His Tempting Governess: Delightful Doings in Dudley Crescent, Book 2

by DeLand, Cerise

  “You’ve been here in his lordship’s care only a few weeks, is that correct?”

  Daphne shrugged, a pall drifting over her so that she looked at the carpet. “Yes.”

  Grief sapped one of vigor. “What would you change if you could?”

  The child snapped up her head. “I’m sorry, Miss. What?”

  “If you could have anything you wanted, what would make you happier here?”

  “If my papa was here. And my mother.” Her lips quivered and tears clouded her eyes. “I wish I could go home.”

  So do I. “But we must make the best of our current circumstances. So do tell me, Daphne, if you have any requests to make your life happier.”

  “I’d like to go to the park.”

  A reasonable request. “The one in the crescent?”

  Daphne nodded eagerly. “And take Pan and Kringle, too.”

  “Of course. Do them good too.” To say nothing of being…well…more sanitary to have the animals taking care of their daily habits in nature. “I’ll ask for the key to the gate.”

  Daphne shot to her feet. “May we go now?”

  “Why not?”

  Chapter 3

  The mantel clock in his bedroom struck midnight as Win gave up the quest to fall asleep. He threw back his covers and reached for his banyan flung over his wing chair.

  Tying his sash, he sighed ruefully and slid on his slippers. Ever since his interview of Miss Swanson this afternoon, he’d thought of nothing but the woman. She shouldn’t occupy his mind…but his satisfaction to have found her challenged his curiosity that she needed employment.

  Clearly, she’d been well educated. Once, she’d been well dressed. Both indicated a background of some status. Yet she had none now and needed money. Moreover, she had the courage to ask for more than the going wage. Which begged the question: Why?

  She certainly owed him no explanation. Yet his preoccupation with her led him to hope that in time, she’d tell him.

  He paused at the connecting door from his suite to the library. Tonight he did not wish brandy. Hot chocolate was what he really craved.

  So instead, he turned toward his sitting room and the door to the hall.

  He’d taken two paces and halted at the vision swaying in the silver moonlight. In a dark robe, her feet bare upon the hall runner, Miss Isabelle Swanson executed steps from a formal country dance. Her eyes closed, her ebony hair swishing about her shoulders, her arms out, her elegant fingers brushing the air, she made her steps in silence. And to accompany her movements, she hummed.

  He stepped backward, never wishing to frighten her. Nor did he wish to stop her.

  How often did anyone express their happiness by dancing in the dark? Alone?

  Never had he known anyone to do it. But her delight in it ignited a flaming desire in his soul to join her.

  “Oh! Oh!” She froze in mid-move. “Sir!”

  “I’m so sorry, Miss Swanson.” He had one hand up. “I did not want to frighten you. Nor stop you, either.”

  “Oh, sir.” She swallowed hard and crossed her arms over her bosom. She was attired in a black velvet robe, her bare toes peeking from the gold-trimmed hem. “I apologize. You must think me mad.”

  “No, indeed.”

  “I—I was happy. Hadn’t been happy in a— And I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Happiness is a reason to dance. Here. Anywhere. At any time of night. Or day, for that matter.” He stepped toward her, overjoyed with her. “Spontaneity is a condition to be nurtured. I value it and hope you will encourage it in Daphne.”

  She tipped up her lovely heart-shaped face in question. “That, sir, is most unusual.”

  “Indeed.”

  Laughter stole across her features. “But do you believe Daphne needs encouragement to be more spontaneous than she already is?”

  “Ah, well.” He chuckled. “Good point. But yes, we all need it.”

  “Even you, sir?” Immediately with a hand to her chest, she looked startled, as if she repented the question. “Oh, I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “You haven’t.” He moved closer. She was an angel in the rays of the moon, her skin so pure, her eyes so luminous, her embarrassment so endearing. “Even I, Miss Swanson, need to be more spontaneous. Children—I do remember from my own years—can be impulsive. Education often drains it. Like many, I took what was given, made the most of it. Forgot to take inspiration and run with it. In the army, one works with the possible and banks on the probable. I acquired fine horses for battles, good equipment from winnings at gambling. If I learned on my own to like French poetry, if I enjoyed Italian cantatas, I gained those pleasures from allowing myself the rapture that came from instant, illogical desires to learn of them.”

  “How noble of you, sir,” she breathed.

  And as her gaze absorbed each feature of his visage with careful consideration, he felt the hot flush of her admiration.

  He reveled in it. Moreover, he knew not what to say that might show him as humble at her praise. But he did not wish to dismiss her approval of him. He welcomed it.

  Lured by her, he nonetheless stepped backward. “I am awake and walking the house in search of hot chocolate, Miss Swanson. May I ask you to join me?”

  She stared at him a long moment which told him she did consider it. “Thank you. No, sir.”

  “Very well. Another night then.” He let his hope shine in his eyes that soon she might agree. “I’m going to the kitchen. And you should continue your dance.”

  He took the stairs down, feeling the welcome regard of emerald eyes upon his back.

  * * *

  At seven the next morning, Izzy sought out the breakfast room. She’d checked to see that Daphne had already arisen. Unusual that, but then the child was very different from many Izzy had known. Since no maid walked the upstairs hall, she could not ask where Daphne was, but she hoped the girl might be taking her breakfast. She would be company if his lordship allowed her to share his morning meal. But never having asked his lordship what time meals were served or what his preference was about Daphne’s dining arrangements, Izzy had no idea what or whom she’d face this morning. Indeed, she hoped she might arrive earlier than her employer and avoid any discussion of her outrageous dancing in the hall last night.

  But her hope died when she rounded the corner of the gay yellow room. The sunshine streaming through the tall window blinded her not as much as the handsomeness of her employer. Resplendent in a navy clawhammer morning coat and sky blue waistcoat, he smiled at her and she melted in his regard.

  “You look rested,” he said, folding his newspaper and setting it aside.

  “I am, my lord.”

  “Did you dance after I left you?” he asked with the very devil in his eyes.

  She blushed, but took her chair, glad neither the butler Shrewsbury nor any footman stood in the room. “No, sir. I retired.”

  Cartwell reached out to ring his little golden service bell upon the table. “I did too after my hot chocolate.”

  She placed her serviette in her lap and took note of the fact that the place setting opposite her had been partially cleared. “Has Daphne already eaten?”

  “She has—and she’s taken her two friends outside to talk with the horses in the Mews. Her words, not mine.” He wiggled his blond brows and made her smile. “An interesting child who rises early. I’ve not met any like her. But then, I’ve not met many children.”

  Izzy had to grin at his acceptance of her. “She is bright. And her animals match her.”

  He sat back and considered her at his ease. “I’m pleased you don’t take fright at them.”

  “They are her amusement. A child, I do believe, should have companions. If not brothers and sisters, then other creatures to comfort and delight.”

  “Were you an only child?”

  “No. I had an older brother who died a few years ago.” She hesitated to tell him that Arthur had died at Waterloo, lest Cartwell recognize his name and therefore have he
ard of her family’s plight. Pity was not an emotion she savored or sought.

  Shrewsbury appeared along with a footman. Both went to their duties, pouring her coffee and setting a pot of tea to her right hand. For service, she told them she’d avail herself of items from the sideboard.

  “If you prefer something other,” Cartwell said after she resumed her chair, “do tell Shrewsbury. He will attend to it.”

  “Thank you. But I don’t wish to be a bother.”

  Drinking his tea slowly, Cartwell seemed in no hurry to begin his day. “Do you read the papers?” he asked and handed his over.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “What do you like to read?”

  She warmed to this topic. “Palace news of the day. Who visits the Prince or rather, the new king. The opening of a new circulating library.” Gossip.

  “Not ads for new bonnets?” he teased.

  “Not anymore.” Oh, that she should not have said.

  “I see.” He pondered that a moment. “Do you like the theater?”

  “No.” Not lately.

  “I asked Daphne the other day if her papa had ever taken her to a puppet show. She nearly jumped through her skin. What do you think? Should I purchase tickets for us? I note a new show advertised appearing in Hyde Park.”

  Was there nothing about this man that did not appeal to her? “I’d say that’s a marvelous idea.”

  “Wonderful. Call it done.” He got to his feet.

  “I’m certain she will love the outing with you, my lord.”

  “And you?” he asked. “Will you love the outing?”

  She caught her breath. Governesses did not go to entertainments with their employers. “You wish me to come along?”

  “Puppets, I should think, appeal to everyone.”

  “They do, sir.” She could not resist a bit of happiness. “I am happy to join you.”

  ”I’ll have Shrew buy the tickets for tomorrow at two.”

  “Thank you, sir. I look forward to it. And I know Daphne will.”

  He inclined his head as if she were still a lady. “Good day to you then Miss Swanson.”

  She murmured her own adieu and silently agreed what a wonderful day this was turning out to be.

  Chapter 4

  Izzy opened the gate for Daphne, Pan and Kringle. Delighted with the warm sunshine and soft breezes, she was happy to escape the townhouse. The four-some had come to the Crescent park every day for the past five. Away from the ever-present charms of Lord Cartwell.

  Izzy had not seen him again in the middle of the night. But she’d not danced in the hall, either. In truth, she wished to. Heaven knew, she had much to be happy about. But she was nervous to try it. Lest he perceive she wished to engage him in conversation at midnight, she remained in her room—and if she could not sleep, she read.

  She satisfied herself that she’d see him each morning at breakfast. He’d read his newspapers and comment on shipwrecks in the Channel and the turmoil of French politics. Yesterday, Izzy had let slip that her parents had once held strong views on the Bourbons in France. His own sounded similar, having worked with Wellington five years ago on the restoration of the Bourbon family.

  Cartwell looked grim. “Would that this new Louis and his brother Charles were more interested in uplifting their subjects than returning to their guillotined brother’s sad ways.”

  “I agree. Why not extend the franchise to more of the shopkeepers who make valuable products?” She paused, realizing she might have divulged her favoritism toward merchants. She wished him to learn little of her background.

  “Go on. I need to hear your opinion.”

  When she’d demurred, he said, “But I must. After all, you teach my ward. I must know what it is you espouse.”

  His willingness to do that astonished her. His good nature, too, at the puppet show the other day, pleased her. Her opinion of men had not been very positive in recent years. But conversing with him, enjoying his largesse and his company, she grew more comfortable each morning.

  As if we become friends.

  And they mustn’t.

  Daphne rose from her spot on the park bench next to Izzy.

  “Oh, we have company, Miss Swanson!” Daphne pointed at a woman and her charge who entered the opposite park gate. On Izzy’s and Daphne’s previous visits to the Crescent park, no one had ever emerged from the other houses to take the air.

  “Do come, Miss Swanson! Let’s introduce ourselves!”

  “Wait, Daphne!” The lady might stand on ceremony and frown upon a child—or a governess—making the first contacts.

  But Daphne ran ahead.

  The dog trotted beside his mistress.

  The monkey screeched and scampered ahead of them toward the newcomers.

  “Oh, no. Stop!” Izzy gasped as the monkey climbed up the back of the park bench. He headed straight for the well-dressed matron and young girl.

  Izzy was happy for the company, especially for the sight of another child who appeared to be Daphne’s age. But her hopes for friendship were dashed by the fright on the face of the lady.

  “Pardon us, Madam. Come along, Pan. Over here with us.” Izzy pointed to her side.

  But too late. The monkey stuck his neck out and chattered at the little girl.

  “Get away from me, you monster. Away! Shoo! Shoo!” the lady shouted. Turning her back on the animal, she sheltered the little girl from the creature in the cover of her folded arms. “Take him away! Away, I tell you.”

  “Mama! Mama!” the girl insisted and shoved against her mother. “I want to see him. And meet these people. It’s only polite. Yes? And we must be polite, mustn’t we?”

  Izzy’s panic lessened. They might yet make friends here.

  The lady managed to collect herself, all the while backing away from Pan.

  “How do you do, Madam.” Izzy began a hurried if rather impolite introduction of herself and Daphne, even pointing to their home across the park. “I am Isabelle Swanson and this is Miss Daphne Lennard. We live across the park, just there and we are delighted to meet you. Aren’t we, Daphne?”

  Daphne readily agreed, stepped forward to dip a little curtsey to the lady and grin at her daughter.

  The woman drew herself up to imperial heights. “I am Lady Osgood of the Somerset Osgoods. And this is my daughter, Rose. Come, dear. We shall leave.”

  “No, please, Mama!” Rose had other ideas. “We live at Number 32 over there.”

  “How nice,” Daphne said. “I’m new to my lordship’s house.”

  The woman questioned that with dark looks at both of them.

  Izzy cleared her throat. “And I am Daphne’s newly appointed governess.”

  Lady Osgood inhaled so deeply she might have sucked up all the flowers in the park. Pan decided it was time to move closer to her and took to picking at her hem.

  “Get away. Away! Stop that!” She gathered up her reticule against her as if it were chain mail. “Come along Rose, I will not stand for this!”

  Izzy exhaled. Teaching Pan manners would be a chore that might continue for months. Undeterred, Izzy caught the wiry animal in two hands and clasped his squirming body to her chest. “He’s harmless, Lady Osgood. Curious to get to know you. But he wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “He seems quite jolly, Mama.” Rose tugged at her mother’s hand, drawing her toward Izzy and Daphne. “Do you think he might come to me, Daphne?”

  “Do not go near him, Rose,” Lady Osgood warned. “He’s probably diseased.”

  Oh, dear me, no.

  “He doesn’t smell,” Rose said as if to mollify her mother.

  “Of course not.” Daphne drew herself up, insulted. “Pan’s clean. And we did give him a bath just this Saturday.”

  Lady Osgood made a face of disgust. “Please.”

  “Kringle, too,” Daphne added in appeal. “Lord Cartwell demands it.”

  “He does,” Izzy added. Meanwhile, the two animals gazed up at the older woman as if she were the oddity
in this park.

  “He’s looking for a wife, you see,” Daphne told the two women. “He’s rich and old. Older than my father was. So he needs to marry quickly. And Pan is clean.”

  Izzy winced. Discretion was one aspect of Daphne’s deportment that needed attention. “Daphne, we must go.”

  “But we only just met!“ Little Rose, smart and bold, objected. She’d be a fine companion for Daphne.

  But Izzy had to repair any social damages. “It was lovely to meet you both. We hope to see you again here soon.” Izzy grasped her charge’s hand and threw a polite smile to the Osgoods. “Come along, all of you. We’ll return here to play.”

  Lady Osgood grabbed her daughter's hand, her knuckles white. “Not with those animals, you won’t. There should be a law against such creatures roaming our streets."

  "He's not roaming," Daphne objected. “He’s—”

  “Daphne, please.” Izzy accompanied her warning with a shake of her head.

  "I do not wish to be accosted in my own private park. You shall remove them and not return with them. Or not return at all.”

  Daphne sniffled. “But my lady—”

  Izzy glanced down and saw Daphne was crying. “Oh, my dear.”

  She cuddled her to her side. Some people were so cruel. Unnecessarily so.

  Her sweet blue eyes flooded in tears, Daphne stared up at Izzy. “She can't do that."

  “I know. I know. But she fears them. Not much I can do about that. We’ll go elsewhere to play. “ Izzy led her toward the iron gate. But the dog and monkey did not follow.

  Izzy turned. “Here Pan, here Kringle.”

  Lady Osgood stomped her foot at the dog, who stuck out his snout and growled at her.

  Oh, no. Izzy lunged forward.

  But Lady Osgood bent to wave a hand at Pan. “Out of here! Away!”

  Izzy confronted the woman. “Stop, please. They’ve done no harm to you.”

  “Pan, do come here,” Daphne urged the monkey. “Kringle, you too!”

  But the dog advanced, in pugnacious lead, and snapped at the woman.

  The lady turned in a huff, her hand firmly on the wrist of her daughter and yanked her along to the edge of the yard.