Rebellious Rake, Innocent Governess. Elizabeth Beacon

or so Reuben seems to think, but his lordship insists we make light of the matter for her ladyship’s sake.’

      ‘And you think they were not common thieves?’ Mr Shaw asked.

      ‘Most unlikely from the sound of it,’ Coppice assured him, with a significant look at Charlotte she supposed she was not meant to see.

      ‘If her ladyship’s peace of mind is to be guarded, you might just as well tell me, because the more of us who are close to her know the truth, the better she’ll be protected,’ she informed them both with what she thought exemplary patience on her part.

      ‘Very well, ma’am,’ Coppice admitted rather stiffly, as if she was at least twice her actual age, Charlotte decided very impatiently.

      ‘So who were they really?’ she demanded.

      ‘I have no idea, madam, but Reuben said they wore silk masks and appeared very prosperous for common thieves, as well as carrying the very latest in firearms. When they were turned over to the local magistrate they refused to say anything, preferring to take their punishment rather than betray even their names, which you must admit, sir, is highly suspicious.’

      Ben nodded sagely and they exchanged manly looks as Charlotte was torn between fuming at Coppice, for addressing only what he obviously considered the important part of his audience, and terror for her friends. Added to the letter Miranda had received, it seemed something deeply sinister was coming to a head, and who knew what hurt might befall those she’d come to love in the process? When she had time and privacy, she might take herself to task for letting herself care for her employers so much, but now there were more important considerations than icy self-sufficiency.

      ‘I wonder just what the magistrate made of that,’ Ben mused.

      ‘Not a great deal, sir, he sentenced them to be transported for life.’

      ‘And they still said nothing?’

      ‘Yes, sir—quite significant, don’t you think?’

      ‘Indeed, most criminals would name their own grandmother an accessory to avoid such a sentence.’

      Charlotte thought of Celia Braxton’s letter, where she too refused to name the man who was threatening the Earl and his family as well as Ben Shaw and shivered. An implacable will lay behind such a depth of fear, and she wondered what he had done in the past to make his tools prefer the penal colony at Botany Bay to his vengeance. He was obviously more than just another common criminal, and tracking such a Machiavellian mind to his lair would be a task fit for Hercules himself. Her gaze turned inevitably to the giant at her side and she became even more thoughtful. If there was a man capable of the quest, it was surely Mr Benedict Shaw and she thought him capable of being every bit as subtle and unrelenting as his quarry, in the pursuit of those out to harm the man he considered a brother. For some reason that notion warmed rather than chilled her as it should have done. Such single-minded pursuit of his enemy should have made her shudder with revulsion, instead of feeling his protection was cast about her as well as her friends. Something else she must chide herself over later, along with the chill that dissipated that warmth as soon as it occurred to her that he would be in acute danger while pursuing a seemingly invisible, untouchable enemy.

      ‘Her ladyship will soon have the story out of him,’ she insisted in the face of two sceptical males.

      ‘All the more reason for Miranda to be away from here and safe at Wychwood,’ Ben Shaw said grimly and for once Charlotte agreed with him wholeheartedly.

      Indeed she could think of no better scheme than them all returning to Derbyshire post haste and staying there for the foreseeable future. Then the unpalatable truth of such a hasty withdrawal occurred to her.

      ‘The gossips will say Kate has committed some grand misdemeanour and had to be taken home,’ she warned.

      ‘Which is why she will have to stay here, with a suitably responsible female to bear her company, of course,’ Mr Shaw said with a significant look that Charlotte distrusted intensely.

      ‘I’m a governess, not a chaperon, Mr Shaw,’ she informed him sternly.

      ‘What’s the difference?’ he asked with an interested expression that had her clenching her gloved hands at her sides.

      ‘I should think that quite plain,’ she said repressively.

      ‘Then pray consider me just a stupid male and explain it to me,’ he replied with spurious meekness.

      She shot him a furious look, but in front of Coppice she couldn’t give way to a strong urge to inform him what she truly thought of him.

      ‘A governess is an educator of young ladies, and sometimes of even younger gentlemen, Mr Shaw. A chaperon is a lady who has the entrée into the ton that will help secure her charge a marriage suitable to one of her lofty station in life,’ she said blandly, hoping it was very clear to both of them that she was the former and not the latter.

      ‘Are you telling me that you weren’t born a lady, Miss Wells?’ the wretch replied with a mock deference that made her long to slap him.

      ‘Let us say I possess no turn for matchmaking,’ she informed him with what she hoped was a superior smile.

      All the same, she felt profoundly uncomfortable discussing such a role under the interested gaze of Coppice, who seemed secretly amused by their discussion for some reason. Ben Shaw was either unaware of the butler’s feelings or indifferent to them, for he continued to look at her as if she was some odd curiosity he currently found fascinating.

      ‘Surely that makes you uniquely qualified for the position?’ he said and, when she haughtily raised her brows in question of that statement, added, ‘Being a cynic of the worst sort, you would see through the fortune hunters and shady characters and find your charge a paragon among men.’

      ‘I’m far too stern a critic to manage that, I’m afraid,’ she explained shortly and treated both men to one of her best icy looks before turning to make a fighting retreat. ‘If I might suggest someone writes to the Countess’s godmama and offers Lady Rhys the role? From all I have seen of her, she would be highly entertained by the notion of chaperoning Kate in polite society, and might prove a shrewder matchmaker than any doting mama. I know she offered to take up the task weeks ago, but her ladyship was so eager to present her sister to the ton that I suspect she overestimated her own strength under the present circumstances.’

      In front of Coppice she couldn’t refer directly to Miranda’s pregnancy and Charlotte felt distinctly impatient with the ridiculous conventions of a society that refused to refer to the very natural process of pregnancy and birth openly in mixed company.

      ‘Yes, it took Kit weeks to persuade her ladyship she wouldn’t blight her sisters’ prospects with unfounded gossip about her own past if she did bring them out, but I dare say he’s wishing he hadn’t made such a good job of it now. Nevertheless, that’s an excellent notion of yours and I’ll suggest it to him in the morning,’ Mr Shaw informed her rather pompously and she spared a little impatience from her general supply of it.

      ‘How do you know that he’ll consult you about any of this?’ she weakened enough to ask, as she stood with one hand suggestively on the doorknob, but couldn’t quite turn it and escape his infuriating presence.

      ‘And how could you think he wouldn’t, ma’am, especially as he doesn’t share your low opinion of my abilities, or lack thereof?’

      ‘I really couldn’t say,’ she replied snippily and opened the door and went through it with a frigid goodnight, before she said something she might truly regret.