by Cheryl Holt
“I was sixteen.”
“So you’re twenty-five.”
“Yes.”
“You never married?”
“No.”
“Why haven’t you? Has no man ever asked? Or is it because you have such a low view of the male species that you weren’t interested?”
She could have begun a lengthy diatribe about her past, but she never talked about herself. On her initially signing with Mrs. Ford’s agency, Mrs. Ford had insisted she not mention her name or history. It would simply upset potential employers and make it harder for her to find work.
And she absolutely had to work. She had no other option.
When she was fifteen and near to finishing her education, her parents and brother had been returning from a trip to Italy. Their ship had sunk, and they were presumed deceased.
Her cousin, Jasper, had inherited her father’s earldom and his title of Lord Middlebury as well as her family’s home and other properties. He and his wife, Desdemona, had swooped in like greedy vultures, and they’d been adamant that Abigail and her two sisters, Catherine and Sarah, weren’t welcome at Middlebury.
She and her sisters all earned their livings. They had no other choice. Jasper claimed their father had been a spendthrift, that the estate was bankrupt and their dowries squandered. They had no money to fight Jasper in the courts, no power to prove he was lying.
In the blink of an eye, they’d lost everything, and she had no idea how to get it back.
To add insult to injury, Jasper was a gambler and notorious roué, his repute as black as a kettle. She didn’t dare admit he was her cousin. She had to maintain a pristine reputation, and with his careless habits known by all, people might wonder if she possessed any of the same despicable tendencies. Who would hire her then?
“If I thought it was any of your business,” she said, “I would tell you that I haven’t married because I never had the chance.”
“No dowry, huh?”
“No dowry.”
“But if a rich, stable fellow swept you off your feet, would you jump at the opportunity to be a bride? Would you run off and leave poor Mr. Wallace in the lurch?”
“No, I wouldn’t leave him in the lurch.”
“Why not? Aren’t you eager to wed?”
She scoffed. “In my experience, fairytales are silly. There will be no wealthy beau to sweep me off my feet.”
“You’re not a romantic at heart?”
“No. I don’t have a romantic bone in my body.”
“What an odd woman you are.”
“Why? Because I don’t pine away for a husband?”
“No, because you don’t believe in love and romance. I’ve never met a female who didn’t obsess over both.”
“I’ve never had the time to obsess over them.”
“How boring your life must be.”
“My life is fine,” she said and usually it was.
She missed her sisters though. And she’d never quite accepted that her parents and her brother, Hayden, were deceased. Especially Hayden. He’d been so vibrant and charismatic. She still expected to glance over her shoulder someday and he’d be sauntering toward her.
She missed her prior existence too. She missed their home at Middlebury and the easy, opulent era she’d passed there.
She recognized that Fate could be cruel, that situations could change in an instant, but why did they have to change so drastically and completely? Why couldn’t she have lost just a bit of what she’d had? Why did she have to lose every blasted thing?
They’d been walking through the woods, and suddenly the trees spit them out into a clearing. The cottage was up ahead.
It was a beautiful house, two stories high with big windows, flowerboxes, red brick and black shutters. The summer foliage was bright green, and behind the house she could see the ocean, the blue of the water providing a stark contrast.
Rose bushes splashed color everywhere, and ivy climbed up a trellis. She thought it was the kind of place where a person could be happy, where a person could settle in and not note how the years were drifting by.
“Oh, my,” she breathed, “it’s lovely, isn’t it?”
He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know if lovely is the word I’d use to describe it.”
“What word would you use?”
“Tiny. Drafty. Inconvenient.”
“Have you been inside?”
“No, I’ve simply heard people talking. The rooms are small, the ceilings low, and the chimneys smoky.”
She snorted with disgust. “For some reason, you’re trying to discourage me or perhaps ruin my arrival, but I can’t figure out why you would.”
“I’m not trying to discourage you. I’m testing your mettle.”
“Has it withstood your barrage?”
“I haven’t decided.”
He dropped her portmanteau on the ground. “This is where I leave you. Can you get your bag to the door on your own?”
“Yes. I could have lugged it all the way myself, but you wouldn’t let me.”
“It was too heavy, and you’re a woman so I wasn’t about to listen to you.”
“I stand corrected. I’m weak and feeble, and you have rescued me from myself.”
“You’re lucky I came along when I did.”
“Why were you lurking in the woods? You never explained.”
“No, I didn’t. Goodbye.”
He raised a hand to his forehead and gave a jaunty salute, then he turned and left. She watched him go, and it seemed she should offer a pithy parting remark, as if the conversation hadn’t really ended.
“Goodbye,” she called.
He glanced back, and his focus was riveting and cheeky. His impertinent eyes wandered down her torso again, assessing spots he had no business assessing. Through the entire encounter, he’d deliberately attempted to rattle her, and she would deny him the satisfaction.
“Thank you for carrying my bag,” she told him.
“Even though you didn’t want me to?”
“Even though.”
“I didn’t have anything else to do this afternoon.”
“Well, that certainly makes me feel special.”
“We’ll cross paths again,” he said like a threat.
“Will we?”
“I guarantee it.”
“Will you tell me your name when we do?”
“Maybe.”
They both grinned, and it occurred to her that she was flirting with him which was insane.
Governesses were to be quiet and invisible, to be dull and placid and content, to have no opinions or convictions, and most particularly not to appear pretty or witty or interesting. Under no circumstance were they to notice any gentleman in the immediate vicinity.
He nodded to the cottage. “I believe they’re expecting you.”
“How would you know?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
Without further comment, he continued on and was swallowed up by the trees.
She tarried, his departure leaving her a bit sad. It had been a long time since she’d strolled down a country lane with a charming, handsome fellow. Would she ever see him again? He’d insisted she would, and she hoped he’d meant it.
Ready for any type of debacle, she hefted her bag off the ground, went to the front door, and knocked.
CHAPTER TWO
“Show her in.”
“I won’t, Alex. I’m not your servant.”
“No, you’re not. I apologize.”
Alexander Wallace stared at his half-sister, Faith. She was twenty-five and looked exactly like him—black hair, blue eyes, a slender physique—but they were very different people.
Their father had been a philandering roué, and her mother his favorite housemaid at Wallace Downs. She and her brother, Trevor, who’d also been sired by Alex’s father, had always lived at the estate, although T
revor was away at school.
They were a blunt reminder that his father had been an unscrupulous ass. Faith had been born the same month as Alex’s brother, Nathaniel, and Trevor had been born the same month as Alex’s sister, Winifred. Those pesky details shamed every involved party, but most especially Alex’s mother, Britannia, who’d been forced to share the same house with her husband’s paramour and illegitimate bastards.
Their continued presence was a thorn in his mother’s side that she’d never been able to pluck out so she was very bitter. It was why she rarely visited Wallace Downs. Whenever she bumped into Faith or Trevor—her spouse’s other children—she was at a loss for words so Faith was the perfect barrier to keep her away.
“Would you care to ask me again?” Faith said.
“Yes, Faith.” He grinned. “Would you please bring her down to speak with me?”
“That’s better.”
“I try,” he sarcastically said.
“You do not,” she scoffed.
They were in the front parlor at Wallace Cottage where Faith resided with his daughters, Mary and Millie. Faith had received plenty of education for a female—his father had insisted on it—and she refused to be treated like a servant. Nor would he dream of treating her like one.
She wouldn’t teach the girls herself so governesses were necessary.
“What is your opinion?” he inquired.
“On what topic?”
“On Miss Barrington.”
“She’s incredibly pretty.”
“Is she?” he casually mused.
“She’s blond and blue-eyed and fresh-faced as a dairymaid.”
“Governesses are supposed to be fresh and innocent, aren’t they?”
“You didn’t meet her before you hired her.”
“No.”
“Camilla will hate her.”
“Probably, but Camilla hates everyone.”
Camilla was his mistress. They’d been together for years and were so cordially attached they were like an old married couple. They carried on as if they’d been wed for decades, but he persisted with her only because he lacked the desire or the energy to replace her.
She suited his decadent habits, and besides who else would have him? No sane woman that was for sure. With his past scandal still reverberating, his reputation was completely beyond repair.
“You had Camilla pick the last five governesses,” Faith pointed out. “Why did you decide to handle it yourself this time?”
“Because we’ve had five of them. I want someone who will stay. I want Mary and Millie to have a bit of stability.”
Faith snorted with aggravation. “You’re not concerned about their stability. You’re just weary of having to constantly fuss with a new person.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “I detest having to fuss. It annoys me.”
“When Camilla sees how fetching Miss Barrington is, she’ll chase her off.”
Camilla was no fool, and she was very possessive and jealous. She selected ugly, elderly crones whom Alex would never notice.
“We won’t let her scare Miss Barrington away,” he said. “How about if we devise a plan to thwart Camilla? You’d like that, and it would protect Miss Barrington.”
“You and I—protect Miss Barrington from Camilla? That’s a laugh. Camilla does whatever she likes. You’ve allowed her to run roughshod over all of us for too long.”
“We could try, Faith.”
“Camilla manages this property as if she’s your wife, and you never focus on anything that matters. If she starts in on Miss Barrington, how will we stop her?”
“I promise to pay attention for once.”
“I won’t hold my breath,” she grumbled, and she walked out.
They had an odd relationship, with Alex not realizing until he was twelve that she was his sister. A tenant’s son had spilled the appalling secret during a quarrel as an insult against Alex’s father. Alex had knocked the boy on his ass, called him a liar, then had proceeded to the manor to ask the butler if it was true.
The man wouldn’t answer, and when five other servants had declined as well, he’d been forced to accept reality. Both his father and Faith’s mother had been dead by then, and Alex had felt honor-bound to assist his half-siblings. His mother certainly wasn’t going to.
Yet it hadn’t been easy to be their kind, benevolent half-brother. They were a proud, surly pair, and they weren’t grateful for any aid he tendered. They never appreciated his efforts on their behalf, but he’d done what he could.
He listened to her climbing the stairs, listened to her speaking quietly to Miss Barrington. It was a small house so there wasn’t much privacy. As they marched down, he shook his head with disgust, curious as to what he was about.
He should have hosted this first meeting over at the manor, should have had Miss Barrington escorted into his grand library where he could have awed her with his wealth and magnificence. But he didn’t want to welcome her at the manor, didn’t want to set a precedent where she might visit frequently in order to nag over paltry issues.
So they were at the cottage, and he didn’t have his massive desk to hide behind. He just had the two sofas and a chair over by the hearth, and they didn’t seem appropriate for the pending encounter. He went to the sideboard and poured himself a whiskey, and when she entered he was slouched in the chair and sipping his drink, acting as if he was bored with the entire affair—which he was.
“Here she is,” Faith said, sounding grouchy. “Don’t bite her or you’ll frighten her away. Then I’ll have to get used to somebody else, and I like her.”
With that snide comment, she huffed out and shut the door.
The cottage belonged to Alex, but Faith had lived in it for years and viewed it as her own home. She bore the brunt of people who came to Wallace Downs, but whom he didn’t bring over to reside in the manor: her brother Trevor, the twins, their nannies and governesses. She was always testy when someone new arrived so he wasn’t surprised by her grumpy attitude.
He tamped down another grin, wishing he appeared stern and forbidding, but he couldn’t pull it off. Miss Barrington spun toward him, and she was smiling and very poised, even though she had to be nervous as hell.
“Hello, Miss Barrington,” he said. “It’s lovely to see you again.”
Her jaw dropped in astonishment, and her smile turned to a scowl. “It’s you!”
“Yes, it is.”
“You accosted me on the road. You were lurking in the forest, spying on me.”
“Yes,” he said again.
“No wonder you wouldn’t provide your name. You didn’t want me to guess who you were.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“I figured I’d have a much better idea of your character if you weren’t aware of my identity.”
“It was badly done of you.” Her tone was scolding. “You urged me to gossip and speculate about my employer.”
“In my own defense, I did most of the gossiping and speculating.”
“You claimed Mr. Wallace was domineering, rude, and wildly dissolute.”
“I wasn’t lying. I’m dreadful.”
She studied him. “You look…different.”
“I clean up rather well, don’t you agree?”
“You shaved at least. Should I be honored?”
“Yes, and I donned a coat and cravat just for you. My intent is to bowl you over with my radiance.”
“You haven’t.” She studied him more closely. “You’re still wearing an earring. Why? It seems a…peculiar piece of jewelry for a man.”
“Isn’t it though?” He sensed that she had a thousand questions as to how he’d come by it, but he wasn’t about to tell her. The servants—or Faith—would be more than happy to fill her in on his pathetic history. He gestured to the sofa. “Sit, please.”
She hesitated for so long that he thought she might stomp out. She had a bit
of spunk; he’d give her that much. And Faith was correct that she was very, very pretty.
Faith had also been correct that Camilla wouldn’t like her.
Her hair was golden blond, her eyes big and blue. She had the face of an angel, blushing cheeks, rosy lips, dimples, freckles. She was slender and lithe, but curved in all the right spots, and he couldn’t deny his attraction.
The realization was extremely troubling. He’d never imagined himself as the type who would be fascinated by a servant. His father’s scurrilous conduct with Faith’s mother had caused too many problems, and Alex had always sworn he’d never behave in the same despicable fashion.
But he vividly recalled what it had been like to stand next to Miss Barrington out on the road. Sparks had shot between them, and he could definitely see himself acting shamefully toward her. She made him think that seducing a winsome, lonely governess might be a perfectly fine notion.
Was this how his father had felt about Faith’s mother? Had she been so tempting it had seemed foolish to resist?
“Well?” he said. “Will you sit or not?”
“Yes, I’ll sit,” she ultimately replied.
She walked over and eased down, her hips barely perched on the edge of the sofa cushion. She was tense and jumpy, like a deer caught in the carriage lamps. If he uttered one wrong word, she’d likely bolt, and it would be a disaster if she left.
He never liked to dicker over the cottage or the twins’ care and education. The reason he retained governesses, nannies, and other servants was for them to serve him so he didn’t have to fret about the two girls. He hoped Miss Barrington would be the precise person he needed, the person Camilla was never able to find.
“You look anxious,” he said. “Are you afraid of me?”
She scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Good. I hate to waste time so let’s get on with this, shall we?”
“Yes, let’s get on with it. I’m clear on what’s expected of me so why was I summoned? What is it you wish to tell me?”
“I’d like you to tell me why I should hire you.”
She gaped at him as if he’d spoken in a foreign language she didn’t comprehend. “Why you should hire me?”
