The Wicked Governess (Blackhaven Brides Book 6)(8)

“Rosa, did you not get any dinner?” Caroline tried a teasing note. “There’s hardly any left for you now.”

Rosa gave a distracted smile, while Caroline ladled the last of the chicken on to her plate. “Eat up,” she said cheerfully. “Will there be pastry now?”

That attracted a more enthusiastic nod.

“What kind?” Caroline asked.

While Rosa tried to sign the answers, Caroline was aware of Mr. Benedict’s gaze on her, but she refused to look to see if it was with disapproval or otherwise. However, by the time the servant brought the pastries, Mr. Benedict’s plate was not quite so full. As if he’d made an effort, at least to stop his daughter worrying—or to prevent the governess from blurting unhelpful remarks.

Rosa set about her pastry with enthusiasm, and indeed it was delicious. The fact that her father took none did not appear to upset her. Presumably, he rarely did. Instead, he picked at some cheese and, having finished the wine, poured himself a glass of port.

Rosa swallowed the last of her pastry. Catching her father’s gaze, she pointed upward in a hopeful manner.

“Go and see Marjorie, then,” he said. “I’ll be up in a little to make sure you go to bed.”

Rosa bounced to her feet and held out her hand invitingly to Caroline, who laid down her napkin.

“No, Marjorie would prefer you alone,” Mr. Benedict said. “Besides, I wish to talk to Miss Grey.”

Rosa wrinkled her nose but shrugged apologetically to Caroline and ran out of the room.

“Is the lady ill?” Caroline asked. “Is there something I might do for her?”

“No, she will come about with a little peace. Don’t we all?”

“I didn’t mean to upset Rosa by drawing attention to your lack of appetite,” she said quickly. “I was thoughtless.”

“Or too thoughtful? Interesting point. My wife died a year ago. Rosa…watches me quite carefully to be sure I don’t follow her to the grave.”

It made sense, although it filled Caroline with a hundred other questions. She opted for, “Are you ill, sir? It would make my position simpler if I knew.”

“But your position isn’t simple. I told you that.”

If it was an attempt to intimidate her to silence, she resisted, holding his gaze as she waited for her answer. After a moment, he let out another short laugh and reached for his glass. “I am convalescing, Miss Grey. Will that suffice? But talking of your position, I need to know your intentions.”

“My intentions?” she repeated blankly. After all, her intentions hadn’t appeared to matter to anyone since yesterday morning. She had been blown around by other people’s until she’d landed here.

“Rosa needs a governess. I hoped she would grow used to the idea of having you here. But it appears she’s taken a liking to you. I refuse to have her feelings hurt if you go running back to Braithwaite.”

A flush of anger rose up from her toes. “Running back to… If I return to Braithwaite Castle, it will be to the ladies Maria, Alice and Helen. And only at Lady Braithwaite’s invitation. Whatever you imagine my relationship with the earl to be, you are wrong!”

His lips curved. “Truly? Then you are his mistress?”

She gasped, jumping to her feet. “I beg your pardon?”

He rose with her, albeit languidly, which brought him a shade too close. But Caroline was far too indignant to back away.

His gaze mocked her relentlessly. “I imagined your relationship to be entirely innocent,” he drawled. “I wouldn’t otherwise have employed you. I’m not much of a moral stickler myself, but even I draw the line at employing a neighbor’s bit of muslin to teach my daughter. You’re very touchy on the subject. Perhaps you harbor a tendre for the earl? He is very handsome.”

“Then perhaps you should be his bit of muslin!” she said furiously.

To her surprise, he threw back his head and laughed. “What a picture! Wouldn’t that set the tongues of Blackhaven wagging with a vengeance? Oh, sit down, Miss Grey,” he added, throwing himself back into his chair. “I impugn neither your honor nor his. Nor do I actually care whether either of you gives a jot for the other. What concerns me is your returning there and leaving Rosa once she has grown to rely upon you.”

Grudgingly, Caroline resumed her own seat. “Lord Braithwaite spoke of a week or so,” she admitted. “By then, he believes his mother’s temper will have calmed and her good sense be restored.” She drew a deep breath. “I believe his lordship to be a just man, offended by his mother’s injustice to me. Besides, he believes me to be a good influence on his younger sister. While I…I value my well-paid position and I am fond of the girls. I am ashamed to say neither of us gave much thought to you or Rosa in these plans.”

She met his gaze with conscious bravery. “If you think it better for Rosa, I will leave tomorrow. I can give you the address of a good agency to find another governess.”

There was a hint of curiosity in his hard eyes. “You would, too, wouldn’t you? Where would you go?”

“I should be grateful for a conveyance to Carlisle. From there I can travel home to my mother’s house north of the border. Lady Braithwaite may reach me there as easily as here.”

“Not quite so easily,” he observed. He raised his glass and finished his port. He shrugged with a hint of impatience. “Rosa knows you are on loan. If her affections are too engaged, well, she will have to grow used to disappointment like the rest of us.” Pushing back his chair, he rose to his feet. “Stay if you wish.”