The Earl and the Governess. Sarah Barnwell Elliott

have to stay. There was no polite way out of it, and for all her faults she did try to be polite. ‘A little, please.’

      He brought her a cup and saucer and then sat again, this time on a chair next to the sofa. He was coming closer, and she regarded him warily as one might an approaching shark. ‘I’m still willing to buy your necklace.’

      She shook her head firmly. ‘No. No, I’ve changed my mind about selling it.’

      And then he asked, completely unexpectedly, ‘You said it was a gift—who gave it to you?’

      She shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about it. Doing so would only sadden her.

      ‘Who?’ he pressed her. ‘A beau?’

      Hardly that. ‘My mother.’

      He looked as if he wanted to ask another question, but he changed the subject at the last minute as if to spare her further discomfort.

      ‘I assume you’ve found employment, then.’

      Had she told him she was looking for work? Yes, of course; he’d said she was too pretty—and even though she didn’t think he’d meant it, butterflies had started flapping their wings in her stomach. ‘Why?’

      ‘Because if you no longer want to sell your necklace, then that can only mean you’re less in need of money.’

      ‘Oh.’ She didn’t want to tell him about her many rejections. She sat forwards and placed her teacup on the table beside the sofa. ‘Well, I’ve met several people—’

      ‘And they’ve responded favourably? You’ve been offered a position?’

      She shifted her weight, and the room descended into awkward silence. She looked at the wall. Why was he keeping her?

      ‘Then…perhaps you might help me,’ he said slowly.

      She returned her gaze to him, warily this time. ‘How do you mean?’

      He rose and walked back to his desk. He shuffled through some documents until he found what he wanted. A newspaper, folded open to one of the back pages. He handed it to her as he resumed his seat. She stared at it, not knowing what to think. All she saw was line after line of advertisements—for tutors, governesses, lady’s maids…

      ‘I advertised for a governess last week,’ he explained. ‘One of those listings is mine…somewhere in the middle column, I think. I’ve been interviewing candidates all morning. My footman assumed you were another one, and he told me as much when he announced you.’

      She was so bewildered that all the words started swimming together, and she couldn’t tell which posting was his. She focused on his face instead. ‘Oh. No, that’s not why…You want a governess?’

      ‘Yes. Rather urgently.’

      ‘I see.’His words finally made sense. He wanted a governess, which meant he obviously had a child. Children, maybe, as well as a wife, since the two normally went together. The thought caused a sudden, dull pain in her chest. Just another reminder that she was well and truly on the shelf and that, in her current straits, she’d never get married and have a family of her own. It was foolish for her to feel any excitement when he looked at her with his green eyes. And why had he flirted with her if he was married? Perhaps it hadn’t been flirting; it wasn’t as if she was so accustomed to male attention that she’d necessarily know the difference.

      ‘I hope you found someone appropriate?’ she said neutrally.

      ‘Well, my cousin did most of the interviewing—left just a few minutes before you arrived. I’m afraid we’ve different ideas about what makes a person suitable. She supplied me with six terribly proper women of mature years. They were nothing like you.’

      She flushed with anger. ‘I’ve been reminded of my shortcomings all week. You needn’t remind me, as well.’

      He frowned slightly. ‘I didn’t say you had any. The women were ghastly, and the post is still open. Just thought perhaps you might also want to apply for it, while you’re here. It wouldn’t be any trouble.’

      Work for him? She couldn’t think of anything worse. She could barely look at him without her knees turning to porridge. ‘I’m not qualified.’

      He sighed patiently. ‘Right. Well, for the future that’s probably not the best way to begin. Have you introduced yourself like that to everyone you’ve met?’

      ‘No. I should have, though, for it would have saved a lot of time. Additionally, I’ve no references.’

      He leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs. She suspected he was laughing at her silently. ‘None? And you expected someone to hire you?’

      She rose. ‘I think our interview is over.’

      ‘Sit down, Miss Thomas,’he ordered, rising himself. His voice was firm, and he looked prepared to pick her up and toss her back on to the sofa if she didn’t obey him.

      So she sat. He might be warm and kind most of the time, but she still didn’t want to test the limits of his generosity.

      He didn’t return to his seat. He crossed the room again to deposit his teacup on the side table. ‘What you ought to be doing is drawing attention to your strong suits. For example, you’re honest.’

      ‘You don’t know that.’

      ‘I know that you returned my watch. Still short sixpence—’

      She reddened defensively. ‘I forgot about the sixpence. Do add absentmindedness to the list.’

      ‘—but you’ve a sense of humor. You’re attractive, too—some might see that as a drawback in a governess, but I for one see it only as an advantage.’ He turned around as he spoke, and she was reminded once more of how very attractive he was. But he must be teasing her. She didn’t think she was very pretty—how could he?

      She wouldn’t let him fluster her. ‘Surely my education is more important.’

      He sat again, not looking terribly interested in her education. ‘I was getting to that. What languages do you know?’

      ‘French and Latin, a bit of Greek and German.’

      ‘Far too many. How old are you?’

      ‘What?’

      ‘How old, Miss Thomas? I wouldn’t normally ask such a personal question, but it is relevant.’

      She was touchy about her age. ‘I’m seven and twenty.’

      He considered that for a moment. ‘Well, that’s a very sensible age. If you were a flighty nineteen-year-old I’d have to worry that you might elope with one of my footmen.’ He paused. ‘So why are you not married?’

      Because she’d known very few men her age. Because she hadn’t had a mother to introduce her to new people and take her to parties—just a rather cerebral father who didn’t see the point of such trivial things. ‘I’ve been holding out for a duke.’

      He burst out laughing.

      ‘Do I amuse you?’

      He stopped, but he couldn’t get his grin in order. ‘Very much so, Miss Thomas.’

      She rose and headed straight for the door. ‘I will not waste your time, nor do I wish you to waste mine.’

      Unfortunately, he beat her to it, literally standing in front of the door to prevent her from leaving. He looked as if he were losing patience with her. ‘But I thought you wanted a job.’

      She just raised her chin.

      ‘I’m offering you one, you know. It wouldn’t be too difficult. Mary’s twelve, so she’s fairly independent.You’d just have to spend a few hours doing lessons with her each day.’

      Perfect, if only he wasn’t be