What the Duke Wants(4)

“Of course there’s a need my dear. You’ll find that, being in the duke’s employ, while his reputation is less than above reproach, he is generous and kind to those he employs. I’m quite sure he’d be put out if I did any less for you, my dear.”

“Well, thank you.” Carlotta tried to be gracious but all she could think of was the sorry state of most of her clothing due to the muddy descent from the carriage. Hopefully, whoever collected her belongings wouldn’t look too closely.





Chapter Two




Carlotta glanced about her room, still shocked that it had been assigned to someone under employ. The large bed boasted the softest feather mattress and the light blue of the walls gave the room a relaxing atmosphere. How strange, she thought, to feel so at ease in a duke’s private residence. She almost laughed out loud, if not for the tiny fear that someone might hear. She walked to the dressing table and sat. In short work, she unbound and re-twisted her hair into a respectable and much tidier knot at the back of her head. A wave of sadness crashed over her at the remembrance that there would be no season for her, no beautiful gowns, no gentlemen asking for dances, no stolen kisses. But at least she wouldn’t go hungry, and with any luck, Mr. Burrows would find a tenant for Garden Gate. No, she would be thankful for small blessings, for the small blessings added up into large ones. Indeed, things could be far worse.

A knock on her door brought her head up and she rose. “Yes?”

“It is I, Mrs. Pott, dear. Your belongings just arrived,” the housekeeper answered as she let herself into the room.

“Thank you.”

“I, er…” Mrs. Pott stuttered, her cheerful face slightly pinched in concern. “I’m afraid some of your clothes were, shall we say, damaged, in some sort.”

“Yes, I’m aware. It was why I was hesitant for you to collect them. You see, on my way to London, my trunk fell and opened on impact. My dresses and—other things—didn’t manage too well against the mud on the road.” Carlotta felt her face flush with humiliation.

“You poor dear! How wretched! I’ll have them laundered and pressed at once. Whatever can’t be salvaged we shall discard and I’ll endeavor to have new dresses made to replace them.”

“There’s no need, I’m sure what I have will suffice.” The last thing she wanted was to be an imposition.

“Oh fustian! Remember, my dear, your employer is the duke. We cannot have you looking like you work for anyone less.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought—”

“Not to worry, dear. You’ll get used to it. Now, shall I introduce you to the girls?”

“Yes.” Carlotta exhaled a sigh of relief.

“Very well, follow me and I’ll take to you them.”

Carlotta followed Mrs. Pott’s plump figure down the hall and to the left. It was oddly quiet for there being three children about. She expected Mrs. Pott to lead her to another floor, but rather, she paused in front of a large wooden door and knocked softly. Carlotta watched her expression soften. “Girls? I’ve your new governess with me.”

The door cracked open slightly. Two very large brown eyes glanced out warily.

“Yes m’um.” The door continued to open.

Mrs. Pott cut a glance to Carlotta, speaking volumes. She would need to tread carefully.

They entered a large salon decorated in a cream color. A cheery fire danced in the hearth, but the tone, the overall feeling of the room was one of despair. Carlotta focused on the two other girls sitting together on the settee, holding hands. The third girl joined them shortly. Clearly older, she placed a protective arm around the other two as she watched their approach with careful consideration.

It was apparent they were all sisters. Three pairs of chocolate colored eyes were all framed in dark feathery eyelashes. Wide lips were thinned in a wary line and their chestnut hair was plaited neatly and in a similar fashion. In all truth, they looked like the very same girl but in different stages of life. The youngest couldn’t be older than seven and the middle one looked to be about ten or eleven. The oldest was perhaps fourteen but that was uncertain. She was in the first bloom of a young lady but her eyes seemed older, wiser. Pained.

“Beatrix, Bethanny, Roberta? This is Miss Standhope. She is to be your governess,” said Mrs. Pott by way of introduction.

“Berty, my name is Berty,” the youngest corrected with a scowl before being hushed by her older sister.

“Yes, well.” Mrs. Pott tried to hide a grin.

“Hello, sweet girls. I’m pleased to meet you.” Carlotta spoke quietly. Then on impulse, she took a few steps to get closer. Crouching down, she met them at eye level. “Truly, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. You’re all entirely lovely and I’m sure we’ll get along quite well.”

Berty, the youngest, smiled, revealing a missing front tooth. However, the older two simply nodded, their expressions inscrutable.

“I’ll leave you to get acquainted. Dinner will be shortly.” Mrs. Pott left, closing the door behind her.

“Now then, can you please tell me which of you is Beatrix and which one is Bethanny?” Carlotta asked, standing.

“I’m Beatrix,” the middle girl stated, her voice was deeper than Carlotta expected, a true mezzo.