“What happened?”
“The earl accosted me in the park this morning, insisting I was Emmeline, and when I informed him that he was wrong, he followed me to my place of employment. He shocked my employers with his outlandish accusations and then practically dragged me to Lord Poole’s house where, thank goodness, the earl finally realized his mistake. Unfortunately for me, this realization came a bit too late. Thanks to the earl’s overactive imagination and inebriated condition, I have been dismissed from my position as governess. Now I shall be forced to rely upon the begrudging charity of my family until I am able to secure another post.” Isabella’s troubled expression conveyed how distressed she truly was over the circumstances.
“You certainly don’t look like any governess I’ve ever met,” Jenkins blurted out. Up close, the fine porcelain skin and aristocratic features of Isabella’s lovely face were striking.
“Unfortunately, you are not the only one who holds that opinion, Mr. Jenkins,” Isabella admitted honestly. “In addition, my references are almost nonexistent. I am afraid this time it will be a very long search for a new post.”
There was no trace of complaining in her voice, merely acceptance of the reality of the situation. As Jenkins watched Isabella chew relentlessly on a tough piece of meat, an idea began to form in his mind.
“Perhaps I might be able to assist you in finding a position, miss,” Jenkins said in a tentative voice. “I happen to be acquainted with a family that is sorely in need of a governess. And I don’t believe they would be too concerned over your lack of references.”
Isabella’s eyes lit with interest. “Do you truly think I might be suitable for this post, Mr. Jenkins?”
“Yes, miss, I do.”
The way the valet scrupulously avoided Isabella’s eyes caused her to become suspicious. “This mysterious position wouldn’t have anything to do with the earl by chance, would it, Mr. Jenkins?”
“Well, miss,” the valet hedged, “it could be an excellent solution. After all, you just told me the earl was responsible for your dismissal. The very least he owes you is another position. And he does have two young children who are badly in need of discipline and care.”
“I can imagine,” Isabella whispered under her breath, wondering what kind of little monsters the earl’s children were. “I strongly doubt this would work, Mr. Jenkins. Besides, it is usually the lady of the house who engages the governess. I am sure that when the countess returns, she will not be interested in the bizarre justification for my employment in her household.”
Jenkins turned a puzzled grimace toward Isabella. “I can assure you that will not be a problem,” he stated with authority.
“Why not?”
“The countess is dead, miss.”
Isabella’s fork clattered noisily to her plate. Her eyes never left Jenkins’s earnest face as she swallowed hard, forcing the dry piece of meat she had been chewing on down her throat. “I would like a full explanation, Mr. Jenkins. From the beginning, if you please.”
Two hours later, Isabella found herself once again comfortably ensconced in the earl’s carriage, traveling at a brisk pace toward his estate in Warwickshire, not completely certain how she had allowed herself to be persuaded to make this journey. Jenkins’s portrayal of the numerous tragedies and misfortunes the earl had endured touched Isabella’s tender heart, and without taking the time to carefully consider her actions she had impulsively agreed to travel to Whatley Grange.
However, now that her common sense was reasserting itself, Isabella was having misgivings. Whatever had possessed her to agree to such an outlandish idea? Conjuring up the earl’s steely gray eyes in her mind caused Isabella to shudder. As she remembered her initial impression of the earl’s dangerous strength with utter clarity, Isabella’s doubts increased.
And his kiss. The feel of the earl’s lips and the force of his hard body had totally disarmed her. How could she possible consider placing herself in his household? Jenkins had already warned her there were not many female servants in the house, but she had been so caught up in the drama of coming to the earl’s aid and helping him raise his motherless children, she did not question the valet too closely. Now she wished she had.
The carriage stopped at a comfortable inn just as darkness approached, but there was no further opportunity for Isabella to speak privately with Jenkins. She was given a small but clean room for the night and slept fitfully.
By the following morning Isabella was still having serious doubts about proceeding to the earl’s home. While sharing a quiet breakfast with Jenkins, Isabella debated how best to voice her doubts. She opened her mouth to express her fears just as Jenkins noisily pushed back his chair.
“I’d best be seeing about the carriage, Miss Browning,” Jenkins stated, rising to his feet. “If the roads aren’t too muddy from all the rain, we should reach The Grange by midday.”
Isabella quickly shut her mouth and her stomach jumped in nervous anticipation. Swallowing hard, she watched the servant leave without saying a word. Chiding herself for her cowardly behavior, she deliberately focused her thoughts away from her forthcoming confrontation with the earl. He probably wouldn’t even offer her the position, she reasoned. And even if he did, she did not have to accept it. If she felt uncomfortable in his presence, she could merely proceed to her grandfather’s estate in York and stay there until she found a suitable position. Feeling a bit less, trapped, Isabella waited for Jenkins to return.
A shadow fell over the table, and Isabella glanced up quickly, expecting to see Jenkins. Instead, a tall, thin, fashionable dressed middle-aged matron was peering down at her with a quizzical expression on her pointed face.
“Pray, forgive my forwardness, but I saw you breakfasting with the earl’s valet . . .” The woman’s reedy voice trailed off, and she bent her lanky frame forward to obtain a closer look at Isabella’s lovely face. She brought a gold-rimmed quizzing glass up to her eye and rudely scrutinized Isabella through the glass. “Extraordinary,” the woman whispered in awe.
“Lady Edson.” Jenkins’s surprised cry suddenly filled the air. He approached the two women quickly, effectively interrupting before Lady Edson could say anything else to Isabella.
“Mr. Jenkins.” Isabella gazed at the valet with undisguised relief. “Are we ready to leave?”
Lady Edson ignored Isabella’s question completely and in a nasal voice commanded the valet, “Introduce us, Mr. Jenkins.”
The matron listened with undisguised curiosity as the valet reluctantly complied.
“Lady Edson, may I present Miss Isabella Browning,” Jenkins said in a formal voice. “Lord and Lady Edson are neighbors of the earl’s in Warwickshire.”
Isabella knew she should rise to her feet and make a proper curtsy to Lady Edson but the woman’s pretentious behavior irked her. Isabella instead acknowledged the introduction with a slight nod of her head and fixed an unfriendly stare on Lady Edson, hoping the older woman would see her displeasure and take the not-so-subtle hint to leave.
