‘Ah, yes. Your reference from Mrs Chivers is glowing. Your last position was with a family by the name of Blackstone in Gloucestershire, I understand?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘The ages of the children?’
‘Eight, six and five, my lord.’
He looked at the letter and nodded, clearly matching her answers with the information provided by Iris. For a man, he was being far more careful than she’d expected. After all, Iris had said he was desperate.
Worry that he might turn her away shivered down her spine, but somehow she managed to keep her expression politely attentive.
‘You attended Mrs Chivers’s Academy for Young Ladies for several years?’ he continued.
‘Yes. I also helped as an assistant teacher during those years.’ To help pay the fees that her relatives had found such a burden. She forced calmness into her voice. ‘I assume you want Lord Jonathon to learn all the usual subjects? Arithmetic, reading, writing?’
He huffed out a breath. ‘Manners, also. His nurse indulged him too much.’
‘A nurse can’t replace the guidance of a mother.’
A bleak expression flashed in his eyes, quickly hidden by cool remoteness. ‘Nor can a governess.’
Her cheeks stung. How awkward—and what ridiculous comments—hers and his. ‘No, my lord.’
He glanced down at the letter. ‘I am not sure you have enough experience.’
Her stomach gave a horrid twist. Dismissed after one hour. How mortifying—and devastating. She clenched her hands in her lap so hard she felt the bite of nails in her palms. A trickle of cold sweat ran down between her shoulderblades. ‘I am as well trained in the social niceties a young gentleman must learn as I am in academic subjects.’
His dark gaze rested on her face. A slight tightening of his mouth hinted at a lack of confidence in her assurances.
Because she was young, or because her thoughtless words belied her mental capacity? If he would just come out and say what was on his mind she might have a chance to argue her case.
She returned his gaze silently.
He sighed. ‘I suppose I don’t have much choice in the matter, since yours was the only application I received.’
A huge sigh of relief gathered in her chest. She kept it contained, along with her smile. He didn’t need to know how much she needed this position.
‘You have one week to prove you are up to snuff.’ His dark glance held a challenge.
Only a week. She winced inwardly, but didn’t dare ask for longer in case he changed his mind altogether. ‘Thank you, my lord,’ she said as meekly as she could manage. She rose to her feet.
‘I have additional instructions, Mrs Drake.’
She sat down again.
‘Lord Jonathon is to remain within doors at all times.’
She felt her jaw drop. ‘Young children need fresh air and exercise. Your son should learn about the natural world around him. Any governess worth her salt would say the same.’
His jaw flexed. The hand at rest on the table clenched and the sinews in his neck corded. At any moment he would strike the desk the way he had struck his son’s bed. Apparently the man really did have a dangerous temper.
He slowly uncurled his fingers—strong, long fingers. He stared down at his hands for a very long moment, his broad chest rising and falling with each slow breath. Finally, he looked up. ‘Very well, but my son must be accompanied by a footman outside the house. He is not to go beyond Merrivale’s boundary or converse with strangers. Do I make myself clear?’
What made him so protective of his son? His stern command prevented her from asking. ‘Perfectly clear.’
He rose to his feet, looming above her. The coldness of his face chilled her like a north wind in winter. She resisted the urge to shrink into her chair.
‘There is one final thing I require,’ he said softly, with a bitter twist to his lips. ‘You have no doubt heard rumours about my wife’s death.’ The words reverberated around the room like thunderclaps.
Her gasp of shock refused to be suppressed. She stared up at him, her heart pounding against her ribs.
He nodded grimly. ‘I can see you have. They are not to be repeated in my son’s hearing. Do I have your word?’ An unspoken threat of dismissal hung in the air.
‘You do,’ she whispered from a throat too tight to swallow, though she very much felt the need.
‘Then you have a position, Mrs Drake.’
‘May I address something with you, my lord?’ For pity’s sake, did she really want to do this now? But she already had his attention.
His dark cold eyes observed her from beneath lowered brows as he sat down. ‘Well?’
No help for it but to speak her mind. She kept her gaze deliberately steady. ‘I do not believe in rewarding children for bad behaviour … bribing them.’
He stiffened, his glower deeper and fiercer. ‘I’ll not tolerate corporal punishment, Mrs Drake.’ His voice was a deep growl.
She flushed hot. ‘Oh, no, certainly not. I believe it is better to explain things to children than buy their obedience or indeed use force to gain compliance. They learn bad habits as quickly as they learn good ones.’
A dark eyebrow shot up and his fierce expression turned quizzical. ‘I will watch your methods with interest, then.’ Amber lights flickered in his eyes.
Was he laughing at her? Did he think she could not manage a small boy? Though she’d regretfully given up thoughts of a family of her own, she loved the idea of helping other people’s children through the pitfalls of growing up. She’d made enough stumbles of her own to give her an understanding of the pangs of youth.
Fine, let him laugh. She’d make him eat his opinion, and she’d do it in a week. ‘Thank you, my lord.’ She rose.
‘You will dine with me,’ he said.
The command jolted every nerve in her body. Attraction or fear? If she had any sense, it was fear. Men of the Earl of Ralston’s ilk did not dine with governesses—not unless they had ignoble intentions.
Had he somehow guessed the unruly flutters excited in her body? If he had, she’d need to be on her guard. Against him. And more importantly against her own inclinations.
‘A tray in my room will suffice.’
He curled his lip. ‘Don’t the servants have enough to do without running trays upstairs as well as attending me in the dining room?’
‘Oh.’ She sounded quite as stupid as she felt, and the heat rushing to her cheeks didn’t help. Here she was thinking he had wicked designs, and he was thinking
