The Silent Governess(19)

Andrew ran too close, and Miss Keene grabbed him around his middle and lifted him, spinning him around and around until his hat flew to the ground. Andrew laughed with glee, the sound of it carrying through the glass. Miss Keene set him down and pulled down the blindfold. She mussed Andrew’s hair affectionately before picking up his hat and replacing it on his head. Audrey joined them, sliding her gloved hand into Miss Keene’s.

“Shall I repeat the last sentence, my lord?” the clerk asked.

“Hmm?” Edward murmured, returning to the business at hand. “Oh, yes please, Walters, if you would.”





Olivia stuffed the red scarf into her cape pocket. She covered her eyes with her hands, then pointed toward the outbuildings.

“She wants to play hide-and-seek!” Andrew shouted.

Olivia nodded with a wry grin. She was becoming quite adept at charades.

“I am weary of childish games,” Audrey grumbled.

“Come on, Aud,” her brother urged. “I’ll even seek first. Ready, steady, go!”

Giving in, Audrey ran off in the direction of the garden. Olivia followed more sedately, too self-conscious to run without the children at her side.

While Andrew counted, Olivia searched this way and that for a new hiding spot.

Johnny Ross stepped out of the stables, polish and brush in hand. “Here!” he called, waving her over. “I know a place those ankle-biters will never find you.”

She hurried toward the groom, and when she smiled at him, his fair face broke into a blushing grin. “This way, miss.”

Olivia followed him into the stables. There, he pushed at a section of wood walling that was actually a well-hidden door to a small closet.

“Don’t use this anymore, not since the tack room was added.”

Olivia stepped into the dark room, expecting Johnny to close the door from the outside. Instead, he stepped in after her and pulled the door shut against his back.

She felt suddenly ill at ease. She took a step toward the door, but he moved as well, blocking her path.

“You’re a prime article,” he whispered, gripping her waist. “A real beauty.”

Olivia tried to pry his hands away. His grasp remained firm. By slim shafts of light filtering through cracks in the wall, she saw him lean his face toward hers. She turned her head so that his damp lips found only a bit of cheek and ear.

“Livie!” Andrew called from somewhere nearby. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

Olivia pushed Johnny away with all her strength and hurried out the door and into the stable yard, wincing in the bright sunlight. In a moment she could see, but dreaded what she saw.

Mrs. Hinkley.

The housekeeper’s eyes slowly assessed her burning face.

Olivia looked away first.

Andrew, unaware of the awkward scene, explained. “Mrs. Hinkley came looking for you, so I said she could help me find you.”

“I appreciate your assistance, Master Andrew,” Mrs. Hinkley said dryly.

Johnny stepped out from the dim stables. Olivia darted a glance at him, then at Mrs. Hinkley. The older woman looked from one to the other. Olivia knew the shrewd housekeeper would not miss their guilty expressions.

“Might I steal you from your game, Livie?” she asked, all placid nonchalance. “Lord Bradley would like a word.”

Olivia swallowed, but a ball of dread seemed lodged in her throat as she silently followed.

Lord Bradley sat behind his desk in a blue coat and white cravat, his golden hair brushed neatly forward. The strong lines of his face were set. His pale blue eyes stared, unwavering.

Once Mrs. Hinkley had closed the study door and her footfalls had retreated down the corridor, Olivia said stiffly, “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. Please sit down,” Lord Bradley’s voice was formal and firm. He entwined his long fingers on the polished desktop. “I have learnt of your recent activities and must say I am surprised.”

“It was nothing, really,” she stammered, cheeks heating at the thought of being caught coming out of a closet with the groom. “Nothing happened.”

“Nothing? Come, Miss Keene, the whole staff is talking about it. Why, I witnessed your activities myself this morning from this very window.”

Olivia’s stomach dropped. “Did you indeed?”

“Quite. Mrs. Howe is very impressed, and I must say I am as well.” He paused. “I see I am making you uncomfortable.” His tone softened; his eyes as well. “I simply asked you here to thank you for taking on the care of the children so admirably—going far beyond the duties of an under nurse. It is much appreciated, especially as they are without a governess at present.” He picked up a letter from his desk and handed it to her. “And, to give you this.”

The letter was addressed to her, and she was surprised to find the seal unbroken—he had not read it. She unfolded the single page and skimmed its contents. The brief letter was written in the arthritic hand of an older woman.

Miss Keene,

We are not seeking to hire anyone at this time. Nor has anyone called here inquiring after you.

Sincerely,

Miss Kirby, Proprietress

The Girls’ Seminary,

St. Aldwyns

The curt reply held no warm remembrance or even acknowledgment of a former friendship with her mother. Had her mother put too much stock in the acquaintance?

“Any offer of a post?” he asked with apparent unconcern.

She shook her head.

“And have they told your mother where to find you?”

Again she shook her head, wondering what had delayed her mother.

“Perhaps it is just as well.” He cleared his throat. “I have asked Mrs. Hinkley to give you a half day off per week—though I must still ask you to remain on the estate. I realize there is not much for a young woman to do here, especially this time of year, but—”

“I don’t mind,” Olivia interrupted, mustering a smile. “I could walk alone on the grounds or stay in my room and do a bit of reading. There are several books in the schoolroom—that is, if you do not mind.”

He nodded. “By all means.”

“Thank you, my lord.” She straightened her shoulders and inhaled deeply. “I shall look forward to it. When is my half day to be? Sunday?”

His smile tightened. “Ross’s half day is on Sunday, is it not?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“Then yours shall be on Wednesday.”





Taking the children for a turn around the shrubbery on Monday, Olivia glimpsed Lord Bradley walk past the stone gardening shed, then disappear behind a timber-framed outbuilding beside it. She would have liked to ask the children what the building was, but as she could not, she led the children toward it.

They turned the corner and saw Lord Bradley climb the two steps to the stoop and run his finger along a crack in the building’s solitary window, then reach for the door handle. Seeing them, he abruptly drew his hand away and stood with his back to the closed door.

For once there was no welcoming smile for his young cousins. “Hello, Andrew. Audrey.”

He did not address her, nor offer any explanation of why he stood there or what he was about.

“The gardener has just discovered a pure white cat living under the woodshed,” he said to the children. “It has one green eye and one blue. If you hurry, he will no doubt show you.”

Audrey and Andrew needed no further prodding and quickly ran off.

Olivia waited one moment more, wondering if he would say anything once the children were out of earshot. Instead, he just stood there, arms crossed, staring down at her in cool challenge.

“Had you not better follow your charges?”

Piqued, she turned and walked back in the direction she had come. Just as she turned the corner, she glanced back over her shoulder and saw Lord Bradley slip inside the building and shut the door firmly behind him. The message was clear. They were not welcome there. What was he doing within? Was he alone? She was tempted to peer in the window like the spy he already believed her to be, but recalling the challenge in his eyes, she resisted the impulse.





The next day, when Olivia delivered the children to the stables for their riding lessons, Lord Bradley had yet to return from his morning ride, so Johnny once again led the children around the yard on leads.

A few minutes later, Lord Bradley cantered in on his black horse. He reined in, swung his leg over to dismount, then tied the horse to the rail.

His eyes scanned the stable yard. “What is Ross about? This horse needs a good rubdown.”

“Perhaps you could show me how it is done?”

One sardonic brow rose. “Protecting your lover again?”

Ignoring this, she said earnestly, “Actually, I dread the thought of going indoors on such a perfect autumn day. I would love to stay out here and give it a go.”

He hesitated. “Have you ever done so?”

“No. But you shall not find a quicker student.”

“Very well.” He stepped into the tack room and returned directly. He laid a brush onto her waiting palm, tightening the strap over the back of her hand. Resting his free palm on the horse’s damp withers, he lifted her equipped hand with his own and began guiding her through the brush strokes until she felt mesmerized by the rhythm and the firm hold of his hand on hers. She could almost feel the warmth of his body standing behind her, though he touched only her hand.

He cleared his throat. “There, I believe you have mastered the motion.”