The Baron's Governess Bride Page 5

  “Miss Ellerby shouldn’t be in trouble,” she muttered as she retreated toward the nursery. “It was my fault and Mademoiselle’s…and Peter’s, the wretch.”

  Before her father could bid her away again, she slipped through the door and closed it behind her, leaving him alone with Miss Ellerby. Though the governess did not move or speak, her silent reproach threatened to deafen him.

  He drew in a deep breath and forced out the words fairness demanded he speak. “It seems I was hasty and harsh in my judgment. I owe you an apology, Miss Ellerby.”

  She gave a shallow shrug that seemed to accept both his apology and his earlier rebuke. “I should not have let her go, sir, for all the reasons you mentioned.”

  Her forbearance should have made him feel less ashamed of the way he’d spoken…but it did not. Quite the opposite in fact. He pictured himself as the cruel tyrant in one of Sophie’s stories. It was not a role he relished. “I should not have expected you to remedy a situation that appears to have been going on for quite some time right under my nose.”

  Miss Ellerby flicked a brief glance up at him as if she did not believe what she was hearing. Was it so difficult for her to accept that he was capable of offering an apology when it was so clearly warranted?

  “It was wrong of me,” he continued, “to assume you would know what I expect of you when we have never discussed the matter.”

  “It would help to know what the girls are permitted to do,” she agreed, “and what they are not.”

  Somehow, that made him feel better. It might provide him with an opportunity to make up for his unfairness. “In a fortnight, the new session of Parliament begins and I shall be obliged to go to London during the week. It is vital that we are quite clear about my expectations before then. Come down to the drawing room tomorrow evening after you have put the girls to bed and we can discuss the matter.”

  “As you wish, sir,” she replied.

  But behind those thick, ugly spectacles, her eyes widened as if he had proposed something improper, even dangerous. But that was ridiculous. He must have misinterpreted her expression just as he had misjudged her actions.

  This new governess was an exceedingly puzzling creature. Perhaps a meeting or two between them would help him understand her a little better, in addition to helping her understand what he expected of her. “I do wish it, Miss Ellerby. In fact, I insist. For the sake of my daughters, I believe it is vital that we confer.”

  He made a polite bow. “Until tomorrow evening, then.”

  As he strode away, she called after him in a quiet but insistent voice. “I beg your pardon, sir.”

  Rupert halted and turned on his heel.

  “Yes?” He could not fully conceal his impatience. He wanted to put this whole awkward evening behind them as soon as possible.

  “I thought you wanted to hear the girls’ prayers.”

  Behind her dour facade, he sensed Miss Ellerby might be having a secret chuckle at his expense. Tempted as he was to resent it, Rupert had to admit he deserved it.

  * * *

  As she watched Lord Steadwell hearing his daughters’ prayers, Grace strove to make sense of what had happened in the past half hour.

  She had fully expected Lord Steadwell’s rebuke for letting Phoebe run off to the stables right before bed. Though she wanted to excuse herself on account of her exhaustion and her uncertainty about how much freedom her new pupils were permitted, she knew she had made a serious lapse in judgment. A lapse for which her employer had every right to be vexed.

  So she had done what she’d learned to do at school whenever one of her teachers scolded her for vanity or laziness or disobedience. She accepted the criticism in meek silence, heeding as much of it as she could bear in an effort to improve herself. But when it got to be more than she could absorb without breaking down in tears, she had imagined herself encased in a thick sheath of alabaster, which nothing could penetrate to harm her. It muffled the words until they became nothing more than a rumble of noise without any meaning.

  She’d soon discovered it was more difficult to reduce Lord Steadwell’s voice to a harmless babble. Its pitch and timbre were so very agreeable that she found herself compelled to listen carefully, even when she could not expect to hear anything good.

  Phoebe’s sudden appearance had jarred Grace out of her protective trance. The last thing she’d ever expected was for that willful girl to come to her defense at the risk of incurring her father’s wrath. It reminded her of the times at school when Marian or Rebecca had stood up for her, deflecting the spiteful anger of the teachers. It made her feel worthy of something better than blame and belittlement.

  Yet, as much as Phoebe’s behavior had surprised her, Lord Steadwell’s reaction amazed her even more. Upon hearing what Phoebe had to say, he had not only been diverted from his annoyance with Grace, but also admitted he was wrong to blame her. He’d gone so far as to beg her pardon.

  That went contrary to all her previous experience. Even when it was proved that she had been unjustly punished, none of the teachers had ever shown the slightest remorse for their mistake. Lord Steadwell’s apology was all the more difficult to fathom because she knew he was not entirely wrong to hold her responsible for what had happened.

  If only he had left it at a simple apology.

  Grace’s stomach seethed at his suggestion that they meet late in the evening to discuss her duties. She would have preferred he stay vexed with her. At least that might have provided an extra layer of defense against any unwelcome attention from her new employer.

  “God bless Papa.” A fervent note in Sophie’s small voice made it clear she believed she was speaking directly to her Heavenly Father, who listened with perfect attention, as ready to grant her requests as her doting Papa. “And God bless Charlotte and Phoebe and Mamzell…”

  When Sophie paused, her father leaned close and whispered something in her ear, after which she continued, “God, bless Miss Ella and help us behave well so she will want to stay at Nethercross. Amen.”

  Did his lordship truly believe she might leave because his daughters behaved badly? If only he knew she was far more concerned about his behavior. Not that he had given her any reason to be…yet.

  “Sleep well.” Sophie’s father tucked the bedclothes around her then pressed a kiss on her forehead. “And sweet dreams.”

  “Thank you, Papa.” The child replied in a drowsy murmur. “Will you come and hear our prayers again tomorrow night?”

  His lordship flinched slightly at his daughter’s request and cast a furtive glance toward Grace. “Perhaps I will. I reckon I should visit the nursery more often. At least until Miss Ellerby grows more accustomed to our ways.”

  Much as Grace wished he would keep his distance, she knew she should welcome his presence for the sake of his children. It would not be easy for them when their father went away to London for days at a time while they tried to become accustomed to a new governess.

  When Lord Steadwell bid her good-night, Grace bobbed a curtsy and wished him the same. The instant the door closed behind him, she pulled off her spectacles and rubbed her tired eyes. Would she ever grow accustomed to wearing this dowdy disguise? She comforted herself with the reminder that his lordship would soon be away from Nethercross during the week. She would not need to maintain such a heightened state of vigilance then.

  Eager to get to bed after her long day, Grace checked to make certain the girls were settled for the night. She found Phoebe faced toward the wall, though she sensed the child was not asleep. For a moment she stood quietly watching and listening until a heave of Phoebe’s shoulders and a covert sniffle betrayed the child’s distress. Grace recognized the signs all too well. How often had she shed a few tears at the end of a hard day at school, forced to muffle her sobs from a dormitory full of girls?


  Though part of her wanted to respect Phoebe’s privacy, the need to relieve the child’s misery was far stronger.

  She settled herself on the edge of Phoebe’s bed. “That was very brave of you to speak to your father on my behalf. Very brave and very kind.”

  The bedclothes over Phoebe’s shoulder rippled as she gave a shrug. “I wish I didn’t have to. Now Papa will never let me go say good-night to Jem. The last one he sees will always be P-Peter. My pony will think he belongs to the stable boy and not to m-me!”

  “What made you speak up then if you knew there might be such unpleasant consequences?” Grace’s gratitude was mixed with puzzlement.

  Another shrug. “I knew Papa would put a stop to my stable visits anyway once he found out. And it wasn’t fair for you to get in trouble for what I did. I’m sorry I made Papa angry with you on your first day here.”

  “Apology accepted.” Grace ran a hand over the child’s shoulder in a sympathetic caress. Already she felt more attached to Phoebe than to any of the children she’d taught before. None of them would have hesitated to make her the scapegoat for their misbehavior. “I understand how your feelings for your pony made you do what you might not have otherwise.”

  “You do?” Phoebe gave a loud sniffle.

  “Yes.” Much as she’d feared getting into trouble at school, she had broken a number of rules over the years for the sake of her friends. “I cannot promise anything, but I will speak to your father about finding a way to let you spend more time with Jem.”

  “You will? Why?” The child rolled toward Grace. Her eyes and nose were red and swollen and her hair a horrible tangle. Somehow it was a more endearing sight than any pampered, perfectly groomed poppet. “And why did you try to take part of the blame after I told Papa the truth?”

  “For the same reason as you, I suppose—because it was fair and true.” A thought popped into her mind of a lesson she’d learned at school—one the teachers had surely not intended to instill. “And perhaps because I thought your father could not be quite so angry at either of us if he was angry at both.”

  Phoebe seemed intrigued by that notion. “It worked…a little at least. Do you reckon you can persuade Papa about Jem?”

  The last thing Grace wanted was to disappoint the child. “I’m not certain. Your father seems to be a very strong-willed man with firmly fixed ideas—especially when it comes to the welfare of you and your sisters. But I will try.”

  “Papa treats me as if I’m no older than Sophie,” Phoebe grumbled, “when I’m almost eleven.”

  Brooding on grievances against her father would not help the child sleep well.

  “Why don’t you sit up and let me fix your hair,” Grace suggested. “I’m sure you will rest much more comfortably if it is a bit neater.”

  Phoebe heaved herself up, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her nightdress while Grace fetched a hairbrush. “I hope you will not be like Mademoiselle, always harping at me about my looks. There are lots more important things.”

  “There are, indeed.” Grace breathed fervently as she brushed out the girl’s wild dark locks and twined them into a pair of neat braids. “All I will ask is that you try to keep tidy. You wouldn’t want to have your pony going about with his coat uncurried and his mane and tail all matted, would you?”

  Phoebe shook her head violently as she lay back down. “Then people might think I didn’t take proper care of Jem.”

  “Just so.” Grace tucked the bedclothes around her new pupil. “I know I would hate to have people think I did not take proper care of you and your sisters—your father especially. You can understand that, can’t you?”

  Phoebe gave a vague murmur of agreement.

  “I thought you would.” Grace had an urge to kiss the child good-night but sensed it might be too soon for such familiarity. Instead, she settled for resting her hand on Phoebe’s head. “That is the good sense I would expect from a young lady of nearly eleven.”

  Her comment seemed to please Phoebe, who snuggled into her pillow with a little grin.

  As Grace retired to her own quarters and began to unpack her meager possessions, she congratulated herself on having made progress with at least one of Lord Steadwell’s daughters. She knew better than to suppose the other two would be so easy to win over.

  As for their father, she would feel a great deal more comfortable at Nethercross once he went away to London.

  Chapter Four

  “You seem to be settling in quite well at Nethercross, Miss Ellerby.” Rupert gestured toward a brocade armchair in the drawing room. “After that regrettable incident last night, I hope Phoebe is minding you better.”

  “Yes, sir.” The governess took the seat he had indicated, her posture as prim and stiff as her ugly starched cap, with her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “We are getting on quite well. She is a delightful child.”

  A note of genuine warmth crept into Miss Ellerby’s voice.

  “She is?” Rupert sank onto a nearby chair. “I mean, of course she is. Though I must admit I did not expect you to see that side of her quite so soon. Mademoiselle Audet found her something of a handful. And I have had more…difficulty with Phoebe than with her sisters. You may have noticed she is strong-willed and not particularly biddable.”

  “Phoebe has great spirit.” Though Miss Ellerby seemed to agree with him, she put a rather different emphasis on his daughter’s temperament. “She is open, brave and truthful. Not many girls her age would have risked your displeasure on behalf of a stranger as she did for me last night.”

  “I suppose not.” He’d been so concerned with Phoebe’s heedless behavior that he had not stopped to consider how admirable it was of her to confess the truth. “Still, I hope she has obeyed my orders to stay out of the stables in the evening. You made certain she did not sneak out?”

  Miss Ellerby’s pale brows knit together in an indignant frown. “I do not believe Phoebe would ever do that, sir. She might be pushed to outright defiance but not deception.”

  “Pushed? Are you insinuating that I provoke my daughter to misbehave?” Rupert bristled at the thought. “I have known Phoebe from the day she was born. You only met her yesterday.”

  The sharpness of his tone made Miss Ellerby recoil slightly, but she refused to back down. “That is true, sir. Perhaps your memories of her as a young child may have blinded you to the fact that Phoebe is growing up. When you give her orders or impose punishment without respecting her feelings, she thinks you are treating her like a much younger child and she resents it a good deal.”

  “Does she?” Much as he would have liked to dismiss Miss Ellerby’s comments, Rupert could not deny their ring of truth. “My daughter needs to realize that respect must be earned.”

  The governess’s tightly pursed lips relaxed a little. “That is what I told Phoebe, and she seemed to understand. Do you not think her truthfulness last night merits some respect? I certainly do.”

  “Perhaps.” Rupert wondered where all this might lead. “What do you propose?”

  Though Miss Ellerby seemed pleasantly surprised by his question, she had an answer ready. “I believe you should demonstrate your respect by giving Phoebe a little more freedom and allowing her to prove she can make responsible use of it.”

  “What sort of freedom?” Rupert could not hide his reluctance. He wanted to keep his daughters safe. With freedom came risks.

  “Give her permission to visit her pony before bed.”

  “Out of the question.” Rupert sprang to his feet and began to pace back and forth behind his chair. “Did you not heed a word I said last night about the trouble that could lead to?”

  “I certainly did.” Miss Ellerby sounded rather intimidated by his resistance but determined to prevail all the same. “That is why I would suggest a firm time l
imit, which might be extended if Phoebe proves she can abide by it. Of course, she would have to be accompanied by a trusted servant to make certain she does not come to any harm or get into fights with stable boys.”

  Rupert clenched his jaw in an effort to conceal any sign that he might be weakening. How was it that this mousy governess tested his stubborn resolution? Could it be because he sensed they both wanted the same thing, only their approach to the problem differed? Even then, she seemed to understand his concerns and tried to address them.

  “I will give the matter some thought.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Miss Ellerby’s tight-pressed lips blossomed into a radiant smile that disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving Rupert to wonder if he had only imagined it.

  * * *

  “Do you mean it, Miss Ellerby?” The smile that illuminated Phoebe’s face when she learned of Lord Steadwell’s decision was so bright it made Grace’s eyes sting a little. “I can go back to visiting Jem before bedtime?”

  “That is what your father said.”

  Ever since Phoebe had woken that morning, she’d been aquiver to find out about Grace’s conversation with her father. Grace thought a delay in satisfying the child’s curiosity might help her understand what a valuable opportunity she’d been granted.

  “Thank you!” The girl threw her arms around Grace and squeezed so hard it threatened to crack her ribs. “I never thought you’d be able to persuade Papa.”

  Grace gasped to recover the breath Phoebe’s violent embrace had driven from her lungs. “He did set some conditions and it is very important you abide by them. You must always take Bessie with you and you can only stay ten minutes to begin with. If you prove you can be trusted to behave responsibly, he may be willing to grant you more privileges.”

  “I will!” Phoebe loosened her crushing grip. “I promise.”

  Grace adjusted her cap, which the child had knocked askew in her excitement. “I suspect your father would also like you to apply yourself to your studies.”