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What a curious female.
The gentry were a rum lot and he ought to be used to their idiosyncrasies by now, but every so often one still flummoxed him.
“Until I attain twenty-one years in August,” she confessed, leaning near, “my guardian cousin dictates my life, but lately his behaviour has become most…unreasonable.”
Perchance this guardian had threatened to cut her clothing allowance or curtail her coiffure appointments? “I suppose you wish me to deal with him?”
Most visitors to his door wanted no more than the prowess of the famous pugilist. The last woman he’d courted had, it turned out, only wished him to threaten her brother, who’d cut her pin money to five guineas a week. She had believed Seth would be quite content to pummel the fellow and hence exhibit his valour.
“Goodness, no.” Miss Griffin’s small nose creased in repugnance. “I do not require your brawn or any such uncouthness. I believe the mind to be mightier.”
All well and good, but she’d never been thumped by Gaslight Gary, whose fists had certainly been mightier than his mind.
Yet he had to acknowledge that a prizefighter sans brains did tend to meet St Peter somewhat prematurely.
Gaslight Gary had in fact accidentally shot himself while demonstrating how his friend had accidentally shot himself.
Irish Tom had expired after volunteering for the Astley’s circus knife thrower.
And Big Bill had been found dead in his bed with three doxies and four empty gin bottles – cause of death unknown.
Hence Seth had retired and opened a boxing academy.
“Pray continue then.”
With a rustle, Miss Griffin straightened her pelisse. “Whilst…snooping in my cousin’s study, I discovered he had contracts for me to marry a debauched libertine of advanced years, all without my knowledge or consent.” Her shoulders hunched. “I am…fearful of what action my guardian may take in order to seek my compliance.”
Her gaze dipped, spectacles sliding, and now he noted the cobweb of shadows beneath her fine eyes, the tremble to her fingers which she swiftly suppressed.
But even so…
“Miss Griffin, I cannot appoint you as governess for my daughter simply because you wish to hide–”
“I merely seek employment until August when I am no longer beneath his control, and then I can access the money my parents left me and forge ahead as a proper governess. I agree my lack of experience is…contestable, but I am well versed in all subjects.” A slender hand reached across the desk in entreaty. “In addition, I can teach the full breadth of a lady’s accomplishments – fork placements, quilling tea caddies and how to back from a room without tripping over one’s train.”
Clenching his fists, Seth faltered, yet this indecision had naught to do with misplaced cutlery and all to do with the yellow colouration upon her delicate wrist, revealed as the sleeve had pulled up. A couple of weeks old, to be sure, but he knew a bruise from a harsh grip when he saw one.
A damsel in distress.
Damn.
In silence, he rose from his seat to pace in front of the smouldering fire – always thinking better on his feet. Never had he been one for rushed decisions, and this petite female had trouble written all over her charming cheekbones.
If he hired her and this possessiveguardian emerged, a wealth of upset could descend upon the club he’d spent so long building up.
Nevertheless, he could not deny that a lady such as Miss Griffin would be the perfect influence to give his daughter choices in life. Feminine company, exquisite manners and a wide scope of knowledge were required, and from this application letter and her obvious haute monde upbringing, Miss Griffin encompassed all.
And besides, there was no one else.
Wide eyes beseeched, and his thoughts turned to what might happen if he refused. Seth could not bear to imagine this dainty lady cowed into submission by some callous guardian and thus married to a degenerate with more diseases than a London rat.
Surely any strife this runaway bride might bring to his club could be dismissed with an innocent shrug or a cod of blunt. The fact he’d a swathe of influential patrons also detracted any nuisances.
“You pledge you are able to teach a wide range of subjects?”
She nodded frantically, spectacles sliding once more. “My parents were both bibliophiles so I had a wealth of matter to read as a child.” She peered around his bookless study and returned a benevolent smile. “I could bring some with me.”
Clearly Miss Griffin thought him a witless dolt, but he was in no hurry to change that opinion. She would take pity on his daughter, having to live with such a brutish ignoramus, and impart all the accumulated education in that noggin of hers.
