Isabella raised her head tentatively, experiencing a vast sense of relief when she gazed into the familiar face of Hodgson, the coachman. His watery brown eyes were filled with concern.
“Is everything all right?” The older man repeated his question when Isabella did not readily answer.
“Everything is fine, Mr. Hodgson,” Isabella assured the coachman. “The children have had a minor disagreement, but all is well.”
Isabella relaxed her grip and relinquished her tight hold on Robert’s shirt collar. She favored him with a stern, pointed stare. “Isn’t there something you wish to say to Caroline?”
The boy’s lower lip jutted out rebelliously, but after a few moments of tense silence, he muttered a somewhat ungracious apology to his sniveling sister.
It was not precisely the kind of apology Isabella felt was proper, but she was not about to press the point. She gathered the three children close to her and spoke to the coachman.
“I believe it is time for us to return home, Mr. Hodgson.”
“Yes, Miss Browning.” The coachman tipped his hat politely and began climbing the embankment toward the gravel path where the carriage awaited them. The children and Isabella followed close behind.
“And just where do you think you are going, Emmeline?”
Isabella groaned out loud at the sound of the now-familiar voice. Oh Lord, not him again, she thought with genuine dismay. The ruckus with Robert and the girls had momentarily distracted her from the stranger’s disturbing presence. He had not, unfortunately, forgotten about her.
Isabella could feel him walking closely behind her, but she waited until they reached the carriage before addressing him.
“As I have explained to you before, sir, I am not Emmeline,” she stated in a voice dripping with icy formality. Dismissing the stranger with a curt nod of her head, she deliberately turned her back on him and ushered the children into the carriage. Their young faces were shining brightly with curiosity, but they wisely did not question their governess.
Damien knew he had upset her. He did not miss the dark flush of anger on her cheeks, or the sparkle of annoyance in her beautiful eyes. Emmeline has learned to control her temper much better these past few years, he noted wryly to himself. But angry or not, he was hardly going to allow Emmeline to simply walk away from him. The earl sprang into action the moment he saw her raise her foot to climb into the carriage. Moving swiftly, he blocked her entrance.
“You cannot possible think I will let you go so easily,” he said in a deliberately sarcastic tone.
He stood before her like a wall of granite. There was a challenging gleam in his steely gray eyes, a waiting look on the arrogant features of his handsome face. Isabella looked up at him and felt a cold fury sweep through her. She had been polite; she had been patient; she had been tolerant. Now she was furious.
“You have no choice but to let me go, sir,” she spat at him in a scathing tone, “since I am not, nor have I ever been called Emmeline. And furthermore, I strongly suggest you refrain from accosting innocent young women in broad daylight or you might find yourself arrested and locked up in Bedlam, which in my opinion is precisely where you belong!”
Damien felt a flicker of uncertainty. Was it possible he had made a mistake? He attempted to look more closely into the woman’s face, but she turned her head up to the driver. “Take us home at once, Hodgson,” she commanded.
Isabella put a firm hand on Damien’s sleeve and tried to push him out of her way. Her action startled the earl and in his confusion he unintentionally took a step back from the carriage. It was all the space Isabella needed. Seizing her opportunity, she jumped lithely into the carriage. Once inside she slammed the door loudly and determinedly pulled down the shade.
The earl turned a questioning eye to the older man who sat atop the box, holding the ribbons securely in his hand. “Are you in the lady’s employ?”
“The lady you are referring to is Miss Isabella Browning, my lord,” the servant answered readily. “Governess to the Braun family of Sparrow Court.” After responding to the earl’s s question, Hodgson flicked the reins and the coach moved forward.
Isabella felt a vast sense of relief when the coach finally pulled away, but the astonished expression on the handsome stranger’s face stayed with her on the short ride home. Try as she might, she could not shake the unsettling feeling this was not the last time she would see those steely gray eyes.
Chapter Three
The summons came before luncheon. Isabella glanced briefly at the potato soup, fenelle of fish, and fresh bread on her meal tray and sighed regretfully. Cook’s culinary skills were somewhat limited, and Isabella had learned the food was infinitely more palatable if eaten hot. She was certain that by the time her meeting with her employers was concluded, her meal would be ice cold and unappetizing.
Before leaving the room, Isabella paused a moment to check her appearance in the tiny cracked mirror hanging on the wall. Several strands of her rich chestnut hair had come loose and were curled charmingly around her face. She immediately brushed them back and readjusted her severe hairstyle.
Isabella studied the rigid face of the prim, straightlaced woman reflected in the glass, hardly believing she was looking at herself. Her life had taken a far different turn than she had ever imagined it would. She thought wistfully of the plans and dreams she had as a young girl, dreams of a loving husband and children of her own. Only by escaping to her fantasies had Isabella been able to survive the bitterness and hate her father directed toward her after her mother’s death.
Not her father, Isabella sharply reminded herself, her stepfather. Discovering eight years ago that Charles Browning was not her natural father had brought a ray of hope into her bleak world. On her seventeenth birthday, Charles Browning had told her the truth about her birth and then shipped her to her mother’s family in York. “I’ve done more than my share,” he said in a chilling voice. “Let your mother’s snotty family care for their daughter’s bastard.”
Charles Browning was hoping to wound Isabella with his revelations, but she did not react as he planned. She was happy to go. She firmly believed escaping from him was going to be the beginning of a new and wonderful life. At long last she would have her chance to be among a family who would love and cherish her.
But it was not to be. Though bearing little physical resemblance to her mother, Isabella nevertheless was a reminder of her mother’s disgrace, and her grandfather, the Earl of Barton, detested Isabella on sight. He chose to ignore her presence in his house and rarely spoke to her. Her two aunts, her mother’s older sisters, were married and occupied with their own families and expressed little interest in Isabella. Her grandfather’s sister, a formidable dowager who lived with the earl, was charged with supervising Isabella. The dowager, who was childless, resented Isabella and was not averse to showing her feelings.
Although the earl was a wealthy man, he was not generous with his granddaughter, and Isabella lived a miserly existence. In time she learned to swallow her disappointment and accepted the fact that she would never have a season in London. She hoped for an opportunity to be introduced into local. society, but after accompanying the dowager to a few minor social functions, Isabella realized there was no place in this elite circle for a young woman who was such an obvious embarrassment to her family.
When she reached the age of twenty, Isabella realized her dismal situation was not going to change unless she took drastic action. In a rash act, Isabella made an impassioned speech to her grandfather and great-aunt about assuming responsibility for her own destiny and announced she was leaving to take a position as a governess.
