The Governess and Mr. Granville. Abby Gaines

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      Chapter Two

      Serena watched as her employer—her former employer—turned a remarkable shade of red.

      Her question had been unutterably forward. If her father had heard her, even his famed tolerance would be taxed. But she’d spent eight months biting her tongue, save for one or two lapses in diplomacy. Maybe three or four. The point was, her “parson’s daughter-ish” good manners meant she’d failed to make any lasting difference here. Now that she’d been dismissed, she no longer needed to exercise restraint.

      “Miss Somerton,” Mr. Granville said with rigid control, “while I am very conscious of the honor you accord me, I feel your offer springs from a certain desperation.”

      What was he talking about?

      He took two steps backward, away from her, as if she were a victim of the Great Plague she’d been teaching the children about in their history lessons. Yes, she did actually teach them history.

      “Therefore-I-must-decline-your-proposal,” he said in a rush.

      Serena stared...then broke into a peal of laughter. “You think I was proposing marriage!”

      He remained red, but was suddenly less rigid. “Er, weren’t you?”

      “Certainly not!” Goodness, how embarrassing. She could only hope she could pass the days before she left Woodbridge Hall without encountering him again. “Even if I hoped to marry in the near future—which, believe me, I have no expectation of doing—it would be somewhat presumptuous of a governess to set her sights on the master of the house, would it not?”

      A reluctant smile widened his mouth, much more natural than the forced version with which he’d tried to reassure her a moment ago. It made him extremely handsome.

      “You are the sister of an earl now,” he pointed out. “And have always been, it seems, the great-niece of a duke. I rather fear, Miss Somerton, you’re my social equal.”

      “I’m an estranged great-niece,” she reminded him, suddenly distracted. How peculiar that she should notice how handsome he was twice in half an hour. The first time, he’d been inches away from her, trying to detach that dashed lizard. And this time he’d just accused her of proposing marriage—so no wonder her observations were so inappropriate. This was hardly a regular day at Woodbridge Hall.

      In which case, the irregularity might as well continue.

      “Perhaps I will presume on the new status, such as it is, that comes courtesy of my sister’s husband,” she said. “Sir, your children need a mother.”

      He was squaring his jaw again. Serena chose to ignore it. “Which means you need a wife,” she said. “I’m sorry to bring this up so abruptly—if I’d known I was about to be dismissed, I would have mentioned it sooner—”

      “I’m overjoyed that you didn’t know,” he interrupted.

      “The children love their aunt, of course, but they need someone whose constant presence they can depend on. If Miss Granville should marry...”

      “No one can promise a constant presence,” he said harshly. He closed his eyes a moment. When he opened them, he spoke with excessive calm. “We both know my sister is unlikely to wed, so you may consider her quite dependable.” Measured strides took him to the library door, which he opened wide in a clear message that Serena should depart.

      He was right about no one knowing the future. His wife, Mrs. Emily Granville, had doubtless never expected to be carried away by measles when Louisa was just six months old.

      But Serena was right, too. She drew a restoring breath, gripped the back of her chair and carried on. “Sir, Thomas and Hetty are about to enter a critical period in their adolescence. They need the guidance and nurturing of a parent who loves them, not a governess who’s paid to care.” And since Mr. Granville showed no inclination to nurture his children, there should be a new Mrs. Granville.

      “Is that why you care?” he asked.

      “You dismissed me,” she pointed out. “In that process, you made some slurs about my ability as a governess that I consider—”

      She stopped. She was getting distracted. What really mattered here?

      The children.

      In which case...Serena sat down again.

      Mr. Granville glanced from her to the open door. “Miss Somerton, you are dismissed. In every sense of the word.”

      “I will leave, but I’d like to say something first.”

      He remained by the door, only a slight air of resigned expectancy acknowledging her request.

      They could hardly hold a conversation like this.

      “Such discourtesy to a sister of the Earl of Spenford,” she said lightly.

      Granville’s eyes narrowed. But he returned to his seat behind the desk. Serena sent up a brief prayer that she could articulate her thoughts in a way that would convince him. She’d never thought she would have the chance to speak her mind, but hadn’t he just told her she was now his social equal?

      Even better, a social equal who after this week would never see him again.

      “Mr. Granville,” she said, “your sister has mentioned your faithfulness to the memory of your late wife, and I strongly admire that. But it may be that God has someone else in mind for you. Remarriage wouldn’t necessarily be disloyal.”

      “That’s enough,” he said sharply.

      Serena estimated she had maybe half a minute to persuade him, before he picked her up and bodily threw her out, social equality or not. “Even if you’re certain you don’t wish to, er, fall in love with some young lady, we could look at this from a purely practical perspective.”

      “By all means, Miss Somerton, why don’t we do that?”

      The silky menace in his invitation made her pause.

      Best to hurry on, before courage deserted her altogether.

      “There are many ladies—I can think of several wellborn spinsters in an instant—who would welcome an alliance with a wealthy, handsome man like yourself, without requiring declarations of love.”

      “Hmm.” For a moment, he appeared to be considering her eminently useful suggestion. Then he said, “So, you consider me handsome?”