The Wicked Governess (Blackhaven Brides Book 6)(12)

“Your father teaches you botany?” Caroline said in surprise, and when the girl nodded, Caroline smiled. “It is beautifully done. Now, let me see your new work.”

Rosa released it to her but made urgent eating motions with her hand.

Caroline glanced at the watch she had pinned to her gown. “Is it time for luncheon already? You had better run and wash your hands.”

While Rosa ran off to obey, Caroline glanced quickly at the essay. The second paragraph was My Aunt, Marjorie Benedict.

“Ha,” Caroline said aloud with triumph, before the third paragraph caught her attention. My Governess, Miss Grey. Miss Grey’s services have been kindly lent to us by the Earl of Braithwaite, who lives in the castle. She is kind, clever, and pretty. Both my father and I like her because her eyes laugh, though they don’t always. Sometimes I think she might be sadder than she seems, but I hope she is not unhappy to be at Haven Hall.

Caroline shifted uncomfortably. Was it not speaking that made the child so perceptive? Rosa went on to talk about the servants, including the manservant Williams, whom she called her father’s valet who came home with her father and takes care of everything for us.

Came home with him… a curious turn of phrase.

Nan, Mrs. Smith, and the other servants were all listed as people who looked after the family. Even Tiny had his own, disproportionately long paragraph. Well, there were more funny stories to tell about him than about anyone else.

But it was an odd household that had no housekeeper and no butler. She had never heard of a valet being in charge of the servants before.

Smiling, Caroline returned to the beginning, to the passage about Mr. Benedict. She felt strange reading this, as though she were prying. Papa is very good and strong and protects me, even when he is convalescing. He is also very clever and always wins at jackstraws. He can make anything funny and he understands everything.

Caroline frowned. These lines seemed to throw up more questions than they answered. Protects me… Why did Rosa imagine she needed protection? Was it just a child feeling safe with her father? A word he’d said, perhaps, when she was afraid of monsters under the bed—Don’t worry, nothing can harm you, I will protect you? He had sat by her bed last night until she was asleep.

And what was it, exactly, that he understood? Why Rosa didn’t speak? Or was she simply a child in awe of her omnipotent father’s cleverness?

On top of all that, most people would probably have struggled with the idea of the harsh-faced, taciturn Benedict making everything funny…

Hastily, Caroline set the notebook aside and hurried to wash her hands for luncheon.

When she entered the dining room, Rosa and her father were already there. Mr. Benedict stood and, to her surprise, held her chair for her to sit.

“Forgive my tardiness,” she apologized. “I got caught up reading Rosa’s work of this morning. You are very observant and articulate, Rosa. I feel I know everyone so much better now.”

Rosa beamed under the praise. Caroline felt Mr. Benedict’s gaze burning into her face, but she concentrated on Rosa and her food.

“Rosa, do you play the pianoforte? Or any other musical instrument?”

Rosa’s eyes widened. She shook her head vigorously.

“Is there such a thing in the house, sir?” Caroline asked, braving the harsh gaze.

“There’s a pianoforte in the ante-room off the drawing room,” he said with odd reluctance. “Why? Do you play?”

“Adequately enough to teach Rosa. It is a necessary accomplishment for a young lady.”

His lips twisted. “Of course. It’s under Holland covers and I’ve no idea what state it’s in but make free with it by all means. Williams will help you if you need to move it.”

“Thank you.”

“Can you tune it as well?” he asked with false civility.

“Enough to erase the worst faults,” she replied calmly. “If you have the correct tools. But there is a piano tuner in Blackhaven, a retired musician, whom Lady Braithwaite called upon.”

Benedict shifted his gaze to his daughter. “Do you wish to learn?”

For some reason, Rosa hesitated, then nodded.

Mr. Benedict shrugged. “Then by all means, try it. Tell me if it needs even greater skills than you possess.”

It felt like a small victory.

When she had eaten her fill, Rosa again caught her attention, spread her fingers on an imaginary keyboard, and wiggled them.

“Later,” Caroline said. “First, arithmetic.”

Rosa wrinkled her nose.

“Go up to the schoolroom and find for me the most difficult calculations you’ve completed. I will be up directly, after I’ve spoken to your father.”

“You have work for me, too?” Benedict drawled, making Rosa grin over her shoulder before she ran off.

“Would you do it if I had?” she retorted.

He laughed. “I might. I just might.”

“I shall bear it in mind,” she said wryly. “For now, I merely wished to talk to you about Rosa’s speech. Or lack of it.”

“Oh?”

“I was wondering…has she ever slipped up and let a word fall? Does she ever laugh or cry aloud?”

His face remained impassive. “Nothing more than a guttural…growl for want of a better word, and that only when something has startled or frightened her. In the year since I have been home, I have never heard her utter a word. Why?”