Chapter Five
V erda cast a wary glance at Mr. Oshea. “I am not for sale, sir. I have my pride.”
Red crawled up the man’s neck into his face. “You misunderstand me, madam. You could marry me—”
“Ridiculous,” she bit out.
An irritating smile curved his full lips. “Or, perhaps you would consider a governess position. My brother requires such for his younger son. Though I must warn you, he’s already chased off at least one.”
Startled, she blurted out, “Governess.” Then more slowly, “Your brother…”
“You appear educated. More importantly, perhaps, such a position will remove you from London.”
That didn’t sound so awful—except for the “his brother” part. And that she’d never been a governess before. And that she knew absolutely nothing of children.
“I take it you are not enamored of the duke’s attention. Is your father pressuring you to marry the blackguard?”
“No. Yes. Er, how far out of London?”
“Northumberland.”
The oxygen expelled from her body in a gush. One couldn’t get much farther than northeastern England. “I suppose I’m to leave my father to his fate, no matter how dire?” As tempting as the prospect was, she wasn’t certain she had the stomach to leave Papa at the mercy of people she didn’t know.
“I would never expect you to, Miss Fairclough.”
“Then what am I to do? The situation is hopeless from all sides and will likely never change.” Not until he’d departed this Earth. A thought that made her ill. He was her father.
A fleeting grin crossed Mr. Oshea’s features. “I’m surprised at you, Miss Fairclough. You don’t strike me as a woman to see any situation as hopeless.”
She suppressed a groan then straightened her spine. Right .
“Besides, the confines and strictures at Stonemare are considerably less stringent.”
“That does sound appealing,” she admitted slowly, her eyes on the toes of her slippers.
“Come, it grows late and I suspect your father is wondering where you’ve disappeared.”
Verda’s head snapped up. Good heavens. It had completely slipped her mind that she was standing unchaperoned with a gentleman in a vacant hall at the Theatre Royal with the smell of tallow candles inundating her. Wait—she tilted her head, considering him, this unlikely… man. “How did you know where to find me?”
He offered her another smile and it seemed quite genuine. “Ah. I have Mrs. Dove-Lyon to thank for that. She informed me that you are not the typical young woman to come to her for assistance in looking for a husband. She also said that while you abhor society events, you adore theater.”
In all fairness, she’d never approached the woman and wondered how Mrs. Dove-Lyon would know such a thing about her. Yes. It had been Papa’s grandiose idea in the first place. Rathbourne had found her as well, and Mr. Oshea’s news that Mrs. Dove-Lyon would share such details about her explained everything. Verda cleared her throat. “I see.” It also renewed her anger. Papa had nearly compromised her in the worst possible way.
“Return to your father, Miss Fairclough. I’ll call for you at your home in the morning and discuss my plan with you at that time.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Things will work out. You shall see.” He escorted her to the entrance to the viscount’s box then bowed. “Until tomorrow, then. Good night.”
Verda entered the box and all eyes turned on her. She murmured her apologies and took the seat next to her father, ignoring his pointed look.
The situation didn’t feel quite as hopeless as it had twenty minutes ago.