Page 9 of The Governess’s Carnal Temptation

CHAPTER FOUR

Lydia pulled her shoulders back and tucked any strays under her best silk bonnet before smoothing down her Pomona-green dress. She’d chosen her best attire and paired her gown with a set of soft silk gloves, which disappeared under the ruffled sleeves that bunched around her wrist.

Lydia knew she needed to make a good impression. She needed this position. No matter how strongly her sister proclaimed her desire to have her near, they both knew it made more sense for her to be the one sacrificing her life for their family.

Although, as she looked around the estate, she wondered if living here would even be a sacrifice. If the interior and its occupants matched the outward grandeur in any way, she’d be happy here.

She was about to peruse the lion-head-shaped knocker when harried footsteps drew her attention, and she glanced over her shoulder. Running along the wide graveled path from the lake was a girl no older than ten. Her blonde tresses bounced with each step, and her half-boots created a crunch beneath her feet. The child wore a pale-pink colored dress with a white pinafore tied over it, both stained with remnants of whatever that day’s exploits had been.

“Hello,” Lydia said enthusiastically, for she knew this had to be her new charge, Lady Charlotte. “I am Miss Haddington,” she announced. The girl stopped in her tracks and scrutinized her with such intensity a lump formed in Lydia’s throat. There was something oddly familiar about the slight scowl on the child’s forehead and how her hazel eyes bore into her as though they could see straight into her soul.

Lydia took a shallow breath, uncertain of what to do. The girl radiated with a desire to be left alone, as though she’d built an invisible wall around herself that would not allow anyone to penetrate it.

“I am to be the governess. Are you Lady Charlotte?” she tried again, eager to make a good impression. But, alas, the girl made no reply. Instead, she sneered and shook her head before running away as though she’d encountered a mere stranger asking for directions rather than the person meant to teach her.

Lydia turned, gripped with a sudden onset of doubt as she considered Caroline’s warning. Had she made a mistake coming here? She was four hours from London and didn’t even know her employer’s name. She’d hastened here upon receiving the letter, stopping only to send a message ahead to let them know to expect her, but beyond that; she’d not inquired further. She’d not considered the possibility that this plan of hers might fail. Why did he need a governess so urgently, this widowed stranger? Why was the salary so high? There had to be a reason for the hurry and secrecy. Lydia dreaded finding out what it was.

She had no chance to ponder her situation further, for the door opened then, and a woman appeared.

“Miss Haddington?” The woman asked in a voice that instantly conjured up an image of Lydia’s late mother. Her tone was so soft and tender it was almost a caress, and her wrinkled round face evoked the same feeling of solace.

“Y... Yes. I...” had she knocked? Lydia could not recall as the little girl’s appearance had distracted her.

“I heard voices and came to check. I’ve been waiting for you all day,” she said, although it was a mere statement, not a censure.

“Oh, I beg your pardon. I did not...”

The woman hooked her head, took Lydia by the arm, and led her inside.

“Nonsense. I only meant I was eager for your arrival. Now, His Grace is busy, but he asked me to take you to his study,” she explained while Lydia took in the entry hall.”

His Grace? So her new employer was not just any nobleman. He was a duke, a title held by peerage members only a step below the royal family.

She shivered as she set down her heavy leather portmanteau by the door. She’d never worked for a duke. Her prior employer had been a viscount, and his home, while impressive compared to a humble teashop, was nothing like this.

The Duke’s great hall boasted two rows of pillars that rose high to support the roof while an aisle ran down the center. Rich tapestries depicting fantastical scenes hung on the right, while on the left, a large marble statue stood, its arm extended and a finger pointed toward the heavens. An assortment of paintings hung in the spaces between and along the walls that led down corridors to the left and right. The floor beneath her half-boots was black and white marble, and their footsteps echoed off the tall walls as they walked.

Mrs. Funny led her toward the staircase that rose from the center aisle so wide a group of ten could have walked up it side by side without rubbing shoulders. Lydia’s hand ran along the mahogany railing. At the top, they turned left down another long, imposing hall lined with a rich red carpet that swallowed their footsteps. Like the entry hall, the walls were richly decorated with portraits and sculptures. Whoever this mysterious employer was, he was a patron of the arts.

“He is a duke, your employer. You did not mention it in the letter, nor his name,” she said as they stopped outside a heavy door with a golden handle.

“Indeed, the Duke of Queensberry. He does not like to use his title as not to attract grifters and such.” She pushed open the door, and Lydia entered, though taken aback by the name.

Queensberry. She’d heard this name before. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as recognition dawned on her. That had been Nicholas’s grandfather’s title. Hadn’t it? Or... was she mistaken? Was it something else with the word Queen? Surely there were many similar titles... He wouldn’t write to her and ask for her services. He would have recognized her name and address from the advertisement. Perhaps he hadn’t summoned her, she thought, but instead, his housekeeper had decided to write to her.

She shook her head. It was a coincidence. It had to be.

“His Grace will be with you in a moment; please take a seat,” Mrs. Funny instructed and motioned for the heavy desk at the center of the room. An oversized leather chair sat behind it, its back to the window, while two smaller chairs were in front.

Wearily she sat down and crossed her feet at the ankles while the housekeeper shuffled out the door, her keys clanging at her waist. “Would you care for a cup of tea while you wait?”

Lydia glanced up and shook her head, too nervous about taking any nourishment. Then, with a nod, the housekeeper disappeared, leaving Lydia with nothing but her sudden dread in the pit of her stomach.

From her seat, she craned her neck to see into the garden. It, like the rest of the house, was beautifully kept. By rights, she should have been happy to be here, despite the young girl’s cold reception. This was a grand home, and Mrs. Funny had been kind. Yet, she could not help herself. Those hazel eyes, that title... it all reminded her of the past. Outside, a low rumble drew her attention. The crimson sky had darkened than it ought at this hour, and from the south, a bank of dark clouds moved in, robbing the heavens of the remaining light. She shuddered but shook her head.

“Do not be foolish,” she told herself. “He would never summon you. Not after all these years. Not after everything.” She mumbled under her breath when the door creaked open behind her, and heavy footsteps fell.

“Miss Haddington, thank you for coming.”