Regency Romance Collection: Regency Fire: The Historical Regency Romance Complete Series (Books 1-5)

by Bridget Barton

  The desk which the Duke sat behind was an extraordinarily heavy looking affair made of dark oak, and the papers upon it seemed to be in a measure of disarray. Georgette, being rather an orderly sort of woman herself, could not help letting her eyes settle upon the little mess.

  “You come to me without references, Miss Darrington,” the Duke said so suddenly that Georgette looked sharply up from her study of his desk.

  “That is correct, Your Grace. I have no references.”

  “You have never worked as a governess before?”

  “I have never worked as anything before, Your Grace.”

  “But you have decided to become a governess?”

  “I had no choice in the matter, Your Grace, but I have an extensive education and am confident that I can teach the children their essential learning and a number of accomplishments.”

  “Indeed,” he said, giving no hint whatsoever with his tone whether he was pleased or displeased.

  When he remained silent, Georgette decided to do the same. She was feeling suddenly rather nervous and could not help remembering Mr Shelford Winstanley’s description of the Duke as intimidating. Even in silence, she thought he was quite that.

  Georgette dared to take another peek at the man and realized that he was not looking at her at all. Rather, he was looking down at the paperwork on his desk once more, sitting quietly and almost immobile, and she wondered if he were about to dismiss her from the room.

  However, she took the opportunity to study him a little more closely and could see that Hamilton Whitehall was a good deal older than she was herself. He was, she thought, perhaps four and thirty years, if not a little more. Nonetheless, he looked really rather well for his age, with broad shoulders and an upright sort of bearing. Despite the fact he was still sitting behind his desk, Georgette rather thought that he would, when standing, be something of a very tall man.

  His tailcoat and waistcoat, all that she could see of his apparel from behind the desk, were in a matching shade of dark blue, almost identical to that of her own gown. His shirt was immaculately white and its necktie curiously plain, although smart.

  The Duke had rather a thick head of hair in a very light brown which tended to blond at the temples. Georgette wondered if it was the sort of hair which became fairer the brighter the sun shone. His eyes were bright, rather a piercing sort of a blue and, when he did deign to look at her and even hold her gaze, they made her feel a little uneasy.

  His face had rather strong features, and a mouth that would likely be pleasingly generous if he did but smile. His skin was a little tanned and had a certain roughness which suggested that he could not last more than a day without shaving and still maintain a certain neatness to his appearance.

  “I presume that you are aware that the children have had no less than three governesses in quick succession in the last six months?” Again, he spoke suddenly.

  “Yes, Mr Winstanley at the employment registry made me very aware of the fact.”

  “Does that not concern you at all?”

  “In truth, it does concern me a little, Your Grace, but not enough that I would turn the position down.”

  “Indeed,” he said and looked at her rather blankly.

  In truth, Georgette was well aware that the Duke was likely deducing that she had found herself in very sudden low circumstances, and he seemed to be regarding her in a most searching fashion. When he had looked at her for almost a full minute, Georgette could not help thinking that he was really rather looking down upon her.

  Of course, as a Duke, he might well have looked down upon her before she had been reduced to poverty. And, of course, he might not be looking down upon her at all. It struck her that he was really rather a difficult man to read, and she found herself feeling most decidedly uncomfortable in his company and wished that their meeting would soon draw to its conclusion.

  “Miss Darrington, I do not wish to hear tales of the servants or anything concerning the children. They are to be brought up well with good manners and a good education. Beyond that, I do not wish to be bothered with the day-to-day running of their lives, is that understood?” Suddenly, his piercingly bright blue eyes were fixed on her own, and Georgette wondered if she would be able to get a word out. She felt herself suddenly struck mute and yet knew that she must say something.

  “That is understood, Your Grace,” she said simply, wondering why on earth it was that he had no interest in the day-to-day lives of two adorable little girls.

  “I will meet with you here once a week so that you may make a report of your progress to me regarding the educational advancement of the children. There will be no need for you to bring the children with you, obviously.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she said, rather thinking that he had something of an aversion to Eleri and Ffion.

  “The children’s nurse will have them delivered to you at half past nine every morning in the schoolroom. They will already be washed, dressed, and breakfasted. In essence, they shall be ready for their lessons immediately.” He stared at her again, and Georgette fought an urge to run from the room.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she said, rather willing the whole thing to be at an end.

  “You will keep the children throughout the day, including luncheon, which shall be brought to the schoolroom for the three of you and which you will supervise without the aid of the nurse.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “The nurse will, of course, relieve you of the children’s care at half-past three in the afternoon. From then onwards, you are free to do as you please unless, of course, there is some social engagement to which the children need to attend outside of those hours. In just such a situation you, rather than their nurse, shall accompany them. In truth, I rather doubt that such a requirement shall occur, but I am simply pointing out your role should that happen.”

  “I understand, Your Grace.”

  “On Sundays, you shall attend church with myself and the children. The four of us shall ride in the carriage together and shall sit in the front pew, as is the custom of my family.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Georgette said, already worrying about the awkward conversation that would take place inside the carriage when she was alone with him and the children.

  “And for the rest of Sunday, you may do as you wish.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Georgette said but was still thinking about church and wondering quite how far away the nearest church was. If only they were in London, then she could be assured that there would be a church within minutes of their current location.

  “I think that will be all for now, Miss Darrington. It is likely that I shall not see you between now and church on Sunday, so if you have any questions, I suggest you ask them before we conclude.” For all the world, he seemed entirely keen to dismiss her, and Georgette could not help feeling just a little insulted.

  “I have no questions, Your Grace,” Georgette said truthfully.

  “Then I rather think that our business is concluded,” he said and suddenly rose from his seat and strode around the desk towards her.

  Once he was standing and within feet of her, Georgette realized quite how tall and broad he was and almost gasped. Before he was anywhere near close, he seemed almost to tower over her. She could see that he was wearing immaculately fitting black breeches, and his black knee boots shone to perfection. All in all, she thought she had never seen a man so well-dressed without any hint of ostentation. It was simply that his tailoring struck her as being second to none.

  As he continued towards her, Georgette could not help thinking that his very stature was most unlike any aristocrat she had ever met. He did not fall into the category of the customary slim and rather angular aristocrat with the sort of aquiline features which tended to give them the appearance of delicately picking their way through life most disdainfully.

  In truth, with a little growth on his chin and different clothing, he would easily pass for a large and rather robust farmhand. For a
moment, Georgette thought that she might laugh and held her breath to stave it off.

  The Duke finally drew to a halt in front of her and looked down as she looked up.

  “Just one more thing, Miss Darrington,” he said as Georgette fought the urge to take a step backward away from him. She was not sure if he intended to be intimidating, or if it was simply his size and stature which made him so at that moment. However, it did not stop her wanting to leave.

  “Yes, Your Grace?” she said, somewhat proud to hear that her voice remained steady despite his close proximity.

  “Perhaps as you go about your day-to-day business of educating the children and training them in various accomplishments, you might give some thought to doing what you can to eradicate their Welsh intonations.”

  “Your Grace?” Georgette knew that she had sounded surprised and wished for all the world that she had not.

  “The children were born and raised in North Wales thus far and have acquired the accent of the region. However, they are not returning to Wales and shall, instead, remain here in the heart of the Duchy of Draycott. If they are to be raised in such a home, I would expect them to develop the requisite accent.”

  Without having to ask, Georgette knew, as she was bound to, that he expected them to speak with the clipped and precise tones common among the upper-class English, herself included. Having heard the beautiful, lyrical voices of the little girls, Georgette could not help thinking it a dreadful shame. However, she thought she ought not to openly fight against the thing with her new employer on her first day.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she said, entirely hiding her disquiet.

  “Well, I shall leave you to your duties,” he said and stepped around her to open the door.

  When he pulled it back wide to allow her to step through, Georgette could not help thinking it a most curious thing. Given his demeanor and the way he had dismissed the housekeeper, she could not begin to imagine that he customarily opened doors for his staff in such a gentlemanly fashion. In truth, the entire act seemed greatly at odds with the rest of him and, for a moment, Georgette was not truly sure that he meant for her to leave the room first. She hesitated for a moment and, when he looked at her little quizzically, she thanked him, nodded politely, and disappeared through the doorway.

  As she walked smartly back towards the schoolroom, she heard the study door close softly behind her.

  Chapter Eight

  When Georgette approached the door of the schoolroom once more and reached out to open it, she surreptitiously looked back along the corridor to see if the Duke himself had left his room. Since it appeared that he had not, she could only conclude that he had chosen to act like a gentleman before her and open the door, and she found herself just a little confused by it all.

  After all, in all other respects, he had simply spoken to her as a member of staff, nothing more.

  As she entered the schoolroom and saw the two little girls sitting in silence as their nurse gazed out of one of the great windows, she put the whole thing to the back of her mind. Clearly, Mrs Wells had given up the pretense of teaching the children and had reverted to doing what it was she likely had done day in day out since the last governess had left them.

  As Georgette silently surveyed her, she thought Mrs Wells to be of a type. She was a jaded servant at the top end of the scale who was keen to make mischief and deliver spite merely for the sake of it. Perhaps such amusements were the only thing which stopped a person of low intellect from growing most terribly bored.

  Suddenly feeling her assessment of the older woman to be a little harsh, Georgette let out a sigh and rather wished that things could be different. When she closed the door, the nurse spun around, clearly forced out of her reverie by the sound.

  “Forgive me, Mrs Wells,” Georgette said although, in truth, she rather thought she was apologizing for her unkind thoughts rather than for startling the woman.

  “His Grace is finished with you, then?” she said, her surprise seeming to make her a little more agreeable if only for a moment.

  “Yes, it was rather a short meeting,” Georgette said and attempted a warmer smile than any she had treated the woman to thus far.

  “And he made it plain that no Welsh words are to be spoken?” she said, with a little sneer which made Georgette regret her moment of weak magnanimity.

  “No, it was not mentioned,” Georgette said and told herself she was not lying.

  After all, the Duke had said nothing about Welsh words. He had not mentioned the Welsh language at all; rather, he had simply spoken of the English language spoken in a Welsh accent.

  Of course, Georgette knew by instinct that the surly Duke was intent upon eradicating Welsh in all its forms from the little girls’ voices and vocabulary, but she was not yet keen to give the dreadful nurse an inch.

  “That is unusual. He is normally most keen to see that his will is done in that respect,” the nurse said, and the spiteful set of her face let Georgette know that the woman did not believe her for a moment.

  “Well, perhaps that is a conversation for another day,” Georgette responded, keeping her voice calm and hoping that Mrs Wells would not seek to cause her some trouble on account of it all.

  “Oh, I am sure of it,” she said, looking ever more self-satisfied.

  “Indeed,” Georgette said lightly. “Well, if there is nothing else, Mrs Wells, perhaps the children and I ought to set about our studies for the day. After all, it is now half past ten, and it really is time that we were doing something constructive.”

  “Very well,” the nurse said and began to march across the room towards the door, clearly not keen on the idea of having just been dismissed by the new governess. However, since the children were very much in Georgette’s charge at that hour of the day, there was little that Mrs Wells could do about it.

  Mrs Wells opened the door and walked through it without another word, pulling it rather sharply closed behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, Georgette saw little Ffion jump at the noise and wondered just how much these two little children had gone through since they had arrived at Draycott Hall.

  She had yet to discover exactly what the children were to the Duke and knew only that they were not his own children. In truth, the Duke being based in Oxfordshire meant that she knew very little about him. Undoubtedly, he would be a regular visitor to London, presumably keeping a home there also as most titled aristocracy of his standing did. However, it was clear that they would not have known the same people nor mixed in the same circles, and the fact that she knew so little about him was hardly surprising.

  “Well, girls, since we do not have very much time until luncheon arrives, perhaps we should just settle down and get to know a little about each other,” Georgette said with a big smile as she sat down at the table with the little blonde girls. When neither of them responded, Georgette continued, “And perhaps it would be better if we simply began our lessons tomorrow, instead.”

  Neither of the girls spoke, but Eleri nodded vigorously.

  “So, you told me before that you come from Beddgelert,” Georgette said, careful to pronounce it Bethgelert, just as Eleri had done earlier.

  The little girls smiled, and Georgette knew she had found a way to gain their trust. Also, she thought it might help her to establish exactly who the little girls were and why it was they had been left in the care of a taciturn Duke who clearly did not want them in his home.

  “Yes, Miss Darrington,” Eleri said, and Ffion nodded.

  “And, Ffion, is it pretty there?” Georgette said, smiling at the quiet twin and hoping to draw her out just a little.

  “Oh, it is verrry pretty, Miss.” Ffion’s voice was so tiny and her accent so pronounced that Georgette smiled. To hear so small a girl roll her Rs was a joy to listen to, and Georgette felt a sudden wish to gather Ffion up and hold her tightly.

  “It is near a big mountain, is it not?” Georgette had never been to Wales but hoped that her reading on the country would be e
nough to hold the girls’ interest.

  “It is near Mount Snowdon, Miss Darrington,” Eleri said, clearly finding herself at ease just a little before her sister.

  “And have you walked all the way to the top of Mount Snowdon?” Georgette said, her eyes wide and her face bright and interested.

  “No, Miss Darrington. Ffion and I are too little yet, for it is such a big mountain. You can see it from our house in Beddgelert!”

  “How wonderful. What a lovely sight that must be to see every day.” Georgette almost laughed as she thought of the view from her old bedroom window in the heart of Mayfair.

  “Beautiful,” Ffion said so quietly that Georgette could hardly hear her.

  “And should you like to walk up the mountain when you are bigger?” Georgette wanted to keep their little conversation flowing.

  “Yes, but I do not think we are going back,” Eleri said sadly. “And we need to be much bigger to walk up it. Our mama walked up it before we were born, she said, but she was grown up then. She walked up it with our Nain and Taid when she first arrived. That is what she told us.”

  “Nain and Taid?” Georgette said, never having heard the words before.

  “Our grandparents,” Eleri said and Ffion nodded.

  “Grandmother is Nain and Grandfather is Taid,” Ffion said, and Georgette was pleased to see that she seemed to be growing in confidence.

  “What lovely words. I have never heard them before.” Georgette smiled and found herself captivated by the adorable little girls.

  What a dreadful thing it would be for them to have their heritage stolen from them by an uncaring guardian and a nurse who was all too quick to agree to his unreasonable demands. Already, Georgette was wondering how she would manage to bring a book of Welsh words and phrases into Draycott Hall without being caught out.

  She was also wondering where the children’s mother was; the woman who had walked up Mount Snowdon with the children’s grandparents before the little girls were born. In truth, she could do no other than fear that the woman was deceased, for why else would the children be living in a Duke’s mansion in England and not in Beddgelert where they could see the beautiful mountain from their house?