Born to Scandal. Diane Gaston
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portrait from a generation ago. A Gainsborough? It certainly appeared to be. She and Charlotte had seen engravings of Gainsborough’s portraits.
There was even a fire lit in the room, taking away the early spring chill.
‘Do sit, Miss Hill,’ the butler intoned.
She lowered herself into a chair by the fire and listened to the ticking of the mantel clock as she waited.
Twenty minutes later Brent was informed that the carriage waited outside. He donned his topcoat and hat, and had Davies collect Miss Hill.
He was putting on his gloves when Davies led Miss Hill back to the hall. Brent nodded to her and Davies escorted her to the door where footmen waited with umbrellas. One walked her to the carriage and helped her inside.
When Brent climbed in, she had taken the backward-facing seat, which meant he could not avoid watching her the whole trip.
She sat with graceful poise, her hands folded in her lap.
The carriage started moving.
He ought to engage her in polite conversation but, in such intimate quarters, he could not trust what might escape his mouth.
Finally it was she who spoke. ‘This is kind of you, sir. I am certain it takes you out of your way.’
He shrugged. ‘Not too far out of the way.’
Lord Lawton’s town house was on Mount Street, not more than a mile from Cavendish Square.
While the carriage crossed the distance, she looked out the window, but glanced his way occasionally. He could not keep his eyes off her, although he tried. When she caught him gazing at her, she smiled politely. He pined to see that genuine smile, the one that burst from her when she realised he had hired her.
The carriage reached Mount Street and stopped at the Lawton town house. One of the marquess’s footmen put the stairs down and opened the door, his umbrella ready to shelter her. The footman assisted her from the carriage.
She turned back to Brent. ‘Thank you again, my lord. I will await word from you when I should leave for Essex.’
He inclined his head. ‘I will see you are informed as soon as possible.’
‘I shall be ready.’ She smiled again, a hint of her sunshine in this one. ‘Good day, sir.’
He watched as the footman escorted Miss Hill to the door of the Lawtons’ town house. Even hurrying through the rain, she made an alluring picture. He watched until she disappeared behind the town house door.
He groaned.
It was a good thing she’d be on her way to Brentmore in a few days.
The coachman knocked at the window. Brent leaned forwards to open it.
‘Where to next, sir?’ the man asked.
‘Home,’ Brent said.
‘Home?’ His coachman probably thought Brent was addled.
And the man would be dead accurate if he did.
Brent had ordered his carriage, his coachman, footmen and horses out in the pouring rain. All to carry a governess one mile.
He was addled all right.
‘Home,’ he repeated and leaned back against the leather seat.
Anna glimpsed Lord Brentmore’s carriage pulling away through the crack of the town house door.
Rogers, the Lawton footman attending the hall, bent forwards to see as well. ‘Fancy carriage.’
‘Indeed.’ Anna’s emotions could not be more in a muddle. ‘Imagine riding in it with a marquess.’
‘So, what happened with your interview?’ Rogers asked.
She tried to smile. ‘He hired me. I am going to be a governess.’
Rogers closed the door. ‘Do I congratulate you?’
The position of governess was not an enviable one. A governess existed somewhere between servant and family, but was a part of neither. It was a rank to which Anna was very accustomed, though. Her unique situation as Charlotte’s companion made her too educated and refined to fit in with the servants, but she never, ever, could be considered family. She belonged … nowhere.
She took a breath. ‘Congratulate me.’
At least she would not wind up alone and penniless on the London streets.
Tears threatened suddenly, so Anna rushed up the stairs to her room, which once had been a maid’s room attached to Charlotte’s bedchamber. Charlotte and her mother would still be out making calls. Anna had time to compose herself.
She removed her gloves, hat and pelisse and tossed them on a chair. She flopped down on the small cot that was her bed and covered her face with her hands.
It had been only two days ago that Lord Lawton informed her it was no longer desirable to have her act as Charlotte’s companion. She was uncertain why. Perhaps it was because she had danced with some young gentlemen at a recent party? She’d thought it would have been rude to refuse. That was, however, the last social engagement she’d attended. Charlotte had henceforth gone on her own with only the company of one or both of her parents.
She’d not frozen or become mute as everyone feared. Charlotte had conquered her timidity, as Anna always knew she could.
Anna’s days as companion had always been numbered. Charlotte was expected to make an excellent match and marry well. When that time came, Anna’s place in Charlotte’s life would have been lost. Anna had always assumed she’d return to Lawton House when Charlotte no longer needed her. She thought some useful role would be found for her. Lord Lawton, however, made it very clear he and Lady Lawton were terminating her services altogether.
What had she done to displease them so?
She’d never expected nor aspired to their affection, but she’d expected to be treated as a loyal servant.
At least Lord Lawton had troubled himself enough to arrange the interview with Lord Brentmore. For that she should be grateful. Instead her emotions were consumed with the idea of losing the only home she’d ever known and being separated from all she knew and cared about. Her mother. Her father.
Charlotte.
Especially Charlotte. She was closer to Charlotte than to anyone else, even her mother.
Her chin trembled.
She put her fist to her mouth and fought for control of her emotions.
This was not a banishment, even though that was precisely how it felt. It was a natural progression of change, nothing more. It had been her folly not to anticipate its possibility. She must remain strong and fearless. Being strong and fearless were precisely the qualities that had led to her becoming Charlotte’s companion in the first place, a circumstance she could never regret.
She’d told Lord Brentmore the truth when she’d said her education opened up the world for her. She could not imagine not knowing about geography, philosophy, mathematics. She’d learned Latin and French. Painting. Dancing. Needlework. There was no end to all the wonderful things she’d learned at Charlotte’s side. No matter what happened to her, no one could ever take away all she’d learned.
She sat up and thrust her unhappiness aside. How bad could it be to become a governess to two small children in a country house that was very likely similar to Lawton House? And as a governess, she would have an excuse to continue to study and read.
The door to Charlotte’s bedchamber opened. ‘Anna?’
Anna rose from her bed and walked to the doorway that separated her little room from Charlotte’s. ‘I am here.’ She smiled at this young woman with whom she felt as close as a sister. ‘How were your calls?’
Charlotte grinned, showing the pretty