“I observe everything, Uncle Nate.” She met his gaze steadily. “She is not here to visit. She is here to find fault. And if she cannot find it, she will invent it.”
“She cannot simply fabricate accusations—” Serena began.
“Can she not?” Ella’s voice hardened. “She’s Lady Elspeth Crane. Her husband is a baronet, her family has connections in Parliament, and she has spent two years telling anyone who would listen that Uncle Nate is unfit to raise us. All she needs is a whisper of scandal, a hint of impropriety, and suddenly her accusations don’t seem so fabricated anymore.”
The silence that followed was heavy.
“Then we offer her nothing,” Nathaniel said firmly. “We are irreproachable. In every respect.”
“For a fortnight?” Ella sounded unconvinced. “She will be watching constantly. One misstep—one moment of—” She stopped, her eyes flicking between them.
“We shall manage,” Nathaniel said. “Together.”
Ella studied him, then nodded. “Together. But be careful. Both of you.”
She departed, leaving Serena and Nathaniel alone.
“She knows,” Serena said quietly.
“She suspects.” Nathaniel’s voice was equally quiet. “Ella is observant, but she does not know anything for certain. And even if she did, she is loyal; she would never betray us.”
“And if Lady Crane sees what Ella has seen?”
“Then we deny it. We deny everything, Serena. We are employer and employee, nothing more. Whatever personal regard I might have for you is entirely appropriate given your excellent work with the children. There is nothing improper, nothing untoward, nothing that could possibly suggest anything inappropriate.”
The words were necessary. They still stung.
“Of course, my lord,” Serena replied coolly. “My conduct shall be beyond reproach.”
Nathaniel flinched—just perceptibly.
“Thank you, Miss Collard,” he said. “Your discretion is appreciated.”
Chapter Nineteen
“You seem very comfortable here, Miss Collard.”
Serena looked up from the embroidery she had been pretending to work on—a useful prop that allowed her to sit quietly in the corner of the drawing room while Lady Crane conducted what could only be described as an interrogation of the household. The older woman had positioned herself in the best chair by the fire, her sharp eyes missing nothing as servants came and went, as the children fidgeted through their afternoon activities, as Nathaniel maintained a careful distance from everyone.
“I beg your pardon, my lady?”
“Comfortable.” Elspeth’s smile did not reach her eyes. “You have been here, what, a month? And yet you move through this house as though you belong here. As though you were… part of the family rather than an employee.”
The accusation was wrapped in silk, but it was an accusation nonetheless.
“I take my responsibilities seriously, my lady,” Serena said carefully. “The children require consistency and stability. I have endeavoured to provide that.”
“Indeed. And Lord Greystone? Does he also require... consistency and stability?”
Serena’s hands stilled on her embroidery. She could feel the trap closing around her, could sense the dangerous ground she was being led onto.
“I would not presume to speak to Lord Greystone’s needs, my lady. He is my employer.”
“Only that?” Lady Crane’s smile was all civility; her voice edged with something far less benign. “How curious. I have observed you together, Miss Collard. The attentiveness. The glances. It appears rather more—particular—than one ordinarily expects between an employer and his governess.”
Serena met her gaze steadily. “I cannot answer for your impressions, my lady. I can only assure you that my conduct toward Lord Greystone has been, and remains, entirely proper.”
“Indeed?” Lady Crane inclined her head, studying her as though from across a chessboard. “Then perhaps you might account for the servants' whispers about late-night visits to your chambers. Or for the fact that Lord Greystone seems unable to enter a room without first seeking you out.” Her eyes sharpened. “Or for the children’s habit of speaking of you as though you were already their—”
