An Unexpected Pleasure (The Mad Morelands #4)(13)
“Of course,” she said through thinned lips. “Perhaps another time. Come, Sarah.”
The two women walked past them, and the duchess turned to Megan. “Come. I think the garden would be a pleasant place to chat this afternoon, don’t you?”
“Yes, certainly.”
“We’ll have tea in the garden,” the duchess said to the waiting footman, then started down the hall, sweeping Megan along with her. “I am sorry about your hat,” the Duchess said, a smile quirking at the corners of her mouth. “I shall replace it, of course.”
“Thank you. That’s very generous of you.”
The duchess smiled at her. “It’s the least I can do. You handled the twins expertly. I must say, it isn’t something that most people are able to do.”
Megan smiled. Unexpectedly, she found herself rather liking this woman. “I had two younger brothers. I learned a good bit about boys…and dogs.”
“Ah, yes, Rufus. He is something of a handful. The boys found him in the woods, badly mauled. It is a miracle that he lived, and I fear that everyone has somewhat spoiled him as a result. He responds to the tone of authority in one’s voice, and I fear several of the more timid servants have no control over him at all.”
The older woman cast a sideways glance at Megan, the hint of laughter in her eyes. “I fear that a number of people would say that the same is true of Constantine and Alexander, as well.”
“They seem like lively boys,” Megan admitted. “But I don’t think that they willfully misbehave.”
They had reached the end of the hallway, and the duchess ushered Megan out the door onto the back terrace. A large garden lay behind the house, and beyond its carefully manicured walkways was an expanse of green lawn and trees, a quiet, verdant oasis in the midst of the city. The duchess led her down the wide, shallow steps and along the pathway to a graceful arbor. Shaded by the arching roof upon which roses tangled sat a small wrought-iron table and matching chairs.
“I often have tea out here,” the duchess explained. “It is one of my favorite spots. I find it quite soothing to the soul.”
“It’s lovely,” Megan agreed honestly.
“I hope that you will join me in a cup of tea,” the duchess went on.
“Thank you,” Megan answered, surprised by the courtesy. It was not one usually extended to employees. Or prospective employees, she reminded herself. She felt a trifle guilty at the other woman’s kindness, and the feeling prompted her to say, “I am sorry you were not able to visit with your friends. I could easily have waited.”
The duchess let out a little chuckle. “Oh, it was no hardship. I was glad of an excuse to get out of Lady Kempton’s call. The woman is no friend of mine. She comes, as many ambitious mamas do, not to visit me, in whom she has no interest, but to ingratiate herself with the mother of a future duke. As if Theo would have anything to do with an insipid miss like Sarah Kempton.”
“Oh. I see.” Megan’s pulse sped up at the mention of Theo Moreland, and she cast about for some way to keep the conversation about him.
However, the duchess was already moving on, saying, “Although I must admit that I don’t remember having an appointment with you. Did the agency send you?”
Megan found it difficult to look into the duchess’s calm blue gaze and tell a lie. So, hoping that her father had been correct in what he had told her of the woman, she said candidly, “No, ma’am, I am afraid that I was not entirely truthful with your servant. The agency did not send me.” Skirting around the edges of the truth, she went on, “They did not feel that it would be appropriate to send a female candidate for the position of tutor to your sons. However, I feel that a woman can do an equally good job educating a child as a man can, regardless of whether the child is a boy or a girl. So I took it upon myself to make my application directly to you, for I had heard that you were a woman of progressive thought and a believer in the equality of the sexes.”
“Bravo, Miss Henderson,” the duchess said. “I couldn’t agree more. You were quite right to approach me yourself. I could see quite clearly this afternoon that you are more capable of handling the boys than most of the male tutors that I have employed.”
At that moment, a grave-looking gentleman arrived at the table, carrying a tray of tea things, and they were silent for a moment as the duchess went about the task of pouring tea for the two of them.
The duchess took a sip from her cup, then said, “I presume you have references, Miss Henderson.”
“Oh, yes.” Megan handed her the list over which she had labored for some time.
It was, she thought, artfully deceptive, listing her own education at the St. Agnes convent school, then adding a stretch of two years at a small, progressive women’s college that she knew had gone out of business many years ago, and following that with several years of schooling the children of Mr. and Mrs. James Allenham, whose address happened to be that of her sister Mary Margaret.
After much thinking on the matter, she had decided that it would be better to go with a simple background that would stand up to the duchess’s checking into it, rather than a tissue of more elaborate lies that would sound impressive enough for the children of a duke but would dissolve under the least scrutiny. She could describe the classes at the New England experimental college quite well, as she had done an article about the men and women who had banded together with high hopes to provide a superior education for young women. Megan was counting on the duchess’s intellectual leanings, and the fact that the family was desperate to find a tutor, to get her a job.