Alexandra marched into Balfour House behind the footmen, her speech practiced and ready on her lips. Just inside the foyer, though, she slowed and stopped. Except for the butler and a housemaid, the hallway stood empty.
“Where is Lord Kilcairn?” she asked, even as she realized how ridiculous the question sounded. The lord of the manor did not appear to welcome every employee. Still, the earl had given a forceful impression that he took a personal interest in hiring her, and part of her was disappointed that he wasn’t there awaiting her arrival.
“Lord Kilcairn has gone out for the evening,” the butler said in the same toneless voice he’d used that morning. He gestured her toward the stairs, where the laden footmen had already reached the landing. “This way, Miss Gallant.”
“Are…” She realized she didn’t know the names of her charges, except that Kilcairn’s cousin was Rose. A governess couldn’t very well inquire after the household’s family by their familiar names—not without even having been introduced. And neither did she wish to begin her acquaintance with Kilcairn’s staff by admitting to complete ignorance.
“Is there something else, Miss Gallant?”
Alexandra cleared her throat. “No. Thank you.”
Scowling, she lifted Shakespeare and trailed the footmen and her trunk upstairs. The whole situation was so odd. Since she’d left Miss Grenville’s Academy, she’d been careful about the positions she took—pleasant households with well-behaved children or kind, elderly women in genuine need of a companion. Taking the post offered by Lady Welkins and her awful husband had been her first real mistake. Working for Lord Kilcairn might be another.
“This is your bedchamber, Miss Gallant,” the butler said from behind her. “Mrs. Delacroix has taken the green room in the corner, and Miss Delacroix is in the blue room adjoining yours. Lord Kilcairn’s quarters are at the other end of the hallway.”
The footmen emerged from her room and, bowing, returned downstairs. Alexandra nodded at her guide, grateful he’d supplied her with the names of her charges. “Thank you. Are Mrs. Delacroix and Miss Delacroix in this evening?”
“You are to be introduced to them in the morning, Miss Gallant. Dinner will be served in your bedchamber, and breakfast is set downstairs promptly at eight. I am Wimbole, should you require anything further.”
“Thank you, Wimbole.”
The butler gave a stiff nod and turned on his heel. Alexandra watched him disappear down the stairs, back into the bowels of the huge house. Squaring her shoulders, she entered her bedchamber.
“My goodness.”
The room was splendid. All of her previous postings had been in affluent households, but nothing she’d seen before could rival this. The bedchamber was larger than some sitting rooms she’d seen, and no doubt Lord Kilcairn’s private rooms were even larger.
Though Wimbole hadn’t named her quarters, she felt certain the butler had shown her into the gold room. No other name fit. The bed’s canopy drapings were gold, as was the heavy, elegant coverlet. The curtains hung green and gold in the three windows, while the two sitting chairs placed before the roaring fire were a darker bronze with gold thread running through the intricate, Oriental pattern.
Shakespeare sat on her foot to get her attention, and with a start Alexandra knelt to remove his leash. The terrier bounded off to wander every nook and cranny of his latest home, tail wagging at each newly discovered scent.
While her dog pranced about and growled happily to himself, Alexandra unfastened the trunk and began unpacking. Coming into a situation blind was not the way she worked. She hadneveraccepted a position without first meeting her charges. In the morning she fully intended to lay out her conditions for accepting employment in Kilcairn’s household. If he didn’t like any of them, or if she didn’t like the Delacroix ladies, she would…
Her hands slowed as she set out her toilette items. If she left this post, it would probably be another six months before she could find another household willing to hire her. Resolutely she went back to her task. That, she would worry about tomorrow.
Tomorrow arrived earlier than she expected. When Alexandra first opened her eyes into complete darkness, she couldn’t decide what had awakened her, much less where she was. Then Shakespearewumphed, and blinking sleepily, she remembered both.
Fumbling for the candle on the bed stand, she sat up. As dim golden light flickered in the room, Alexandra spied her dog by the door, looking from her to the exit and wagging his tail pitifully.
“Oh, goodness, Shakes,” she whispered, swinging her feet out from the warm bed and onto the cold floor. “I’m so sorry. Just a moment.”
She couldn’t recall where she’d put her slippers, if she’d even brought them. But her dressing robe lay across the foot of the bed, looking shabby against the magnificence of the quilted golden coverlet.
“Get your leash,” she instructed, shrugging into the robe.
The terrier dashed to the dressing-table chair, leaped onto it, and reared onto the table to pull the coiled leash down. That done, he dragged the braided leather line over to her.
She hooked the leash to his collar, picked up the candle, and hurried to the door. The bolt and the hinges were both thankfully silent. With Shakespeare tugging her forward, they stepped into the silent, moonlit hallway. “Shh,” she reminded him as she padded down the stairs in her bare feet.
As they reached the foyer, the grandfather clock standing there chimed. Alexandra glanced at it as they passed—fifteen minutes before three. The front door opened easily. A night breeze lifted the hem of her gown and robe, and she suppressed a shiver as cold air traveled up her bare legs. Leading the terrier around the side of the house to the small garden, she said, “Hurry, Shakes. It’s cold.”
“Trying to escape already?”
Alexandra whipped around, a shriek stuck in her throat. Lord Kilcairn stood at the border of the garden, looking at her. “My lord!”
If not for the candlelight, he would have been invisible, for he was clothed in black from his boots to his greatcoat to his beaver hat. The veriest edge of snow-white cravat glinted at her as he shifted. “Good evening, Miss Gallant. Or rather, good morning.”
“My apologies,” she said with a shiver, induced more by his imposing presence than by the cold. “I neglected to take Shakespeare outside before I retired for the evening.”
