Page 7 of It's a British Christmas

“Excuse me? I know precisely to whom I am speaking. Lord and Lady Bedford understood the importance of a happy childhood for their daughters. They allowed them freedom, the opportunity to be little children.” She raised her chin. “Despite what you think of me, I do know the importance of the station Lady Charlotte and Lady Clare were born into.

“Despite your obvious disdain for Americans, we do have manners, and treat all people with respect. Not just a chosen few who demand respect for no other reason than the circumstances of their birth.”

She took a deep breath, obviously attempting to gain control. Her voice softened. “I also understand they will need to be taught how to conduct themselves. And, perhaps with my limited knowledge of your world, Your Grace, I am indeed not the best person to continue with governess duties. But I will not allow you to malign their wonderful parents who loved their girls very much, and wanted the best for them.”

As if all the air in her let out, she collapsed into a chair in front of the fireplace, and touched the corner of her eyes with her knuckle.

Is she crying?

Penrose returned to his seat behind the desk, allowing Miss Chambers time to compose herself. After a minute or two, she rose and joined him. The tip of her nose was bright red, as were her cheeks. Tears clumped on her eyelashes. She looked barely older than her charges. “Please excuse my outburst.”

He raised his eyebrows. The last thing he expected from her was an apology. Deciding to be gracious, he bowed his head. “I fail to understand Lord and Lady Bedford’s reasoning, but I didn’t mean to distress you. If I did, then I also apologize.”

A slight smile tilted her lips. “You say that as though you seldom offer apologies.”

“I rarely find it necessary to do so.” He smiled back at her, annoyed that her smile lit up her countenance so, turning a pretty face into a beautiful one. Small lines at the edges of her eyes crinkled, making him wonder at her age. Obviously out of the school room for years, he couldn’t help but dwell on her lack of a husband.

Although he found her brash and outspoken, her beauty and feminine curves had definitely caught his attention. And that little bit of vulnerability when she cried over her employers had touched his heart. The heart he’d had under lock and key for years now, ever since Lady Eleanor had spurned his suit and chose Bedford as her husband.

He and Bedford had both danced attendance on the young debutante for the Season. She’d been named an Incomparable that year, and no one was more surprised than him when she decided on an earl instead of a duke. In retrospective, he often wondered how they would have gone on, had they married. Certainly her strange ideas on raising her daughters would have become a point of contention between them. But then, it would have been his decision in the end, anyway.

A knock at the door drew both their attentions.

A footman stood in the doorway. “Your Grace, Miss Sarah Jennings has arrived. Shall I send her in?”

Penrose glanced at Miss Chambers. “The new governess. I would prefer to speak with her alone, at first. If you would please leave us, and wait in the drawing room, I will summon you when needed.”

A bright smile lit up her face. “An apology and please all in the same morning. This must be a record for you, Your Grace.” She dipped into a slight curtsy and left the room just as the new governess entered.

CHAPTER 3

Penrose eyed the woman the footman ushered in. He nodded in approval. Here was someone, who by her presentation alone, would be much better for Lord Bedford’s daughters than the vixen who’d arrived with them.

Definitely of an age considered ‘on the shelf,’ Miss Jennings marched into the room, her spine as stiff as a board. Her high buttoned gown, severe knot, and no nonsense attitude reassured him of the agency’s choice. He couldn’t imagine for one minute this woman allowing her charges to stare at the floor in the presence of a duke.

“Your Grace,” she curtsied gracefully.

“Miss Jennings,” he nodded. “Please take a seat.”

Penrose picked up the paper in front of him and perused it. “You come with high recommendations.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

He leaned back, and cupped his chin with his thumb and index finger, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair. “Your charges are my wards, Lady Charlotte Spencer and Lady Clare Spencer. They are the daughters of Lord and Lady Bedford, who passed away recently. The girls are eight and six years of age.”

She nodded.

He pushed his chair back and stood.

“I’m afraid the young ladies have not been schooled in proper etiquette or demeanor thus far. I would say your arrival is most timely.” He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her. “The woman who has been their governess for the past five years is an American.”

Miss Jennings sniffed.

“My thoughts exactly. Lord Bedford was my close friend, but for a strange reason, he and Lady Bedford allowed their daughters to run amok, with Miss Chambers−their present governess−their leader.”

Miss Jennings tsked.

“I expect you to school the girls in feminine pursuits, preparing for their station in life, and eventual marriage to a peer. In my estimation, at the present time the girls are only prepared to marry a chimney sweep.”