Just as he moved to ring the bell to have a servant summon her, the door opened and Miss Chambers floated in like a queen ready to address her subjects. However did an American develop the haughtiness the aristocracy took generations of breeding to achieve?
Her blue and white striped morning gown hugged her figure a little too well for his taste. Although he had to admit she presented an inviting picture, he knew the minute she opened her mouth, the image would shatter like so much broken glass.
“Miss Chambers. Please take a seat.” He motioned to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, and sat across from her.
She smoothed her skirts over her plump derrière and sat. Fascinated at the movement, he didn’t realize he stared until she addressed him.
“Your Grace?”
What was the matter with him? He mentally shook himself and cleared his throat. “I think it would do us well to outline your duties regarding my wards so there is no confusion when the new governess arrives.”
She dipped her head slightly.
Expecting an argument of sorts, he found himself at a loss as to how to go on. He jumped up and leaned an elbow on the fireplace mantle. “Miss Sarah Jennings will arrive today. She will take over the duties you’ve held until now. The girls need to be instructed in appropriate decorum, how to conduct themselves in Society, and the proper forms of address.”
He clasped his hands behind his back, and staring at the carpet, paced in front of her. “It’s obvious their education to this point has been seriously lacking. Why Lord and Lady Bedford saw fit to allow such behavior on the part of their daughters will always remain a mystery to me. However, that will end today…” He glanced at Miss Chambers, who had risen from her seat, hands fisted at her sides, her face flushed a bright red.
“How dare you!”
Penrose stiffened his shoulders, his eyes wide. “I beg your pardon.”
“You should. Beg my pardon, that is.” She rested her hands on her hips. “You are the most pompous man I have ever met.”
“Madam, please remember to whom you are speaking.”
“Excuse me? I know precisely to whom I am speaking. Lord and Lady Bedford understood the importance of a happy childhood for their daughters. They allowed them freedom, the opportunity to be little children.” She raised her chin. “Despite what you think of me, I do know the importance of the station Lady Charlotte and Lady Clare were born into.
“Despite your obvious disdain for Americans, we do have manners, and treat all people with respect. Not just a chosen few who demand respect for no other reason than the circumstances of their birth.”
She took a deep breath, obviously attempting to gain control. Her voice softened. “I also understand they will need to be taught how to conduct themselves. And, perhaps with my limited knowledge of your world, Your Grace, I am indeed not the best person to continue with governess duties. But I will not allow you to malign their wonderful parents who loved their girls very much, and wanted the best for them.”
As if all the air in her let out, she collapsed into a chair in front of the fireplace, and touched the corner of her eyes with her knuckle.
Is she crying?
Penrose returned to his seat behind the desk, allowing Miss Chambers time to compose herself. After a minute or two, she rose and joined him. The tip of her nose was bright red, as were her cheeks. Tears clumped on her eyelashes. She looked barely older than her charges. “Please excuse my outburst.”
He raised his eyebrows. The last thing he expected from her was an apology. Deciding to be gracious, he bowed his head. “I fail to understand Lord and Lady Bedford’s reasoning, but I didn’t mean to distress you. If I did, then I also apologize.”
A slight smile tilted her lips. “You say that as though you seldom offer apologies.”
“I rarely find it necessary to do so.” He smiled back at her, annoyed that her smile lit up her countenance so, turning a pretty face into a beautiful one. Small lines at the edges of her eyes crinkled, making him wonder at her age. Obviously out of the school room for years, he couldn’t help but dwell on her lack of a husband.
Although he found her brash and outspoken, her beauty and feminine curves had definitely caught his attention. And that little bit of vulnerability when she cried over her employers had touched his heart. The heart he’d had under lock and key for years now, ever since Lady Eleanor had spurned his suit and chose Bedford as her husband.
He and Bedford had both danced attendance on the young debutante for the Season. She’d been named an Incomparable that year, and no one was more surprised than him when she decided on an earl instead of a duke. In retrospective, he often wondered how they would have gone on, had they married. Certainly her strange ideas on raising her daughters would have become a point of contention between them. But then, it would have been his decision in the end, anyway.
A knock at the door drew both their attentions.
A footman stood in the doorway. “Your Grace, Miss Sarah Jennings has arrived. Shall I send her in?”
Penrose glanced at Miss Chambers. “The new governess. I would prefer to speak with her alone, at first. If you would please leave us, and wait in the drawing room, I will summon you when needed.”
A bright smile lit up her face. “An apology and please all in the same morning. This must be a record for you, Your Grace.” She dipped into a slight curtsy and left the room just as the new governess entered.
Chapter 3
Penrose eyed the woman the footman ushered in. He nodded in approval. Here was someone, who by her presentation alone, would be much better for Lord Bedford’s daughters than the vixen who’d arrived with them.
Definitely of an age considered ‘on the shelf,’ Miss Jennings marched into the room, her spine as stiff as a board. Her high buttoned gown, severe knot, and no nonsense attitude reassured him of the agency’s choice. He couldn’t imagine for one minute this woman allowing her charges to sit on the floor in the presence of a duke.
“Your Grace,” she curtsied gracefully.
“Miss Jennings,” he nodded. “Please take a seat.”
Penrose picked up the paper in front of him and perused it. “You come with high recommendations.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
He leaned back, and cupped his chin with his thumb and index finger, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair. “Your charges are my wards, Lady Charlotte Spencer and Lady Clare Spencer. They are the daughters of Lord and Lady Bedford, who passed away recently. The girls are twelve and nine years of age.”
She nodded.
He pushed his chair back and stood.
“I’m afraid the young ladies have not been schooled in proper etiquette or demeanor thus far. I would say your arrival is most timely.” He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her. “The woman who has been their governess for the past five years is an American.”
Miss Jennings sniffed.
“My thoughts exactly. Lord Bedford was my close friend, but for a strange reason, he and Lady Bedford allowed their daughters to run amok, with Miss Chambers−their present governess−the leader.”
Miss Jennings tsked.
“I expect you to school the girls in feminine pursuits, preparing for their station in life, and eventual marriage to a peer. At the present time the girls are only prepared to marry a chimney sweep.”
Miss Jennings shook her head, her lips pursed.
Penrose returned to his seat. “I have agreed to allow their present governess to remain, for a brief time, in order to help my wards adjust to their new surroundings.” He leaned forward. “However, I wish to make it perfectly clear that you are to supervise their daily routine, and Miss Chambers is to hold no further influence over them.”
Miss Jennings inclined her head in acquiescence.
“Do you have any questions?”
“None, Your Grace. I will take charge immediately so the poor young dears can start on the correct path.”
The du
ke nodded. “Then I will ring for someone to show you to your room.” He crossed the room and rang for a servant.
Miss Jennings stood as a young maid entered.
“Escort Miss Jennings to the governess’s room. If Miss Chambers has not yet been relocated elsewhere, do so immediately. Also, Miss Chambers awaits me in the drawing room. Tell her I am ready to see her.”
The girl bobbed. “Yes, Your Grace.” She addressed Miss Jennings. “If you will follow me, miss, I’ll accompany you to the nursery.”
Miss Jennings turned to the duke. “Your Grace, I am pleased to be here, and sure we can undo whatever damage the American has done to the poor little girls.” Two bright spots rose on her cheeks, and her long nose twitched. Straightening her already stiff shoulders, she exited the room.
Penrose moved to a chair in front of the blazing fireplace, waiting for Miss Chambers. After several minutes, a footman entered the room.
“Your Grace, the downstairs maid indicated you wished to receive Miss Chambers. However, she is not in the drawing room.”
“Not there?” Where the devil did she hie off to now? He distinctly told her to wait there to be summoned. “Have you any idea where she is?”
“Cook said she went out the back door a bit ago, with the young ladies, and appeared to be heading to the gardens.”
The duke frowned, his jaw tightening. “Thank you. That will be all.”
The woman dared to defy him again? He slammed his chair back and strode from the room. This situation would not continue. His long legs ate up the distance through the house and out the back door to the garden. Cook jumped in surprise when he sailed past, not having seen him in the kitchen since he’d outgrown his short pants.
Off in the distance, Miss Chambers, Lady Charlotte and Lady Clare strolled along, hand in hand. They chatted, livelier than he’d seen them until now. Just the sight of her meandering along, without a care in the world, had his heart thumping. They stopped and examined one of his mother’s prized Winter Jasmine plants. Miss Chambers pointed excitedly as she spoke to the girls.
“Miss Chambers.” The voice that had caused grown men to shake in their boots reached the wanderers. All three turned. Their joyful expressions collapsed.
“Did I not tell you to await my summons in the drawing room?”
“How pleasant to see you in the gardens, Your Grace. Perhaps you would like to wish a good morning to your wards?”
Penrose jerked at the distinct reprimand in her voice. Good God, the woman had audacity. To think she’d taken him to task. He opened his mouth with a rejoinder, and glanced at the two girls clinging to Miss Chamber’s skirts. The younger one slipped her thumb in her mouth. Both looked up at him, eyes wide in terror.
This would not do. The woman caused him to upset the girls again. Drawing in a deep breath, he attempted to put a smile on his face. “Good morning, Lady Charlotte, Lady Clare.”
“Answer His Grace,” Miss Chambers urged.
They buried their faces deeper. Helplessly, he glanced at Miss Chambers, who regarded him with raised eyebrows. His blood pounded through his body, no doubt a precursor to the apoplexy she would soon cause him.
“Miss Chambers,” he began.
“Yes, Your Grace.” She smiled at him as if in possession of a great secret.
“Miss Jennings, the new governess will now be in charge of the young ladies’ daily routine. I demand, no, request, you to escort them to the nursery so they may make her acquaintance.”
“Very good, Your Grace.” She smirked and turned the girls toward the house.
What the devil did that mean? Was she obeying his command, or complimenting him on his wording? If he didn’t get Miss Chambers out of his house soon, he would be a candidate for Bedlam.
Penrose inhaled deeply to recover his control as he watched them return to the house. Miss Chamber’s hips swayed gracefully beneath her pelisse, causing a different type of roaring blood to race through him. The creamy skin of her elegant neck begged to be kissed and nibbled. Wisps of golden hair teased her shoulders, released from the not-so-neat topknot. Even if his body recognized a beautiful, sensual woman, his mind put an immediate stop to that nonsense. The sooner she packed her bags and left, the better for his frame of mind. He shook his leg to adjust his breeches and followed them.
The Dowager Duchess of Penrose greeted Merry as she started up the massive staircase with the girls. “Miss Chambers. When the young ladies are settled, may I have a word with you, please?”
Merry curtsied. “Of course, Your Grace.”
“Excellent. I will be in the morning room. You may ask any of the staff to direct you.”
What was that all about?
If she hadn’t witnessed the dowager’s pleased expression and mirth-filled eyes, she would expect another dressing down. Whatever Her Grace had to say, it didn’t appear to be of an unpleasant nature.
She and the girls chatted as they ascended the stairs and headed down the corridor. A patterned Brussels carpet underfoot silenced their journey. They passed through the main part of the house, and climbed another flight of stairs to where the nursery rooms were located. The girls grew quiet as they approached the end of the corridor.
Once more she had to almost drag them into the room to meet the new governess. Merry’s heart bled for her charges. Prior to the carriage accident that had taken their parents so abruptly, they’d both been happy, lively young girls. After the tragedy, Merry comforted them, sang them to sleep, and held them when they sobbed. They had just reached a point where their normal exuberance for life had returned when the summons from the duke arrived, and the girls were yet again thrown into chaos.
Now they would be forced to accept a new governess, who from the look of her, had all the softness and warmth of an iceberg. Miss Jennings stood erect, hands cupped together in front of her body as if she stood on a stage about to sing an aria. Her lips were pursed in disapproval, and her hair so tight it pulled her eyes back, giving her an oriental appearance.
The governess eyed the two girls, but her stare displayed a strong censure for Merry. Her dislike was palpable. Goodness, what had the duke told her that caused the woman to dislike her so upon sight?
“Miss Jennings?” Merry smiled, attempting to make this easier for her charges. Her stomach muscles clenched. Wrong. No longer her charges.
Miss Jennings inclined her head.
Merry decided not to extend her hand since the woman would probably view it as a breach of manners. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Indeed.”
The governess’s gaze scanned Merry from the top of her head to her shoes, tightening her lips all the while.
Merry felt her face flush. Who was this woman to judge her? Drawing herself up, Merry said, “May I introduce you to Lady Charlotte and Lady Clare.”
Both girls peered at Miss Jennings from Merry’s skirts.
“They are a bit overwrought at the moment. All the changes.”
Under Miss Jennings’ relentless gaze, Merry’s anger grew. “Perhaps if you read them a story to start, it would ease them a bit.”
Much to Merry’s amazement, Miss Jennings walked up to the girls and bent. “Would you like to hear a story? I see His Grace has plenty of books to choose from.”
“May Miss Merry read it to us?” Charlotte mumbled.
Miss Jennings smiled tightly. “Of course. Why don’t you both pick a book from the shelf, and Miss Merry and I will join you at the table.”
The girls released their grip and hurried to the bookcase. Miss Jennings turned to her. “Perhaps it would be of assistance if you read them a story. It’s important for them to adjust to my direction since His Grace wishes to make the transition quickly and smoothly.”
Merry nodded, the pain at losing her girls tugging at her. If she had not argued with the duke, perhaps he would have allowed her to remain their governess. But then she remembered he mentioned having engaged a new governess before she’d had a chance to even mee
t him. She sighed and wandered to the table, then pulled out one of the child-sized chairs and sat.
Two stories turned into four, but eventually the girls seemed to relax enough to allow Merry to leave them in Miss Jennings’s care. Merry assured them she would be in the house, and would join them for luncheon.
The young maid she summoned escorted her to the morning room. The dowager sat behind an escritoire, a stack of pressed paper at her elbow. The soft ticking of a delicate white and blue china clock on the corner of the desk was the only sound in the room.
As Merry entered, the dowager put her quill pen down and smiled. “Thank you so much for joining me, Miss Chambers.”
Merry curtsied. Her Grace caused her to feel welcome, so unlike the duke, who made no secret he could hardly await her departure.
“Please, have a seat.” The dowager indicated a chair near the fireplace, where a low table held a teapot, flowered cups and saucers, and a plate of biscuits. Rising gracefully, she left her desk and joined Merry. The bright sunlight reflected off the rings on the woman’s fingers as she poured tea. “Milk and sugar?”
“Yes, please.” Merry studied her, wondering the reason for this meeting. The woman was as cordial as she was graceful. Her startling blue eyes looked out from a face that had seen a few years, but still remained youthful in its expression. Her dark brown hair, sprinkled with gray, gave her countenance a mature loveliness.
The dowager sipped her tea, and closed her eyes, relishing the bracing liquid. “No doubt you wonder why I asked to see you.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The older woman leaned forward, placing her cup on the table. “I’m sure you’ve discovered by now that my son, the duke, is a bit pompous.”
Merry choked on her tea, and coughed until tears ran down her cheeks. Of all the things she’d imagined the dowager would begin the conversation with, this was not one of them.
“Well, Your Grace, he is a duke.” She patted her mouth with a snowy serviette and set it alongside her cup.
Merry Christmas, My Love Page 23
