Page 2 of The Governess and the Rogue

Bea drew herself up with offended dignity. Never mind that her heart was still racing. It wasn’t safe to be alone with a strange man. Not when one was an unmarried woman of the servant class. And certainly not in the moonlight.

“I was not planning on throwing myself over the side,” she informed him. “Mister…?”

“Colonel,” he said. “As to the rest, I’m afraid I’m traveling incognito. I prefer to keep it that way, Miss Layton.”

She blinked in surprise. “You know my name?”

“I’ve observed you on the deck with your young charges. They’re forever shrieking it.” His gaze fell to her reddened cheek. A frown darkened his brow. “Did one of them do that?”

Bea flushed, mortified that anyone, even a stranger, should witness the depths to which she’d fallen. A half dozen responses sprang to her lips—bitter, candid, ill-advised. For once, she managed to restrain them. For all she knew, this self-described colonel was a friend of the Dimsdales. The last thing Bea wanted was to be caught speaking ill of her employers.

“They are willful children,” she allowed. “But⁠—”

“They’re not children at all,” he said. “They’re savages.”

She flinched at his plain speaking.

So, not a friend of the family, then.

But not a friend of hers, either.

Bea couldn’t afford to agree with him. Her position was already too tenuous.

Turning back to the rail, she again faced the sea. The full skirts of her plain wool dress fluttered in the wind that whispered over the moonlit water. A shiver went through her slim frame. “Yes, well, if you must know… It’s a temporary position. I’ve only to endure it until we reach Southampton.”

The colonel remained at her side. “That’s nearly two weeks altogether.”

Her stomach knotted. “I’m aware.”

“If they’re already striking you⁠—”

“Really, sir, it’s none of your affair.”

“—it’s only going to get worse.”

She shot him a doubtful look. He sounded so certain. “You have experience with children?”

“My siblings have been extraordinarily prolific in my absence. Their offspring frequently write to me. I suppose they could be little beasts as well, but I confess, they don’t seem so from their letters.”

Her lips flattened in a repressive frown. “A correspondence with nieces and nephews hardly makes you an expert.”

“Not only a correspondence. I see them for short periods whenever I’m on leave.” He paused, adding, “And I’m expert enough to know that no one should be laying hands on you.”

Bea privately conceded his point. “As to that… I mean to speak to Mrs. Dimsdale about it in the morning.”

“If I were you⁠—”

“Which you aren’t.”

“—I’d wake her now. There’s no point putting it off until tomorrow. Better to confront the thing head on than⁠—”

Bea straightened. “If you’re quite finished?”

His expression hardened with impatience, but his eyes were kind. “I’m offering you the wisdom of my experience.”

“I thank you for it, Mr. Colonel.” Bea tightened her shawl about her. “But the hour grows late. I pray you would excuse me.”

Not waiting for his reply, she turned on her heel and strode off across the deck in the direction of her shared cabin. Her pulse beat heavily at her throat. He’d flustered her, drat him. And it wasn’t because he’d taken her off her guard. Or even because he was so handsome beneath his overgrown hair and beard.