Chapter 2 #2
Of course, she wasn’t qualified to be a governess, though she’d be damned if she would admit that to Lord Ashford—or her siblings.
She needed this position. She would never return to Craven House and live under her sister’s constant watch; though it was not lost on her that the baron’s autocratic behavior was remarkably similar to her sister’s.
With one startling difference. When Payton was not caring for the children, she was free to do as she wished, without her sister’s disapproving oversight.
She’d need to be contrite, apologetic, and enthusiastic about improving in her duties if she hoped to remain in the baron’s household and not get banished back to Craven House.
“Lord Ashford.” She kept her stare focused on his impressively organized desk, hoping to portray an outwardly humble appearance…
though her temper remained red-hot. She wasn’t sure what to expect from the baron’s study, but organization was not it.
“The children and I are still getting acquainted with one another. I can assure you, I am indeed qualified to serve as the Ashford governess. If you need any further confirmation of that, I request you contact my references.”
It was all poppycock. Pure bluster.
Her references entailed directions to Lady Cartwright and the Marchioness of Ridgefeld.
The pair of highly regarded ladies also happened to be her elder twin sisters.
However, Payton had kept that bit of information to herself as the housekeeper had contacted both women and had not questioned them beyond Payton’s suitability for the post. The position would have never been given to her had the baron known her upbringing and the simple fact that she’d never worked a day in her life outside the few chores she’d been given at Craven House.
She was educated, though; her eldest sister, Marce, having hired the finest tutors in all of London.
She hadn’t outright lied about her skills, only kept a spot of secrecy about her family name.
The baron’s pensive stare turned critical as he took her in from head to toe.
Did he relish making her look the fool; standing before him drenched as the chilly morning air began to seep through her dress? The fire against the far wall of the study was little more than glowing embers at present and did little to ward off the chill.
“That will be all, Miss Samuels.” He waved his hand in dismissal and turned his attention to his work as he collected a ledger from the corner of his desk. “Please make certain another episode like today does not occur again.”
That was all? He was dismissing her without…
without…Payton wasn’t certain what she’d expected when he summoned her to join him in his study for the first time, but this was not it.
Perhaps it would have been easier if he had shouted at her, chastised her for her ineptitude, or simply released her from her duties and sent her on her way.
The curt dismissal annoyed her.
“My lord, before I go—”
“What is it?” he mumbled, keeping his stare on the open ledger, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I have much work to do, as you can see.”
“It is my dress, Lord Ashford,” she prodded, the acidic stench of ammonia had followed her into the study.
The dress was not anything special, but one of the few she’d brought with her to Ashford Hall.
“My gown is ruined. I am but a simple governess with limited means. How do you expect me to replace it?”
If she were attempting to muster an apology from him, she had seriously underestimated him—and her own skills at playing the contrite, reserved, and meager governess.
“You worry about your frock, whilst I am concerned with my children’s education and future, miss?
” In no way could his words be construed as an apology or even an understanding of her position, and for a brief moment, Payton worried she’d pushed him too far.
Overplayed her hand, as it were. “Return to your room, change, and give the gown to Mrs. Brown. She will certainly find a way to remove the stains.”
Payton wanted to snort at the absurdity. Was Lord Ashford’s sight failing? There was no amount of scrubbing by the finest laundresses in all of England that could remove the blue pigment.
“Is that what you would do if you found yourself coated in dye, my lord?” She regretted speaking out of turn, though the man before her was but a stranger—a stranger who seemed unperturbed by his children’s antics.
She noted the orderliness of the room once more, and her interest grew.
A man that demanded order and routine but did not seem upset by his wayward children.
With the question posed, all she could do was hold her shoulders steady and wait for his reply.
“I can assure you, Miss Samuels, I would not continue to stand there dripping the foul liquid all over the expensive rug beneath my feet.” His brow rose as if challenging her to continue down the path she’d chosen.
Very peculiar indeed. He cared about the floors in this room but seemed oblivious to the disarray of his household.
The man was lucky Payton had no intention of being released from her position, or she would show him what it felt like to be doused in frigid water, dyed or not. One day, yes, but today was not that day.
“Is that all?”
She relaxed slightly, allowing her anger to abate. “Yes, my lord.”
“Very good.” His stare drifted to the corner of his desk, and he reached for something, holding it out to her.
Payton leaned over the wooden surface, several droplets landing on a stack of parchment paper, the water and color instantly spreading and soaking into the document.
Taking the two pound notes he held out to her, she retreated.
The catastrophe of her morning had nearly made her forget that wages were distributed today.
She’d expected to collect from Mrs. Brown as the other servants did, not from Lord Ashford.
Did the fact that she did place her higher in the household hierarchy, or did it simply mean the baron thought he needed to keep a closer watch on her?
“Do see that the children are abed promptly tonight, and find yours, as well.”
“Tomorrow is my day off, my lord.”
“Yes, Sunday,” he mused quietly. “Find your room, or take your leave until tomorrow evening, whichever you prefer.”
Payton nodded. “I will see the children are in bed and be off, my lord.”
“Very well.” Lowering his head, his light brown hair fell forward, covering his face as he returned to his work. “If you’d be so kind as to close the door on your way out.”
She slipped the notes into her pocket, the wet fabric sticking to her bare hand as she did, and departed the room before her stare stayed on the baron a moment longer.
He hadn’t inquired about where she might be headed when she left Ashford Hall, and after a month in the baron’s household, she wondered if he knew her secret.
But there was little chance of that. Moreover, Lord Ashford had more important things occupying his mind than the whereabouts of his children’s governess, made all the more noticeable by his lack of involvement in Payton and the children’s daily activities.
And his disapproval would go from minor irritation to outright anger if he learned that her first time in his home hadn’t been when she became his children’s governess.