wisp of lawn and lace perched on her shining golden-brown curls and he could take ten years off the ones he’d first put in her dish. Her assured manner and limited patience fooled him at the time, but a very different person was revealed by candlelight. This Miss Court might pretend to be at her last prayers, but her mouth gave her away. It was less certain than he imagined when he met her in the gloomy stables. The young lady under the front of a no-nonsense governess had soft and expressive lips to go with her pert nose and brown-velvet eyes. Miss Court was a shade under the average height for a woman and slim as a whip, with the sort of slender yet intriguing womanly curves even a blue stuff gown made high to the neck couldn’t quite conceal. A connoisseur of feminine beauty might not rank her a diamond of the first water, but she would be very pretty if she threw away that dire gown and ridiculous cap. It wasn’t right to long to discover the vulnerable and generous woman under her would-be stern exterior. He usually liked his lovers buxom and bold and wished his mistress was nearby to visit when the need arose, because it might arise right now if he wasn’t very careful where his thoughts wandered in Miss Court’s presence.
‘I promise to restrict myself to one glass, ladies,’ he said as Mrs Winch and her chicks rose, looking uncertain about this whole enterprise. As well they might, he told himself sternly. He blinked away a vision of the lovely young woman under Miss Court’s armour and stood up politely.
‘Very well, Mr Moss, we shall see you shortly,’ Mrs Winch said.
He caught a sceptical governess look from him to decanter and was tempted to live down to Miss Court’s low expectations and get roaring drunk before he staggered into his smallest drawing room and gave himself away as the owner of all this faded glory. He wasn’t prepared to do that, he decided, and if the truth ever came out he must remember to thank the starchy female for the disguise she’d thrust on him, because he wasn’t sure he wanted to be ‘my lord’ now he was here. His grandfather might have found the vast portrait of a Cavalier ancestor and family an aid to good digestion, but he did not. The Baron Selford portrayed so skilfully had an arrogance that must have had recruits rushing to join the Parliamentarian Army in order to escape his tyranny. A master painter had caught hints of rebellion in the man’s son and heir and a sidelong glance from the old lord’s lady said she didn’t blame her eldest one for wondering if he wanted to die for the same cause.
God forbid any child of his would ever look at him with such cool dislike in his eyes. If it wasn’t for his uneasy conscience about shirking his duty as Earl of Barberry for so long, he’d turn tail and catch the next tide to Ireland and his stepfather’s comfortable home. No, he had a chance to observe his estate and mansion as he never would in his own shoes. He girded Mr Moss’s loins and took him back to the Small Drawing Room by proxy.
‘Do continue, Miss Caroline,’ Fergus said as the piano playing stopped the instant he pushed opened the door. ‘I am very fond of Herr Mozart’s sonatas, at least when they are played with such a delicate touch,’ he added and the obviously very shy girl smiled and carried on.
He had expected his cousins to be haughty and aloof, but they were brighter and more thoughtful than most of their kind, which he put down to their own spirit and Miss Court’s influence. According to Poulson’s reports, the laziness of a junior partner he had dismissed the moment he found out how negligent he’d been meant these girls had had little real guidance before their young governess arrived to try and bring sense, order and a little compassion into their lives. Once more he found himself oddly drawn to the young woman who sat as far away from him as she could. The sooner he was installed in the land steward’s house and busy about the estate the better. Miss Court and Mrs Winch had his wards and his house in order and it was high time he could say the same for the land, and that would keep him out of Miss Court’s way until it was time to go away again or reveal his true identity.
* * *
‘Do you think Mr Moss will like the steward’s house, Miss Court?’ Caro asked Nell sleepily as they finally went upstairs, at long last.
‘I’m sure he will and he can’t stay here with us. That would be dreadfully improper in the Earl’s absence, or even with it now I come to think about it. For either gentleman to move into Berry Brampton, we would have to leave.’
‘I suppose so, but it’s such a long time since Mr Jenks decided to retire and live with his daughter. I know the house was cleared out and dusted when we were told a new steward was coming, but that was weeks ago. The whole house could be damp after this dreadful weather and all sorts of things might have happened while it was lying empty, don’t you think?’
‘Not if I can help it,’ Nell said with a weary sigh. ‘If Mr Moss couldn’t send a message to warn us he was coming, at long last, he must accept the fact his house needs airing before it is quite comfortable. Mrs Winch will have kept an eye on the place, so I doubt it will be as difficult to sleep there as you imagine. Mr Moss will not find the land in good heart, though. I suppose I should have found a discreet way to let his lordship know how bad things were before Mr Jenks admitted his sight was failing and left.’
‘Oh, no, Miss Court, Jenks said he owed it to Grandfather to carry on managing the estate and he was so loyal to the family we couldn’t betray him, could we? He has such old-fashioned ideas—perhaps it’s as well Jenks had to go all the way to Yorkshire to live with his daughter so he can’t argue with everything Mr Moss wants to do,’ Georgiana said with a wise nod that left Nell trying not to smile at her unusual interest in estate management.
Georgiana enjoyed a combative relationship with the local squire’s eldest son. One day it might grow into something more and Nell thought them well matched. Persuading Lord Barberry that the heir of a mere squire would make a good husband for one of his wards would be a challenge, but not one she need worry about now Georgiana was fifteen and the lad a year older.
‘Yorkshire is not so very far away,’ she teased gently as she urged the sisters upstairs to the modest room they insisted on sharing, despite the many splendid bedchambers in this grand old house.
‘It is as far as Mr Jenks is concerned,’ Caro put in and smiled her thanks when Nell loosened her laces and helped her out of her simple round gown, then began brushing Caro’s thick blonde locks while their maid undid Georgiana’s gown.
‘You can’t help wondering why he agreed to go there in the first place though, can you?’ Georgiana observed with a frown and Nell wondered if it was odd that the man had finally left in such a hurry.
‘The love of family can lead us to the most unexpected places,’ Nell said with a shrug and a last look around. Becky had everything in hand and her charges looked so tired they should sleep soundly. Wishing them all a good night, she went to check on Lavinia and found Mary nodding in the dressing room.
‘Miss Lavinia hasn’t stirred all evening, miss. I’ve never known her so quiet or so little trouble,’ the maid admitted sheepishly.
‘You might as well go to bed now, Mary. If Miss Lavinia was going to take a chill, we would know by now and no doubt you’ll hear if she wakes up and needs you in the night,’ Nell told the maid with a nod at the truckle bed already set up in the narrow little room for her to sleep in and still be close if Lavinia needed her.
‘Thank you, miss,’ the young maid said dutifully.
Nell wondered why nobody found it odd Mary was Lavinia’s age and yet a maid had to be far more sensible and self-disciplined than the girl she was employed to wait on. ‘This isn’t a fair world,’ she murmured when she shut the door on her responsibilities for the night. ‘You ought to know that by now.’
She was only three and twenty herself and had taken responsibility for four young girls when she was barely
