“Yes, my lord.”
“You’ve met Ella.”
“I have had that pleasure.”
Something flickered in his expression at the wordpleasure—amusement, perhaps, or scepticism—but it was gone before Serena could be certain of it.
“Ella,” he said, turning his gaze upon his niece, “thank you for escorting Miss Collard. You may return to the nursery.”
“But I wanted to—”
“The nursery, Ella.”
The girl’s jaw tightened, and for a moment Serena thought she might protest. Whatever rebellion stirred in Ella’s breast,however, was swiftly suppressed. She offered a curtsy that was technically correct but emotionally frigid.
“Yes, Uncle Nate.”
She departed without another word, pulling the door closed behind her with slightly more force than was strictly necessary.
The silence that followed was not comfortable.
Lord Greystone gestured to a chair before his desk. “Please, sit. We have matters to discuss.”
Serena did so, arranging her skirts with the precision of long practice. She had learned that first meetings with employers were rather like auditions at the theatre: one must project competence, warmth, and an appropriate degree of deference, all while quietly assessing whether the household in question would prove worth the trouble.
“I have reviewed your references,” Lord Greystone said, settling into his own chair. He picked up a sheet of paper from the desk—her letter of recommendation from Lady Ashworth, Serena recognised—and studied it as though seeing it for the first time. “Lady Ashworth speaks highly of you. She says you are… let me find the exact phrase…” His eyes scanned the page. “‘Possessed of a rare combination of intelligence, patience, and practical good sense.’”
“Lady Ashworth is very kind.”
“Lady Ashworth is not kind at all,” Lord Greystone said flatly. “She is one of the most exacting women in England, andshe does not offer praise unless it has been thoroughly earned. If she says you are competent, then I am inclined to believe her.” He set the letter aside and fixed Serena with a look that seemed to discern rather more than she would have liked. “The question is whether competence will be enough.”
Serena’s spine stiffened almost imperceptibly. “I beg your pardon, my lord?”
“I have employed four governesses in the past two years, Miss Collard. Four.” He held up the corresponding number of fingers, as though she might require the demonstration. “The first lasted three months before declaring the children ‘impossible.’ The second managed six weeks before suffering what she described as a complete nervous collapse. The third—” He paused, and something dark crossed his features. “The third was asked to leave after certain… inappropriate behaviours came to light.”
Serena, who had heard sufficient gossip about governesses and their employers to fill several volumes of scandal, took care not to react.
“And the fourth?” she prompted.
“Miss Pearson.” Lord Greystone’s jaw tightened. “Miss Pearson only lasted twelve days. She left about two weeks ago, no reason provided. She simply... left. In the night. Without a word to anyone, including the children.”
Ah. That explained Ella’s defensiveness. Indeed, it explained a great deal.
“I see,” Serena said carefully.
“Do you?” He leaned forward slightly, his grey eyes intent. “Miss Collard, I shall be frank with you, for I have learned through bitter experience that euphemism serves no one. My nieces and nephew have endured a great deal in the past two years. They are not easy children. They are grieving, they are angry, and they have learned to trust no one who enters this house, because everyone who enters it eventually leaves.” He paused, and something that might have been pain flickered across his features before being ruthlessly suppressed. “I cannot promise that this will be a pleasant position. I can only promise that it is a necessary one, and that you will be compensated fairly for your troubles.”
Serena considered his words. They struck her as, perhaps, the most honest any employer had ever been with her.
“My lord,” she said slowly, “may I also be frank?”
His eyebrows rose slightly—not in offence, she thought, but in surprise. “By all means.”
“I have been a governess for four years. In that time, I have worked for families who treated me as invisible, families who treated me as a servant, and one memorable family who treated me as a potential wife for a male relation—which was flattering until I discovered that he was sixty-three years old and had already buried three wives under circumstances that were never adequately explained.”
The corner of Lord Greystone’s mouth twitched. “Good grief.”
“Indeed. My point, my lord, is that I have learned to manage difficult situations. I have learned that children who are labelled ‘impossible’ are almost always children who have not been properly understood. And I have learned—” She paused, selecting her words with care. “I have learned that a governess who expects to be liked is a governess destined for disappointment. I do not require the children to like me, my lord. I require only that they learn from me, and that they are cared for while they do so.”
