The Wicked Governess (Blackhaven Brides Book 6)(5)

“What did you fall out about?” he asked abruptly, taking her by surprise once more. “You and Lady Braithwaite.”

She blinked. “I’m not sure that’s your concern, sir.”

“I am sure it is. If you are to care for my daughter, I need to know why you were dismissed.”

“Perhaps I chose to leave,” she snapped back.

“Did you?”

She dragged her gaze free of the sudden mockery in his. “No.” She took a deep breath. “Lady Braithwaite misunderstood a…passage between his lordship and myself and imagined I was insolent enough to…set my cap at him.”

“Were you?” he drawled.

She stared at him indignantly. “I am not foolish enough!” she retorted. “My living depends on my spotless reputation.”

“This is an odd place to come to keep your reputation—er—spotless.”

“Beggars,” she pointed out, “cannot be choosers.”

It was hardly the most conciliatory response she could have made. Mr. Benedict however, appeared more amused than annoyed. “Is that what you are? A beggar?”

She tilted her chin. “I need a paying position.”

He sat back, thrusting his hand into his pocket. “Was it a difficult position? With the Braithwaite girls?”

“No. It was a good position and I was happy there.”

His eyes searched hers again. “Were you?” he said deliberately.

“I believe I said so.”

Again, instead of being offended by her haughtiness, he appeared to be entertained. Certainly, his lips twitched.

“This will not be an easy position,” he observed.

Involuntarily, her gaze strayed to the shattered plate still on the floor by the door.

His breath caught. “That, however, is a rare drama, for which I apologize. Teaching Rosa would be your main challenge.”

“I am used to teaching girls of all ages.”

His gaze held hers. “You may have noticed Rosa has…special demands.”

“All children do,” she returned.

“Most of them, however, speak.”

Caroline’s eyes widened. “She does not speak? She is mute?”

“For the last two years.”

“Then she was not born mute? She is not deaf, is she?”

“No, she hears and understands everything. The doctors believe she can speak. She simply chooses not to.”

“Do you know why?”

“A nervous disorder, they tell me. What will you do if you don’t take up this post?”

It was an odd way to phrase it. Was he allowing her a pretense of choice? Or reminding her that she had none? He was the one who currently held her fate in his hands. His gaze, direct and penetrating, disconcerted her.

“I shall look for another position,” she said calmly.

“From where?” he asked at once.

She stared back at him. “From wherever I choose. Please don’t feel obliged to give me this position, sir. I am not destitute and I do have friends.”

“I am pleased for you,” he returned. “Though I’ve no idea why you should consider me so benevolent. I’m merely trying to work out if Braithwaite has done me a favor or dumped an annoyance upon me.”

Since his words left her speechless, the sudden return of Rosa was a relief. She ran into the room at high speed, the wolfhound Caroline remembered close on her heels. They both ran around the table until it was impossible to tell who was chasing whom. And then the dog leapt on the girl, bringing her down so suddenly that Caroline was alarmed, afraid she’d misjudged the dog’s good nature on their last encounter.

Since Mr. Benedict didn’t move, Caroline half rose from her chair to intervene. The dog had pinned the child to the floor and was enthusiastically licking her face while she hugged him and tried to push him off at once. Her whole face was alight with silent laughter.

Over the animal’s head, Rosa’s merry eyes met Caroline’s, and she couldn’t help smiling back. It was clearly an old and well-established game. She relaxed back into her chair and glanced at Benedict, who’s attention was all focused on her. His thoughts were entirely masked. Whatever the test had been, she suspected she’d failed. She wondered if he’d lend her a conveyance of some kind to Carlisle, from where she could buy a seat on the mail coach to Edinburgh…

He muttered something below his breath. It sounded like, “I’m going to regret this.” Then his gaze shifted to Rosa. “Show Miss Grey to her chamber, Rosa.”

Without meaning to, Caroline smiled—partly with relief and partly because in spite of herself, the child intrigued her. “Thank you.”

He rose abruptly. “Don’t thank me yet. You and Rosa may see if you suit.” And with that, he simply walked out of the room.

*

Rosa proved to be even more of an enigma than she’d imagined. Although in many ways she seemed younger than her ten years, she was clearly quick-witted and intelligent, always understanding Caroline’s murmured jokes and occasionally sardonic asides. And while she didn’t speak, her face was very expressive, and she supplemented that with her own sign language and with writing things down.

She wrote quickly and clearly and could calculate quite complicated sums. Not that Caroline confined her to lessons that first afternoon. But they took tea together in the school room, and Caroline used the opportunity to discover a little of what her charge could and couldn’t do in the way of formal learning. For the rest of the afternoon, Rosa showed her around the house—which was not huge, but which contained a rather beautiful drawing room, a large library, and a study. The study’s closed door was not breached, and Rosa gave her to understand that Mr. Benedict was working in there.