Engaging the Earl. Mandy Goff

but even when her father was at his wealthiest, he’d never been a member of elevated society. The second son of a landed gentleman, her father was a scholar … a scholar who was unfortunately an abysmal custodian of the money he’d received as his inheritance in lieu of the estate that had passed to his older brother.

      And now even that money was nearly gone. Emma didn’t want Lord Westin’s pity once he discovered how desperate circumstances were for her family. She didn’t want to think about how differently the earl might treat her if he knew the truth.

      She’d seen similar situations far too many times during her employment with the Roths. If Emma happened to be visible during one of the family’s parties, the young men would flirt with her and act as though they valued her presence and conversation above all else.

      The moment Lady Roth let it be known—in a voice that was much louder and shriller than necessary, in Emma’s opinion—that she was nothing more than the governess, most of the gentlemen would scurry to far corners of the room. The ones who stayed weren’t doing so for any noble purposes.

      Emma knew how these kinds of things worked. With the exception of her friends Olivia and Nick, nobles didn’t waste their time with those outside their social spheres. And wrong though it might be, Emma was enjoying the ease of this moment with Lord Westin too much to spoil it.

      So she clamped her lips together. Let the earl think whatever he wanted. Because as far as she was concerned, nothing he came up with could be quite as bad as the truth.

      Chapter Four

      Emma really shouldn’t have climbed up in the tree. It didn’t matter that Olivia’s rather extensive garden showed no signs of other inhabitants. With a bit of a self-deprecating smile, she thought that if Lady Roth could see her now, the viscountess would feel vindicated in terminating Emma’s employment. Who wanted a tree-climbing hoyden watching over her children?

      Olivia and Nick were both gone, visiting Nick’s aunt, the Duchess of Leith. Emma had been invited but wasn’t quite ready to face anyone else in the ton. Especially since there was one particular member of high society that she couldn’t seem to get out of her head.

      Stop thinking about him.

      Really. It will do you no good.

      You’re being a fool.

      Ever since the day before, when she’d realized who Mr. Fairfax truly was, Emma had alternated between being irritated that he hadn’t immediately told her who he was, and being irritated with herself for caring at all. Climbing the tree had been a desperate attempt to find something to occupy her mind, which had been much too busy with thoughts of the Earl of Westin. She hadn’t even attempted climbing trees since she was a child, and in her aggravated state, it had seemed the perfect challenge for the moment. Frankly, even now she was rather impressed that she hadn’t broken her neck. But now that she was treed for the time being, she was left with nothing to do but think.

      Her first priority had to be finding another job.

      She’d agreed to go along with Olivia’s plan, but surely the husband hunt her friend envisioned would never succeed. It was ridiculous to think that rich, eligible men would form a line to catch her attention. And besides, any man who did fall all over himself to earn the favor of a former governess of no particular distinction could hardly be sensible. How could she depend on a man like that to shelter and protect her and her family? No, she’d have to do as she had always done—rely on only herself.

      It had been three days since Lady Roth had dismissed her without a letter of reference. Three days since she should have gone straight home and confessed everything to her parents. Emma hadn’t been able to do it yet, though. She hadn’t been able to fortify herself enough to see her mother’s and father’s hearts break.

      Waiting, in the hopes of having some good news of a new position to alleviate the bad tidings of her lost job, was perhaps the most asinine plan Emma had ever concocted. But staying with Nick and Olivia made it so easy for her to not go home yet, to keep the problems to herself for a little while longer. To hope that some wonderful new opportunity would come to light soon.

      Emma had already written to the different agencies in London, praying that they might have families in need of a governess. And while her personal contacts weren’t extensive, Emma had sent missives to anyone she could think of, asking if they, or anyone they knew, needed a governess or even a lady’s companion. Too little time had passed for her to receive any replies.

      Father, let me find a job, had become a constant prayer. And let me forget about that irksome earl, had become a constant follow-up.

      And while Emma was an avid believer in the power of prayer, she never felt any kind of confidence afterward that her entreaty would take care of the matter where Lord Westin was concerned.

      Her life had spiraled so far out of her control that Emma wasn’t certain she’d ever be able to rein it back in. Like a leaf tossed about by the gusting wind, she had little say over what happened to her anymore. And it scared her. Giving up control didn’t come easily to her. Surrendering her concerns to God sounded fine in theory, but it was one of Emma’s biggest struggles.

      â€œWhy am I not surprised?”

      Emma started from her position on the branch, shaking the stout limb until she feared she might fall.

      â€œCareful,” the voice cautioned her.

      She looked down toward the ground, wishing she could disappear farther up into the tree when she saw that it was Lord Westin standing below her.

       Where had he come from?

      â€œYou’re not about to drop out and knock me down, are you?” His mouth curved in a smile, and Emma felt her own lips upturn in response.

      Emma said, smirking, “Not unless you provoke me.” Which, considering their short, volatile history, was a distinct possibility.

      Lord Westin, once assured that she wasn’t going to be taking a nasty tumble, stepped back a few feet. He leaned almost negligently against a gatepost opposite her tree. “I’ll try to be mindful of that, then.”

      Emma tried to look as stern as possible—something a bit difficult considering the undoubtedly ludicrous picture she presented. “You would do well to do so.”

      â€œSo, are you in the tree for any particular reason or are you indulging a long-held desire to be a bird?” The gleam in his eyes teased her.

      â€œI thought it might be a peaceful place to contemplate,” she hedged.

      For a moment, Emma was afraid he’d mock her, but Lord Westin nodded solemnly. “Understandable.”

      The two of them stared at each other for a few moments … it couldn’t have been too long, just enough time to make Emma look away uncomfortably. She hated the fact that her wit and social graces seemed to fail her when he was around.

      â€œDid you wish to be alone?” she asked finally.

      â€œNot really,” he replied.

      Emma waited for him to say more, but Lord Westin didn’t offer any explanations.

      â€œAre you sure?” she persisted, “Because I could leave if you wish me to.”

      â€œNot at all. You were here first.” As he shook his head, Emma noticed how delightfully mussed his hair looked.

      Emma couldn’t think of anything else to say. She decided that whatever the rest of the conversation held, it would be preferable if her part took place on the ground rather than in the air. Emma thought about asking him to help her down, or at least asking him to turn around so she could descend with a shred of her dignity intact.