Chapter 3 #3
“Indeed, my lord, you do Ryan and Etienne great injury, dismissing Miss Templeton. I simply cannot let it happen without voicing how strenuously I object to—”
“Yes, yes, all right, Mrs. Norris.” He held up his hand to quiet her. “I’ll have a word with Miss Templeton. But I make no promises. If I find she’s lacking the qualifications to properly instruct my boys, then I will dismiss her.”
“I’m certain you’ll find her qualifications more than adequate, my lord.”
Doubtful. How much knowledge could the girl possibly have? She couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty years old. “That remains to be seen.”
“Yes, my lord, and thank you, my lord. I assure you that you won’t regret it.”
“That remains to be seen, as well,” he muttered, pouring himself another measure of brandy, because clearly the trouble wasn’t that he’d had too much brandy last night, but that he hadn’t had enough of it yet today. “Please tell her I wish to see her at once.”
“Right away, Lord Hawke.”
Mrs. Norris hurried out the door, and he slumped in his chair, his glass clutched in his hand. He’d told Miss Templeton her dismissal was final, and she didn’t seem like the forgetful sort, so he’d likely be swallowing a healthy draught of his pride along with the brandy soon enough.
A few minutes later, there was a sharp rap, and he looked up from his morose study of his glass to find Miss Templeton standing in the open doorway.
Even her knock was impertinent.
“Mrs. Norris bid me come and see you, my lord.”
“Yes. Come in, Miss Templeton, and close the door behind you, if you would.” He eyed her as she pushed the door closed and approached him. She hadn’t yet changed out of her ruined gown, and a strong smell of chocolate wafted around her, the thick, rich scent of it threatening to make him gag.
“Sit down.” He nodded at the chair in front of his desk. “Mrs. Norris is of the opinion that I’ve made a mistake, dismissing you.”
One dark eye brow rose. “Oh?”
Good Lord, but that was a damning eyebrow. “Yes, ah, she seems to think you’re good for the boys, and her opinion is not one I readily dismiss.”
Nothing. No reply, or change in her expression. She simply stared at him with those cool, gray blue eyes, and she looked as if she could keep it up for a good long while, too.
“I, ah…I’m willing to give you another chance, Miss Templeton, if you promise to take more care in the future.”
Still, she said nothing, merely waited, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
Damn the woman, she was going to make him grovel.
He supposed he’d do the same, in her position. “Will you please consent to stay on as governess at Hawke’s Run, Miss Templeton? The boys seem fond of you, and I’d rather not disrupt their lives with a search for a new governess.”
“Stay, my lord?” She rested a hand on her chest, her eyes wide. “But what of your poor trees, and your shattered porcelain? Are you certain you’re willing to risk it all by keeping me on? And that’s to say nothing of your mother-of-pearl buttons!”
He pointed a finger at her. “Never mind the blasted buttons, but my dislike of that wretched cat of yours is perfectly justified. That creature tore a gash as long as my forearm into my neck. I would have fared better against a guillotine!”
Her eyes narrowed. “If I stay, Lord Hawke, then Hestia stays with me.”
Good Lord, but swallowing one’s pride was a foul, bitter business, wasn’t it? “Yes, alright. The murderous little fiend can stay, too, but keep her out of my way. Do you agree to remain at Hawke’s Run, then?”
Once again, she fell silent.
Was she really going to refuse him, just to deal him the set-down he deserved?
The answer to that question was destined to forever remain a mystery, because just as she opened her mouth to reply, there was a pitiful little sniff from the other side of the closed door, followed by a stifled sob, and a mournful, “Oh, please, Miss Templeton! Please don’t go!”
With that, Miss Templeton’s fate was sealed, and his right along with it.
“Very well, my lord. I’ll stay.” She grinned as a whoop came from the other side of the door. She had a fetching smile. A fetching mouth, come to that, full and plump and—
Never mind her mouth.
“Your charges await, Miss Templeton.” He waved a hand toward the door, desperate to be rid of her. “You may go, and close the door behind you.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
She rose to her feet, and offered him a curtsy that somehow managed to be impertinent rather than deferential. Rather a neat trick, that.
Once she was gone, he swallowed the last of the brandy in his glass and sagged back against his chair.
God above, what a morning. He’d lost and then regained both a housekeeper and a governess, and evidently gained a kitchen maid named Abby, a chit he’d never before laid eyes on, and wouldn’t know if he stumbled over her…
When he woke up sometime later, the mantel clock was chiming, the brandy he’d drunk was burning a hole in his belly, and it suddenly occurred to him he’d let Miss Templeton escape his study without asking for her academic qualifications.
He glanced at the clock, and let out a groan.
It wasn’t even eleven o’clock in the morning yet.