Chapter 10 #2
When he’d finished “showing off,” (because deep down, he knew that’s exactly what he’d been doing) he was slightly breathless, and he swore Miss Davenport was too. “That’s where much of your p-p-power comes from,” he said. “Your shoulders.”
The governess nodded. “My goodness, you’re strong, my lord,” she murmured huskily. “And fast.” Then she cleared her throat and added, “I’m surprised that many men would have been game to take you on in the ring.”
Was it his imagination, or was there actually a note of quiet awe in Miss Davenport’s voice?
Phinn’s chest swelled to think the young woman might admire his physical prowess, if nothing else.
He wiped his forearm across his damp forehead, hoping the action might hide the flush he could feel creeping into his cheeks.
He cleared his throat. “In the ring, they c-c-called me Cutthroat O’Connell.
It’s a n-n-name I was never par-particularly fond of, but it drew in the crowds.
Which m-m-meant more money for me m-m-manager and me.
During the famine, it was the only thing that k-k-kept the w-w-wolf from the door. ”
Jaysus, why had he disclosed that to the prim and proper governess?
She’ll view you as some hulking murderous brute, he chided himself.
Not a hero. And oh, God’s teeth, his feckin’ robe—no, banyan, you dolt—had come loose and the poor woman was all goggle-eyed and pink-cheeked again as her pretty hazel eyes settled on his bare chest.
“Me-me apologies, Miss Dav-Davenport,” he said, jerking the banyan closed. “About me in-indecorous state of dress. I g-g-got carried away with me demonstration. And to be sure, I’m cer-certain you do not want to hear about me box-boxing days.”
“Oh, no, my lord. Do not concern yourself about …” Miss Davenport gestured at his banyan.
“In fact, I should be thanking you for teaching this governess something new. And for trusting me enough to share some of your history with me. That time in Ireland must have been so very difficult and challenging.”
At that moment, there was a knock on the door and the housekeeper, Mrs. Aldershot, appeared. “Miss Davenport,” she said as her curious gaze jumped between the governess and Phinn. “I’ve come to show you and your”—she gestured at Christopher—“your young cousin, is it, to your new quarters.”
“Christopher is my second cousin, twice removed,” explained Miss Davenport.
Christopher returned to Mina’s side. “Miss Davenport, am I going to meet Lord Kinsale’s ward soon? Tom?”
The governess blushed as her eyes darted to Phinn’s. “Oh heavens, I got so caught up with our … our discussion, my lord, I didn’t ask after Master Tom.”
Phinn shrugged a shoulder. “It’s quite … It’s quite all right, Miss Dav-Davenport. I expect Tom is some-somewhere about. He’s the sort of child who … marches to the b-b-beat of his own drum, as they s-s-say.”
Mrs. Aldershot rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s one way of putting it,” she muttered.
But then she faced the governess and smiled.
“Come along then, Miss Davenport. Your room and your cousin’s are very close to the old nursery and schoolroom on the second floor.
Master Tom’s bedchamber is adjacent to young Christopher’s as well. I trust that will suit?”
Miss Davenport returned the middle-aged woman’s smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Aldershot,” she said. “I’m sure it will all be perfect.”
The governess collected her bonnet, then turned back to Phinn.
“Lord Kinsale,” she said as she curtsied before she encouraged her son (no, cousin now, Phinn reminded himself) to bow as well.
“If there’s anything else you need from me, my lord, you only have to ask,” she said softly.
“I imagine you might like to provide me with more direction on the particulars of the curriculum you’d like to see me teach? ”
“Aye, I would, Miss Dav-Davenport. But there’s n-n-no rush. Make sure you g-g-get settled first.”
Phinn would readily admit that at this particular moment, he was feeling particularly unsettled.
Perhaps he should have asked his valet, Frobisher, to prepare an ice bath for him to cool down.
As Mrs. Aldershot the housekeeper led Christopher and Mina away from the ballroom and down a corridor toward a set of servants’ stairs, Mina cursed herself for gawking at her employer like a moonstruck ninnyhammer. Her case of ninnyhammer-itis had been on full display again.
Where was her professionalism for heaven’s sake? Where was her self-control?
Of course, it hadn’t helped at all that Lord Kinsale had been attired only in formfitting buckskin breeches and a silk banyan that had revealed a good deal of his muscled chest and lean torso.
Mina swore she’d been able to count the ridges on his abdomen.
Six sets of perfectly chiseled stomach muscles.
A veritable washboard! She’d never seen such a sight, not even on the Greek and Roman marble statues of gods and warriors at the British Museum.
And then when he’d launched a volley of punches at the punching bag, Mina had almost fallen into a swoon.
The way his muscles, slick with sweat, had rippled and flexed …
The manner in which the buckskin of his breeches clung to the rock-hard muscles of his thighs.
Oh, she’d stared and stared and something deep inside her had fluttered and pulsed and she’d known the feeling was desire.
It had hardly been Lord Kinsale’s fault that he’d been caught in such a state of undress.
The smarmy butler, Smedley, had clearly known what his employer had been doing in the ballroom, and had brought Mina and Christopher to meet him anyway.
It was no doubt a deliberate ploy to not only humiliate Lord Kinsale but disconcert and embarrass his new employee.
And disrespectful and disloyal servants were not to be borne.
Mina would definitely have to put the butler in his place.
No wonder the marquess wanted to enlist the aid of someone like her—someone who understood polite society’s rules and could help him settle into his new elevated place in the world.
As for the housekeeper, Mrs. Aldershot, Mina wasn’t sure where the middle-aged woman’s loyalties lay just yet. She supposed time would tell.
“So, I hear you are some fancy governess from some fancy academy,” said Mrs. Aldershot as she scaled the narrow servants’ stairs with Mina and Christopher following along behind.
“Yes,” said Mina. “The Parasol Academy to be exact. Queen Victoria herself granted the college a Royal Charter.”
“Oh, how very la-di-da,” said the housekeeper. “But I’m afraid you’ll have your work cut out for you trying to teach that street urchin the master dragged in.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Mina asked mildly, even though she was inwardly railing against the housekeeper’s choice of words. She’d managed to insult Lord Kinsale and his ward in one fell swoop and Mina was not impressed.
Mrs. Aldershot snorted as they reached the first-floor landing where she’d paused to catch her breath.
“Have you not met the lad yet? He’s a right piece of work.
A sniveling, thieving pickpocket, he is.
Our cook, Mrs. Dunkley, caught him trying to nick silverware out of the kitchen last night.
And Smedley boxed his ears after he noticed the boy making off with a gilt Boulle clock from the drawing room.
A whole clock! Aside from all that, he’s hardly ever here.
From what I’ve seen, he comes and goes as he pleases, darting in and out of the house at all hours of the day and night like the sneaky little rat that he is. ”
Sneaky little rat? Sniveling, thieving pickpocket? Mina bristled like a cat that had been dumped out in the rain. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Aldershot?” she said crisply in her best schoolmarm’s voice. “I’m sure I misheard you just now.”
Mrs. Aldershot puffed out her not inconsiderable chest. “You did not, Miss Davenport. The boy is a nasty little rodent who apparently crawled out of the Fleet Ditch and I have no idea why Lord Kinsale decided to bring him into this house. The old master would be turning over in his grave if he could see who inherited his title—an inarticulate, uncouth lout of an Irishman—who for some insane reason has decided to adopt a filthy little ragamuffin who should rightly be cleaning the chimneys or the gutters, not living here in splendor.”
The unmitigated cheek of the woman! Mina aimed her best fulminating glare at the horrid housekeeper.
“Mrs. Aldershot, I’d have a care if I were you.
I’ve met Master Tom Fleet and found him to be a most charming, forthright boy who has much to recommend him.
I would urge you not to judge him based on where he was born, or his hitherto straitened circumstances, but to regard him with compassion and treat him kindly.
He’s but an eight-year-old child. He’s hardly going to choose a better path in life if others look down their nose at him and put obstacles in his way.
He needs support, not scornful putdowns and boxing about the ears. ”
The housekeeper glared back. “Well, I never! How dare—”
Mina raised an admonitory finger. “Oh, I do dare. And furthermore, if I ever hear or see you insult Lord Kinsale again, you will be the one out on the streets. The same can be said for that insufferable swell-headed excuse-for-a-butler, Mr. Smedley. Come, Christopher”—Mina held out her hand to the boy—“I’m sure we can find our bedrooms and the schoolroom.
And Mrs. Aldershot, I’m sure that from now on, I can trust you to act in a completely professional manner.
I don’t want to have this discussion again. ”
Mina swept past the flabbergasted housekeeper with Christopher, but halfway up the next flight of stairs, she called down, “If I need anything, I shall ring for you or one of the other maids.”
The housekeeper did not reply other than to slam the door behind her with a resounding bang as she exited the stairwell.
Oh dear (and perhaps a few choice words that Lord Kinsale and Brutus had been known to utter on occasion, but a Parasol governess never would).
Mina sighed as she and Christopher pushed through the door at the top of the last flight of stairs into an unfamiliar hallway.
She probably should have held her tongue.
But ugh. The servants at Fitzwilliam House in London and Highwood Hall in Hertfordshire had never behaved in such a high-handed, disrespectful fashion.
No doubt Mina had made enemies of Kinsale House’s resident butler and housekeeper, but she rather suspected that a show of strength was the only way to deal with such blatant, bullying behavior.
Yes, Smedley and Mrs. Aldershot were bullies. But they were about to find out that Miss Hermina Davenport of the Parasol Academy was a force to be reckoned with. A young woman who could pack a powerful wallop or two—at least in a figurative sense—in the defense of others.
In the coming days, Mina would do her best to take care of Christopher and Tom Fleet.
And she would also advocate for Lord Kinsale.
There was no doubt the marquess was a strong, resourceful man, but he was on unsure ground in unfamiliar territory.
She now understood completely why he needed her services, and she would not let him down.