Lord Braybrook's Penniless Bride. Elizabeth Rolls

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СКАЧАТЬ could not be imagined. A sense of dislocation niggled at her. Rather than treating the governess-companion as a lesser being, Lady Braybrook treated her as if she were a favoured guest. If she were not on her guard, she would forget her place. Never before had that been a problem. Never before had she imagined herself belonging. Not caught forever on the half- landing. She must remember that, all kindness aside, Lady Braybrook was her mistress.

      And Lord Braybrook her master?

      She gritted her teeth. She was a dependant. Not their equal. If she could not remember that, how could she convince Harry?

      Christy spent the next morning unpacking, or rather she spent twenty minutes unpacking, and the rest considering how best to fit into the household. Lady Braybrook, she discovered, did not usually leave her bedchamber until late morning, when a footman carried her down to the drawing room. This was explained by Grigson, an unsmiling female whose fashionable clothes proclaimed her Lady Braybrook’s dresser, when she came to tell Christy that her ladyship awaited her in the drawing room.

      Lady Braybrook was seated by a sunny window, the tabby cat enthroned on her lap. ‘Thank you, Grigson. That will be all. Good morning, Miss Daventry. You slept well? You look much better this morning. Braybrook mentioned that you were uncomfortable in the carriage.’

      Christy curtsied. ‘Thank you, ma’am. I slept very well. His lordship should not have concerned himself.’

      ‘Hmm. Well, I am glad you are feeling better. Do come and sit down and we can discuss your duties. You really only have Davy and Emma. Matthew is home from school, so you need not worry about him. Lissy has her French and Italian conversation and her music to practise. And she should do some sketching. You are able to help her with those?’

      ‘Of course, ma’am.’

      ‘Excellent.’ Lady Braybrook beamed. ‘With Matt on holiday, Emma and Davy need not have many lessons. Emma must practise her music and Davy must continue his reading, French and a little arithmetic, but until Matthew goes back, there is little point in more. Davy would play you up dreadfully, I dare say!’

      ‘I assure you, he would not get away with it,’ said Christy. And mentally kicked herself. Adoring mamas did not commonly like to know their high-spirited darlings needed discipline.

      ‘Excellent,’ said Lady Braybrook. ‘From the way you gave Braybrook his own last night, I didn’t imagine you would have any difficulty with Davy.’

      Christy blinked.

      The cat rose, stretching, all elegant muscle and sinew. Lady Braybrook made no effort to hold it, and it leapt down, stalking towards Christy.

      She eyed it sideways, wondering if her pet’s desertion would offend Lady Braybrook. Unblinking emerald eyes stared back.

      ‘Ma’am, if you do not dislike it, I have given some thought to my role here—’ She broke off as the cat sprang into her lap. Oh, drat! She could hardly tip the creature off and it had been so long since she had been able to have a cat.

      Lady Braybrook smiled over her embroidery, as the needle continued to flash. ‘My dear Miss Daventry, why should I dislike it?’ A faint twinkle appeared in her eyes. ‘After all, you have had more time to become used to the idea than I!’

      Christy blushed, and petted the cat, who had settled down purring.

      Lady Braybrook laughed. ‘Oh, don’t feel embarrassed. Believe me, I know how autocratic Braybrook can be when he is arranging everything for one’s good. Maddening, is he not? Now, tell me: what were you thinking?’

      ‘Well,’ said Christy, ‘I noticed this morning that you did not come down until quite late and—’

      She broke off at Lady Braybrook’s wry smile.

      ‘These silly legs,’ she explained. ‘I take my bath in the morning, and of course it does take a little time. Such a nuisance…’

      ‘Ma’am, I did not mean—’

      Lady Braybrook chuckled. ‘Of course not. Tell me what you have in mind.’

      ‘I wondered if I taught the younger children in the morning, before you came down, if that would work?’

      ‘An excellent idea,’ said Lady Braybrook. ‘Then I shall steal you for the rest of the day. Although after lunch you might accompany Lissy and Emma for their walk.’

      ‘Naturally I would be happy to do so,’ said Christy, ‘but if I am to be your companion—’ The amused look on Lady Braybrook’s face stopped her.

      ‘You have other duties, Miss Daventry,’ pointed out Lady Braybrook.

      Christy flushed. ‘Lord Braybrook explained, then?’

      ‘Braybrook,’ said her ladyship, not mincing words, ‘is the most devious and annoying man imaginable. I haven’t decided if he is disguising your true purpose from Lissy, by pretending that you are my companion, or disguising your true purpose from me, by pretending you are here to help open Lissy’s eyes!’

      Christy found herself smiling. ‘He used both arguments with me. Perhaps I am merely a convenient stone to be hurled at two birds.’

      Lady Braybrook’s lips twitched. ‘He’s not completely blind, Miss Daventry. I doubt he believes you to be made of stone.’

      To this cryptic remark, Christy said nothing. There was something unsettling about the amusement in Lady Braybrook’s voice. The cat rolled in her lap, offering his belly, eyes closed to blissful slits as she obliged and kneaded.

      ‘Another thing, my dear. That striped creature is Tybalt—Tyb. He has an absolute genius for making up to people like Braybrook who loathe cats. If you dislike him, or he makes you sneeze, for heaven’s sake, tip him off.’

      Again the sense of dislocation swept her. She felt not at all like a dependant. Lady Braybrook was doing everything in her power to make an outsider feel at home. She had even given her one of the best bedchambers.

      ‘Thank you, ma’am, but I love cats.’

      Lady Braybrook smiled. ‘Excellent. Braybrook, like most men, prefers dogs. I must say I have never worked out why so many women love cats, and men profess to loathe them, but love dogs.’

      ‘That,’ said Christy, caught off guard, ‘might be because cats are independent, not slavish like dogs. Perhaps we women admire an independence and power few of us will ever know. Your Tybalt may sit in my lap, but he is the one conferring a favour. Cats are rather like aristocrats. They have staff.’ Oh, dear. Should she have said that?

      A ripple of delighted laughter broke from Lady Braybrook and she laid aside her embroidery. ‘Oh, goodness. I’d never thought of that, but you are perfectly right. Although many women love dogs too.’

      ‘And that,’ said Christy, wildly aware that the conversation had somehow become far too personal, ‘is because we are far more flexible than gentlemen and are capable of loving creatures for quite opposite reasons. Cats for their dignity and independence, and a dog for its loyalty.’

      ‘Good morning, Serena. May I interrupt?’

      Christy froze. As a СКАЧАТЬ