Silence settled between them. Lord Greystone studied her with an expression she could not quite decipher—assessment, certainly, but something else as well. Something that resembled hope, though it was carefully guarded.
“You speak as though you have given this considerable thought,” he said at last.
“I have had considerable time for reflection, my lord. Mail coaches offer few other diversions.”
That earned her something that was almost, but not quite, a smile. “Very well, Miss Collard. You are hired.”
“I believe I was already hired, my lord. That is why I am here.”
“Yes—but now you are hired with my full confidence, which is a different matter entirely.” He rose, and Serena rose with him, for that was what one did when a marquess stood. “Mrs McConnor will show you to your rooms and acquaint you with the household routine. Dinner is at seven. The children dine inthe nursery, but you are welcome to take your meals there as well, or in your rooms if you prefer solitude.”
“And yourself, my lord?”
He stilled, if only for a moment. “I take my meals in my study, Miss Collard. I find my appetite suffers less when I am not distracted by… conversation.”
There was something in the way he spoke the wordconversationthat made Serena suspect he meant something else entirely. Company, perhaps. Or connection. Or any of the things human beings were meant to require, yet which some found too painful to endure.
“Of course, my lord,” she said, and did not press the matter.
Lord Greystone crossed to the door and opened it, revealing a corridor just as grey and quiet as the rest of the house. “Mrs McConnor,” he called, and within moments an elderly woman appeared—sturdy and practical, with iron-grey hair drawn back severely and a face that suggested she had seen a great deal in her lifetime and had not been impressed by most of it.
“My lord?”
“This is Miss Collard, the new governess. Please show her to her rooms and introduce her to the children. All of them,” he added, with a slight emphasis that Serena did not yet understand.
“Yes, my lord.” Mrs McConnor turned to Serena with an expression that was not unfriendly, but certainly reserved. “If you will follow me, miss.”
Serena retrieved her travelling case and moved towards the door, but paused at the threshold. “My lord?”
Lord Greystone had already returned to his desk, his attention apparently absorbed by the papers before him. He looked up with the air of a man who had forgotten she was still present.
“Yes?”
“You mentioned several children. Miss Ella, and…?”
“Samuel and Rosie.” Something shifted in his expression as he spoke their names—something tender, something painful, swiftly concealed. “Samuel is eight. Rosie is five. You will find Samuel… quiet. He does not speak much these days. And Rosie—” He stopped, cleared his throat, and began again. “Rosie is very young. She does not always understand.”
Serena waited, but he did not continue.
“I shall look forward to meeting them,” she said, because it seemed the appropriate thing to say.
Lord Greystone inclined his head once and returned his attention to the papers before him.
Serena followed Mrs McConnor out of the study, the door closing behind her with a soft but decisive click.
***
The nursery wing, Mrs McConnor explained as they climbed the stairs, was located in the east section of the house. It had its own schoolroom, its own sitting room, and four bedrooms—one for each child and one for the governess.
“His lordship had the governess’s room redone last year,” Mrs McConnor said, her tone carefully neutral. “New curtains, new linens, a writing desk by the window. He wished it to be comfortable.”
“That was very thoughtful of him.”
Mrs McConnor’s lips pressed into a thin line that suggested she held opinions on his lordship’s thoughtfulness, but was not inclined to share them with a stranger. “The children’s rooms are adjacent to yours. You will hear them when they wake in the night.”
Serena noted the phrasing—whenthey wake, notif—but made no comment.
They reached the top of the stairs and turned into a corridor lined with more portraits, smaller and more intimate than those in the entrance hall. Children’s portraits, Serena realised. A dark-haired boy with a mischievous smile. A young woman in white, her expression serene. A family group, frozen in time: father, mother, and three small children arranged about them like precious ornaments.
