The Danice Allen Anthology

by Danice Allen

  “Yes, give them to Nurse,” said Miss Grundy with a grateful nod at the butler, who responded by looking pleased and turning the color of a ripe pomegranate. “She’s had a long enough spell away from ’em! And she dinna have dinner to get on the table sharp at seven!”

  “I had hoped to freshen up a bit before meeting His Lordship,” Letitia asserted, lifting her chin a little. “Surely Lord Blair would understand that I’ve just arrived and am wishful of washing my hands and face.” It seemed barbaric, this rushing about just to keep to Lord Blair’s time schedule.

  Miss Grundy looked askance. “Naw, lass, I dinna ken he’d understand any reason t’ be late. His Lordship’s never late for anything!” With these final words, Miss Grundy quickly ushered Letitia down the hall to a double-paneled door near the back. “Knock, lass, then wait,” the housekeeper advised her. “I’d stay t’ introduce ye, but I’m needed in the kitchen.” Then she was gone, her stiff apron making a scratching noise against her skirts as she bustled away.

  Letitia wiped her hand over her upper lip. She was perspiring from the heat of her walk from the village and from nervousness. She felt sticky strands of hair lying flat against the back of her neck and an uncomfortable wetness between her breasts. Clearly she was in no proper state to meet Lord Blair. It rankled her to be treated so inconsiderately. But she desperately needed this position. Taking a fortifying deep breath, she knocked on the door.

  “Come.” The voice was low and cultured, not a beastlike growl such as one might expect from an ogre. She entered the room and closed the door softly behind her. The room was dim and cool and smelled of leather and sweet smoking tobacco. A man stood with his back toward her, looking out a wide, many-paned window. He was very tall, and blond.

  She walked a few steps forward and stood in the middle of the room near a heavy antique-looking desk, her hands clasped tightly together. She supposed that he would interview her from the massive wing chair behind the desk. There was a narrow hard-bottomed chair positioned in front of the desk. The difference between the two pieces of furniture clearly implied the superiority of the interrogator who would sit in the wing chair, and the inferiority and guilt of the child, servant, or governess who was obliged to sit opposite him in the rump-numbing wooden seat. Letitia winced. She could almost feel the hard wood digging into her tender bottom.

  “Miss Webster?”

  Letitia’s attention returned to the man standing across the room. He had swiveled around and now faced her. He approached, his hands behind his back, causing his well-fitted forest-green jacket to pull slightly across his broad chest. His legs were long and incredibly well shaped—very lean and muscular. He was extremely handsome. His features were noble and his eyes were … emerald green.

  “You!”

  “So, you do know me, despite my change of clothing.” He stretched his arms wide and made a slow circle, like a modiste’s model pirouetting for inspection. His brows were raised in a mocking inquiry.

  “Only a simpleton would fail to recognize you, my lord,” Letitia retorted, “and Mrs. Dodd did recognize you, I gather, even in your farmer’s costume. But she had the advantage of me. She has seen you before!”

  Lord Blair had the grace to look slightly ashamed of himself. “’Twas a sad trick, I admit, but I did not plan it. You see, I had an unfortunate encounter with a mud puddle when my carriage lost a wheel, and I was forced to trade clothes with a passing farmer. When 1 found myself on the same mail coach as you, I could not resist the temptation to discuss myself with a stranger.”

  “By so doing, you’ve put me in a very awkward position! I need this job, my lord, and you’ve already decided that I shan’t do!”

  Lord Blair’s brows lifted again. “Your impudent manner of speaking makes me suppose that you are not terribly anxious to secure my good opinion, Miss Webster. Actually I thought you had decided against taking the position, since I’m rumored to be such an ogre.”

  Letitia winced, all too aware that that was exactly what she’d thought of him. He might look like a Michelangelo angel—and be the father of two little wingless cherubs—but he could still have an ogre’s heart. But as she looked at him now, the corners of his mouth upturned in a rueful smile, he did not look very menacing.

  The rueful smile disappeared, and Lord Blair turned to pace three steps to the side and back, very slowly, very … distractingly. His legs were incredible. Was it proper to admire a man’s legs so much? “If you’re not dead set against leaving, however, I’ve decided to keep you on,” he said. “Once you are more familiar with my rules regarding the children’s schooling and discipline, perhaps our differences of opinion can be reconciled.”

  Letitia’s heart flip-flopped. He wanted her to stay? But what of her own misgivings? What of her principles? Well, at least he hadn’t actually sent someone to spy on her, as she’d suspected. Still, his deceit was unforgivable. How could she work for such a man? But what registry office would dare send her out again with so many failures on her record?

  “You are wrestling with your conscience, Miss Webster,” Lord Blair suggested, walking to the wing chair behind his desk and resting his hand on the curved velvet back. “Honor and pride versus expediency.” He motioned to the hard-bottomed chair opposite him. “Won’t you sit down?”

  Letitia cast a disparaging glance at the chair, resting there in all its punitive simplicity, and said, “I’d rather stand, my lord.”

  Lord Blair’s lips pursed. “If you don’t sit, I’m obliged to stand as well. ’Twould not be gentlemanly to do otherwise. It would very much please me, Miss Webster, if you would sit down!”

  Letitia’s eyes flashed. “Certainly it would please you, because by placing me in that chair, you immediately put me at a decided disadvantage.”

  Lord Blair blinked, confusion clearly written on his face. “I must confess myself totally at a loss, Miss Webster. Please explain.” He eased one trim, muscular thigh over the corner of the desk and leaned. It was a compromise. He wasn’t sitting, but he wasn’t standing, either. Did that mean she was something between a lady and a servant? Goodness, he had wonderful legs! But where was her mind wandering?

  She pulled her gaze away from that manly thigh and stuttered, “I—I am a student of behavior, my lord. Sometimes the things we unintentionally do or say send a more potent message than anything we might intentionally do or say. By placing me in that punishingly uncomfortable chair, you are already conveying your disapproval and meting out discipline. Or, at the very least, you are making me humble and more receptive to instruction.”

  Adam was stunned, and impressed. Lord, how did a provincial governess come up with such an insightful hypothesis? She was probably right, too. He’d never thought about it before, but he most likely had subconsciously chosen such an uncomfortable chair for the humbling effect it had on the people who sat in it; his solicitor, the vicar, the servants, the children … He always sat near the fire with his friends, offering them deep “cushy” chairs and a place to put their feet up. Equally comfortable, equally … equal.

  She was an original, all right. And extremely bright. Maybe that’s why he had decided to keep her on, if she was willing.

  Maybe.

  Adam stood up and leaned on his hands against the glossy surface of the desk. “Have you observed anything else about me, Miss Webster, or about anyone in my household, which gives you a better understanding of their behavior?”

  To his surprise, Miss Webster’s brows knitted in serious thought. The question was not meant to be taken literally. He had spoken sarcastically. “Well, since you mention it, I’ve noticed something about Kyle.”

  Adam straightened up abruptly, crossed his arms, and scowled. “Kyle? But you haven’t even met the children. How could you…?”

  “Ah, but I have,” Miss Webster replied with a smile. “Utterly charming little scapegraces. I liked them immediately. I used to enjoy sliding down the banisters when I was a child, too.”

  Adam’s scowl deep
ened. “At it again, is he?”

  “Mary, too,” Miss Webster confessed, still smiling. “I’m not tattling on them. They were quite blatant in their misbehavior. Belnap intends to bring them to you as soon as you’re … er … through with me.”

  Adam shook his head. “Drat, I don’t know what else to do to keep them from breaking their necks in such a dangerous game. They think they’re immortal, much like their mother did when she used to—but never mind that! I’ve given them lengthy talking-tos and deprived them of their favorite tea cakes. I’ve sent them to bed without supper a few times as well, but nothing seems to work.”

  “Their misbehavior attracts your instant and lengthy attention, I gather?” said Miss Webster.

  “Shouldn’t it?” he challenged.

  “I’m merely suggesting that the children have hit upon the very thing to catch their father’s attention and to find themselves frequently in his company. How often would you see them if they didn’t need to be lectured and punished?”

  Adam was annoyed. A small, intuitive voice inside him told him she was right, but he spurned such simple logic. He suppressed the small voice and listened instead to his manly pride. He drew himself up to tower over her, glowering. “It is presumptuous of you to sum up a man’s relationship with his children ten minutes after meeting them.”

  “Miss Grundy mentioned that they’d been lambs all day till you came home. She implied that this is frequently the case.”

  He paused, trying to control his temper. His next words were deceptively calm. “I thought you said you wanted this job, Miss Webster.”

  She didn’t flinch. “Not if we can’t talk honestly about the children.”

  Adam did not reply. He felt cornered. Lord, why did he want her, anyway? She surprised him by vocalizing his very thoughts.

  “Why do you want me, anyway?” she asked him.

  Why? Damnation, he didn’t know why! His eyes raked over her person in a quick but thorough perusal. She was comely, but he’d no intention of complicating his life and hers by trying to woo and bed the chit. Despite this resolve, an unbidden, most unwelcome image of her lying naked in the center of his bed with her arms lifted in a beckoning pose flashed through his mind. For the first time in two years, Adam felt a yearning to hold and be held. He gritted his teeth and dispelled the tantalizing image. He reminded himself that wanting something … someone … made one vulnerable to a great deal of pain.

  “Because I’m desperate,” he said finally. “Because the registry office is less prompt in responding each time I request another governess. None of my friends and acquaintances will recommend anyone for the position, either. I’m hard to please, they say.”

  Miss Webster was trying to suppress a knowing smile. Drat the baggage! Why did he find such impudence so beguiling? He rubbed the back of his neck and paced the floor. “Mayhap since you are desperate for money and not likely to be well received at the registry office, and I, too, am needful of immediate supervision for my … er … energetic children, we should give it a go.”

  He shifted a look at Miss Webster and was not encouraged by her skeptical frown. Before she could say anything, he rushed on, “I will allow you to speak your mind about the children—talk honestly, as it were—if you agree to allow me the final word.”

  Letitia could hardly believe her ears. Lord Blair was proposing a compromise. He’d even used the phrase “if you agree to allow me,” implying that Letitia had equal power in their control of the children. A singular idea, that, and not at all what one would expect from a tyrant. She began to be hopeful that a position that seemed so unpromising at the outset could well be the most satisfying of all her jobs. Now, if only she could trust that he wouldn’t make advances toward her … He was a young man—she supposed he wasn’t a day over thirty—and he’d been without a wife for two years.

  “To help you decide, Miss Webster”—Lord Blair interrupted her troubled thoughts—“I will speak frankly.” She saw his chest rise and fall in a deep breath. Every movement he made was intriguing to her, even his breathing. “You need not fear that I will make … er … improper advances. I assume that you’ve been made the object of unwanted and highly reprehensible attention from previous employers…”

  Letitia felt her stomach tighten. “How did you know? I never said anything to the woman at the registry office.”

  His eyes grew suddenly piercing, his jaw tense as he flicked a searing look over her person. “I deduced as much.”

  She felt that telltale warmth creep up her neck again. He had complimented her, in a way. She had continually cursed her good looks these past two years, yet it somehow pleased her to think that he considered her attractive.

  “I give you my word, Miss Webster,” he said in a low voice. “I will not press unwanted attentions on you.”

  “Then I will stay,” she said.

  And so it was settled, thought Adam, nodding his approval. But why had he used such ambiguous phraseology in making his promise to her? He should have simply said, “I won’t touch you.” But he had qualified his statement by promising only to refrain from pressing “unwanted” attentions on her. Adam mentally shook himself. Lord, why was he being so analytical? Certainly he meant to stay well away from Miss Webster and her charms. She was the children’s governess and nothing more to him than that.

  There was a scratching at the door, followed by Belnap and the children. Letitia was thankful for the interruption. Although he was not an ogre, Lord Blair’s presence was a little intimidating. She would be glad of additional people in the room. Perhaps then she wouldn’t feel so crowded. She knew her logic wasn’t sound, but it made perfect sense to her. She’d felt crowded sharing a carriage with this man, too.

  “I’m sorry, my lord. I thought I had allowed enough time for your interview with Miss Webster,” Belnap apologized. Letitia was glad to see that Belnap no longer kept Kyle to his side by pinching his ear. He held both children’s hands. Mary and Kyle’s eyes were fixed on their father, paying no attention to Letitia.

  Lord Blair moved to the front of the desk, next to Letitia. A faint scent of sandalwood soap teased her nose. She glanced up at him and saw that the ends of his hair were still damp from a hasty bath. She liked the shiny color of it much better without the dulling layer of mud. “It’s quite all right, Belnap,” he said. “This will be a good time for the children to be introduced to their new governess.”

  Lord Blair’s tone was very formal, almost stiff. Letitia supposed that he had assumed such a demeanor because he was about to reprimand the children for misbehaving. But it was heart-wrenching to watch the children’s tentative smiles waver and then completely disappear.

  “Kyle, Mary, this is Miss Webster, your new governess.”

  Two pairs of green eyes obediently turned to her. Kyle bowed, and Mary curtsied with sober dignity. They had been well taught in minding their manners, at least while their father was watching. The proprieties met, they immediately returned their gaze to their father. Clearly they adored him. And, just as clearly, he seemed determined to keep them at a distance.

  “Now, Belnap, you may leave the children with me and show Miss Webster to her chamber. Send Nurse for the children in exactly ten minutes.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Belnap murmured, holding the door for Letitia.

  Letitia moved toward the open door, but was forestalled when Lord Blair called out, “Oh, I almost forgot, Miss Webster, I’ve something for you.”

  Letitia turned about and watched and waited while Lord Blair picked up a pamphlet and a sheet of parchment paper from the desk and handed them to her. The title of the book was The Guardian’s Guide to the Scheduling of Children’s Activities. On the paper was a schedule, written in a strong, elegant hand, detailing the children’s activities for the coming week.

  “Study the book, Miss Webster,” he ordered her. “The schedule I’ve outlined for the children closely follows the advice put forth by the scholarly gentleman who penned this remarkable vol
ume. I am very much impressed with his wisdom.”

  Letitia skimmed the grueling agenda, noting that no play periods were included. “Indeed, I make no doubt that the gentleman who wrote this book is scholarly, my lord,” she murmured. “I’m equally convinced he hasn’t the least understanding of children.”

  Belnap made a little coughing noise, and Lord Blair drew himself up in a rigid pose of indignation. “You said I might be honest,” she reminded him as she quickly exited the room.

  Letitia’s first two weeks at Leys Castle went by amazingly fast. The better part of each day was spent with the children in lessons or in meals. Letitia did not insist on a play period for the children—though she fully intended to, eventually—but she made the lessons fun, which somewhat made up for the lack of romping. But not quite. Spring beckoned constantly, its tantalizing rays of soft sunshine casting prisms of light on the schoolroom floor, the smell of blooming flowers and sweet new grass wafting on the breezes that blew through the open windows.

  Lord Blair’s schedule allowed for a fifteen-minute walk in the formal gardens, but the trek through clipped shrubs and organized flower beds was meant to combine decorous exercise with instruction on local flora and fauna, and His Lordship duly quizzed the children each evening before they went to bed. Therefore Letitia was obliged to forgo the romping or risk being called to the carpet for neglecting the children’s botanical education.

  Letitia was biding her time. After acquainting herself with the routines and personalities of Leys Castle, and getting to know her charges as best she could in a few days’ time, she meant to launch a full-fledged attack on Lord Blair’s too rigid notions of child rearing. Her resolve to make the children’s lives more bearable grew as she came to be very fond of Kyle and Mary. In truth, they were starved for affection.

  Sometimes during lessons Lord Blair would appear at the door of the schoolroom and bend his penetrating gaze on the three of them, as earnestly watching her as he watched the children. She would invite him to come in, but he always refused politely and withdrew, bidding the children to be good and to learn their lessons well. A momentary pall would fall on the group whenever Lord Blair made these unexpected and frustratingly distant appearances. Kyle’s hungry eyes would linger on the empty doorway long after his father went away. Letitia always tried that much harder to amuse them when this happened, and she delighted in their responding smiles and laughter.