The Wicked Governess (Blackhaven Brides Book 6)(10)

“You must think us all unhinged,” he said softly, coming to a halt.

She could only shake her head. “I have heard unhappiness before. Good night.”

She expected him to walk on, but to her surprise, his eyes focused on her face. They seemed to glow in the lamplight while the rest of his face was cast into shadow. “Was it yours?”

A frown tugged at her brow. “I beg your pardon?”

“The unhappiness that you heard before. Was it your own?”

It had been, although she had been more careful to unleash it only where it could not be overheard.

“I don’t remember,” she whispered hastily. “I was speaking generally.”

His lips twisted. “It seems we all have our secrets.” His gaze dropped to her lips, flickered lower over her flimsily wrapped body before returning more slowly to her flushed face. The flame of the candle seemed to leap in his eyes, turning them suddenly warm and dangerous. The moment stretched, paralyzing her. She couldn’t breathe.

“Go in, Miss Grey,” he said softly, “before I forget I was once a gentleman.”

With a gasp, she whisked herself inside and closed the door. Leaning against it, she listened to the incomprehensible thundering of her heart. She thought she heard a faint, deprecating laugh as his footsteps walked on. It seemed his bedchamber, too, was in this part of the house, close to his daughter’s. And hers. She wasn’t sure why that mattered to her, but it did.

*

She woke to daylight and a strange, soft, scratching noise. Rosa’s head poked through the bed curtains while her fingernails scratched at their fabric. She smiled.

“Good morning,” Caroline croaked.

Rosa made hasty eating motions with her hands.

“Ah, breakfast!” Caroline sat up in alarm, “Have I slept too long?”

Rosa shook her head, gestured for her to hurry, and skipped back off to her own room.

There was fresh water for washing—she must have been so heavily asleep that she hadn’t even heard the maid bringing it. Having attended to her ablutions, she dressed in her usual grey gown and brushed her hair by the mirror provided. As she bundled up her hair and reached for the pins, she caught her own eye in the glass and paused. She rarely looked at herself for longer than it took to ensure her neatness. Today, for some reason, she stared at her austere reflection with disfavor.

Miss Grey the governess, severe, dull, part of the schoolroom furniture.

She released the grip on her hair and shook it about her face and shoulders. She blushed to think that this was how Mr. Benedict had seen her last night—only worse, of course, for she had worn only her flimsy night gown and wrapper.

“Go in, before I forget that I was once a gentleman.”

He’d seen her, not as the governess but as a woman. His eyes had been all over her… only for an instant, of course, but he’d liked what he’d seen. Heat spread through her at the memory, at the implication. Just for a moment, he’d been attracted to her. He’d seen her.

She touched her cheek, her lips, the corners of her eyes. Her skin was still soft. Her eyes still held the sparkle of life. Her dark blond hair shone with vitality. She was only twenty-eight years old. She should have been a young matron, the mother of Peter…

The old pain of loss cramped her stomach, but it didn’t last. For it wasn’t Theo’s handsome face that swam into her mind. It was Javan Benedict’s scarred one.

“Oh, no,” she muttered and seized her hair, drawing it into a tight knot at the back of her head. She inserted the pins with unnecessary force and regarded herself somewhat ruefully.

Miss Grey the governess, she mocked, and walked through the connecting door to collect Rosa.

“So, where do we have breakfast?” she asked.

To her surprise, Rosa led her down the quiet staircase to the front hall and then away from the direction of the dining room toward the back of the house. There, they took the stairs to the kitchen, which was empty save for a very thin maid and a fat cook. Neither woman looked remotely surprised to see Rosa.

“Good morning,” the cook greeted them cheerfully, pulling two chairs out from the large table in the center of the kitchen. “Sit ye down.”

As they sat, the maid set a plate of fresh bread rolls in front of them with a slab of butter. The girl smiled at Rosa and, more timidly, at Caroline.

“You’ll be the new governess,” Cook said comfortably, returning to her frying pan.

“Caroline Grey.” She reached for a roll. “They smell delicious.”

“I’m Betty Smith, the cook. This here is Nan the kitchen maid. Is it true you’ve come from the castle? I used to work there. How is everything?”

“Well, I believe.”

“Broke my heart not to be able to see Lady Serena get married. I saw her sister, Lady Frances, marry a year or so back, but I was working at the castle then. This time, for Lady Serena’s, I couldn’t get away. She’ll have been a beautiful bride.”

“Indeed she was.”

“So, what brings you from there to the hall?” Mrs. Smith asked with open curiosity.

“I go where I’m told,” Caroline said lightly, nodding her thanks to Nan the maid who presented her with a steaming hot cup of coffee. “I suppose his lordship felt the young ladies deserved a little time off lessons, while Mr. Benedict clearly felt Rosa should have some time on.”