The Earl and the Governess. Sarah Barnwell Elliott

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СКАЧАТЬ her hand at it, and it insolently shifted its fat mass, but did not otherwise move. She glared at it before selecting another chair.

      Once comfortably arranged, she said, ‘I cannot imagine why you’re being so disagreeable. You haven’t even said good morning. I trust your mood will improve by tonight.’

      Will resumed his seat. ‘Good morning, Henny. What happens tonight?’

      She gave him a patient, patronising look—the sort she reserved for dense, unobservant men and her husband, Edward. ‘Constance Reckitt’s ball. You’ve known about it for weeks, and you promised you’d come.’

      Will frowned. He’d forgotten that he’d agreed to attend the ball, and he’d only done so because Henrietta had nagged him about it almost incessantly.

      ‘Edward going to be there?’ he asked.

      ‘No, he has developed a tickle in his throat.’

      ‘How convenient for him.’

      ‘Yes, suspiciously so. You, however, get no such reprieve. It is essential you make an appearance.’

      ‘I’d hardly call it essential. I don’t even know why you want me there, since all you’ll do is scold me under your breath. You know I detest these things.’

      For just an instant, her composure looked set to snap. In a tight, controlled voice, she said, ‘I want you there because you are the Earl of Lennox. You are four and thirty. Have you no concern for your duty?’

      He shouldn’t have posed the question, since the answer was always the same. He didn’t need his cousin to remind him of his duty. He was responsible for carrying on his family’s name. If he didn’t produce an heir, then eventually there’d be no more Stantons living at Wentwich Castle, his estate in Norfolk, and no more Earls of Lennox. Since he was the seventh Earl of Lennox, it was a tradition worth protecting.

      ‘I’ve never said I won’t marry. Just not right now.’

      ‘When? What will happen if you don’t produce an heir?’

      ‘James is married now—’

      ‘Yes, but your brother’s wife has managed to produce just one, tiny girl in three years. Do you not think you should make some attempt at respectability? You need a wife yourself, William. Not some unending string of…of women.’

      ‘You’ve been reading the scandal sheets again.’

      ‘I’m not the only one. Your misdeeds have been widely reported for years, and you now have the most appalling reputation. I’m not even certain anyone would marry you.’

      He closed his eyes momentarily, searching for patience, reminding himself that he didn’t really dislike Henrietta. Bossy she might be, but she did mean well. ‘Listen, Henny, I don’t gamble and I haven’t had a mistress in months, not that it’s your business. So let’s speak of something else.’

      She backed off reluctantly. ‘You are in a foul mood.’

      ‘And you’ve done everything in your power to make it worse.’

      She sighed, looking around the room in search of another topic of conversation. Her gaze settled on the letter next to him. ‘But then why, I wonder, are you so put out this morning? Have you received bad news?’

      He looked at the letter, too. The last thing he wanted was to give her another reason to interfere in his life, but then again, he wanted to change the subject. Besides, he hadn’t the faintest idea what to do with the child when she arrived in less than a day. All three of Henrietta’s brats were girls; she might be able to help him.

      He rose to hand her the letter, sure that he’d eventually regret doing so. ‘I suppose it is rather bad news.’

      She started reading, but only got about halfway down the page before looking up with some alarm. ‘I don’t understand at all. Who’s Mary Weston-Burke?’

      ‘My goddaughter. Arthur Weston-Burke’s only child.’

      She laid the letter down, knitting her brow. ‘Your school friend? He died a few months ago, did he not?’

      ‘Yes, and she became my ward.’

      Henrietta raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘You didn’t tell me that.’

      He was already beginning to wish he hadn’t shown her the letter. He returned to the sofa, feeling defensive. ‘No, well, I didn’t think it would come to anything. She’s been at school the whole time—’

      ‘You didn’t assume she’d be at school for ever, did you?’

      He frowned. ‘I thought I’d worry about what to do with her next when the need arose. Frankly, I assumed she’d be at school for a few more years at least. She’s only twelve.’

      She shook her head disapprovingly. ‘Hasn’t she any other family? I cannot imagine why you’ve been selected for this task. I can’t think of anyone more unsuited. You know nothing about children.’

      ‘My nieces adore me.’

      Henrietta snorted. ‘That’s because you spoil them. You’re far too soft-hearted.’

      ‘I’m not soft-hearted at all,’ Will protested. He didn’t think he was, either. He was a rake of the first order, at least by repute. But maybe she was right, and he was losing his touch. Maybe that’s why he’d given his watch to a woebegone thief with big violet eyes.

      ‘I don’t think Arthur would have asked me to be her guardian,’ he continued, ‘except his entire immediate family lives in India. The only reason he ended up in England was because he was sent here for school. And, I suppose he knew I’d the funds to support her.’

      Henrietta was looking increasingly concerned. ‘What about the girl’s mother’s side of the family?’

      ‘Her mother died about ten years ago, and she came from a rather unfortunate background. Father was some kind of a wastrel, and they haven’t two farthings to rub together. It isn’t an option.’

      ‘But there must be someone! I can’t believe she’s no suitable relations. Surely there’s a beneficent aunt lurking about somewhere.’

      Will mulled over the possibility. ‘Arthur had a sister, but she’s in India with her own family, I think. Obviously she was too far away to attend the funeral, or I’d have enquired.’

      That information brightened Henrietta slightly. ‘Maybe she’ll take the child. Write to her today. How long would it take a letter to reach India?’

      Will thought of the scrawny, unloved girl. It didn’t seem right to plan her departure before she’d even arrived. ‘By the time word reached her, I’m sure another school will have agreed to take her.’

      Henrietta brandished the letter. ‘Really? I wish you luck convincing another school to take her. It says here that she cut off Amelia Fitzgerald’s hair.’

      He sighed. ‘Apparently.’

      ‘Your СКАЧАТЬ