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

“What work does he do?” Caroline asked casually.

Rosa made a ring with her finger and forefinger and raised it to her eye before making hasty writing motions with one hand on the other. From which Caroline guessed she meant he studied things under a glass and wrote about them. She didn’t feel much wiser.

When the rain went off, Rosa took her hand and tugged her to the side door, where several coats and cloaks—including her own—hung on hooks.

“You wish to go for a walk?” Caroline guessed. Personally, she had had enough of walking for one day, but she was loathe to disappoint her new pupil. “Do you have stout boots to wear? The ground will be very muddy.”

But Rosa was already climbing into a sturdy pair of walking boots. As Caroline reached for her cloak and bonnet, the wolfhound careened around the corner and lolloped toward them, barking.

“Should we take him?” Caroline asked doubtfully.

“I’m afraid he will insist upon it,” replied a dry male voice.

Caroline spun around to face Mr. Benedict, who strolled up to them wearing an open overcoat and a battered wide-brimmed hat. Without surprise, Rosa ran to seize his hand. The afternoon walk, clearly, was a regular occurrence. Caroline wondered if her presence was required or wanted.

“Heel, Tiny,” Mr. Benedict commanded.

“Tiny?” Caroline repeated breathlessly as the dog scampered to obey.

“Well, he was once,” Mr. Benedict said and opened the door, bowing her out with only a hint of irony.

Laughter bubbled up in her throat as she followed Rosa outside. “Tiny” bounded ahead, Rosa racing after him into the wild undergrowth encroaching over the paths. A few moments later, they bolted out again. Seizing her father and Caroline by the hands, Rosa tugged until they accompanied her back the way she’d come.

To Caroline’s surprise, the stern-looking Mr. Benedict seemed neither surprised nor annoyed to be dragged through untamed grass and thorns. Rosa crouched down and pulled back a tangle of wild rose branches to reveal a single small flower. She turned up her face and smiled at her father and then at Caroline.

“Well, that’s quite a discovery,” Mr. Benedict said warmly. “How is it surviving in there without any sun?”

Rosa grinned and jumped up to run on in search of the dog.

“So,” Mr. Benedict said as they fought their way back to the path. “How peaceful do you find the environs of Haven Hall?”

It was the first indication he’d given that he remembered her, and she couldn’t help flushing with embarrassment.

“Acceptably so,” she replied as calmly as she could. Forcing herself, she met his sardonic gaze. “We have met before today. I didn’t think you remembered.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t count since no one introduced us.”

“If I was rude, I apologize,” she blurted. “I didn’t realize it was your land, and you gave me a fright.”

“Oh, it’s not my land. I only rent the house. For what it’s worth, I don’t recall your rudeness, and would be unlikely to dismiss you for it if I did. How do you find your pupil?”

Caroline blinked at the change of subject. “I find her very bright and thoughtful and knowledgeable for one so young. Clearly, she has been well taught.”

“Now and again,” Mr. Benedict said with a faint curl of his lips. “What of you, Miss Grey? How did you receive your learning?”

“From my own governess,” she replied honestly. “Until I was twelve years old and pursued my own studies.”

“Why?”

“I was lamentably bookish.”

“How fortunate, but as you very well know, I was prying. What happened when you were twelve years old?”

“My father died, leaving us…if not quite destitute, then at least in genteel poverty,” she replied frankly. “A governess was no longer an affordable expense.”

“And now you governess for others. What of the rest of your family?”

“My mother lives quietly in the Scottish Borders with my widowed sister and nephew.”

“And you are their sole support?”

“Not sole, but my earnings are necessary, yes.”

“Then I hope Braithwaite paid you better than most governesses.”

“He did,” she replied calmly.

Rosa, who’d been rushing ahead, ran back with sheer exuberance to skip along beside them, examining interestingly colored leaves she’d swept up on the way. She showed her favorites to her father and to Caroline. Again, Caroline was surprised by how much attention the saturnine Mr. Benedict gave to her childish interests. Whatever the reasons behind Rosa’s refusal to speak, they didn’t appear to include parental neglect.

Since the daylight was fading, their walk was not long, and they all piled back into the house with Tiny, who shook mud all over them and then wagged his tail.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Mr. Benedict said in his abrupt way, giving his daughter’s hair a careless ruffle as he strode away.

“Mr. Benedict,” Caroline called, hurrying after him as she untied the ribbons of her bonnet. He paused, glancing back at her. “Rosa dines with you?” she asked.

He nodded curtly.

“Where should I dine?” she asked. It was a thorny problem in many households, where the governess was neither servant nor guest. In the Braithwaites’ establishments, she had always eaten with her pupils, whether that was in the schoolroom or the formal dining room, but every family had its own preferences.