Midnight Angel (Stokehurst #1)(33)

“I don't want anyone to fall in love with me,” Tasia returned, spluttering with laughter at the child's outrageousness.

“Don't you like my father, Miss Billings?”

“I believe him to be an honorable man.”

“Yes, but do you like him?”

“Emma, this is ridiculous. I don't know Lord Stokehurst well enough to like or dislike him.”

“If you married him, you wouldn't have to work anymore. You would be a duchess someday. Wouldn't that make you happy? Don't you want to live with us forever?”

“Oh, Emma.” Tasia smiled fondly. “You're very kind to think of my happiness. But there are many things you don't understand, and I'm afraid I can't explain them. I'll stay with you as long as I'm able. That's all I can promise.”

Emma was about to reply when she noticed someone approaching. Her mouth snapped shut, and she regarded the auburn-haired woman with poorly veiled suspicion. “Lady Harcourt,” she muttered.

The woman stopped in front of them. She was wearing a gown of dark red silk, draped to display her voluptuous figure to perfection. “Emma,” she said lightly, “do introduce me to your companion.”

Emma complied sullenly. “My governess, Miss Billings.”

Lady Harcourt acknowledged Tasia's curtsy with a cool nod. “How odd. From the way Lord Stokehurst described you, I assumed you were middle-aged. You're just a child.”

“Lady Harcourt,” Tasia said, “if there is any way that I—or Emma—may assist you in your preparations for the weekend, you have only to ask.” She gave the girl a meaningful look. “Isn't that so, Emma?”

“Oh, yes,” Emma said with a saccharine smile.

“Thank you,” Lady Harcourt replied. “The best help you could provide is to keep each other occupied, and out of the way of the guests.”

“Certainly, ma'am. As a matter of fact, we're late in beginning Emma's morning lessons.”

“Keep out of the way?” Emma repeated in irritation. “But it's my house—”

Her words were cut off as Tasia jerked her away smartly, marching her toward the schoolroom. “I think we'll begin with an essay on politeness,” Tasia said under her breath.

“Why should I be polite to her, when she's not polite to me?” Emma glanced at Tasia with grim satisfaction. “She didn't seem to like you very much, Miss Billings.”

“I thought Lady Harcourt was very gracious,” Tasia said evenly.

Emma stared at her closely. “I think you're just as blue-blooded as she is, Miss Billings. Maybe even more so. Mrs. Knaggs says that with your skin and your bone structure, you could pass for a member of the nobility. You can tell me who you really are. I'm very good at secrets. I think you must be someone extraordinary…a princess in disguise…or a foreign spy…or maybe—”

Laughing, Tasia stopped and caught her shoulders, giving her a little shake for emphasis. “I'm your governess. That's all. I have no wish to be anything else.”

Emma gave her a chiding glance. “That's silly,” she said shortly. “You're much more than a governess. Anyone can see that.”

The guests took an entire day to arrive, appearing at all hours. Servants were kept busy running up and down the stairs to ensure their comfort. The ladies secluded themselves for a while, later emerging in gowns of different hues, with draped and bustled skirts, and trimmings of lace and delicate embroidery. Wielding elaborate painted fans, the women gathered in the sitting rooms to gossip and partake of refreshments.

Tasia observed the activity and remembered doing the same thing herself in Russia, attending balls and parties with her family. How sheltered she had been, never thinking of the world beyond St. Petersburg. How many hours she had misspent. Even the time she had worshipped in church on her knees seemed like a waste in retrospect. It would have been better to do something practical for the poor, rather than just pray for them. Here in England she had become useful for the first time in her life, and she liked the feeling. Even if it were possible, she would never go back to the idle existence she had once led.

In the evening a magnificent supper of more than thirty dishes was given. The dining room was filled with long, linen-covered tables, the air fragrant with the scents of venison, salmon, goose, and puddings. Passing by the doorway, Tasia heard endless rounds of toasts being made, accompanied by bursts of good-natured laughter. She imagined how attractive Lady Harcourt must look, her hair glittering red and gold in the light of the chandeliers. And Lord Stokehurst, watching her with a mixture of pride and masculine pleasure, enjoying the success of the evening. Tasia smoothed the little frown from her forehead and went upstairs to share supper with Emma. It would be just the two of them tonight. Children were never invited to eat at formal dinners, and neither were governesses.

After the dinner was concluded, the guests separated for a brief time, the ladies in the drawing room with tea, the gentlemen remaining in the dining room with port and brandy. Eventually the guests rejoined in the summer parlor for entertainment. Emma begged Tasia to let her go downstairs and watch. “Lady Harcourt has invited a fortuneteller to come and make predictions about the future. Her name is Madame Miracle, and she's a clairvoyant, which is much better than an ordinary fortune-teller. Oh, Miss Billings, we have to go downstairs and see! What if she says something about Papa? Can't I sit quietly in a corner? I promise to behave myself. I'll be a perfect lady.”