Free If the Slipper Fits by Olivia Drake

is capable of handling day-to-day matters in my absence. Everything else can be dealt with upon my return to the vicarage each evening.”
    Annabelle seized upon the chance to prove her usefulness. “Then my presence here will allow you more time to attend to those tasks.”
    He drew himself up with self-importance. “Nothing can be more imperative than training the Duke of Kevern to take his righteous place as a peer of the realm. You cannot possibly surpass my qualifications for the role. After all, I was once a lecturer at Oxford.”
    Oxford! The news dismayed Annabelle. She’d expected a tutor of modest background, someone easily replaceable. But Mr. Bunting had a lofty résumé—which made her own situation all the more shaky.
    As if privy to her thoughts, he stepped closer, a smirk on his narrow face. “And what, pray tell, are your credentials?”
    “I taught at a fine academy in Yorkshire,” she said glibly. “I’m well versed in all subjects from mathematics to science to literature. Lord Simon would never have hired me otherwise.”
    Annabelle held his gaze, refusing to look away. She buried any qualms at embellishing the truth. If ever Mr. Bunting found out she’d merely taught etiquette at a school for girls, he’d whine to Lord Simon and she’d be tossed out at once.
    Then Nicholas would be left without an advocate. He would be subject to the cruel whims of this man.
    “Yorkshire,” Mr. Bunting muttered with a shake of his head. “What is there in such a provincial place but sheep and barren moors?”
    “It is no more provincial than Cornwall,” Annabelle countered. She bent down to pick up the ruler from beneath the desk. “Now I’m sure you’ll agree there’s no point to wasting any more valuable classroom time.” Without seeking his permission, she seated herself on a nearby chair and kept the ruler in her lap.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” he said huffily.
    “I intend to observe your lessons. It will be very useful for me to know the progress of His Grace in his studies.”
    The vicar glowered for a moment as if debating the wisdom of trying to oust her from the schoolroom. Then in a swirl of black robes he stalked to the desk. “Do as you please,” he muttered. “But this is an affront, and I fully intend to take up the matter with Lord Simon.”
    Annabelle strove for a serene expression. Now was not the time for another rejoinder. He would only use it as ammunition when he lodged his complaint against her. And he would complain, she had no doubt about that. She could only hope to deprive him of any further offenses to report.
    Mr. Bunting cleared his throat. He launched into a monologue about the British colonies that included reciting lists of names and dates from a textbook that lay open on the desk. Within minutes, Annabelle was struck by the mind-numbing quality of his presentation. The vicar rattled on about obscure political and historical facts that could be of little interest to a boy of eight.
    Indeed, Nicholas appeared to be gazing out the bank of windows behind the vicar, where the sky had been washed clean of yesterday’s rainclouds and gulls soared against a palette of blue. Annabelle struggled to keep her own mind focused on the lecture. As the morning progressed, she found herself growing increasingly distressed.
    Mr. Bunting was clearly unsuited to teaching a young child. He failed miserably at engaging the duke’s attention. His dull delivery would have bored even a classroom of university students. What had Lord Simon been thinking to hire such a stuffy, self-important man?
    She pursed her lips. Lord Simon was indifferent to his nephew’s well-being, that’s what. To him, Nicholas was merely an annoyance to be kept out of sight in the nursery.
    Just stay out of my way. Both you and the boy.
    No wonder Lady Milford believed Nicholas desperately needed a governess. Her ladyship wished to shelter the young duke from both Lord Simon and Mr. Bunting. That