
“It was when we stole the pancakes,” Owen said as if that explained everything.
“Pancakes?” Unenlightened, Jamie looked at Samuel, but the footman seemed equally at sea. “What pancakes?”
“They were left over after Shrove Tuesday—four years ago, now, was it, Colin?”
His brother shook his head. “Three and a half,” he corrected. “Shrove Tuesday’s in the spring, before Lent.”
Pat had been pregnant that spring, Jamie reflected and shut his eyes. By the end of summer—
“Right,” Owen went on, interrupting the bleak direction of Jamie’s thoughts and forcing him to open his eyes. “Anyway, we took some of the leftover pancakes out of the larder to give Mr. Leach.”
Jamie was still lost. “Who?”
“Mr. Leach. He sleeps on the bench by the Arch. Until the constables wake him up and make him leave, of course. But he always comes back.”
“You made friends with an indigent man?” Jamie rubbed a hand over his forehead, muttering an oath. “We really need to have a talk about the two of you conversing with strangers in the park.”
“It was only once, and Mama was with us. She was very nice to him, even though he called her Sally and said he wasn’t coming home with her ever again, which didn’t make any sense—”
“Homeless men often say things that don’t make sense. They’re a bit mad. Which is why you should stay away from them,” Jamie added, hoping to impress upon them the risks inherent in befriending indigent strangers.
He might as well have been talking to the air.
“That’s why we decided to take him the pancakes,” Colin said, taking up the tale again. “He was hungry, and he asked if we had any food. Mama gave him the tin of bonbons in her pocket, but that didn’t seem like very much to eat. And we always have ever so many pancakes left the day after Shrove Tuesday, so we thought we’d take some for Mr. Leach.”
It was late, he was tired, it was hours past the twins’ bedtime, and he really didn’t want to hear about pancakes or the boys’ praises of Miss Seton, so he tried to cut the story short. “Is there a point to all this?”
“We’re trying to tell you, Papa, if you’d let us finish.”
Jamie gave up thoughts of anyone in this family getting to bed anytime soon. “Right,” he said, forcing himself to be patient. “Sorry. Go on.”
“When we got caught, Nanny Olivet was fit to be tied—”
“And she t
attled to Mama,” Owen took up the tale. “She told Mama taking food out of the larder was most improper, and she asked what our punishment ought to be. We were sunk, we thought.”
“But Mama,” Colin said, “hushed Nanny up and said that kindness shouldn’t be punished. And that sometimes, it’s important to do what’s right, even if it’s not proper. Wanting to help someone, she said, was a right and proper thing.”
“She said one should always try to help those in need,” Owen added, and his eyes opened innocently wide. “Isn’t Seton in need, Papa?”
Jamie looked from Owen to Colin and back again, appreciating anew their talent for finding anyone’s weak spots, even his.
A sound from the doorway interrupted before he could recover enough to reply, and he turned to find Mrs. Richmond standing in the doorway.
“I’ve given her a bed in one of the maid’s rooms, poor thing,” the cook said, shaking her head. “Worn out, she is.”
“Lying all the time makes one tired, I imagine,” Jamie said. “Was there something you wanted, Mrs. Richmond?”
“I heard you come in earlier, and I thought I’d see if there was anything you need, my lord.”
“There isn’t.”
Mrs. Richmond didn’t seem inclined to leave in the wake of that bit of news. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out several pound notes. “She asked me to return the money to you. She never bought the clothes, she said. Whatever that means. Her circumstances, from what I gather, were quite dire before she came to us.”
Guilt nudged him again, a little stronger this time, and he glared resentfully at the cook as he took the money from her fingers.
“Oh, I’m sure,” he said in irritation. “No doubt she was eager to tell you her sad, sad story, explain her unfortunate circumstances, and justify her actions.”
“No, my lord. Quite the contrary. She didn’t once try to justify what she’d done. In fact, getting any information out of her at all was like prying open an oyster.”
Jamie gave a laugh that sounded terribly cynical to his own ears. “And yet, it seems all of you learned her hard-luck story just the same.”
Mrs. Richmond stared back at him, unperturbed. “Sometimes, a woman knows things about another woman without the need for much explanation. Call it intuition.”
He shoved the money into his pocket. “That’s hardly reason to overlook what she did.”
“My lord,” Samuel put in, “it’s obvious Seton was in desperate need of a job, since she was willing to go to such lengths. While you, my lord,” he added, as Jamie opened his mouth to reply, “were in desperate need, too, of someone to watch and teach the boys. If she leaves, you’re both in desperate need again, but if she stays, everyone may ultimately benefit. No harm was done, really. Can’t you give her another chance?”
Jamie was shaking his head before the footman had even finished. “Even if I forgave the lying, which I’m not at all sure I’m prepared to do, the boys need a tutor, and a woman can’t be a tutor. It isn’t done, as I’ve already explained.”
Mrs. Richmond made a choked sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
“Do you have something to say, Mrs. Richmond?” Jamie asked, folding his arms, glaring at her.
She coughed. “Well, begging your pardon, my lord, but I’ve been second cook to Mrs. Mason a long time, well before you married Lady Patricia, and from what I remember, you were never one to care much about the proprieties.” She smiled a little. “That’s one of the reasons, I do believe, why Lady Patricia was so taken with you. Her father, as you know, was always very strict. Her brother, too.”
Jamie stirred, uncomfortable with stories of what had caused Pat to fall in love with him and impatient with reminders of the scapegrace he’d been before he met her. “I’m a father now, Mrs. Richmond, and a Member of Parliament. I can’t allow things in my own household that would raise eyebrows. A woman tutor is unthinkable. And what of our friends? Surely they’ll notice if Mr. Seton transforms into someone of the opposite sex.”
“We haven’t seen any of our friends,” Owen put in before either of the servants could reply. “They’re all in the country still. Some will come back when Parliament opens, but no one we know has been introduced to her. Have they?”
He turned to the servants, who both shook their heads.
“There, you see, Papa?” Colin added. “If anyone does happen to notice how much she looks like our previous tutor—a shopkeeper, or a tradesman, or someone like that—well, Adam was her brother—filling in for her, so to speak.”
Pushing aside any contemplations about Colin’s talent for inventing such believable stories, Jamie tried another tack. “Even if I forgave her and went along with this, Torquil would never approve. This is his house, mind, and he’s a stickler for the proprieties. A female tutor is out of the question.”
“Why can’t she be a nanny, then?” Samuel put in. “The boys’ nannies have always given them lessons of a sort, so it wouldn’t be anything out of the common way for Seton to do so. Why can’t we just call her the nanny?”
“Would she have to wear a black dress and a hideous hat?” Owen wanted to know, then gave a shudder. “I hope not. I’d hate her to start looking like Nanny Hornsby.”
Jamie thought of the yellowed, toad-like complexion of the boys’ previous nanny, compared it to the finely textured skin of Miss Seton, and he feared that no matter how hideous the hat, Miss Seton was far too pretty to ever look like Nanny Hornsby.
“As a nanny,” Samuel went on, interrupting Jamie’s rather dangerous train of thought, “she could still teach the boys just as she has been.”
“That’s an idea,” Mrs. Richmond said eagerly. “No one has to know she ever posed as a man, or that she was ever hired as a tutor. She’s just the latest nanny.”
“She has nowhere to go, Papa,” Owen said when Jamie did not reply.
“No family,” Colin added in woeful accents. “No friends but us. If you kick her out, she’ll be like poor Mr. Leach, living in the park and sponging bonbons from strangers.”
Her fate would probably be worse. What would Pat think of that?
For the first time, Jamie felt himself wavering. “You realize you’ll have to collude in this lie—all of you—and so will I?”
No one replied. They all remained silent, their hopeful faces making Jamie feel like a pompous ass, and yet he persevered. “Which means I am teaching my sons the horrible lesson that lying is rewarded.”
“Don’t be daft, Papa,” Colin cut in before either of the servants could answer. “We already know lying is wrong. We know she oughtn’t to have done it. She knows it, too. What’s important is that we need someone to watch us, she needs a job, and she’s someone we actually like, which means we won’t misbehave anymore.”
Jamie was not the least bit fooled by that, but the fact remained that Seton was the first person to be in charge of his sons whom they found acceptable. And their behavior, according to the servants, had vastly improved under her tutelage. She was, as he’d already acknowledged, a very good teacher.
Mrs. Richmond gave a little cough. “The Commons reconvenes the day after tomorrow, doesn’t it, my lord?”
With that, Jamie knew he’d lost the battle.
“All right, all right,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “I can’t fight all of you. She can stay and be a nanny. But,” he added, cutting off the celebratory sounds of the boys and the relieved murmurs of the servants, “I have certain conditions for her employment, which I will discuss with her, and with Mrs. Richmond, first thing tomorrow. As for you two,” he added, nodding to his sons, “you had better live up to your promise and behave yourselves. If you don’t, if she or you disappoint me, out she goes, and Harrow will be dealing with you. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Papa,” they murmured together, looking so earnest that it would have been impossible for anyone who didn’t know them to question their sincerity. Jamie, however, knew better.
&n
bsp; Still, they’d probably be good for a while. And as he left the nursery, he could only deem a little domestic peace, however temporary, an agreeable change from the usual chaos.
Chapter 11
It was still dark when Jamie woke, but dawn was breaking by the time he’d finished dressing, and a faint glimmer of morning light illuminated his way as he left his own room and crossed to the west wing. This side of the house was dead quiet, indicating that the boys, and perhaps Samuel as well, were still asleep in the nursery.
He was glad, for it wasn’t to his sons’ rooms that he was going. He passed that corridor, opened the baize door to the servants’ staircase, and took a seat on the landing to wait.
He didn’t have to wait long. Within a quarter of an hour, he heard footsteps above him on the stairs, and he turned his head, watching the stairwell beside him that led to the attic rooms above. The tap of footsteps grew louder, and a moment later, he saw a pair of black-shod feet and slim, black-stockinged ankles come into view below the too-short hem of a black skirt.
Jamie felt a hint of surprise. He’d been expecting to see Seton in that dreadful brown suit of hers, and as she descended a few more steps and the rest of her body came into view, the sight of her in a dress threw him utterly off balance. It was a maid’s uniform, probably borrowed from the housekeeper’s stores—severe and plain with nothing feminine about it but the skirt itself, a skirt inadequate to cover her exceptionally long legs. And yet, as plain and unadorned as it was, the dress succeeded in making obvious what had heretofore been hidden from Jamie’s eyes—the curves of a woman’s body.
She was carrying a large suitcase, an awkward thing to do on such a narrow staircase, and when she reached the landing, she bumped the newel post. She stopped and shifted the case to her opposite hand to better navigate the sharp U-turn of the stairs, but as she turned on the landing, she spied him on the landing below. She stopped again, the suitcase slid from her fingers to the floorboards with a thud, and she gave an astonished, “Oh!”
She was not the only one astonished.
His gaze slid down, pausing at the gentle swell of her breasts against the bodice of her dress, and he realized she must have been binding them with linen all this time, for though her breasts were not large, they could not have been so successfully hidden without that sort of assistance.
Governess Gone Rogue Page 17
