“Until they left the schoolroom, you say?”
“Yes, of course.” Susanna had been loath to leave them, Emily and Jane. They’d been like little sisters to her. The family had been a happy one, and their house, Reeves Croft, was an idyllic, cozy little place built of sandstone, nestled in the trees, safe and secluded. Even when she had left, it had given her hope that she might one day carve out something similar in her own life. Something that was hers and hers alone. Someplace she felt at ease, where she could just exist as Susanna the woman and not Susanna the governess, that ubiquitous yet odd creature who was neither wife nor servant. Where she would read in the garden, drink her tea from delicate floral china cups, and lowerherself into crisp white linens at night, safe in the knowledge that the next day would be hers and only hers, with no demands on her or her time.
“Surely you were practically of an age with them, then?” Mr. Sedley’s smooth, rolling voice cut through her idyll. He gave her a quizzical look.
“No, Emily was twelve when I began, and Jane ten.”
“And how long were you with them, again?”
“Seven years, sir.”
“And how long at your current position?”
“One year,” Susanna answered, and frowned. “What exactly do you wish to know, Mr. Sedley?” A slight panic fluttered in her middle as they skirted the issue she dreaded the most: just why she was leaving the de Vauville household.
Mr. Sedley fiddled with the rim of his glass before lifting it to his lips and taking a deep swig. “You look quite… a bit younger,” he sputtered. Whether he was grimacing at the burn of the alcohol or his displeasure at her age, she couldn’t say.
Susanna flushed, panic coursing through her veins. She couldn’t lose this, not now when it seemed so within reach. She needed this position, odd though Mr. Sedley may be, with his lively blue eyes and smooth smiles and his wish to discussherrather than his daughter. Eight years she’d made her own way, and she would never go back home to Mama and Papa with her tail between her legs. Something as trivial as the year of her birth would not hold her back. She wouldn’t allow it.
“Mr. Sedley,” she said, placing a gloved hand on the edge of the desk as if to underline her point, “I assure you that, although I may be of a slightly more advanced age at seven and twenty than whatever ideal candidate you may have in mind, I do not allow myself to fall behind on what a modern education entails. In fact, just yesterday I was reading one of Riemann’s papers on complex numbers—”
“No,” he interrupted again, holding up a hand, his cheeks pink. “I have no issues with your credentials, Miss Abbotts—please, say nothing more of it.” He took another sip of his drink. “Why,” he said, another grin teasing his lip, “if you’re of advanced age, what does that make me? A cadaver?” He chuckled at his own crack.
Susanna offered him a strained smile, hope percolating in her heart.
“My…” he hesitated slightly, his tone shifting, “daughter is a bit… peculiar. She’s fifteen, but she might as well be an ancient, inscrutable child of the forest for all anyone can get through to her. Her mother was an actress, so Charlotte was raised in the theater.” He leveled a steady, unwavering stare at Susanna, daring her to comment. When she said nothing, he softened, and added in a quieter voice, “I mean to do right by her. And she’ll need to learn, learn how to be…” He looked down at the desktop, flicking away a speck of dust from the surface. “She needs to survive in society. She needs, well…” He halted, a touch of sorrow imbued in his words. “Her mother has passed. She has no one.”
Susanna felt her body tighten. The poor thing. “No,” she said, her voice soft but her intent strong. “She has you. All children need is one good person to care for them, to love them.”
Mr. Sedley thought on that for a moment, and Susanna worried she might have overstepped her bounds. Her hands tightened their clasp on one another.
And then he met her eyes, his whole body relaxing into a disinterested aloofness. “You can start today,” he said.
Her heart leapt. “Today, sir?”
“Why not? Charlotte’s becoming more feral by the day. In my estimation I should’ve had you weeks ago—” He halted, then frowned. “Hired you. Should’ve hired you, or, well, anyone really.” He sighed, then stood and walked over to the window.“I’m just not terribly well versed in this. Fatherhood.” He scoffed.
He reminded Susanna of one of the big cats she’d seen at the Zoological Gardens, moving with a languid sort of grace that obscured the power concealed within. Watching the fine wool of his coat stretch across his shoulders, Susanna wondered just what Mr. Sedley’s back looked like, then immediately regretted the thought. Her ears positively burned beneath her bonnet, reminding her of the one mistake she’d ever made, the one discretion she’d allowed herself in all her “advanced” years.
As if he’d read her thoughts, he turned to face her once more, arms crossed. “What’s wrong? You haven’t changed your mind, I hope? I won’t allow it, not even after you meet your charge.” He grimaced slightly. “You must give me several months’ notice,” he amended, “at least.”
“No, I accept, heartily, sir. It’s just—” Susanna took a breath, the surge of relief subsiding as waves of humiliation overtook it. “I haven’t tendered my resignation to the earl just yet.”
“To de Vauville? Why not?” He smirked in anticipation of his next jest. “You’re not in love with your employer or anything maudlin like that, are you?”
It knocked the air out of her lungs, the truth. Suddenly she was back in Puxley House, against the drawing room wall, with Francis de Vauville, the Earl of Clifton—not just her employer, but also her charge’s elder brother—pressed sinfully against the entire length of her. How her body had burned, surging with pleasure as he snaked a hand up her side and parted her lips with his tongue. Susanna may have only had one kiss in her entire life, but what a kiss it had been. It terrified her, threatened to destroy everything she’d worked for. It couldn’t happen again. She had to leave.
“Christ, youarein love with your employer.”
“I… I shall…” Susanna stumbled over her words, blushing furiously even as she attempted to maintain proper decorum. “I shall begin as soon as I am able… that is, if the offer has not been rescinded.” She sat, heart in her mouth, waiting.
“Hmm,” Mr. Sedley raised an eyebrow, sliding his hands into his pockets. “No, it’d be rather underhanded of a Sedley to censure someone for a lapse in judgment. Especially me. And even if I found it reprehensible,” he chuckled, and held up a hand to signal an aside, “and to be quite clear, I don’t; in fact, I’m rather intrigued by the story.” He paused briefly before continuing. “But as I said, even if I did, my hands are tied about the whole matter, as my dear niece has insisted—nay,commandedme—that you and only you shall do for the position.”
Susanna exhaled, not realizing she’d been holding her breath the entire time he was speaking.
Mr. Sedley walked back to the desk to pick up his glass, squinting at the scant amount left. “And I am not of a mind to cross her. Not at the moment, at least.”
Susanna closed her eyes. “Thank you.”
