The Wicked Governess (Blackhaven Brides Book 6)(42)

Richard waved one expansive arm. “No, no, feel free. I am just curious as to what he’s been doing with himself this last year.”

Caroline draped her cloak and bonnet over the back of her usual chair and sat down at the desk, opening the notebook. She reached for her pen.

“It always amazed me,” Richard continued, “how he managed to bring live plants home from the most obscure and war-torn areas of the world. Intact, too, usually. I would have expected his mind to be on other things. I expect it was his way of dealing with situations most of us would have found intolerable.”

Caroline suspected it still was. She worked in silence for a few minutes.

“You have been good for them all, I hear,” Richard murmured.

“I hope I have taught Rosa a little, but I have not been here long.”

“I don’t just mean Rosa. Marjorie, for example. I find her much brighter, and she likes you.”

“The two aren’t necessarily connected, but I’m glad if I’ve found favor with her.”

There was a pause then, “You’re being very proper, aren’t you?” he said with a hint of amusement. “Don’t you wish to ask me about Marjorie? Most people would.”

“Miss Benedict has shown me nothing but kindness,” Caroline said. “I have no intention of discussing her with a stranger, even one who is related to her.”

“Very proper,” Richard drawled. “It’s a melancholy,” he added after a moment. “It has afflicted her periodically since she was a young girl little older than Rosa. Sometimes, she takes to her bed for weeks on end. On top of everything else, Javan found her like that when he came home and Louisa died. No one was looking after her except servants. I include myself, by the way. I was in the country at the time. Javan took her with him when he left London. Everyone thought Marjorie a poor choice to care for Rosa, but that was never his reason. He looks after both of them, even locks Marjorie in her room when things are bad and she is liable to hurt herself.”

“I know.” If she hadn’t known, she’d certainly guessed. She looked up from her writing and set her pen aside before she looked at him directly. He leaned one hip against the farthest corner of the desk, watching her. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Javan is one of the very few men I admire. I am curious as to how you regard him.”

“As my employer and Rosa’s father,” she said coolly.

“And how does he regard you?”

“As Rosa’s governess.” The words didn’t come so easily this time as she struggled to prevent the color seeping into her face. “If you wish more information, you must apply to Mr. Benedict himself.”

“Oh, I have and I will,” Richard said.

Caroline couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Mr. Benedict, are you warning me off? I’m afraid you must trust me when I say that I am well aware of my own position in life and his.” She stood, reaching for her cloak and bonnet and allowing him to see her in all her dowdiness. “I am no Circe, am I?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The rumor is Lord Braithwaite found you tempting enough.”

Caroline closed her eyes. “He did nothing of the kind. Repeating such rubbish is unkind, both to me and to Lord Braithwaite. I shall not discuss the matter with you. If Mr. Benedict is satisfied with my work and my past, I see no reason for you to cast aspersions.”

Richard threw up his hands. “Acquit me, dear lady. I merely seek out the lie of the land.”

“Allow me to leave you to your seeking while I go to church.” It was an excellent parting line, though she would have been happier with it if she hadn’t heard his breath of laughter behind her. In that, he reminded her of Javan.





Chapter Twelve





Blackhaven’s picturesque little church was packed for the Sunday service, Mr. Grant being a popular vicar, both with gentry and lesser mortals. Caroline barely managed to squeeze onto the end of one of the back pews. Behind her, several people, including the servants from Haven Hall, were standing.

When Caroline had been before, she had occupied the Braithwaite pew at the front of the church. But while her current position was less comfortable, it afforded her a better view of the congregation. Half way through the first hymn, as she gazed about her, she glimpsed the pale man who had run from the castle party at sight of Javan Benedict.

He sat across the aisle from her, as though he, too, had squashed himself in at the last minute. Under her scrutiny, he glanced around and met her gaze. Somewhat to her surprise, he inclined his head. She returned the gesture and hastily averted her gaze to the vicar. For the rest of the service, she made a point of never glancing in his direction again.

And yet, as she emerged from the church, feeling somewhat stronger than when she’d entered it, thanks to Mr. Grant’s uplifting sermon, she knew this man followed behind her. He was there when she paused to speak to Mr. Grant and to Mrs. Grant who was admiring a fisherman’s baby close-by.

In the street, Williams and the cart—already full of the hall servants—waited for her. Some distance from them, Serena and her sisters waved madly at her. To go to them, Caroline walked across the grass toward the side gate.

“Excuse me,” a male voice said politely behind her.

Caroline turned and faced the pale man, who bowed to her.