that Claire awaited the Viscount’s return the following day. In the event, it was late afternoon when a large and handsome carriage drew up before the house. From the resulting bustle among the servants it was clear who had arrived. Hastily smoothing her skirts she hurried to the hallway where Mrs Hughes was already waiting. Uncertain of what to expect and unwilling to push herself forward Claire remained in the background. And then he was there, a tall elegant figure in a travelling cape and high-crowned beaver hat. At the sight of him her heart began to beat a little faster. His presence seemed to fill the room somehow as though the house had been waiting only for his arrival to seem complete. In that moment she knew how much she had missed him. The realisation was disturbing, the sentiment inappropriate. Forcing her expression into what she hoped was a becoming calm she drew in a deep breath. Marcus, looking round the hallway, perceived her at once, the grey eyes missing no detail of her appearance from the dark curls to the simple sprigged muslin gown. She looked as neat as wax, he thought, favouring her with a bow.
‘Well met, Miss Davenport. May I introduce your new charge?’ He glanced down at the small figure at his side. ‘This is my ward, the Honourable Lucy Eden-bridge. Lucy, this is Miss Davenport who is to be your new governess.’
The child dropped a polite curtsy and stared at Claire with big blue eyes. She was clad in a blue cloak, and a straw bonnet partially concealed light brown curls. In one small hand she was clutching a toy. She looked lost somehow, and a little timid.
Claire smiled at her. ‘Hello, Lucy. What a lovely doll.’
The child made no reply and lowered her eyes. Marcus glanced down and surveyed her keenly.
‘You should answer, child, when you are spoken to.’
Lucy’s cheeks reddened, but still she remained silent. Marcus raised an eyebrow. Fearing that the scene would escalate, Claire cut in.
‘It’s all right. This has been a big change and it will take her a while to find her feet and grow accustomed to all the new faces around her.’
‘You may be right,’ he replied.
Claire bent down so that she was on Lucy’s level. ‘What do you call your doll?’
There followed another silence. Then, very quietly, ‘Susan.’
‘That’s a good name. It suits her very well. Shall we take Susan upstairs and show her where her room is? She must be feeling tired after such a long journey.’
After a moment the child nodded. Claire held out her hand.
‘Come, then.’
Lucy looked up at her uncle and he nodded.
‘That’s right. You go along with Miss Davenport.’
A small hand stole tentatively into Claire’s. The Viscount caught her eye.
‘I will speak with you later, Miss Davenport. There are various points we need to discuss.’ He paused. ‘In the meantime, Mrs Hughes will send up a tray for Lucy. It has indeed been a long journey and she is tired. An early night is in order, I think.’
‘Yes, sir.’
As Claire led the child away she was conscious of the penetrating gaze that followed them to the stairs.
In fact, he had been quite right. By the time Lucy was ensconced in her room and had eaten some supper she was pale with fatigue so Claire undressed her and put her to bed. As she tucked the sheet in she was aware that the child watched her with solemn, sleepy eyes.
Claire smiled. ‘Would you like to have Susan with you?’
This elicited a nod. Retrieving the doll from a nearby chair, Claire handed it over and watched as it was tucked carefully under the covers. Then she gently brushed the child’s face with her hand.
‘Goodnight, dear. Sleep well.’
Within a very short time Lucy was asleep, clearly worn out by the journey and perhaps too by the anxiety of altered circumstances. As she looked at the forlorn little figure in the big bed her heart went out to Lucy. How lonely and frightened the child must be. She knew how it felt to be alone in the world and cast on the mercy of others, and that was at thirteen, not six years of age.
She remained in the room until she was quite certain that Lucy was fast asleep, and instructed the maid to leave a night light burning. If by some chance the child did wake up, at least she wouldn’t be on her own in a strange place in the dark.
Having seen to her charge’s immediate needs, Claire made her way to the drawing room, mindful that her employer had asked to speak to her. When she entered he was standing by the hearth. He had been leaning on the mantel, staring down into the flames, but hearing her come in he glanced up and then straightened.
‘Ah, Miss Davenport. How is my ward?’
‘Asleep, sir. As you suspected, she really was very tired.’
‘Yes, I imagine she was. It was a long journey and there has been all the upheaval attendant on her removal. What she needs now is some stability.’ He regarded her keenly. ‘I take it that you have seen the nursery.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He smiled faintly. ‘It has been some years since I was there, and is no doubt lacking in some essentials. You may have whatever you need for the discharge of your duties. Money is no object. Just tell me what you want and I’ll see that you get it.’
Somewhat taken aback, she thanked him. ‘There are a few things missing,’ she admitted, ‘chiefly books suitable for a child of Lucy’s age.’
‘That will be rectified as soon as possible. In the interim she needs some time to grow accustomed to her new surroundings. It will all be very strange and frightening. Let her have plenty of fresh air and exercise, Miss Davenport. Then introduce her lessons gradually.’
‘As you wish, sir.’
‘This is her home now and I want her to feel at ease here.’
For the second time Claire was taken aback for there could be no mistaking the sincerity with which he spoke. There was, besides, real compassion in the orders he had given and she was touched.
‘I will do my best to see that she does, sir.’
‘I am sure you will.’ He paused, surveying her keenly. ‘And what of you, Miss Davenport? Does your room meet with your approval?’
‘Oh, yes. It is beautiful.’
Again she found herself caught unawares. She knew enough of life to realise that employers usually gave little thought to the comfort of their servants.
‘Good. If you find you need anything else, tell Mrs Hughes and she will arrange it.’
‘Thank you. That is most kind.’
For a moment there was silence and she felt acutely aware of that disconcerting grey gaze. Then he smiled.
‘Then if there is nothing else I will not detain you.’
She dropped a graceful curtsy and retraced her steps
