The taut lines of the earl’s body conveyed to Isabella his mounting annoyance, and the icy look he flashed chilled her, yet she forced her features into a bland mask. She openly challenged him with her calm demeanor, deftly rebuffing his attempts at intimidation. She would show the earl she was no skittish miss.
“The children have already been bathed and put to bed, my lord,” Isabella began, deciding to begin the conversation on a more neutral topic before mentioning the pregnant housemaids, which was the reason she had sought the earl out. “Catherine and Ian were tired, but I am certain that if you go up to their room within the next half hour you will be able to say good night to them.”
“Fine,” Damien replied, surprised at her words. Bedtimes were a haphazard event at The Grange. More often than not, Catherine and Ian were awake well into the night before their father thought to chase them off to bed. “I will visit the children shortly.” Damien dropped his eyes to his book in a dismissing gesture, expecting Isabella to comply with his silent command.
“There are a few things I would like to discuss with you, my lord,” Isabella continued, deliberately ignoring his wordless dismissal.
“I feel compelled to caution you, Miss Browning,” the earl remarked in a neutral tone, not lifting his eyes from his book, “that I am tired and not in the most congenial mood. And I cannot abide chattering females.”
“Neither can I, my lord.”
Unwittingly, Damien’s firm mouth curved into a small smile. Miss Browning was very persistent and not easily intimidated. He shut his book with a resounding thud and placed it carelessly in his lap. He settled back in his chair, steepled his fingers under his chiseled jaw, and focused his full attention on the lovely governess seated across from him. “What specifically do you wish to discuss, Miss Browning?”
Isabella’s confidence wavered slightly under the earl’s steely gaze. His was such a dominating, forceful presence. She licked her lips nervously while frantically searching her mind for a diplomatic way to broach the subject of the maids. One could not simply blurt out an accusation.
“I would like to discuss the housemaids, my lord,” Isabella finally said quietly.
“Is there a problem?”
“Not exactly a problem, my lord,” Isabella hedged. She felt her face growing warm, but she boldly plunged forward. “It is just that the housemaids are all ... umm ... that is to say, they are ... um, well, all ... expecting.”
“Expecting? Expecting what, Miss Browning?”
“Babies, my lord. Babies. All four of the housemaids are with child!” Isabella was aghast at the earl’s lighthearted tone. She felt this was a very serious matter indeed, yet she could almost swear she saw a smile cross his handsome face.
“I was under the impression that most governesses liked children. Are you an exception?”
She looked at him levelly. “I like children very much, my lord.” Isabella stiffened her back and sat up straight in her chair. “Since I have been hired to care for your own children, I was wondering if I will also be responsible for these yet unborn babies.”
Isabella had the satisfaction of seeing the earl shocked into stunned silence as it took several moments for him to realize what her question implied. She could clearly see the precise moment when the meaning of her question registered in his mind.
Sending Isabella a piercing stare, the earl said harshly, “Maggie, Fran, Molly, and Penny are all married women, Miss Browning. Their husbands are employed in various capacities at The Grange. Each couple occupies a small suite of rooms in the servants’ quarters on the fourth floor.”
Isabella made a slight sound to clear her throat and her violet eyes flickered uneasily. Her cheeks blushed an even brighter shade of pink as she lowered her gaze to the carpet.
“I was unaware that the maids were married, my lord,” Isabella responded quietly. “However, that makes little difference.” Recalling vividly that the man who had married Isabella’s own mother was not in fact her natural father propelled her to ask a direct question. “Are they your children, my lord?”
The earl appeared so taken aback by her directness that he had difficulty formulating an intelligent response. “You actually believe I am the father of these children?”
“Someone informed me that you had fathered several children from your housemaids,” Isabella answered with a slight quaver in her voice. She forced her eyes from the rug and cast a long, doubtful look at the earl. “I do not know if you are responsible, my lord. That is why I have asked this question.”
The earl was instantly suspicious. “Who told you I have fathered these children? Certainly not the maids?”
“I did not question the maids about the father of their children, my lord,” Isabella said, bristling at the suggestion she would be so insensitive. “Lady Edson informed me before I arrived at The Grange that three of the housemaids were carrying your babies. At the time I dismissed her gossip as pure slander, but after discovering all four of the maids were in truth with child, I did not know what to believe.”
“Lady Edson is a meddlesome, gossiping fool!” the earl shouted, obviously struggling to master his temper. He shifted suddenly in his chair, and the book on his lap fell to the floor. He ignored it.
“I am not sure if I should be flattered or insulted, Miss Browning,” the earl finally declared, his temper tightly leashed. He shook his head ruefully. “Bedding four different women, all of them living under the same roof. Extraordinary.”
“It does seem rather incredible,” Isabella mused, beginning to wonder if she had made a very serious mistake. “Exhausting actually.”
The last she had whispered under her breath, but the earl heard her. And it struck him as absurdly funny. He should be angry with her, furious really, for first crediting and then repeating such an absurd tale. And then having the unmitigated gall to face him directly with her allegations. Yet he suddenly found the entire situation ironically humorous, though he had no clear idea why.
His shoulders shook a bit with amusement as he recalled the shock on her face at his reaction to her questions. Damien decided it was time to put things to right, but first he intended to put the fear of God into the very proper Miss Browning. A teasing glint of anticipation entered the earl’s smoky gray eyes.
Stretching his back languidly, he threw Isabella an assessing glance. “What if these accusations are true, Miss Browning?” Damien inquired smoothly. He leaned seductively toward her, a calculated, lecherous grin on his handsome face. “Will you now flee from my house in abject terror, my dear, frightened beyond your wits at the thought of being seduced by such an unscrupulous rake as myself?”
Isabella hardly dared to breathe as the earl moved closer to her. He was so near, she could feel his warm breath on her cheek, could smell his distinctively masculine scent. She clearly felt the underlying tension emanating from the earl’s solidly built body, and it made her decidedly uneasy.
