man for some of that youthful passion. Lawd. He was only thirty-three, but, at this moment, he felt like Methuselah.
The children deserved a proper education. A proper upbringing. He tapped a finger against his leg.
More than that, his children deserved some joy. The children were innocents, even if they embodied all his failures and mistakes. Let this governess—this breath of spring air—be a gift to them.
What’s more, she would be in a household where no man would take advantage of her. It was not as if he would be tempted. He hated Brentmore Hall and spent as little time there as possible.
He allowed his gaze to wander along the bookshelves, less dangerous than looking again into those hopeful eyes.
‘You need not attire yourself in drab greys,’ he finally said. It would be a shame to conceal all that loveliness under high necklines and long sleeves. ‘Your present wardrobe should suffice.’
‘I do not understand.’ Her voice turned breathy. ‘Do you mean—I have the position?’
He swallowed. ‘Yes, Miss Hill. You have the position.’
She gasped. ‘My lord! You will not regret this, I assure you.’
Her relief was palpable and the smile that broke out on her face made his insides clench.
He cleared his throat. ‘You will make yourself ready to assume your duties within the week.’
Her eyes glittered with sudden tears, and his arms flinched with an impulse to hold her and reassure her that all would be well, that she had nothing to worry about.
‘I will be ready, sir.’ Even her voice rasped with emotion.
He had to glance away. ‘I will send word to Lord Lawton that I have hired you.’
Anna blinked away relieved tears furious at herself for allowing her emotions to overrun her at this important moment. She wanted—needed—to remain strong or risk the chance that this marquess would again change his mind.
She’d not imagined him to be so formidable, nor so tall. And young. She’d thought he’d be like the gentlemen who called upon Lord and Lady Lawton, shorter than herself, with rounded bellies, and at least ten years older than the marquess. His eyes, as dark as the hair that curled at the nape of his neck and framed his face, unnerved her. Her legs trembled each time he looked at her with those disquieting eyes. Especially when he dismissed her without even allowing her to speak. At that moment she’d been sure all was lost.
What would she have done? Lord Lawton had made it clear there were limits to the assistance he’d render to help her find employment. And there was no one else she could turn to in London. Her parents and all the other people she knew were back at Lawton.
But the marquess had hired her! Even after she’d lost her temper with him. Even after that speech of hers about her esteem of learning.
Hopefully her love of learning would be enough to make her a governess, because she possessed no other qualifications for the job.
‘Well.’ She struggled for what to say next. ‘Excellent.’
His brows lowered again.
Oh, my. What if he changed his mind?
She cleared her throat, groping for an idea of what a governess ought to ask. ‘May I ask about the children? How many will be in my charge and—and to whom do I answer regarding their care?’
That sounded sufficiently like a governess.
He frowned, as if her question vexed him. ‘Two, only.’
She tried a smile. ‘Their ages?’
He averted his gaze. ‘My son is about seven. My … daughter, five.’
‘Lovely ages.’ Two children did not sound terribly daunting, especially two so young. ‘And are they at Brentmore Hall?’
She and Charlotte had looked in the Topography of Great Britain and an old volume of Debrett’s in the Lawtons’ library to learn about this marquess. They knew the marquess’s wife died a little over a year ago, but all else they discovered was that the marquess’s manor house, Brentmore Hall, was in Essex.
‘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
