Free Carola Dunn by The Improper Governess Page B

plumes.
    “Immediately, ma’am?” Lissa asked, taken aback. “You mean this instant? You mean you wish to engage me?”
    “To be sure. At least for a month’s trial. You cannot conceivably be of less use than the last half dozen who came to me with splendid references. As for ‘this instant,’ I have a few minutes before I need depart. Pray come and be seated, and I shall tell you all about my darling child.” She moved towards an amber velvet sofa.
    “I...I must fetch my things, ma’am, and give my landlady notice.”
    “Write a note,” proposed Lord Ashe, who appeared vastly amused by his sister’s precipitate decision, “and I shall send for your belongings.”
    Thinking of her mother’s pearls under the floorboards, Lissa shook her head. “Thank you, sir, but I prefer to go myself later, whenever it is convenient for Lady Orton.” Ought she to refer to ‘her ladyship’? Her still proud spirit balked at such an admission of servitude, but she was, after all, accepting a position as a servant, however superior.
    Lord Ashe gave her a thoughtful look; the viscountess merely said, “Yes, go later, pray. I shall take Colin to pay one or two calls later. Oh, and you will have to discuss your salary with my brother, who is Colin’s guardian.”
    “Indeed, ma’am, I cannot accept a salary when my brothers are to be given a home.” She spoke to Lady Orton but turned to Lord Ashe, suddenly afraid she had misunderstood, or the offer of a home for Peter and Michael had been withdrawn.
    “Fustian!” he said roughly. “I ought to offer your boys a salary for acting as my nephew’s companions and models, for he has not half their manners. I daresay you would refuse it, however, so I shall merely provide a little pocket money and decent clothes.”
    “Clothes? We cannot accept clothes!”
    “I shall not propose to dress you, Miss Findlay, but Lord Orton’s constant companions must be properly attired.” His manner became businesslike. “That is not negotiable. As for you, you shall have the same as I paid your predecessors. Is that satisfactory?”
    More than generous, considering her lack of credentials, yet his sudden coolness set Lissa at a distance, employer to employee--for which she ought to be still more grateful. “Yes, sir,” she acquiesced quietly.
    “Apply to Voss, my secretary. I shall instruct him to pay you a month in advance. My carriage is at your disposal to take you to Lambeth when you are ready. Just tell Halsey or one of the footmen to have it brought round.” He turned to his sister. “I shall leave you to expound your requirements, Daphne. Do not, I beg you, place too many restrictions on the child.”
    “He is sickly, Rob.”
    “I know, my dear, but he will never grow stronger without reasonable exercise.”
    Lord Ashe’s patient tone suggested this was no new debate. Whether it would have continued along well worn grooves Lissa did not discover, for the door opened and Halsey announced, “Lord Quentin Teague, my lady.”
    Aghast, Lissa shrank back. Lord Ashe looked dismayed. Lord Quentin, catching sight of her, looked both thunderstruck and thunderous.
    “What the deuce...?” he started.
    “Lord Quentin!” Picking up the Leghorn hat as she passed, Lady Orton floated gracefully to meet him, her other hand held out in welcome. “I have found a new governess for Colin. I am in great hopes that Miss Findlay will suit him exactly.”
    Bowing over her hand, Lord Quentin made a gargling sound, produced perhaps by a variety of emotions combined with an excessively high collar.
    “How kind of you to come so quickly, Lord Quentin. You know I rely upon your judgement.” Lady Orton glanced back at Lissa and, setting the hat on her head, tranquilly announced as she tied the ribbons, “I am going to purchase a bonnet now, Miss Findlay. Lord Quentin always advises me. We shall talk later.”
    “And I’ll have a word with you later, Ashe!” The dandy’s eyes popped