Page 11 of The Governess and the Rogue

“Am I what?” the colonel returned.

“Going home to your family?”

An odd look crossed his face. “After a fashion.” He half leaned against the rail beside her. “Most of my relations reside in the West Country. I own a small estate there as well. Marston Priory. My brother has had the management of it while I’ve been away. I plan to settle there for a time, until I decide what I’m to do with the remainder of my life.”

Bea didn’t know quite how to respond. It was such an abundance of riches. And ones averred to so casually. An estate. A brother. A family.

She should be so fortunate.

Instead, she had no one and nothing at all.

Her precarious mood dipped further. Tonight was proving to be a disappointment in every regard. First, no stars. And now, an unwelcome reminder that she had no beau, no friends, no home, no family.

She was beginning to regret ever coming onto the deck this evening. Better she had gone straight to bed.

“What do you wish to do?” she asked with mechanical civility.

“I don’t know,” the colonel said. “Recover my health? Write my memoirs? Breed racehorses?”

“You’re spoiled for choice.”

“I suppose I am.”

“It must be nice.”

His smile took on an edge. “Must it?”

“Whatever you decide, your family will be there waiting for you.”

“What about you?” he asked. “There must be someone in England who will be eager to have you back again.”

“Not a single soul.” Bea belatedly realized how pathetic she sounded. “Never fear,” she added bracingly. “I shall make my own way.”

“I don’t doubt it, Miss Layton,” the colonel said. “But take care. We all need someone sometime.”

Chapter Four

Bea held tight to Brent’s small hand as she and the children navigated the crowded deck the next morning. The weather was less than ideal for a promenade, but the roar of the wind and the crash of the churning sea were no deterrent to the passengers. Not when the sun was shining so brilliantly. And certainly not for Bea.

The Pera had no formal schoolroom. Given the children’s bottomless wells of energy, she’d long concluded that most days during their long voyage were better spent out of doors.

“Why is Damian allowed to run?” Brent demanded, seeing his identical brother trot ahead.

“He is not allowed.” Bea extended her free hand to the errant twin. “Damian? Here, if you please.”

Damian slowed just long enough for Bea to catch up with him. He grudgingly took her outstretched hand. “This is no fun,” he grumbled.

Albermarle Junior stalked beside them, hands thrust into the pockets of his short pants. “Miss Layton wouldn’t know fun if it bit her in her backside,” he said beneath his breath.

Bea directed a stern look at the boy. “Enough of that,” she said. “You would do well to set an example for your brothers.”

“What do you know about it?” Albermarle Junior retorted. “My brothers and I should have a tutor, not a nursemaid.”

Lilith giggled. “A nursemaid,” she echoed gleefully, twirling her parasol over her shoulder. The delicate lace canopy bowed in the wind. “That’s Miss Layton to a nicety.”

“I said enough,” Bea repeated firmly. “You may resume reciting your multiplication tables.”

Lilith’s expression soured. For her, mathematical exercises were akin to a punishment. “I don’t know why I must. I have no need of them.”