So much for attempting to keep her name out of the children’s hearing. Well, that had been a thin hope at best.
Then Julia seemed to register Lord James’s proximity to Claire, and her long lashes fluttered. “Are you ... and his lordship ... enjoying the exhibit?”
“I am, very much.” Claire resented her implication that she and James were there together, and resented even more having to assure Julia that she was no threat to her pursuit. Honestly, what would it be like to live a life where such a thing was her only problem? “I cannot speak for his lordship, who was merely passing by.”
Lord James had concealed all his emotion of the moment before, and had put on his public face. “Ladies, the pleasure of our meeting is all mine. Lady Julia, you look enchanting. Miss Gloria, you should build yourself a crystal palace of your own. The light of heaven suits you exactly.”
Claire resisted the temptation to implore patience of that same heaven, and welcomed Andrew and the boys instead. Here was reality. No simpering exchange of insincere compliments. Instead, with them she could enjoy the meeting of like minds in pursuit of a common goal: a greater knowledge of how the world worked.
Julia and Gloria smiled and blushed. Lord James went on, “May I introduce my business partner to you? Lady Julia Wellesley, Miss Gloria Meriwether-Astor, this is Andrew Malvern of the Royal Society of Engineers.” The ladies inclined their heads while Andrew bowed.
“And what business are you working on together?” Gloria’s words were polite while her eyes said, What business does a Blood have with a Wit?
Lord James chuckled. “I would not trouble your lovely head with it. Suffice to say we are working on making locomotive engines run more efficiently.”
Lady Julia waved her hand in front of her face, as if she were overcome. “Goodness. How very droll. Do you own a railroad?”
“Not yet.” He smiled at her. “But I like to engage my mind in such matters, and Andrew and I went to school together, so I knew a fine scientist who could do the practical work.”
Dispensing with Andrew as unsuitable for her further attention, Lady Julia finally noticed that Claire appeared to be surrounded by children. Claire took a firm grip on the Mopsies’ hands and braced herself.
“Goodness, Claire. Are all these children with you?”
“They are. Girls, make your curtsies to her ladyship. Mr. Tigg, Willie, a bow, if you please.”
To her knowledge, Tigg had never bowed to anyone in his life. But having just observed Andrew, he replicated the courtesy exactly as he had seen it, and Willie imitated him so well one would think he had been born to it.
Gloria’s eyebrows drew together in such a way that Claire was tempted to tell her she would have wrinkles before she was thirty if she kept it up. “Is that ... person ... with you, Claire?”
“Of course. I would not be concerned with his manners if he were not.”
“I should think you’d be concerned with his clothes. Wherever did you pick him up?”
Tigg began to swell. Andrew said smoothly, “I believe Mr. Tigg is in training as a chauffeur at the children’s home. Lady Claire is encouraging his interest in engines.”
Both Gloria and Julia dismissed Tigg from their universe, for which Claire could only be grateful. “And who might you be?” Gloria bent as far as her corset would allow and chucked Willie under the chin. The boy tipped his head down and moved closer to Lizzie. “Don’t be shy.” When he still didn’t respond, she straightened. “Where I come from, children speak when they are spoken to.”
“Willie doesn’t speak to anyone, milady,” Lizzie told her. “Don’t take it personal.”
“Is that so. And you are?”
“Li ... Elizabeth. This is my sister Margaret.”
“And how do you come to know Lady Claire, Elizabeth?”
Lizzie, don’t—don’t say it— Claire squeezed her hand in inarticulate warning and opened her mouth to say something—anything—
“The Lady is our governess,” Lizzie said blithely. “We’ve been skating. Do you skate?”
Gloria did not answer. She and Julia exchanged a single incredulous look and then turned it on Claire as if they were two automatons built for a single task. “Governess?” Julia’s eyebrows rose so high they practically disappeared under the flowers on her hat. “Governess?”
“For what family?” Gloria’s voice trembled with scandalous enjoyment. “Oh, do tell, Claire, so I can send your invitation to my next ball to the correct address.”
“You—you would not know them.” Claire’s lips felt stiff, her skin cold. Why had she chosen today to come to the exhibition? It had held nothing but humiliation and disappointment. Even her pleasure in Mr. Malvern’s company had been spoiled backward by the last ten minutes.
“So they do not move in our circles?” Julia inquired.
“What I mean to say is, I am not precisely a governess.” Was her voice as wretched as her blotchy scarlet face? “I am more a ... teacher. For the time being, until I find more permanent employment.”
“So you are not with a family of good name and fortune?” Julia pressed. “Then these children are ... ?”
Lord, help me.
Andrew Malvern hoisted Willie up into his arms, drawing the young ladies’ attention in his direction almost against their will. “As a matter of fact, I have been assisting Lady Claire in her educational efforts this very afternoon. We have a collection of fine young minds here.” He smiled at her, and even in the depths of her misery, his kindness made her smile back. It was a poor effort, but his eyes twinkled when he saw it. “I have been doing my best for weeks to convince her to assist me in my laboratory, but her loyalty to her charges has thus far prevented it. I still have hope, however.”
She could not bear another moment of Julia’s and Gloria’s smiles at her expense, however cleverly hidden behind beaded pocketbooks and gloved hands. Behind them, Lord James skewered her with his gaze. He would offer her fifteen hundred pounds to tell Andrew “no” once and for all. With it, she could return to her life and pay for a full year at the university. No one need ever know what she had been doing since that dreadful night in Wilton Crescent.
With fifteen hundred pounds, she could leave it all behind.
Willie wriggled in Andrew’s arms and held his own out to her. Without thinking, she reached over and took the child, his familiar little body settling against her with the full weight of his trust.
Trust.
He had trusted her, right from the moment she had pulled herself up off the filthy road outside Aldgate Station.
What had she been thinking? She could no more betray the trust of Willie, the girls, Tigg, Jake, or Snouts than she could her own baby brother Nicholas. No. Impossible.
Claire lifted her head and deliberately turned her shoulder to Lord James. “Mr. Malvern, you have convinced me. If we can work out a suitable arrangement for the continuing education of the children, I would be honored to assist you in your scientific efforts. Perhaps together we may yet change the landscape of the railroad industry.”
His delighted astonishment was all the reward a woman could ask for.
What a pity she couldn’t see the reactions behind her. Still, the silence reverberating in the air was extremely satisfying, and the brevity of their farewells even more so.
As she and her little party walked slowly toward the exit, the light playing over them as though even Heaven approved of her boldness, Claire couldn’t help the flutter of nerves in her stomach. Once again, she had burned a bridge behind her—this time, for all the best reasons.
Only time would tell if she had done the right thing.
She lifted her face to the sky as, surrounded by her accidental family, she stepped out of the mighty glass doors and into her future.
Epilogue
My dear Claire,
I am this very morning in receipt of a tube from my aunts Beaton, who say they have not seen you at all these past three weeks. I confess your behavior puzzles and distresses me
. You were to have concluded the affairs of our move and joined me here in Cornwall. Instead, you have embarked on a mad scheme to find employment. It is enough that I must contemplate the thought of my daughter earning her bread in such a thankless manner. But to know so little of how or why—I cannot bear it.
What is the name of the family in whose bosom you have found such employment? Are they socially acceptable? If you must do this, I would expect nothing less than the children of a duke, dear. I would also expect you would keep your situation utterly unknown to our acquaintance. Find some way of swearing the duke and duchess to secrecy. I insist upon it.
Dear Heaven, Claire, you make it increasingly difficult for me to find you a suitable husband. How can you be so headstrong when my faculties are barely adequate to see to the tasks I have at hand?
Have you heard from Mr. Arundel? I find I am out of pocket far sooner than I expected. He must find a way to locate what your father used to call working capital, otherwise, I shall be forced to let some of the staff go.
Inform me at once of your situation. If I do not find it suitable, I shall contact Gorse and prevail upon him to bring you down to Cornwall by main force if necessary.
Ever your loving
Mother
The End
Enjoy Lady Claire’s continuing adventures
in book two, Her Own Devices,
coming soon!
About the Author
Award-winning author Shelley Adina wrote her first teen novel when she was 13. It was rejected by the literary publisher to whom she sent it, but he did say she knew how to tell a story. That was enough to keep her going through the rest of her adolescence, a career, a move to another country, a B.A. in Literature, an M.F.A. in Writing Popular Fiction, and countless manuscript pages. Between books, Shelley loves traveling, playing the piano and Celtic harp, making period costumes, and spoiling her flock of rescued chickens.
Find out about Shelley’s six-book All About Us series, contemporary teen fiction, at www.shelleyadina.com or Barnes & Noble:
It’s All About Us (2008)
The Fruit of My Lipstick (2008)
Be Strong and Curvaceous (2009)
Who Made You a Princess? (2009)
Tidings of Great Boys (2009)
The Chic Shall Inherit the Earth (2010)
Enjoy an excerpt of It’s All About Us
Copyright 2008 Shelley Adina
Chapter 1
SOME THINGS YOU just know without being told. Like, you passed the math final (or you didn’t). Your boyfriend has stopped liking you and wants to break up. Vanessa Talbot has decided that since you’re the New Girl, you have a big bull’s-eye on your forehead and your junior year is going to be just as miserable as she can make it.
Carly once told me she used to wish she were me. Ha! That first week at Spencer Academy, I wouldn’t have wished my life on anyone.
My name is Lissa Evelyn Mansfield, and since everything seemed to happen to me this quarter, we decided I’d be the one to write it all down. Maybe you’ll think I’m some kind of drama queen, but I swear this is the truth. Don’t listen to Gillian and Carly—they weren’t there for some of it, so probably when they read this, it’ll be news to them, too.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. When it all started, I didn’t even know them. All I knew was that I was starting my junior year at the Spencer Academy of San Francisco, this private boarding school for trust fund kids and the offspring of the hopelessly rich, and I totally did not want to be there.
I mean, picture it: You go from having fun and being popular in tenth grade at Pacific High in Santa Barbara, where you can hang out on State Street or join a drumming circle or surf whenever you feel like it with all your friends, to being absolutely nobody in this massive old mansion where rich kids go because their parents don’t have time to take care of them.
Not that my parents are like that. My dad’s a movie director, and he’s home whenever his shooting schedule allows it. When he’s not, sometimes he flies us out to cool places like Barbados or Hungary for a week so we can be on location together. You’ve probably heard of my dad. He directed that big pirate movie that Warner Brothers did a couple of years ago. That’s how he got on the radar of some of the big A-list directors, so when George (hey, he asked me to call him that, so it’s not like I’m dropping names) rang him up from Marin and suggested they do a movie together, of course he said yes. I can’t imagine anybody saying no to George, but anyway, that’s why we’re in San Francisco for the next two years. Since Dad’s going to be out at the Ranch or on location so much, and my sister, Jolie, is at UCLA (film school, what else—she’s a daddy’s girl and she admits it), and my mom’s dividing her time among all of us, I had the choice of going to boarding school or having a live-in. Boarding school sounded fun in a Harry Potter kind of way, so I picked that.
Sigh. That was before I realized how lonely it is being the New Girl. Before the full effect of my breakup really hit. Before I knew about Vanessa Talbot, who I swear would make the perfect girlfriend for a warlock.
And speaking of witch ...
“Melissa!”
Note: my name is not Melissa. But on the first day of classes, I’d made the mistake of correcting Vanessa, which meant that every time she saw me after that, she made a point of saying it wrong. The annoying part is that now people really think that’s my name.
Vanessa, Emily Overton, and Dani Lavigne (“Yes, that Lavigne. Did I tell you she’s my cousin?”) are like this triad of terror at Spencer. Their parents are all fabulously wealthy—richer than my mom’s family, even—and they never let you forget it. Vanessa and Dani have the genes to go with all that money, which means they look good in everything from designer dresses to street chic.
Vanessa’s dark brown hair is cut so perfectly, it always falls into place when she moves. She has the kind of skin and dark eyes that might be from some Italian beauty somewhere in her family tree. Which, of course, means the camera loves her. It didn’t take me long to figure out that there was likely to be a photographer or two somewhere on the grounds pretty much all the time, and nine times out of ten, Vanessa was the one they bagged. Her mom is minor royalty and the ex-wife of some U.N. Secretary or other, which means every time he gives a speech, a photographer shows up here. Believe me, seeing Vanessa in the halls at school and never knowing when she’s going to pop out at me from the pages of Teen People or some society news Web site is just annoying. Can you say overexposed?
Anyway. Where was I? Dani has butterscotch-colored hair that she has highlighted at Biondi once a month, and big blue eyes that make her look way more innocent than she is. Emily is shorter and chunkier and could maybe be nice if you got her on her own, but she’s not the kind that functions well outside of a clique.
Some people are born independent and some aren’t. You should see Emily these days. All that money doesn’t help her one bit out at the farm, where—
Okay, Gillian just told me I have to stop doing that. She says it’s messing her up, like I’m telling her the ending when I’m supposed to be telling the beginning.
Not that it’s all about her, okay? It’s about us: me, Gillian, Carly, Shani, Mac ... and God. But just to make Gillian happy, I’ll skip to the part where I met her, and she (and you) can see what I really thought of her. Ha. Maybe that’ll make her stop reading over my shoulder.
* * *
For reviews, quotes, and excerpts, visit www.shelleyadina.com!
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To learn about Shelley’s Amish women’s fiction written as Adina Senft, visit www.adinasenft.com
And don’t miss her blog, A City Girl's Guide to Plain Living
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