Born To Scandal

‘Of course they are at Brentmore,’ he snapped. ‘Where else would they be?’

Did that question offend him? Conversing with him was like walking on eggs.

He paced like a panther, a huge wild cat she and Charlotte saw once at the Tower of London. That black cat had prowled its cage, back and forth, back and forth, lethally dangerous and yearning to escape.

This marquess’s hair was as dark as a panther’s. As were his eyes. When he moved, it was as if he, too, wished to break free.

In any event, there was no call for him to growl at her.

‘I do not know where the children should be,’ she said in her haughty voice. ‘That was the point of my asking. I also wish to know where I am to live.’

He waved a hand. ‘Forgive me once more, Miss Hill. I am unaccustomed to interviewing governesses.’

She lifted a brow.

He pressed his lips together before speaking. ‘The previous governess passed away suddenly.’

She gasped. ‘Passed away? Your poor children!’ First their mother, then their governess? She felt a wave of tenderness for them. It seemed a lot for two little children to bear.

He stared at her again and some emotion flitted through those black eyes. Precisely what emotion, she could not tell.

‘How are they managing?’ she asked.

‘Managing?’ He seemed surprised at her question. ‘Tolerably well, Parker says.’

‘Parker?’

‘My man of business,’ he explained. ‘Fortunately he happened to be at Brentmore and has taken care of everything.’

‘You have not seen the children?’ How appalling.

His eyes narrowed. ‘Not since this happened. Not for a few months.’

She clamped her mouth shut. It seemed the only way to control it. Charlotte’s governess used to tell Anna to mind her tongue and never forget her station. It had always confused her, because she was also supposed to show Charlotte how to speak up and be bold.

She changed the subject. ‘Will I answer to your man of business, then?’

Oh, dear. Did he hear the disapproval in her tone?

‘You will answer to me.’ He fixed his panther eyes on her again. ‘In daily matters you will be in total charge of the children. You will decide their needs and their care. The other servants will defer to you in matters regarding them.’

Her eyes widened.

His expression turned stern. ‘If you are not up to the task, tell me now, Miss Hill.’

She could still lose this position.

She took a breath. ‘I am up to the task, my lord. I merely felt it wise to know the extent of my responsibility.’

He held her captive with his eyes, which turned unexpectedly sad. ‘Provide my children what they need. Make them happy.’

For a moment it was as if a mask dropped from his face and she glimpsed a man in agony.

This glimpse shook her more than the pacing panther.

‘I shall try my best,’ she whispered.

‘We are done, Miss Hill. I will send word to you when you are to leave for Brentmore.’ He turned away and prowled to the door.

She remembered to curtsy, but he did not see her. He left the room and a moment later the butler appeared to escort her to the hall. Once in the hall, the butler walked her to the door and opened it.

She was about to step across the threshold when the marquess’s voice stopped her. ‘Do not leave.’ He stood on the marble staircase, looking down on her.

Her anxiety returned. Perhaps he had reconsidered.

‘It is raining,’ he said.

The rain was pouring in sheets outside.

‘I do not mind the rain,’ she assured him.

‘You will be soaked within minutes.’ He descended the stairs and walked directly towards her.

Her fingers fluttered. ‘It is of no consequence.’

‘I will call my carriage for you.’ The marquess gestured towards the open door.

Her hand flew to her throat. ‘That is much too much trouble, sir. If you insist, I will borrow an umbrella—’

He cut her off. ‘An umbrella will be useless.’ Again he stared at her and did not speak right away. ‘I must go out. Very soon.’

The butler made a surprised sound.

The marquess shot him a sharp glance and turned his panther gaze back to Anna. ‘Wait a few moments. I will drop you off on my way.’

Ride with him in the carriage? Enter the panther cage? She could not refuse. He all but demanded it.

She curtsied again. ‘Thank you, sir. It is beyond generous of you.’

‘Shall the young lady wait in the drawing room, my lord?’ the butler asked, closing the door.

‘Yes.’ Lord Brentmore turned back to the stairs.

‘Very good, sir.’ The butler bowed curtly.

He led Anna to a beautifully furnished drawing room on the same level as the hall. Its brocade-upholstered sofas and crystal and porcelain spoke of opulence. One wall held a huge family portrait from a generation ago. A Gainsborough? It certainly appeared to be. She and Charlotte had seen engravings of Gainsborough’s portraits.

There was even a fire lit in the room, taking away the early spring chill.

‘Do sit, Miss Hill,’ the butler intoned.

She lowered herself into a chair by the fire and listened to the ticking of the mantel clock as she waited.

Twenty minutes later Brent was informed that the carriage waited outside. He donned his topcoat and hat, and had Davies collect Miss Hill.

He was putting on his gloves when Davies led Miss Hill back to the hall. Brent nodded to her and Davies escorted her to the door where footmen waited with umbrellas. One walked her to the carriage and helped her inside.

When Brent climbed in, she had taken the backward-facing seat, which meant he could not avoid watching her the whole trip.

She sat with graceful poise, her hands folded in her lap.

The carriage started moving.

He ought to engage her in polite conversation but, in such intimate quarters, he could not trust what might escape his mouth.

Finally it was she who spoke. ‘This is kind of you, sir. I am certain it takes you out of your way.’

He shrugged. ‘Not too far out of the way.’

Lord Lawton’s town house was on Mount Street, not more than a mile from Cavendish Square.

While the carriage crossed the distance, she looked out the window, but glanced his way occasionally. He could not keep his eyes off her, although he tried. When she caught him gazing at her, she smiled politely. He pined to see that genuine smile, the one that burst from her when she realised he had hired her.

The carriage reached Mount Street and stopped at the Lawton town house. One of the marquess’s footmen put the stairs down and opened the door, his umbrella ready to shelter her. The footman assisted her from the carriage.

She turned back to Brent. ‘Thank you again, my lord. I will await word from you when I should leave for Essex.’

He inclined his head. ‘I will see you are informed as soon as possible.’

‘I shall be ready.’ She smiled again, a hint of her sunshine in this one. ‘Good day, sir.’

He watched as the footman escorted Miss Hill to the door of the Lawtons’ town house. Even hurrying through the rain, she made an alluring picture. He watched until she disappeared behind the town house door.

He groaned.

It was a good thing she’d be on her way to Brentmore in a few days.

The coachman knocked at the window. Brent leaned forwards to open it.

‘Where to next, sir?’ the man asked.

‘Home,’ Brent said.

‘Home?’ His coachman probably thought Brent was addled.

And the man would be dead accurate if he did.

Brent had ordered his carriage, his coachman, footmen and horses out in the pouring rain. All to carry a governess one mile.

He was addled all right.

‘Home,’ he repeated and leaned back against the leather seat.

Anna glimpsed Lord Brentmore’s carriage pulling away through the crack of the town house door.

Rogers, the Lawton footman attending the hall, bent forwards to see as well. ‘Fancy carriage.’

‘Indeed.’ Anna’s emotions could not be more in a muddle. ‘Imagine riding in it with a marquess.’

‘So, what happened with your interview?’ Rogers asked.

She tried to smile. ‘He hired me. I am going to be a governess.’

Rogers closed the door. ‘Do I congratulate you?’

The position of governess was not an enviable one. A governess existed somewhere between servant and family, but was a part of neither. It was a rank to which Anna was very accustomed, though. Her unique situation as Charlotte’s companion made her too educated and refined to fit in with the servants, but she never, ever, could be considered family. She belonged … nowhere.

She took a breath. ‘Congratulate me.’

At least she would not wind up alone and penniless on the London streets.

Tears threatened suddenly, so Anna rushed up the stairs to her room, which once had been a maid’s room attached to Charlotte’s bedchamber. Charlotte and her mother would still be out making calls. Anna had time to compose herself.

She removed her gloves, hat and pelisse and tossed them on a chair. She flopped down on the small cot that was her bed and covered her face with her hands.

It had been only two days ago that Lord Lawton informed her it was no longer desirable to have her act as Charlotte’s companion. She was uncertain why. Perhaps it was because she had danced with some young gentlemen at a recent party? She’d thought it would have been rude to refuse. That was, however, the last social engagement she’d attended. Charlotte had henceforth gone on her own with only the company of one or both of her parents.

She’d not frozen or become mute as everyone feared. Charlotte had conquered her timidity, as Anna always knew she could.

Anna’s days as companion had always been numbered. Charlotte was expected to make an excellent match and marry well. When that time came, Anna’s place in Charlotte’s life would have been lost. Anna had always assumed she’d return to Lawton House when Charlotte no longer needed her. She thought some useful role would be found for her. Lord Lawton, however, made it very clear he and Lady Lawton were terminating her services altogether.

What had she done to displease them so?

She’d never expected nor aspired to their affection, but she’d expected to be treated as a loyal servant.

At least Lord Lawton had troubled himself enough to arrange the interview with Lord Brentmore. For that she should be grateful. Instead her emotions were consumed with the idea of losing the only home she’d ever known and being separated from all she knew and cared about. Her mother. Her father.

Charlotte.

Especially Charlotte. She was closer to Charlotte than to anyone else, even her mother.

Her chin trembled.

She put her fist to her mouth and fought for control of her emotions.

This was not a banishment, even though that was precisely how it felt. It was a natural progression of change, nothing more. It had been her folly not to anticipate its possibility. She must remain strong and fearless. Being strong and fearless were precisely the qualities that had led to her becoming Charlotte’s companion in the first place, a circumstance she could never regret.

She’d told Lord Brentmore the truth when she’d said her education opened up the world for her. She could not imagine not knowing about geography, philosophy, mathematics. She’d learned Latin and French. Painting. Dancing. Needlework. There was no end to all the wonderful things she’d learned at Charlotte’s side. No matter what happened to her, no one could ever take away all she’d learned.

She sat up and thrust her unhappiness aside. How bad could it be to become a governess to two small children in a country house that was very likely similar to Lawton House? And as a governess, she would have an excuse to continue to study and read.

The door to Charlotte’s bedchamber opened. ‘Anna?’

Anna rose from her bed and walked to the doorway that separated her little room from Charlotte’s. ‘I am here.’ She smiled at this young woman with whom she felt as close as a sister. ‘How were your calls?’

Charlotte grinned, showing the pretty dimple in her cheek. ‘Very tolerable. I made myself join the conversation and soon I was not even thinking about it.’

Anna crossed the room and gave her a hug. ‘That is marvellous. Did you also enjoy yourself?’

Charlotte nodded, her blonde curls bobbing. ‘I did! Very much.’ She pulled Anna over to the chairs by the window. ‘But you must tell me about your interview!’

Anna sobered. ‘I am hired. I start within a week.’

Charlotte jumped out of her chair, looking stricken. ‘No!’

‘It is true.’ Anna watched Charlotte sit again. ‘But it is a good thing, Charlotte.’

Lines of worry creased Charlotte’s brow. ‘Maybe you should not take the first position offered you. I’ve heard things. People talk as if there is something wrong about Lord Brentmore. Something about his past.’

‘It does not matter.’ Anna took her hands. ‘I cannot afford to refuse. I have nothing to recommend me. I am very fortunate the marquess agreed to hire me.’

‘Why did he hire you, then?’ Her tone turned petulant. ‘If you have nothing to recommend you?’

‘I believe he was in urgent need of a governess.’ She squeezed her friend’s hands.

Charlotte lips pursed. ‘You sound as if you met the man.’

‘It was he who interviewed me.’

Charlotte’s eyes grew wide. ‘What was he like? Was he as grand as a marquess should be?’

The image of the panther, restless and dangerous, returned. ‘He was formidable, but I doubt I shall have to encounter him much. I will be at Brentmore Hall with his children.’

‘So far away?’ Charlotte cried.

Far away from all she knew.

Charlotte’s lip trembled. ‘I am telling Mama I will refuse all invitations. I’m going to spend every second of this week with you. It is all we have left!’

The prospect of being separated from Charlotte tore Anna apart inside. This bond between the two of them, borne of sharing a childhood together, was about to be shattered. They could never again be together like they had been before.

Not even for this last week.

Chapter Two

Only three days later Anna was again riding in Lord Brentmore’s carriage, this time travelling alone to Essex, a long day’s ride from London.

The countryside and villages passed before her eyes, becoming indistinguishable as the day wore on. From one blink of an eye to the next, her life had changed and each mile brought her closer to something new and unknown. With each bump in the road, she fought a rabble of butterflies in her stomach.

‘This is an adventure,’ she said out loud. ‘An adventure.’

Such an adventure would test her mettle, certainly. She’d often acted braver than she felt, because that was what was expected of her as Charlotte’s companion. She must do so again here. At Charlotte’s side she’d tackled each new lesson, mastered each new skill. This should be no different. Except this time she had no instructor guiding her, no friend looking up to her. This time she was alone.

The sun dipped low in the sky when the carriage approached an arched gate of red brick. Atop the gate was a huge clock upon which were written the words Audaces Fortuna Juvat.

‘Fortune favours the bold,’ she murmured.

She laughed. Fortune certainly put her in a position to be bold.

She girded herself as the carriage passed through the gate and a huge Tudor manor house came into view. Also made of red brick, it rose three storeys and had a multitude of chimneys and windows reflecting the setting sun. Two large wings flanked a centre court with a circular drive that led to a huge wooden door where the carriage stopped.

The coachman opened the window beneath his seat. ‘Brentmore Hall, miss.’

Her nerves fluttered anew. ‘Thank you, sir.’

She gathered up her reticule and the basket she’d carried with her. A footman appeared at the carriage door to help her out. As she stepped on to the gravel, the huge wooden door opened and a man and woman emerged.

The man, dressed as a gentleman and of about forty years of age, strode towards her. ‘Miss Hill?’ He extended his hand. ‘Welcome to Brentmore Hall. I am Mr Parker, Lord Brentmore’s man of business.’

She shook his hand and summoned the training in comportment she’d received at Charlotte’s side. ‘A pleasure to meet you, sir.’

A gust of wind blew her skirts. She held her hat on her head.

Mr Parker turned to the woman, who was more simply dressed. ‘Allow me to present Mrs Tippen, the housekeeper here.’

The woman perfectly looked the part of housekeeper with grey hair peeking out from a pristinely white cap and quick assessing eyes.

Anna extended her hand. ‘A pleasure, Mrs Tippen. How kind of you to greet me.’

The woman’s face was devoid of expression. She hesitated before shaking Anna’s hand. ‘You are young.’

She stiffened at the housekeeper’s clear disapproval, but summoned a smile. ‘I assure you, Mrs Tippen. I am old enough.’

The housekeeper frowned.

Mr Parker stepped forwards. ‘The previous governess was of a more advanced age.’ He gestured towards the door. ‘Shall we go inside? The footmen will see to your trunk and boxes.’

The trunk and boxes contained all her worldly belongings, sent from Lawton to London so that she could carry them with her.

Anna entered a large hall with grey marble floors and wainscoted walls. A line of flags hung high above her head. A larger-than-life portrait of a man with long, curly, blond locks, dressed in gold brocade, filled one wall and one of a woman in a voluminous silk dress faced it on the other wall. The hall smelled of beeswax from the burning branches of candles and the polish of the wood.

Intended to be majestic, Anna supposed, the hall seemed oppressive. Too dark. Too ancient.

So unlike Lawton House, full of light and colour.

Another man crossed the floor and Mr Parker spoke. ‘Ah, here is Mr Tippen, Lord Brentmore’s butler.’

This butler was as stern-faced as the housekeeper. His wife?

‘Mr Tippen,’ Mr Parker went on, ‘this is Miss Hill, the new governess.’

The butler nodded. ‘We have been expecting you.’

Mrs Tippen spoke, her face still devoid of expression. ‘You’ll be weary. Come with me to your room and then dinner.’

‘What about meeting the children?’ Her whole reason to be here.

‘Asleep. Or nearly so,’ Mrs Tippen said.

‘Did they not expect to see me?’ She would hate to fail them on her first day.

‘We did not tell them,’ Mr Parker said.

‘You did not tell them I was coming today?’ Should the children not have a warning that their new governess was arriving?

‘We thought it best not to tell them anything at all.’ Mr Parker inclined his head in an ingratiating manner. ‘Go ahead and refresh yourself. I will see you for dinner.’

Anna had no choice but to follow Mrs Tippen up the winding mahogany staircase.

Was she to be another surprise to the children, then? Had they not received too many surprises already, with the death of their mother a year ago and now the death of their governess?

She followed the housekeeper up two flights of stairs. ‘Your room is this way.’ She turned down one of the wings, stopping at a door and stepping aside for Anna to enter.

The room was panelled in the same dark wood as the entrance hall and stairway. It was furnished with a four-poster bed, a chest of drawers, chairs and a small table by the window, and a dressing table. Compared to Charlotte’s bedchamber, it was modest, but would be comfortable if it were not so dark. Even the fire in the fireplace and an oil lamp burning did not banish an aura of gloom.

Had this been the previous governess’s room? Anna wondered. Had the woman died here?

She decided she’d rather not know. ‘This is a nice room.’

Mrs Tippen seemed unmoved by her compliment. ‘There is fresh water in the pitcher and towels for you. Your trunk will be brought up forthwith.’

‘Where are the children’s rooms?’ Anna asked.

‘Down the hallway,’ a young woman answered as she entered the room. ‘This whole wing is the children’s wing.’

The housekeeper walked out without bothering to introduce Anna to this new person. The newcomer was a servant, obviously, from the white apron she wore and the cap covering her red hair. She appeared to be only a few years older than Anna and had the sturdy good looks of so many of the country women of Lawton.

Anna felt a wave of homesickness.

The servant strode towards her with a smile on her face. ‘I’m Eppy, the children’s nurse. Well, I’m really a maid, but since I take care of the children, I call myself a nurse.’

‘I am pleased to meet you.’ Anna extended her hand. ‘I am Anna Hill.’

‘I’m sure I’m more pleased than you are.’ The nurse laughed. ‘I am also to act as your maid, so what can I do to assist you?’ She turned towards a sound in the hallway. ‘Oh, that will be your trunk now. You must be eager to change out of your travel clothes.’

Two footmen carried in her belongings, nodded to her and left.

Anna removed the key of her trunk from her reticule. ‘I must change. I am expected for dinner.’

The maid took the key and unlocked the trunk. While Anna removed her travelling dress and washed the dirt of the road off her skin, the maid chattered on about how lovely the clothing was that she unpacked for Anna, the gowns which once were Charlotte’s. Eventually Eppy found one gown without too many wrinkles that would be suitable for dinner.

Anna always felt a sense of irony about having a servant attend her, the daughter of servants, but she’d been accustomed to the assistance of a Charlotte’s maid. As Charlotte’s companion, she’d received nearly the same services as Charlotte herself, to show the timid girl that there was nothing to fear. That had been her main task—showing Charlotte there was nothing to fear.

Eppy helped Anna into her dress.

‘Are the children really sleeping?’ Anna asked. It was nearing eight in the evening according to the clock in the room.

‘Last I checked,’ Eppy replied good-naturedly. At least the maid was cheerful, unlike Mr and Mrs Tippen.

‘Have the children truly not been told I was coming?’ Anna straightened the front of her dress.

The maid tied her laces. ‘That was Mr Parker’s idea. Goodness knows what he was thinkin’.’

Indeed. The children should have been told. Charlotte always adjusted better when warned of something new.

Anna herself would have preferred to be warned in advance that the future she’d expected for herself would be snatched away from her.

After Charlotte married, she’d thought she’d return to Lawton House and eventually also would encounter someone who wanted to marry her. A scholarly man, perhaps, a man who would value an educated wife. They’d have children, she’d hoped, to whom she could pass on all that she’d learned.

Now she did not dare to look into her future. She did not dare dream. She knew now that nothing could ever be certain.

She sat down at the dressing table and pulled pins from her hair. ‘Can you tell me about the children?’ she asked the maid. ‘I know nothing. Not even their names, actually.’ Lord Brentmore had never mentioned their names.

‘Well—’ Eppy continued to unpack her trunk ‘—the boy is Cal—Earl of Calmount, if you want to get fancy. Given name is John, in case you need it. He is the older at seven years and a quiet little thing. Next is little Dory—Lady Dorothea, that is. Not quiet at all.’

‘And she is five years old?’ Anna remembered.

‘That she is, miss.’ Eppy placed some folded articles of clothing in a bureau drawer.

Anna repinned her hair. ‘It must have been difficult for them to lose their governess.’

The maid shrugged. ‘Mrs Sykes was sickly for a while. You’ll be a nice change for the little ones.’