Chapter Three
The summons came before luncheon. Isabella glanced briefly at the potato soup, fenelle of fish, and fresh bread on her meal tray and sighed regretfully.
Cook’s culinary skills were somewhat limited, and Isabella had learned the food was infinitely more palatable if eaten hot.
She was certain that by the time her meeting with her employers was concluded, her meal would be ice cold and unappetizing.
Before leaving the room, Isabella paused a moment to check her appearance in the tiny cracked mirror hanging on the wall. Several strands of her rich chestnut hair had come loose and were curled charmingly around her face. She immediately brushed them back and readjusted her severe hairstyle.
Isabella studied the rigid face of the prim, straightlaced woman reflected in the glass, hardly believing she was looking at herself.
Her life had taken a far different turn than she had ever imagined it would.
She thought wistfully of the plans and dreams she had as a young girl, dreams of a loving husband and children of her own.
Only by escaping to her fantasies had Isabella been able to survive the bitterness and hate her father directed toward her after her mother’s death.
Not her father, Isabella sharply reminded herself, her stepfather.
Discovering eight years ago that Charles Browning was not her natural father had brought a ray of hope into her bleak world.
On her seventeenth birthday, Charles Browning had told her the truth about her birth and then shipped her to her mother’s family in York.
“I’ve done more than my share,” he said in a chilling voice.
“Let your mother’s snotty family care for their daughter’s bastard. ”
Charles Browning was hoping to wound Isabella with his revelations, but she did not react as he planned.
She was happy to go. She firmly believed escaping from him was going to be the beginning of a new and wonderful life.
At long last she would have her chance to be among a family who would love and cherish her.
But it was not to be. Though bearing little physical resemblance to her mother, Isabella nevertheless was a reminder of her mother’s disgrace, and her grandfather, the Earl of Barton, detested Isabella on sight.
He chose to ignore her presence in his house and rarely spoke to her.
Her two aunts, her mother’s older sisters, were married and occupied with their own families and expressed little interest in Isabella.
Her grandfather’s sister, a formidable dowager who lived with the earl, was charged with supervising Isabella.
The dowager, who was childless, resented Isabella and was not averse to showing her feelings.
Although the earl was a wealthy man, he was not generous with his granddaughter, and Isabella lived a miserly existence.
In time she learned to swallow her disappointment and accepted the fact that she would never have a season in London.
She hoped for an opportunity to be introduced into local.
society, but after accompanying the dowager to a few minor social functions, Isabella realized there was no place in this elite circle for a young woman who was such an obvious embarrassment to her family.
When she reached the age of twenty, Isabella realized her dismal situation was not going to change unless she took drastic action.
In a rash act, Isabella made an impassioned speech to her grandfather and great-aunt about assuming responsibility for her own destiny and announced she was leaving to take a position as a governess.
Secretly, she had hoped her grand gesture would somehow jolt her family into taking an interest in her future, or at the very least shame her grandfather into providing her with a modest income and a small dowry, but he, appeared vastly relieved to hear she was moving out of his house.
Wounded, but not surprised, Isabella left, and her life as a governess began.
Isabella quickly discovered it was a tenuous existence. Technically she was an employee, but she was seldom treated as a servant. Yet she was not regarded as a member of the family either. As a governess it became necessary to learn to live somewhere between the two.
Her open nature and attractive person cost Isabella her first position. Lady Alcock did not approve of her, and when she realized that many of the young men calling at the house took more than a passing interest in the pretty young governess, she promptly dismissed Isabella.
Isabella learned from her mistakes. In her next post she took great pains to appear less attractive by wearing only modest gowns of dull colors.
She also drew her hair back severely. This made her look older and more like hired help.
Whenever she was called upon to supervise her charges in front of company, she always quietly removed herself to a corner of the room, taking precautions to avoid drawing any attention to herself.
The cool manner she adopted kept most of the young men at a distance.
Yet the older males she chanced to encounter were more experienced, ignoring her when in the presence of others, but adept at catching her alone for a moment.
Among gentlemen of society, governesses were considered fair game.
It often amazed Isabella how normally civilized men could behave in such an uncivilized, boorish manner, especially when she told them in no uncertain terms that she was not interested in their scandalous propositions.
Isabella did not find all males repugnant, however.
She was genuinely flattered by the subtle attention she began receiving from the eldest son of the house.
He was a shy, earnest young man of twenty-two, and while she did not encourage him, she also did not discourage him.
The climax of their mutual admiration was an innocent stolen kiss, unfortunately witnessed by her would-be lothario’s overprotective mother.
Isabella was immediately dismissed. Without a reference.
When searching for a third post, Isabella decided to try a different route, and she became a companion to the Dowager Duchess of Osbourn.
That post had the distinction of being the shortest in duration.
The dowager duchess was a cantankerous old lady who proved very difficult to work for and live with.
By mutual consent, Isabella left as soon as she secured the position she now held with the Brauns.
Working for the Brauns was by far the most successful experience of her career, and Isabella finally felt a measure of security.
The Brauns were of the merchant class, exceedingly wealthy but not socially elite, and that suited Isabella fine.
There were no young bucks of the ton calling at the house to harass her, and the only male family member was the children’s father.
Mr. Braun always treated her with the utmost respect.
Isabella long suspected he was enthralled with the notion of having the granddaughter of an earl caring for and teaching his three children.
The striking of the hall clock pulled Isabella’s attention back to the matters at hand.
Knowing she would be late for her meeting if she did not hurry, she quickly left her room.
Summoning up her finely tuned inner discipline, Isabella succeeded in firmly pushing the emotional memories aside by the time she reached the large entrance foyer on the first floor.
She glanced briefly at the closed drawing room doors and wiped her damp palms on the skirts of her plain gray gown. Then she signaled the footman with a curt nod of her head and he opened the door.
“Miss Browning,” he announced in a bored voice.
Mrs. Braun ceased speaking the minute Isabella entered the room. Wearing an over-bright smile, she greeted her children’s governess breathlessly. Isabella could not help noticing how uncharacteristically nervous Mrs. Braun appeared.
Mrs. Braun was a middle-aged matron with an ample figure, yet she was attractive in a rather obvious way.
This afternoon her black hair was dressed high up on her head, with several wispy ringlets artfully arranged around her ears.
Her sea-green gown was cut low for a woman of her size and revealed more than a hint of swelling bosom.
Even though it was early afternoon, Mrs. Braun wore an impressive array of expensive jewelry, attesting more to her husband’s wealth than to her good taste.
Mr. Braun was the exact opposite of his wife.
Tall, fair-haired, and almost painfully thin, he was hardly the image of a successful merchant.
He was dressed in his customary somber black business suit, and Isabella belatedly realized that he normally was at his office down on Market Street at this hour of the day. He, too, seemed on edge.
“Thank you for coming so promptly, Miss Browning,” Mr. Braun said. He cleared his throat loudly. “Please, do sit down.”
With a questioning look, Isabella complied with his request, taking the seat directly across from Mrs. Braun.
After Isabella was seated, Mr. Braun joined his wife on the settee.
Isabella shifted her gaze back and forth between the two, from the grinning face of Mrs. Braun to the somber continence of Mr. Braun, trying to read from their very opposite expressions what was happening.
“Now then, Miss Browning, I would like to ask you—” Mr. Braun began, but he was cut off by a loud gasp of astonishment from Isabella.
Isabella could scarcely believe she had missed seeing the third occupant of the room until this very moment.
He was leaning casually against the wall, a glass in his hand.
When their eyes met, he flashed a slow and tantalizingly wicked grin.
Everything else seemed to recede into the distance as Isabella stared in appalled silence at the rude man who had accosted her in the park.