Chapter 7
Concerning Tumbles and Mishaps and Misses (Not Missus); A Discussion about Fleecing, the Fleet Ditch, Nobsville and Toffstown; And Needs Must, the Smoothing of Wrinkles, and Flip-Flops and Somersaults …
Mina, aside from being plagued by guilt about her dishonesty, didn’t need to fret about where the marquess’s allegiance lay for long.
“Do-do not fear, Miss Dav-Davenport,” he said gently, his green eyes alight with such soft compassion Mina’s heart performed an odd little tumble.
“Your secret is safe with m-m-me.” A slight flush crept into his cheeks as he added after a beat of awkward silence, “I hope you c-c-can f-f-forgive me for asking, b-b-but considering what you just dis-disclosed, should I … should I continue to refer to you as ‘miss’?”
Heat scorched Mina’s entire face. “Yes,” she said. “Miss Davenport will do. I’m not, and have never been, married.” At least that was the truth.
Lord Kinsale nodded then glanced at his ward, but the boy was presently engrossed in picking through the sandwiches.
When the marquess spoke again, his voice was low, his words meant only for her.
“I under-understand that these sorts of mishaps hap-happen sometimes, Miss Dav-Davenport. I would … I would n-n-never think badly of a woman who f-f-found herself in such a situation.”
Then he smiled and gestured for her to take a seat. “Please join us. I w-w-would like to dis-discuss our circumstances—both yours and mine—further.”
Mina smiled and chose the shepherdess chair beside Tom Fleet’s.
Lord Kinsale sat opposite them. “Would you like a spot … a spot o’ tea?
Or somethin’ to eat?” he asked. Then he frowned.
“Although, I expect your Mrs. Temple will be b-back soon with a fresh p-p-pot. And I’m afraid there’s n-not much left of anythin’ else.
” He tilted his head toward Tom and grinned.
“It seems some-someone has quite the appetite.”
Mina smiled back. “I’m perfectly content, my lord.”
Lord Kinsale gave a nod then blew out a breath.
“Right then.” He scrubbed a hand down his face and Mina gained the distinct impression the Irishman was uncomfortable.
Of course, the shepherdess chair he was sitting on with its spindly gilt legs and delicately fashioned arms looked far too small to accommodate his long muscular legs and wide shoulders.
But given his pained facial expression, she rather gathered that he was having difficulty finding the right words to talk about something that was on his mind.
Mina clasped her hands in her lap and cleared her throat.
“I imagine you would like to go through what you’re looking for in a governess, my lord,” she observed, “and more specifically, what I can offer to ensure that I will suit. I’m sure that Mrs. Temple mentioned that here at the Parasol Academy, we aim to provide our clients with a bespoke service.
” Then she caught Tom Fleet’s eye. “Would that be all right with you, Master Tom? If Lord Kinsale and I discuss your educational needs?”
The boy shrugged a thin shoulder. “Wha’ever, miss.
I’ve never ’ad lessons before an’ can’t read or write or do nuffink like that.
I know me numbers though. And all about coins an’ such.
” He tapped the side of his head. “Mark me words, I can tell the difference between a farving an’ a penny an’ a shillin’ an’ a crown. It ain’t easy to fleece Tom Fleet.”
Mina smiled encouragingly. “Well, that certainly gives me a good understanding of where to begin, Master Tom. If you don’t mind me asking, where do you hail from?”
The boy chuckled. “I don’t fink it will surprise you to learn that I’m no’ from Nobsville or Toffstown.
” Then he puffed out his thin chest. “I was born in the Fleet Ditch an’ I’ve lived around Saffron ’ill an’ Spi’alfields and Cheapside.
All over.” A grin spread across his thin face. “Where all the best geezers ’ail from.”
“Oh, one of my best friends, Emmeline, grew up in Cheapside,” said Mina. “In fact, she used to be a Parasol Academy nanny.”
Lord Kinsale raised a brow. “Do you … do you mean Emmeline, the Duchess of St Lawrence? I’ve recently be-become friends with her hus-husband, Xavier.”
“Why yes,” said Mina. “Her Grace and I shared a dormitory here before we graduated.”
“Cor blimey! Your friend is a duchess?” exclaimed Tom.
“She is indeed,” said Mina. Further discussion about the St Lawrences was curtailed by the arrival of a maid bearing a laden tea tray.
Once the empty plates and old teapot had been cleared away and the maid had taken her leave, Mina offered to pour fresh cups for everyone.
Tom declared he’d never had tea before today, but he liked it with lots of milk and three sugar lumps.
Mina recalled that Lord Kinsale liked his tea with milk and sugar as well.
“You remembered,” the Irishman said as she carefully added the sugar.
Mina laughed. “I did. But then it was only six days ago.” As she passed him a brimming cup, the marquess’s fingers brushed hers and a warm tingle, not unlike the magical buzz she felt when she picked up a leygram rushed over her.
Her cheeks grew warm and she feared they were as red as the cherries on the tarts on the tea tray.
Goodness, she really must try to curb these silly, schoolgirlish reactions to this man.
How was she to work for him if she couldn’t maintain a professional demeanor around him?
At least you’ll be spending most of your time with young Tom, she reminded herself.
The poor boy was eight and it didn’t sound as though he could even write his name.
He clearly had a lot to learn and she would do her best to help him acquire the literacy skills he would need to make his way in life.
Mina busied herself with pouring her own cup of tea, and after she’d taken a few sips, Lord Kinsale’s eyes caught hers.
His expression was solemn as he said, “Miss Dav-Davenport, you said earlier that you do … do not like k-keeping secrets. And neither do I. To that end, I … I feel that it is im-important for me to disclose certain things. About m-m-me situation and Tom’s.
Things you should know be-because they are directly related to the du-duties I’ll be asking you to p-p-perform. Duties you might find a bit … unusual.”
“Unusual?” Mina repeated, watching the marquess’s face. He suddenly seemed so … so somber, awkward even, and concern fluttered inside her. She didn’t like seeing him so subdued and serious, not when he always seemed to have a ready smile.
Hoping to dispel the gathering tension in the air, to perhaps even make the Irishman smile, she said lightly, “Is this when you tell me that I must take Brutus for walks every day, my lord? While I would quite happily undertake such a duty, I’m not sure Brutus would agree.
He did seem a trifle growly and grumbly in my presence. Even after I served him cake.”
Lord Kinsale’s wide mouth tipped into a smile.
“Me pug is can-cantankerous around everyone, Miss Dav-Davenport,” he said.
“But no, I w-w-won’t ask you to do that.
” His shoulders rose as he drew a breath.
“I feel that you should know that Ma-Master Tom isn’t technically me ward.
He and I … I met him just last night, not f-f-far from Co-Covent Garden. ”
Tom Fleet licked the jam off his fingers. “I’m a pickpocket.”
“Oh … I see,” said Mina, even though she didn’t. Well, she could certainly believe that Tom Fleet was a pickpocket. “And your family? Might they be worried about you, Tom?”
The boy frowned. “I might be an orphan? I ain’t got a clue ’oo me sire was, and me mum …” He shrugged. “I ain’t seen ’ide nor ’air of ’er since she left me at the work ’ouse. That was when I was four? Maybe five.” Another shrug. “I ’ardly remember ’er, to be honest.”
Oh heavens. To be abandoned at such a young age was heartbreaking. Mina bit her lip as a wave of compassion for this boy and all he’d endured threatened to undo her.
Lord Kinsale leaned forward in his seat, his forearms resting on the bulk of his thighs.
“I-I know it doesn’t look quite right,” he said, his expression earnest, “me p-p-pickin’ a random child off the streets.
But I n-n-needed a reason to … to hire you, Miss Dav-Davenport.
O’ course, Tom is welcome to stay with me f-f-for as long as he likes.
And receive less-lessons if he wants them. But I … but I have need o’ you too.”
Mina frowned as she struggled to makes sense of what the marquess was trying to tell her.
Was this the unusual duties he’d been referring to?
Mrs. Temple had mentioned the Irish peer seemed uncertain about taking up the reins of his new role in life …
But there seemed little point in speculating, so Mina said, “I don’t quite take your meaning, Lord Kinsale.
Why would you, a grown man, need a governess? ”
The marquess’s gaze was steady as it held hers.
“Be-because I have terrible stam-stammer, Miss Dav-Davenport. And an Irish accent. I m-m-might have inherited a title and a for-fortune, but I know next to nothin’ about the rules o’ high so-society.
Nothin’ about et-etiquette. I have a household—actually several households including a whole c-c-castle—full o’ servants b-b-but I have no-no idea who does what or what half the rooms are f-f-for.
In a mat-matter o’ weeks, I’m due to make a speech in the House of Lords, a speech that will ad-advocate for the rights of Irish tenants back home.
I w-w-want to make a real diff-difference in their lives.
But no one will … no one will listen to me, let alone take me ser-seriously if I t-t-talk like this.
If they think that I’m … I’m a blitherin’ Irish eejit. ”