Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Genevieve Lancaster sat crammed in the tiny carriage, cushioned by Penelope and Hortensia Rohan, her charges, as her employers lounged on the opposite seat, bickering as always.
She was coming to the end of her three-year employment with the twin daughters of Charles and Annis Rohan, and she was looking forward to her upcoming escape with real enthusiasm.
Not that she minded the girls—they were good ones, warm-hearted, friendly, unlike their difficult parents.
Their mother was captious, always complaining, and her criticism of her daughters was ongoing. Her husband was worse.
Charles Rohan was under the mistaken impression he’d been put on this earth to correct the shortcomings of those around him, usually with misquoted Bible verses.
Since Jenny was the young widow of a vicar, she was much more knowledgeable about the Bible than Charles purported to be, and it set her teeth on edge whenever he misquoted Galatians or mangled Hebrews.
The girls were to make their debut in the spring, and she was no longer needed to herd them into society. She’d done her job well, and the two of them were sweet, pretty-behaved young women who were bound to make a success of their hunt for a husband.
Her own future was less sure. She intended to spend a few months with her aunt Dorothy, reading and enjoying herself and the simple fact that she wasn’t under Charles Rohan’s roof anymore.
Come spring, she’d presumably find a new position, though her aunt would have preferred her to stay on.
But Jenny was an independent soul, and she hated to be dependent on anyone.
“I’m cold,” Annis Rohan complained, eying Jenny as if to blame her. She hadn’t taken Jenny giving notice well, and she’d been full of jabs and whines ever since. “You forgot to pack my gray shawl.”
“You’re wearing your gray shawl, Lady Rohan,” she murmured, undaunted. “Your maid packed it for you.”
Annis plucked at the layers of scarves and shawls around her plump figure, extracting the gray one. “I fail to see why we have to head north at Christmastime. It’s cold enough in London—the lakes make the weather icy.”
“We haven’t spent Christmas with my family in years,” Charles announced in his strident tones. “Since this is the last year we’ll have a governess for the girls, I intend to enjoy myself and check to see how my brothers are doing.”
“Couldn’t we have done it some year when we weren’t all gathering at the Scorpion’s house?
” Annis said plaintively. “You know he’s completely insupportable, and his ghastly son is even worse.
It’s been so long since we’ve seen them that chances are the younger sons are following in their brother’s footsteps. ”
“No one could follow in Brat’s footsteps,” Charles said. “That much evil in a young man could hardly be duplicated.”
“Brat isn’t evil, Papa,” Hortensia spoke up. The two girls were among the few who dared contradict their father, for what little good it did them. “He’s just a rake.”
“What would you know of rakes?” Charles thundered. “Miss Lancaster, what have you been teaching my daughters?”
Jenny plastered a smile on her face. The senior Rohans’ refusal to address her by her married title was just another of the small indignities that rankled. “I’m afraid I’m unacquainted with their cousin, so I could hardly have taught them anything. Will we be seeing him at Pawlfrey House?”
“If fate is extremely unkind. You are to keep the girls away from him at all costs. They must give him the cut direct if he tries to ingratiate himself with them.”
“Brat doesn’t have time for us, Papa,” Penelope said calmly. “And we could never be that rude in Aunt Miranda’s house.”
“It’s your Uncle Lucien’s house, more’s the pity.”
“The Scorpion,” Hortensia said knowledgeably, and Jenny wanted to groan. She’d heard the stories about the girls’ wayward uncle, just as she’d heard about his devilish son. Christmas was bound to be quite lively if either of those two gentlemen were as bad as Charles Rohan decreed.
“Miss Lancaster!” Annis protested. “How do the girls know that name?”
Because that’s what you call him when you’re heaping opprobrium on him, Jenny thought, trying to look humble. She was used to taking the blame for everything that offended the Rohans’ sensibilities.
“I’m sure I have no idea,” she said humbly, but Annis Rohan was not appeased.
“I considered it thoughtless and inconvenient of you to give us your notice this time of year, but now I’m wondering whether we should have dismissed you long ago.”
Jenny did her best to look chastened. Two more weeks, she reminded herself, and then she’d be free. Though she’d miss the girls.
But Annis had moved on, back to her usual target, her pompous husband. “I still think you should have sent a letter telling them we were joining them for Christmas. I hate to simply show up.”
“We have an open invitation,” Charles replied. “And that house is absolutely huge. We’ll fit in with no problem. If worse comes to worst, Miss Lancaster can sleep up with the servants. She won’t mind.”
Sleeping with the servants was better than sleeping in constant reach of Annis Rohan, who was under the impression that a governess should serve as a companion and a fetcher of all things left behind by the lady of the house. She was bound to be colder, but she would survive.
“How much longer will this endless ride take?” Annis whined.
“As long as it takes,” Charles answered. “But in fact, we’re not far now. “Miss Lancaster, you will take the girls up to their rooms immediately—I don’t want to risk them catching James’s eye.”
“He wouldn’t dare!” Lady Rohan hissed.
“Yes, my lord,” Jenny said, obedient as ever, though she wondered how she was going to accomplish such a thing when their arrival was ostensibly a surprise. There’d be no rooms ready to whisk the girls off to.
“I hope Aunt Miranda has a Christmas tree,” Hortensia said.
“German nonsense,” Charles harrumphed. “My sister has been raised properly—she won’t give in to such modern affectations.”
“Your sister was raised by your parents, who are hardly the epitome of discreet behavior. And your brothers are shameless. It’s a wonder you turned out the way you have,” Annis said sharply, as if she wasn’t too pleased with the results.
“The less said of my parents, the better. Thank God they’re travelling on the continent and we won’t be blessed with their presence. Lucien will be bad enough.” Charles tugged at his too-tight cravat, as if the thought of his parents choked him.
Too bad, Jenny thought. She would have loved to meet the notorious Marquess of Haverstoke and his independent wife. The girls had told her stories of their alarming courtship amid the excesses of the notorious Heavenly Host, and she had always been fascinated.
Indeed, people were of great interest to her. At least she would finally see Charles’s notorious brothers, and the notorious Scorpion. It should make her last two weeks extremely interesting.
Her first sight of Pawlfrey House was daunting.
It was a huge, gray structure, almost gothic in its style, looming over the bleak winter landscape like a prison.
But as they approached, they could see lights blazing forth from every window, and greenery festooning the place.
Whatever else, the Scorpion’s wife clearly believed in celebrating Christmas.
“What a shocking waste of candles,” Charles intoned, frowning at the place as the carriage pulled up at the wide front steps. “I can’t believe Miranda would be such a spendthrift.”
“Indeed,” Annis said, for once in accord with her husband. “I’ll have to put a word in her ear about basic economy. It doesn’t matter how much money one has if one is going to toss it away.”
Since the Rohans believed in parsimony when it came to candles and fires and governesses, Jenny was not surprised. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to wear two shawls in this great sprawling monolith of a house.
They scrambled out of the carriage then mounted the steps, Annis muttering her disapproval under her breath, and the door was opened to reveal an equally lugubrious manservant, looking at them askance.
“Lord Rohan,” he said after a moment, no sound of welcome in his deep voice. “I don’t believe you’re expected.”
“It’s a surprise,” Jenny said after a moment of uncomfortable silence, and Charles threw her a look of part disapproval, part gratitude.
“You don’t need to announce us,” he said grandly. “I imagine they’re in the grand salon at this hour.”
“Yes, my lord. But if you’ll allow me…”
Charles wasn’t about to allow him anything.
He pushed past him, his family following like little ducklings with Jenny taking up the rear.
She only had a brief glance around her before they barged into a brightly lit salon, but she was conscious of an entire battery of weapons adorning the walls, with whimsical bits of holly and spruce tucked among them.
The expressions on the faces of the people gathered there was comical, to say the least, when they spied their brother. A pretty woman with dark, gray-streaked hair rose from behind the tea tray, a determined smile on her face. “Charles, dear!” she said. “We weren’t expecting you!”
Charles cast a glance at Jenny, as if expecting her to save him again, but she remained determinedly mute. “No need to stand on ceremony, my dear,” he said with false heartiness. “We knew we were always welcome.”
“How convenient,” murmured a man dressed in resplendent black.
“I’m delighted to see my nieces.” That he wasn’t delighted to see the elder Rohans was clearly implied, and Jenny knew that this must be the notorious Scorpion.
The other two men in the room didn’t emanate the same whiff of menace and brimstone, she thought with quiet amusement.
“Uncle Lucien!” the girls cried, breaking the chilly atmosphere, and they flung themselves on the man’s neck.