To Kiss a Governess

by Emma Prince

  “I’ve hired companions,” he said, taking another slow step forward. “None has been up to the task. As I said, I want ye. Nay, no’ to serve as Clarissa’s governess, for she has been educated. But to…help her in whatever way ye can.”

  Unease snaked up Thea’s spine. “What do you mean, help her?”

  “My sister is…unwell,” he replied. She didn’t miss the way his lips tightened at the corners as he spoke. He brought a hand up to cup his eyes and massage his temples for a moment. When at last he dropped his hand, he looked suddenly weary.

  “It has been a long day—for both of us, I’m sure,” he said. “We can discuss yer assignment further in the morning—if ye wish to remain.”

  Thea stilled. Of course she wouldn’t set out from the castle tonight. It would be fully dark by now, and she had no desire to trudge back to the inn on that muddy, uneven road.

  But would she wish to stay in the light of day? Something about this situation—the castle, her charge, and most especially the man standing before her—made her burn with curiosity. Why did the earl’s sister require her “skills,” as Lord Kinfallon had called them? And what emotion did she see simmering behind the earl’s dark green eyes? Desperation? Longing?

  “Very well,” she said at last. “Tomorrow, then.”

  He let a breath go and called to Mrs. MacDuffy. The housekeeper shuffled in from the kitchens and took the earl’s instructions to see her to a guest room in the south tower. Thea followed Mrs. MacDuffy up one of the two spiraling staircases leading from the great hall, then paused as the housekeeper pushed open a heavy wooden door.

  The room was sparse yet clean. A large four-poster bed was nudged against the circular wall between two slitted windows. The brazier in front of one of the windows glowed cheerily. A wooden armoire and a table with a basin, pitcher, and mirror placed atop it completed the furnishings.

  As the door closed softly behind Mrs. MacDuffy, Thea moved to the bed and sank down onto the thick quilts.

  Heaven help her—what had she gotten herself into?

  Chapter 4

  As was her habit, Thea rose before the sun. By the blue pre-dawn light coming in through the chamber’s two arrow slits, she moved to the basin and splashed water over her face.

  She reached for the gown she’d worn yesterday, which she’d draped across the foot of the bed on the side with the now-cool brazier, hoping to dry it, but something gave her pause. In only her chemise, she padded softly to the chamber door and pulled it open an inch.

  On the little stone landing before her door, there sat her trunk.

  Had Lord Kinfallon sent for it last night? Or well before dawn this morning? Or…or had he fetched it himself, as he’d implied he might down in the great hall?

  The thought sent heat into her cheeks, despite the chill in the air and the cold stones underfoot. An earl shouldn’t have attended to her as Lord Kinfallon had last night.

  Then again, an earl shouldn’t have been riding through the mist at dusk, wearing a green and blue checked kilt and a workman’s coat. An earl shouldn’t have let her mistake him for some hired man or strange passerby. And he certainly shouldn’t have scooped her into his arms and placed her across his lap.

  Why would such a man seek her out, hire her, and bring her all the way from York to this remote corner of the Highlands to look after his grown sister?

  The only way Thea would have answers was to stop dawdling and get on with her day. She dragged her trunk into the chamber and quickly selected her only other gown from inside. She didn’t bother unpacking her few additional garments and personal effects, but only because she was eager for answers, she told herself, not because she still might decide to flee this foreboding, mysterious place like a coward.

  Smoothing her plain, dark skirts, she stepped from the chamber and made her way back down the spiral stairs toward the great hall.

  The hall was empty when she arrived, but light edged the door to the kitchens. Nudging the door open, Thea found Mrs. MacDuffy and a young scullery maid moving about the kitchen.

  “Ah, Miss Reynolds!” Mrs. MacDuffy breathed. The housekeeper bobbed her graying head at Thea. Though the woman’s face was lined with age and a bit thin and drawn, she bore a soft fullness in her body that she carried with assured, brisk steps.

  Without being prompted, Mrs. MacDuffy set a bowl of porridge with milk on the counter for Thea.

  “Thank you,” Thea murmured. As a governess, she was used to eating where and when she could—usually alone. She was neither a member of the family, nor a servant exactly. Thea didn’t mind the solitude, nor the interstitial nature of a governess’s role. In fact, her childhood had made her perfectly suited for balancing between two worlds. It felt normal to have to forge her own path, even while adhering to the rules of respectable society.

  It seemed that things wouldn’t follow the normal way at Kinfallon, though. The construction of the castle alone would make proper decorum difficult. The refinements of a wealthy home in town were obviously lacking here. No doubt there was less rigid separation between the earl and his household staff. Thea had yet to see servants’ quarters—or many servants, come to think of it.

  “It is very…quiet at this hour in the castle,” she commented, taking a bite of porridge as she watched Mrs. MacDuffy and the scullery maid prepare a tray of food.

  “It is quiet all the time, miss,” Mrs. MacDuffy replied, placing another bowl of porridge on the tray. “I hope ye dinnae mind, for we are a small household without much in the way of diversion or excitement.” The housekeeper’s face tightened as she faltered, a glass of milk poised in her hand over the tray. “We have our hands full with—”

  Mrs. MacDuffy stopped herself, but after a pause, tried again. “Lord Kinfallon sent most of the staff away a year or so back. He didnae like all the prying eyes, ye see, or the wagging tongues.”

  “Oh?” Thea said, trying to keep her voice light. This must have to do with the earl’s mysterious sister.

  Mrs. MacDuffy leaned forward, dropping her voice. “Ye must understand, miss. He is verra protective of—”

  Just then, the kitchen door swung open, and there stood the earl. Thea sucked in a breath. He looked like a different man than the one who’d whisked her to the castle last night.

  He still wore tall riding boots, but these were clean of mud and polished to a dull shine. Gone was the kilt, and in its place, he wore tight-fitting buff trousers that were tucked into the boots. A coat of dark blue brushed his thighs, and a crisp white shirt poked out around his loosely tied cravat. The dark, wavy hair that had rested on his shoulders last night was pulled back into a queue at his neck.

  Thea met his eyes and barely managed to repress another gasp. No, this was the same man who’d pinned her with his gaze all evening. Those searching, forest-green eyes were unmistakable.

  Even more than that, there was an air of wildness about him that matched the rugged landscape of the Highlands, even dressed as he was now. True, his clothes would be acceptable in any English nobleman’s drawing room, yet something about the way Lord Kinfallon wore them made them seem almost a costume. Though it was well-fitted to his broad shoulders and tall frame, he seemed close to bursting from his coat’s confines. And though it was only just after dawn, he looked to have already pulled on his cravat to loosen it.

  His gaze held her for another long heartbeat before flicking over to Mrs. MacDuffy. “Is it ready?”

  Mrs. MacDuffy quickly placed a spoon on the tray, then nodded. “Aye. Here ye are, my lord.”

  Once the housekeeper had passed him the tray, he fixed his gaze on Thea once more. “Are ye ready to meet yer charge, Miss Reynolds?”

  Thea pulled in a deep breath, her ribs straining against her corset. “Yes, my lord.”

  He stepped backward through the swinging kitchen door, then held it open as Thea passed through. He took the lead, striding purposefully toward the stairs opposite the ones Thea had taken last night.

  Thea h
urried to keep up with his long legs as he scaled the spiraling stairs two at a time. They passed two doors set back by stone landings as they continued up, but Lord Kinfallon didn’t slow until the stairs came to an abrupt halt at what must have been the top. A single wooden door spanned the width of the dim spiral staircase.

  Lord Kinfallon gently pushed open the door and stepped inside. Thea followed, forcing herself to brave whatever lay on the other side.

  The chamber was similar to her own. Two arrow slits let in paltry light, and no fire burned in the brazier to warm the cool air. A large four-poster bed jutted in the middle of the circular room, but the mattress had been pulled from the wooden frame and lay askew on the floor.

  As Thea scanned the room, more and more signs of disarray met her eyes. The armoire doors were open and gowns hung crooked or lay in piles at its base. The chair that was meant for the dressing table rested on its side on the floor.

  Thea’s gaze landed on a huddled form on the other side of the table. The top of a woman’s dark head and her bare feet were visible from where Thea stood.

  “Clarissa,” Lord Kinfallon said gently. “I have breakfast. And someone I’d like ye to meet.”

  The woman remained motionless, her hair, the same rich, dark chestnut as the earl’s, spilling over her bent knees. But Thea thought she heard the woman murmuring.

  Lord Kinfallon set the full tray on the dressing table, exchanging it for a picked-over one with the remains of what looked like the same stew Thea had eaten last night. Good heavens, did the earl’s sister always eat up here—alone?

  Steeling her spine, Thea stepped forward.

  “Hello, Lady Clarissa,” she said evenly. “I am Miss Reynolds—Thea, if you prefer. I am to be your—” She faltered, glancing back at Lord Kinfallon. He didn’t return her gaze, however, for he was staring at his sister’s huddled form, his eyes tight. “I am to assist you in whatever way I can,” Thea finished awkwardly.

  Just then, Lady Clarissa lifted her head, and for a split second, her dark brown eyes flicked to Thea’s. Thea saw intelligence in them—and unfathomable pain. Lady Clarissa’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her face drawn and ghostly white. Indeed, the woman seemed lucid, at least for the moment, but also haunted by something that had clearly broken her.

  The men’s whispered words from the inn the evening before came back to Thea then. The madwoman in the tower. They’d been speaking of Lady Clarissa, no doubt. Lord Kinfallon had hired others before her, he’d said. All had failed. And now Thea, a governess by training, was to—what? Cure this woman? Tend to her like a nurse? Act as her companion? She needed answers—answers that it seemed only Lord Kinfallon could give.

  She turned back to him and tilted her head, indicating that he should follow her as she crossed to the far side of the room. The earl set the used tray by the door and moved to her side, all the while keeping his eyes on his sister.

  “I’m sure ye have many questions,” Lord Kinfallon said, saving Thea from fumbling for the words to open what would undoubtedly be a difficult conversation. “Let me explain.” Yet his jaw worked for several moments before he went on. “Clarissa hasnae always been this way. We had a happy childhood here at Kinfallon Castle. Our parents both passed several years back, but we had each other. And then Clarissa got married to a kind man—John.”

  “John.”

  Thea started at the clearly spoken word from Lady Clarissa. But when she looked at the earl’s sister, she was focused on some sort of figurine or doll, which she lifted in both her hands. It was a painted nutcracker, Thea realized.

  “He was a commoner,” Lord Kinfallon went on, as if Lady Clarissa hadn’t spoken. “It was a great scandal at the time—the daughter and sister of an earl, marrying a farmer—and a Sutherland, no less. But they loved each other. Margaret, their daughter, was proof of that love.”

  “Margaret.” Lady Clarissa’s voice pinched. From the folds of her skirts, she produced a wooden doll, holding it alongside the nutcracker.

  “Two years past,” Lord Kinfallon said, dropping his voice, “John’s farm was to be cleared to make way for sheep. He was one of the last hold-outs against the clearances. When he wouldnae go quietly…” The earl cleared his throat. “His croft was burned—with the family inside.”

  Thea clapped a hand over her mouth, but her gasp still slipped out.

  “Clarissa escaped, but John and Margaret werenae so lucky. When she’d recovered enough to receive the news, Clarissa…well, something in her mind went off.” Lord Kinfallon shifted, clutching one hand in the other behind his back. “I’ve had a doctor look at her, of course,” he said. “There is nothing physically wrong with her. He called it a mental disorder, yet he didnae believe she was a danger to anyone. My position as earl has allowed me to keep her out of an asylum, but…”

  “But she needs more care than you can give her,” Thea said quietly, watching Lady Clarissa cradle the doll and the nutcracker to her chest.

  “Aye,” Lord Kinfallon responded. “I have been neglecting my duties to the estate. Each time one of the nurses or companions I’ve hired has failed, I am left to pick up the pieces—and seek a suitable replacement.”

  “And why have the others failed?” Thea asked, fearful of the answer. Was this task impossible?

  She glanced up at the earl to find his jaw clenched so tight that a muscle jumped in his cheek. “Some treated her like an invalid, spooning her soup and insisting that she stay in bed. Others acted as though she was a simpleton, a dullard with no understanding of the world around her. And a few were…cruel.”

  A loud series of pops sounded behind the earl’s back, and Thea jumped. She realized belatedly that he’d squeezed his hands so tight that his knuckles had cracked.

  Lord Kinfallon rounded on her, pinning her with a fierce look. “Clarissa isnae a simpleton, Miss Reynolds, nor will I abide her being beaten in an attempt to bring her back to sanity.”

  Thea nodded swiftly. “I would never do such a thing.”

  The earl let a slow breath go, some of the tension in his broad shoulders easing. “Aye, I ken that, which is why I wanted ye for the task. Mark me well, Clarissa isnae a child. She knows her numbers and letters, music, art—all the accomplishments an earl’s daughter would be taught. Ye neednae serve as a governess. But yer reputation led me to hope that ye would ken how to reach her somehow…to meet her where she’s at, as ye say.”

  “I…I understand.” Did she? Thea had never encountered anything like this before.

  Yes, she’d dealt with unruly children before. In London, Harriet could never seem to sit still for more than a few minutes at a time, and William had been a painfully slow reader, for the letters appeared jumbled to him. Thea had helped them—at Miss Milton’s side, of course. They’d found innovative ways to help William with his letters, and Harriet was much better when she could move freely—or take her lessons while they walked outside.

  Her assignment with the Braxtons had been easier, though the fever that had taken much of Gertrude’s hearing had meant that Thea had needed to be creative in her music lessons—this time without Miss Milton’s help.

  Could she do this? She watched Lady Clarissa whisper in the ear of the nutcracker, then smile down on it, sadness shimmering in her dark eyes. Though Thea could only imagine what lurked in the dark corners of Lady Clarissa’s mind, there was no mistaking the intelligence she’d seen earlier—or the pain.

  Thea drew in a deep breath. She may not be able to help Clarissa, but she was willing to try.

  “I’m ready to begin,” she said to Lord Kinfallon.

  Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, perhaps? Or gratitude? He nodded, then motioned her toward Lady Clarissa.

  “I’m going to leave the two of ye now,” he said, more to his sister than to Thea. “Do ye hear me, Clarissa?”

  The woman’s head remained bent over her dolls. She began rocking back and forth, murmuring again.

  Lord Kinfallon knelt in front of her and l
aid a hand over hers where it clutched the nutcracker. “Clarissa,” he said, his voice still gentle, but firmer this time. “They arenae here. John and Margaret are dead. These toys arenae them. Please, try to concentrate on Miss Reynolds instead.”

  Just as Lady Clarissa recoiled from her brother’s soft words with a moan, Thea hurried forward and knelt at his side. She dropped a hand to his forearm. “Forgive me, my lord, but I don’t think that’s the way to proceed.”

  Lord Kinfallon lifted his gaze to her, then let his dark, forest-colored eyes drop to her hand, which still lay atop his arm.

  Realizing her blunder, Thea snatched her hand back. What had she been thinking, reprimanding the earl and touching him in the same instant? “Forgive me,” she breathed again.

  Still, if she was going to take on this assignment, she had to do it her way. Steeling herself, she forged onward. “I hope you will allow me some…leeway, my lord. As you said, the reason you sought me out was because you wanted someone who wasn’t afraid to be unconventional. I would ask your permission to proceed as I see fit with Lady Clarissa—which may mean that I’ll ask you to make some changes as well.”

  To Thea’s surprise, instead of a swift denial or a sharp word to put her back in her place, Lord Kinfallon merely studied her for a long moment, his gaze keen. Heat crept into her face, but Thea refused to back down.

  If she had been surprised before, utter shock filled her as Lord Kinfallon slowly reached for the hand she’d just snatched from his arm and lifted it to his mouth. He brushed her knuckles with his lips, soft and warm.

  “I am yers to command, Miss Reynolds,” he murmured.

  Before she could unscramble her wits, Lord Kinfallon rose, scooping up last night’s tray as he strode through the door without a word. Leaving Thea alone with Lady Clarissa.

  Thea turned to Lady Clarissa, putting a kind smile on her face. “Would you mind introducing me, Lady Clarissa?” she asked, motioning toward the two dolls the woman clutched defensively to her chest.

  To Thea’s amazement, something resembling surprise—followed by pleasure—flashed in Lady Clarissa’s dark eyes.