Sarah Barnwell Elliott

The Earl and the Governess


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my necklace?’

      ‘You needn’t sound so incredulous. I’m sure I can find someone to give it to.’

      ‘Who?’ she demanded, but then she immediately blushed, realising how naïve her question sounded. A man like him undoubtedly had about five mistresses, if not a wife.

      ‘I wouldn’t have to look that far. I could give it to you, for one.’

      ‘To me?’ She didn’t quite understand what he was proposing, probably because all rational thought was quickly slipping from her mind. All she knew was that he suddenly seemed every bit as dangerous as the man who’d been following her that morning, and the boy who’d tried to rob her. More dangerous, in fact, at least to her sense of self-preservation.

      ‘Yes,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll buy it from you, and then I’ll give it back. As a gift.’

      ‘That’s unnecessary. I…I must return now.’She rose and started walking back the way they had come.

      He caught up a few seconds later, taking the bag from her when he reached her side. ‘You’re remarkably stubborn, you know.’

      She didn’t turn her head to look at him. ‘If that bothers you, then you may leave. I know precisely where I’m going, so I can walk on my own.’

      ‘I’m far too stubborn m’self.’ He caught her hand, forcing her to stop. ‘And I would like to buy your necklace. I don’t see why you’re denying me, since it’s clearly for sale. And, if you promised not to be difficult about it, then I’d even be happy to allow you to keep it. Perhaps it has special meaning for you?’

      It did. It had belonged to her mother. There was pity in his eyes, and she hated it. ‘Then that would be charity, sir.’

      He frowned. ‘You needn’t worry that I would expect anything in return.’

      That just made her blush. She started walking again. ‘It’s very expensive.’

      ‘How expensive?’

      ‘Two hundred pounds,’ she said, hoping the outrageous price would end the subject. She glanced at him sideways.

      He raised an eyebrow, but otherwise showed little reaction. ‘Yes, that does seem rather dear.’

      ‘Well, I’m sorry—’

      ‘Would you settle for fifty pounds…’he was patting his jacket’s inner pocket as if looking for something ‘…and sixpence?’ He extracted a coin.

      She stopped to stare. ‘You don’t travel with that sort of money.’

      He smiled. ‘No, I tend to rely on credit. I think the sixpence would be about all I could manage at the moment.’

      ‘You think I’d give you my necklace for sixpence?’

      ‘A mere deposit. You can come to my house and I can give you the rest.’

      Go to his house? No. ‘Your offer is too high.’ She resumed walking.

      ‘It’s considerably less than you requested.’

      ‘I wasn’t serious!’

      He sighed. ‘Yes, I rather realised that. But I thought the object was to sell everything in this bag, and you’ve so far failed miserably. You’re clearly in need of money, or you wouldn’t be here.’

      Isabelle ignored his point. He was right: she really was a fool. He was offering her the money she needed—much more than she’d hoped for—and yet she was refusing. Why? ‘I don’t need money that badly…I’m looking for employment, you see, and I only need enough to tide myself over until then.’

      ‘Oh? What sort of employment are you trained for?’

      Another perceptive question. Drat. He asked it politely, as if he were merely curious, but she suspected he’d already guessed the answer. ‘I’m not trained for anything, if you must know. A governess, I suppose. I am reasonably well educated.’

      He looked so dubious she added defensively, ‘Well, I am. You needn’t make a face.’

      ‘I’m not doubting your education, Miss Thomas. But somehow you don’t seem to realise that few mothers would eagerly welcome someone like you into their homes.’

      She flushed with anger. ‘I don’t know what you mean by that.’

      ‘There’s no need to get upset. All I mean is that women like their children’s governesses to be stout and homely. Or skinny and homely. But…homely is important, I’m afraid.’His voice dropped an octave. ‘You’re…what I mean to say is you’re not homely. The very opposite, in fact. It’s a compliment.’

      Her heart was beating like a hammer. She forced herself not to look at him and fixed her sights on a sleeping dog at the end of the road. But she knew he was looking at her. She could feel his gaze on the side of her face.

      So she started to babble. ‘I…I might also work in a shop. Or I…might take in sewing. I could do any—’

      ‘Miss Thomas?’

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘I have no doubt you’ll be successful in whatever you choose to do, but it might take a while.And you still haven’t sold your necklace, so you haven’t any money to tide you over. Just accept my offer, please. Don’t think of it as charity, since I am getting something in return.’

      Isabelle said nothing. She didn’t want to take his money—she really didn’t. But she also didn’t know why it mattered, since she’d planned to sell her necklace anyway. And the money he offered would pay for her lodgings for several months. It would feed her. It might even cover some of her debt…

      But taking money from him was different. It was more shaming. No matter what he said, it was charity.

      In the end, though, necessity won out over pride, although she still couldn’t meet his gaze. ‘If you truly wish to buy it, then I won’t argue. But I insist you keep it. I…I don’t need your gift.’

      He nodded, and they walked on in uncomfortable silence.

      After another minute, they reached the crowded street where she’d first encountered him.

      ‘My carriage is just over there.’

      She looked in the direction he indicated. His carriage had pulled to the side in order not to obstruct traffic; his driver, who’d been arguing energetically when she’d last seen him, now glared sullenly at the greengrocer, who’d still not moved his cart.

      ‘Your carriage?’ she asked.

      He was regarding the vehicle with mild displeasure, but he looked back at her to answer the question. ‘Yes—you’re coming to my house, remember?’

      Ride in his carriage with him? It was far too intimate. She couldn’t do it. ‘Perhaps I might hire a hack?’

      ‘Don’t be silly. It could be an hour before you see a hack around here.’

      ‘I could walk, then.’

      ‘You expect me to trust you with my sixpence? How do I know you won’t abscond with it?’

      She frowned at him. ‘You can have your sixpence back.’

      He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Oh, for the…’ He managed to catch himself before emitting an oath. ‘You’re being silly. I’ll hire a hack for myself, so you won’t be alone with me, if that’s what’s stopping you. You can have my carriage to yourself.’

      No. ‘As you pointed out, hacks rarely come to these parts. I cannot allow you to inconvenience—’

      ‘It is not inconvenient,’ he said tightly, patently already both annoyed and inconvenienced. ‘You are not walking, but if you propose to stand here and debate it all day then I am willing