His new governess...

Is getting under his skin!

Infuriating, impertinent...just some of the words Colonel Hugh Glendenning could use to describe Miss Olivia Overton! She’s insisting he spend time with his orphaned wards—which has forced him to admit he’s been keeping the world at arm’s length since losing his wife and baby son. That’s not all that’s disturbing him. It’s the new temptation Olivia’s sparking in Hugh to enjoy life again—with her!

JULIA JUSTISS wrote her own ideas for Nancy Drew stories in her third-grade notebook, and has been writing ever since. After publishing poetry in college she turned to novels. Her Regency historical romances have won or been placed in contests by the Romance Writers of America, RT Book Reviews, National Readers’ Choice Awards and the Daphne du Maurier Award. She lives with her husband in Texas. For news and contests visit juliajustiss.com.

Also by Julia Justiss

Hadley’s Hellions miniseries

Forbidden Nights with the Viscount

Stolen Encounters with the Duchess

Convenient Proposal to the Lady

Secret Lessons with the Rake

Sisters of Scandal miniseries

A Most Unsuitable Match

The Earl’s Inconvenient Wife

The Cinderella Spinsters miniseries

The Awakening of Miss Henley

The Tempting of the Governess

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Tempting of the Governess

Julia Justiss

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90131-8

The Tempting of the Governess

© 2020 Janet Justiss

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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To my darlings Anna, Samantha and Bennett.

You prove every day what a delight little girls can be.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

‘I am very sorry, Miss Overton, but you have no more money.’

Numb with shock, Olivia Overton walked slowly back down the stairs from the solicitor’s office, his unexpected and horrifying news still echoing in her ears.

Reaching the pavement, she hesitated. The prospect of returning home to Upper Brook Street brought back all the unhappy memories of two weeks earlier, when she’d come in to discover her mama expired upon the drawing-room sofa.

Adding in the unpalatable fact that the home she’d occupied for more than twelve years now belonged to someone else and she knew she couldn’t bring herself to cross that threshold again just yet.

She’d go visit Sara Standish and reveal her drastically changed circumstances to her best friend, the one person in London who would understand her shock, pain and distress.

Thinking with gallows humour that she’d better enjoy the luxury of travelling by hackney before her few remaining funds ran out, she walked down the street and found a jarvey to convey her to Hanover Square.

A short time later, the butler escorted her to the Standish town house’s small back parlour. ‘I’ll send Miss Standish down immediately,’ he whispered, his cautious glance towards the grand front salon letting her know that Sara’s mother, who had long enjoyed being an invalid, must be reclining on her couch there, receiving friends conveying the latest ton gossip.

A ripple of anguish went through as she realised that the next likely topic of gossip would be her.

Have you heard? That Overton girl has lost all her money! A shame she’s so odd—and plain. No chance of her getting some gentleman to rescue her with an offer of marriage.

She took a deep, steadying breath. Ton gossip would soon be the least of her worries. Whatever she decided to do next, she would have very little time to figure it out—before her cousin Sir Roger and the new Lady Overton arrived in London to take possession of her house.

Too restless to take a seat, she paced back and forth in front of the mantel, halting when Sara appeared on the threshold. Taking one look at Olivia’s face, her quiet, gentle blonde friend came over and pulled her into a hug. ‘My poor dear! Have you been missing your mama badly today?’

For a moment, Olivia clung to Sara, to the person who seemed her last safe haven in a suddenly chaotic and threatening world. ‘No more than usual,’ she said, releasing her to take a seat beside her on the sofa. ‘Isn’t it strange how you can live with a person for years, finding them an indifferent companion, sometimes even an annoyance, and yet miss them quite dreadfully when they are gone?’

Sara cast a glance towards the front parlour. ‘I understand completely. And Mama isn’t even much involved in my life, having taken to her couch and delegated all responsibility for me to Aunt Patterson years ago. Whereas your mother actually dined with you and took you into society with her.’

Olivia laughed wryly. ‘A society I never appreciated and whose rules and expectations I could not wait to escape. Ah, how I longed to leave the Marriage Mart for good, to set out upon our independent lives and finally, finally be able to pursue what we feel is important.’

‘Praise heaven, we won’t have to wait much longer,’ Sara said with feeling. ‘The Season is nearly over. Soon, we’ll be able to move to our house on Judd Street and begin those new, independent lives! At least, when we do, your unfortunate loss means you won’t have to suffer any further tears or lamentations from your family about having made a choice that will “doom your matrimonial prospects and see you exiled from society for ever.”

Enthusiasm shining in her eyes, Sara continued, ‘Only imagine, no longer being dragged out on pointless afternoon calls or having to attend endlessly boring evening entertainments! We shall be able to devote all our time to supporting Ellie Lattimar’s school and working with Lady Lyndlington’s Ladies’ Committee. Think of all the letters we’ll be able to write, urging support of the reform legislation Lord Lyndlington and his party are pushing forward in Parliament! Issues so much more important than the cut of a bonnet or the style of a sleeve, the only pressing topics being discussed by the ladies at the Emersons’ ball last night. Ah, here’s our tea. Thank you, Jameson.’

‘Lady Patterson asked that I inform you that she will join you in a few moments,’ the butler said as he set down the tray.

Sara nodded, then rolled her eyes at Olivia as the butler walked out of the room. ‘If you have something important to say, better tell me before Aunt Doom and Gloom arrives.’

Olivia uttered a laugh that sounded a bit hysterical, even to her own ears. ‘I’m afraid I do. Something of rather major importance. I visited Mr Henson this morning to enquire about transferring funds for my part of the maintenance of our Judd Street house. Only to discover that... I have no money.’

Sara angled her head, her expression puzzled. ‘You have no money? I thought that, though the trustees retained the management of them, you could draw on your funds at will, once you reached one-and-twenty. Indeed, I thought you had been doing so these last two years.’

Olivia’s smile turned bitter. ‘So I had. Except now, it appears, the trustees have “managed” me right out of my inheritance. They invested both interest and capital in a canal project that has just gone bankrupt. All I have left in the world, apparently, is one hundred pounds in the London bank.’

For a moment, fury consumed her that, while she, as a single female, had not been considered competent to manage her own funds, the supposedly wiser and more experienced male trustees had been free to gamble her money on a risky project.

The solicitor might be apologetic.

She was destitute.

Sara’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in shock. ‘That’s...all? One hundred pounds?’

‘Between me and penury. And to make the situation even sweeter, Mr Henson said that Sir Roger, who now owns the Upper Brook Street house, wants to take possession—immediately.’

‘Oh, Olivia,’ Sara whispered, taking her hand and squeezing it. ‘I’m so sorry. What are you going to do?’

‘That’s what I must figure out. All I know for certain—and I am sorry, too, Sara—is that I will not be able to join you in the Judd Street venture.’

Sara sat silently a moment, her expression growing more and more appalled as the implications of Olivia’s changed circumstances registered. ‘No, of course you can no longer contribute. But perhaps all is not lost. Perhaps I could—’

‘No, Sara, we discussed this. The expense of maintaining a separate establishment wouldn’t be possible without an equal contribution from both of us. And even if you could manage the finances without me, I couldn’t let you do that.’

‘Hmmph,’ said the stout dowager, entering the room. ‘You’d do better if you both abandoned that foolish idea and got yourself husbands, like sensible females! As for you, missy,’ she said, turning her gimlet stare upon Olivia, ‘I heard you recently turned down Lord Everston. Silly girl! Don’t you realise how rich he is?’

‘There should be more to life than having a rich husband whose money you can spend,’ Sara objected.

‘You’re going to give me some drivel about mutual respect and intellectual companionship?’ Lady Patterson said. ‘I guarantee you, a handsome income and a steady supply of fashionable gowns and bonnets is far more lasting.’

‘Lord Everston is pushing fifty and only wanted a wife to watch over his household and seven children,’ Olivia retorted. ‘Preferably a plain, older spinster who would be grateful enough for his proposal that she’d overlook his gambling and his mistresses.’

‘As long as the settlements guarantee the wife a good income, she’d probably be happy to leave intimate matters to his mistresses,’ Lady Patterson said.

‘That may do for some, Aunt,’ Sara said in her soft, placating voice. ‘But not for us.’

‘The more fool, you,’ Lady Patterson retorted.

‘I should probably leave you...and go do some hard thinking,’ Olivia said with a sigh.

Sara pressed her hand again. ‘If there is anything I can do...’

Her brows creasing, Lady Patterson looked from Sara to Olivia. ‘What is going on, if I may ask?’

Much as Olivia hated to confess her private tragedy to anyone but Sara, Lady Patterson had been kind to her, and in truth, a much more careful chaperone than her own mother. Nor was she a tale-teller. And in any event, gossips would get hold of the news soon enough anyway. After all her efforts on Olivia’s behalf, Lady Patterson might be offended if she learned of it second-hand, rather than from Olivia herself.

‘To reduce it to the bare essentials, Lady Patterson, Mr Henson informed me today that I am penniless, my inheritance lost by my trustees in a risky investment. He’d known about the bankruptcy for several weeks, but wanted to give me some time to recover from the sudden loss of my mother before he told me. However, as my cousin, Sir Roger, who now owns the Upper Brook Street house, wants to move in with his new bride immediately, I must decide in short order what to do.’

Lady Patterson stared at Olivia thoughtfully for some minutes, then nodded. ‘Then I will waste no words telling you what a tragedy that is or how sorry I am, both of which are obvious. If you want my opinion, I think you should approach Lord Everston. I’m sure he’d renew his offer. Granted, marrying him isn’t the solution you would have wished, but it will guarantee you a handsome income and a respectable position for the rest of your life. Perhaps even an enviable one, since Everston will almost certainly predecease you.’

‘So after avoiding a marriage of convenience these last five years, I should now marry a man I neither like nor respect, hoping he will stick his spoon in the wall soon enough that I will have time left to do what I want with my life? That’s assuming, since I no longer possess even a modest dowry to bring to the union, he would be willing to settle a “handsome sum” on me.’

‘Your solicitor would insist on it and Everston would agree,’ Lady Patterson replied. ‘He’s well enough off, even with all those offspring to fund and he’s Everston. Since he insists on wedding a gently born lady of good family, he doesn’t have many choices.’

‘That’s true,’ Sara observed. ‘Practically every female he considers worthy of bearing his name has already refused him.’

‘At least you’d have a home and money of your own,’ Lady Patterson argued. ‘With your inheritance gone, you’ll have to abandon that Judd Street scheme anyway. Marrying Everston is better than going begging to Sir Roger, leaving you always dependent on his charity. Or canvassing your distant relatives for a home, sinking you to that worst of lowly situations: an indigent, unmarried female, shuttled from household to household to care for sick children or querulous elders.’

‘Couldn’t she stay with us?’ Sara said, looking to her aunt.

‘Please, don’t even ask, Sara,’ Olivia said before Lady Patterson could answer, tears pricking her eyes. ‘You are a darling to want me, but...but I don’t want to become your dependent, any more than I wish to rely on Sir Roger or some other relative.’

‘Then it must be Lord Everston,’ Lady Patterson said. Her voice softening, she continued, ‘I understand you have your pride, dear, and I respect you for it. But you have few alternatives.’

‘If the choice is between tending snivelling brats or drooling centenarians,’ Olivia said, thinking rapidly, ‘I’ll take the brats. And if tending them is to be my lot, I’d rather make use of my elevated education and become a governess. Oh, I know, I’d only earn a pittance—but the money would be mine. Not available for trustees to lose or a husband to spend on his fancy women. And I wouldn’t have to become intimate with Everston to earn it.’

‘Please, don’t do anything hasty!’ Sara said. ‘Couldn’t you reconcile it with your conscience to stay with us, just until Emma and Lord Theo return from Italy? I’m sure, among the three of us, we could work something out. Become a governess in some out-of-the-way manor in the back of beyond and you may be lost to us for ever.’

‘It’s always possible I could find a position here in London.’

‘In London—where you would inevitably run into the friends of your employers, all of them well aware of your humiliating loss of status?’ Lady Patterson said.

Olivia sighed. ‘Not London, then.’ Having her acquaintances looking down on her with scorn and pity would be intolerable.

Her mind whirling, Olivia felt driven to halt the dizzying, out-of-control spin of her life by making a decision here and now.

It wasn’t as if her options would change upon longer reflection.

A lady’s only other alternative was to become some genteel female’s companion. Not being much given to taking orders, it would probably be preferable to earn her pittance as a governess, where she would be giving them.

So, it appeared, a governess she would be.

She’d always longed to be independent, in charge of her own destiny, not forced to depend upon a father or brother or husband. Well, this ironic twist of fate had certainly granted that wish, she thought blackly. Just not at all in the way she’d envisaged.

‘A position as a governess in an out-of-the-way manor might be preferable,’ she said, pulling herself from those reflections to confirm her decision. ‘Lady Patterson, do you know of an agency to which I could apply for such a position? And would you be kind enough to write me a character?’

Lady Patterson sat quietly for a moment. ‘I suppose there isn’t time for me to enquire among my friends and relations to discover someone in need of a governess.’

‘Lady Overton could show up on the doorstep of Upper Brook Street tomorrow.’

‘Surely you could stay with us long enough for my aunt to find you a position with someone she knows,’ Sara pleaded. ‘Somewhere we’d be assured you would be treated with kindness and respect.’

Though touched by her friend’s concern, Olivia said, ‘Sara, I know you mean well. But can you even imagine how it would be? Everyone in society would know. I wouldn’t be invited anywhere. I’d have no funds to borrow books or even for the paper and ink we use to write letters for the Ladies’ Committee. I’d have to hide myself here just...existing. Suspended in some awful void between the life I’ve always known and the reality of my life now. I... I don’t think I could bear it. Since the break must happen, I’d rather it be swift and clean.’

Her eyes filling with tears, Sara nodded. ‘I suppose I can understand. I just...hate to lose you.’

Unable to respond without giving in to tears of her own, Olivia pulled her friend close for a hug. For a long moment, they clung together.

Pushing away the friend who, for the first time in their lives, was unable to help her solve a dilemma seemed to symbolically echo today’s events in her life.

‘Well, I’d best go and pack up my things. Lady Patterson, if you would be so kind as to give me the name of that agency?’

Even Sara’s gruff aunt had tears in her eyes. ‘I’m afraid I’ve forgotten. Let me go to my sitting room and ask my maid, and I’ll send you a note. I am sorry, my dear.’ After rising to give Olivia a quick, most unusual hug, the older woman walked out.

‘Promise me one thing,’ Sara insisted as she escorted Olivia to the door. ‘Don’t accept a contract for more than six months. You know the three of us—you, me and Emma—have always been able to solve whatever problem has arisen in our lives. I don’t expect that will change just because Emma married Lord Theo. Promise me, when they return from their Grand Tour, you will come back to London and let us all re-examine your situation, together.’

Olivia knew that, unless some unknown benefactor had left her funds of which not even the family solicitor was aware, nothing about her circumstances would change in six months. Nor would she be any more able to accept charity from Emma than she could from Sara. But her friend looked so distraught, silent tears slipping down her cheeks, that Olivia didn’t have the heart to refuse her.

‘Very well. I’ll not sign a contract for employment that lasts longer than six months and I promise to return to London and speak with all of you when Emma and Lord Theo come back from Italy.’

In the hallway, the two clung to each other, Olivia fighting back tears once more after being informed by the butler that Lady Patterson had ordered the family carriage to bear her home.

Perhaps her last journey as a well-born member of society.

‘Don’t you dare leave London without saying goodbye!’ Sara said, giving her one last hug.

‘I will let you know my situation as soon as everything is arranged,’ Olivia promised. Then, as the butler held open the door for her, she walked out of her past and grimly set her face towards the future.

Chapter Two

Meanwhile, as the afternoon light faded in Somerset, Colonel Hugh Glendenning, late of his Majesty’s Second Imperial Foot, sat down at his desk in the shabby library of Somers Abbey, his family’s ancient home. His back ached from a long day of riding the tenant farms, occasionally dismounting to help some elderly householder with the pollarding of the willow trees that would enable him to cure the branches and weave them into the baskets that produced most of the estate’s revenue.

The Abbey was still far from recovered from the shambles it had been when he inherited it from his wastrel elder brother, he thought, with a pained glance at the faded curtains and the threadbare carpet on the floor. But a year and a half of determined toil had at least built back up the estate’s traditional trade in baskets and, if the apple crop were good this year, the additional income from selling cider might finally tip his finances, long tottering between solvency and disaster, firmly on to the positive side.

He was stretching out his back and thinking that a quick whisky before dinner might be just the trick when a knock came at the door, followed by the entrance of the elderly butler.

‘Sorry to disturb you, Colonel, but a Mr and Mrs Allen are here, demanding to see you.’

‘Mr and Mrs Allen?’ Hugh repeated. After a rapid review of his memory, he shook his head. ‘I don’t believe I’m acquainted with a Mr Allen.’ Hoping the man wasn’t another of the numerous unpaid creditors his brother had left behind, he said, ‘Did they indicate what they wanted to see me about, Mansfield?’

The butler shook his head. ‘Only that they’d just arrived from St Kitts in the Caribbean and must see you at once on a delicate matter of grave importance.’

Hugh sighed. ‘If they are from St Kitts, it must have something to do with my late cousin’s estate. I thought his solicitor had already informed me of everything I needed to know, but I suppose I shall have to see them.’

‘Very well, Colonel.’

Resisting the urge to jump up and help Mansfield when the old man struggled to close the slightly warped oak door, Hugh remained seated. He’d thought the butler already old when he was a boy growing up here, thirty years ago, he thought wryly. Mansfield should have long ago been put out to pasture, but Hugh’s brother had been too indolent to find a replacement and, for now, Hugh couldn’t spare the cash for the retirement the man’s lifetime of service deserved.

Maybe next year.

Maybe next year, he’d get that door planed down and rehung—yet another project on the never-ending list of repairs and renovations needed at Somers Abbey.

A few minutes later, the butler ushered in a lady and a tall, thin, sunburned man—trailed by two solemn-faced little girls. ‘Mr and Mrs Allen, Colonel—and children.’

Hugh hastily looked away from the girls as agony lanced through him. He fought to suppress the vivid, devastating memory of a round, gamine face, the sound of childish laughter...and the sight of dusty earth raining down as a small coffin was lowered into the hard-baked Indian soil.

A surge of anger followed the pain. Why hadn’t Mansfield warned him the couple had children with them? He’d have instructed him to send the youngsters off to the kitchen before he escorted the parents up.

Struggling to remain cordial, he rose and made them a bow. ‘Colonel Glendenning, Mr and Mrs Allen. You come from St Kitts, my butler tells me? I hope you had a pleasant journey.’

‘Tolerably pleasant, given its long duration,’ Allen said. ‘We’re anxious to complete it, though, and be back home again in Yorkshire.’

‘You are not residents in St Kitts, then? And, please, do have a seat,’ he said, waving them towards the sofa in front of the hearth. ‘Mansfield, bring us tea and ask Mrs Wallace to come up.’ Turning back to his guests, he said, ‘My housekeeper can take the children to the kitchen for some refreshment.’

‘That would be most kind,’ Mr Allen said, ushering his wife to the sofa, the children coming to stand stiffly behind them. ‘To answer your question, I’ve been the export agent for a trading venture on St Kitts these last several years, but my wife has been pining for home, so I resigned my position. We will join our family as soon as we discharge our obligation to the children.’

‘I see. So, how may I be of service?’ Hugh asked, still puzzled about why the Allens had come to see him. ‘I assume you were acquainted with my late cousin, Robert Glendenning. Did he ask you to bring something to me?’

Mr Allen laughed. ‘In a manner of speaking. Although it was, as you know, his wife who did the sending. I was given to understand that you were expecting the children.’

For a moment, stark horror froze his tongue as the import of Allen’s words sank in. ‘The ch-children?’ he stuttered. Although he was terribly afraid he already knew the answer, he asked, ‘What children?’

‘Just the older ones, Mr Glendenning’s two daughters by his first wife. The second Mrs Glendenning wished, of course, to keep their son and heir with her. In any event, I believe you were only named guardian for the girls, Mrs Glendenning having convinced her husband to appoint her brother in that role for their son.’

Turning back to the children standing behind him, Allen said, ‘Girls, make your curtsies to your guardian. Colonel, may I present to you Miss Elizabeth Glendenning, the elder, and Miss Sophie Glendenning, the younger.’

No, this couldn’t be happening.

Refusing to look at the children as they dutifully made their curtsies, Hugh stared at Mr Allen. ‘My cousin’s solicitor informed me that Robert had named me guardian for the girls. As their closest remaining relative, I felt obligated to accept the task and was prepared to oversee the management of their inheritance until they came of age or married—in St Kitts. There was never any mention of the children being brought to England.’

While Mrs Allen drew in a sharp breath, Mr Allen looked at Hugh, his expression incredulous. ‘You...were not expecting them?’

‘Certainly not!’ Hugh said. ‘And had I been consulted, I would never have authorised them to leave St Kitts. Why would they wish to? That has been their home all their lives.’

‘Oh, dear,’ Mr Allen said, looking alarmed. ‘I’m very sorry! We were given to understand that all had been arranged in advance. This is most distressing!’

‘Indeed,’ Hugh replied with feeling. ‘I suppose there is no possibility of you returning the girls to St Kitts?’

‘None at all,’ Mr Allen confirmed. ‘As I mentioned, we are removing to Yorkshire permanently, and have no plans to return to the islands.’

‘Perhaps they could go with you to Yorkshire,’ Hugh said, searching about for any solution that did not require him taking over their care. ‘As I recall, my cousin left ample funds for their maintenance and upbringing. Surely they would be more comfortable in a land so foreign to them if they lived with people who know and care about them, rather than with a total stranger. A childless widower to boot.’

Although once he had been neither...

The Allens exchanged uncomfortable glances. ‘The Misses Glendenning hardly know us better than they do you, Colonel. We only met them the day the ship sailed from St Kitts.’

Though he was nearly seething with fury and distaste, Hugh hadn’t been a soldier for fifteen years without learning how to take responsibility for duties shirked by another—or recognising when a position was untenable. ‘I suppose they shall have to stay, then.’

Looking visibly relieved, Mr Allen nodded. ‘I’m sure that will be for the best.’

The butler arrived with their tea. For the next ten minutes, Hugh nodded as Mr Allen made desultory conversation. He sipped at his own tepid liquid, wishing it was his prized Scotch, all the while thinking furiously.

There was no way he could undertake the care of two little girls. After all that had happened, the idea was simply unendurable.

The housekeeper would have to look out for them until he could hire a suitable governess. With any luck, he’d be able to avoid seeing them more than once or twice a month—until they were grown and gone.

Even better, after more reflection upon the matter, he might come up with some appropriately placed female to whom he could send the children for their upbringing. After all, governess or not, the care of two small girls should be overseen by a woman, shouldn’t it?

Speaking of females, the Allens were finishing their tea and making departing noises—and his housekeeper still hadn’t arrived.

Very well, he could stand being alone with them for a few moments. Fortunately, they were a mannerly pair, for they had stood stock-still and silent ever since Allen introduced them.

All too soon, putting down his empty cup, Mr Allen said, ‘We are much obliged for the refreshments and hospitality—especially after the shock of springing the children upon you with no advance notice! I can’t imagine what happened to the correspondence from Mrs Glendenning arranging their travel.’

‘Nor can I,’ Hugh said drily. Though he had a pretty good idea what had happened to the ‘missing’ letters. His cousin’s second wife obviously had no interest in caring for the children of her predecessor; sending them unannounced precluded the refusal he would have returned, had his permission been sought.

Despite his rage at having this charge foisted on him, he felt an inadvertent pang of sympathy for the two girls. They’d lost their own mother upon the younger child’s birth and now, so soon after the death of their father, they’d been exiled from the only home they’d ever known.

He’d have to scour his London papers tonight and find an agency to provide him a governess with all possible speed.

By now, his guests had risen, obligating him to rise as well.

‘We’ll be going now, girls,’ Mrs Allen said, kneeling to embrace the two in turn. ‘You must be as good for your new guardian as you’ve been for us.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ the two said in unison, while the older added, ‘Thank you for watching over us on the journey, Mrs Allen.’

Walking with the Allens to the door—very conscious of the two pairs of small eyes following his movements—Hugh said, ‘I wish you a safe homecoming.’

‘Very kind of you, Colonel,’ Mr Allen said. ‘We’ll be that glad to see our little stone cottage again, won’t we, my dear?’

So, with a handshake and a murmured goodbye from the wife, the Allens departed.

Hugh lingered in the doorway, but there still was no sign of an approaching housekeeper. If the damned woman didn’t show up in the next few minutes, he was going to have to escort the girls down to the kitchen himself.

Taking a deep breath, Hugh turned around, the wave of anguish that washed through him as he forced himself to look at the girls less sharp than the first time, when he’d been taken unawares. Every step a painful duty, he paced towards the children, who were still standing silently by the sofa.

Halfway there, it suddenly occurred to him that he should approach more slowly and put a smile on his face. A man as large as he was probably would look frightening, wearing the frown that usually furrowed his brow.

As disturbed as he was about this unwanted burden, the two little girls must be even more upset. Tired and hungry, probably still grieving for their Papa, feeling lost and possibly terrified at having been plucked from everything that was familiar, ferried across an ocean and deposited like an unwanted parcel on the doorstep of someone they’d never met.

He knew a little something about feeling tired, lost and grieving.

Halting before them, he knelt, bringing his face almost down to the level of theirs. Despite his attempt to make his movements as unthreatening as possible, the younger girl shrank back against her sister.

‘Elizabeth and Sophie, isn’t it?’ he asked. ‘Your papa used to come here and play with me when we were boys. I know it must look very different from home, but I hope to make you comfortable here.’

Until I can make alternative arrangements—the sooner, the better.

Adding another curse on the head of the still-absent housekeeper, he continued, ‘Shall we go to the kitchen and get you something to eat? Then Mrs Wallace, my housekeeper, will take you up to the nursery and get you settled. It hasn’t been used since my brother and I were boys, so you will have to help her make it presentable again.’

For a moment, the two simply stared at him—two pairs of large, bright blue eyes in frightened faces. Then the elder said, ‘You don’t want us either, do you?’

In a flash, he remembered how honest children were, spitting out exactly what they thought with no subterfuge. Accurate as that statement was, he didn’t mean to make the situation worse by confirming it.

‘Well, it wasn’t—ideal, sending you here unannounced, with no time for us to prepare for you, was it? But we shall all muddle through.’

‘She didn’t want us either. Madame Julienne, Papa’s new wife. She was nice to us before baby Richard came. But after...’ The child took a shuddering breath. ‘She wouldn’t even let us see Papa after he got so sick.’

His cousin had died of some tropical fever, Hugh vaguely remembered. ‘Probably because she didn’t want you to get sick, too.’

‘Papa told us you were his best cousin. That you were a brave soldier in In-dee-yah. When Madame Julienne sent us away, she said you would w-want us.’ Tears welled up in Elizabeth’s eyes and little Sophie was already soundlessly weeping.

Hugh knew he ought to embrace the girls—if they’d let him. Reassure them. But as much as he felt for their pain and loss, he couldn’t quite force himself to touch them.

So, trying to summon soothing words, he said, ‘You mustn’t be afraid. I was a soldier, just like your papa told you, so I know all about protecting. You’ll be safe here and we will look after you.’

He hadn’t done such a wonderful job of protecting his own child, he thought, another wave of anger rolling through him. But this was England, not a hot, exotic land full of poisonous plants, reptiles and dangerous diseases that could snuff out a child’s life between sunset and midnight. Though he’d sworn he’d never take responsibility for a child again, surely he could tolerate watching over them until he could turn them over to a suitable female.

At last, Mrs Wallace’s tall, austere figure appeared at the door. After rapping, she walked over to peer down at where he still knelt beside the children—whom she swept with a disapproving glance.

‘Mansfield said you wanted me, Colonel?’

Rising, Hugh bit back a sharp reply. No point taking his aggravation out on the housekeeper, even though he knew Mansfield would have already told her about the Allens and what had transpired in the library. Hugh had no doubt she knew full well what he wanted.

‘Mrs Wallace, may I present Elizabeth and Sophie Glendenning, my late cousin’s daughters. They are to be staying with us at Somers Abbey for a time. They’ve had a long journey and, I’m sure, could do with some bread and soup before they go up to bed. Take them to the kitchen, please, and see to them.’

The housekeeper’s gaze swept from the huddled children back to Hugh. ‘I don’t deal with children, Colonel.’

The last of his patience unravelling, Hugh snapped, ‘Well, you’re going to have to, at least until I can hire a governess. See them fed and settled in, at once!’

‘Very well.’ Glowering, the housekeeper curtsied to him. ‘Come along, children.’

Though Hugh didn’t much like turning the girls over to a cold stick like Mrs Wallace, his skeleton-staffed bachelor household didn’t offer many alternatives.

He’d write to a hiring agency at once. Fortunately, Robert had left ample funds for his children’s care, so Hugh could demand their most superior candidate and pay extra to have her travel by private coach, so she might arrive at Somers Abbey with all possible speed.

It was the best he could do, under the circumstances. Stalking back to his desk, he flung himself into the chair, noting grimly that his hands were trembling. Doubtless from the shock of having a raw wound ripped open. Drawing in a shaky breath, he took out the bottle of Scotch and poured himself a full glass.

Chapter Three

Slightly more than a week later, as the evening shadows blurred the view from her coach window, Olivia craned her neck to catch a glimpse of her new employer’s residence. ‘Somers Abbey’, she’d read on the note of introduction the agency had given her—and the pile of grey stone she could just perceive in the hazy distance certainly looked the part of a medieval manor wrenched from the grip of a religious community by a greedy monarch.

She had to shiver, just looking at it. Not a very welcoming appearance. Perhaps the two orphaned girls she had been sent to care for found it a place of wonders, with priest’s holes to hide in and long, rambling corridors to run through.

She’d never been around children much. Stirring uneasily, she hoped they would get along.

As the carriage drew to a halt, she tried to subdue the nervous foreboding in the pit of her belly. She was no shrinking young miss, but a well-educated, intelligent, competent young woman who had managed her mother’s household for years. She could handle a nursery and two little girls.

Besides, she had insisted the employment contract run for only six months. She could bear anything for six months. Although she would then return to London, as she’d promised Sara again when they exchanged their final tearful goodbyes, she didn’t expect anything would happen to change her circumstances. She would still be on her own, forced to find a new position to earn her bread.

And earning about as much as, in her former life, she would have spent on a ball gown without thinking twice about it.

But reflecting on that would do no more good than giving in to her distress over leaving her home and the last close friend she had in the world. There was no possibility of going back; she could only move forward.

The hired carriage halted before the entrance. Marshalling all her resolve, she descended from the vehicle.

Her knock was answered by an elderly butler, whose livery looked as shabby as the worn carpet in the entry hall. ‘Miss Overton, I presume?’

‘Yes. Would you announce me to the Colonel? I should like to present my credentials before he takes me to meet the children.’

‘This way, Miss Overton. I’ll have your trunk conveyed to your room.’

Wondering where she would be received—probably in an office or study, not in the parlour reserved for guests, certainly—she followed the man down the hallway and into what looked to be an older section of the house, all stone walls and dark wood panelling.

He stopped before an ancient, solid oak door. After struggling to open it, he intoned, ‘Miss Overton, Colonel.’

Ruthlessly quelling her nervousness, Olivia walked in to meet her new employer, who rose as she entered.

Encouraged by that gesture of respect—as he was receiving a mere employee, not a lady of the ton, he might well have retained his seat—she looked up at him squarely.

Tall and ash blond, with a rigidly upright bearing that proclaimed his military background, the Colonel cut an impressive figure—and was much younger than she’d expected. Having learned her employer had served his military career in India, she assumed he’d returned to England to retire. Though weariness lined his sunburned face, the man before her was in his middle thirties, at most.

Belatedly realising that she had been staring, Olivia pulled herself together. ‘Good evening, Colonel,’ she said, dropping him a curtsy.

‘Miss Overton,’ he acknowledged her with an incline of his head. ‘Won’t you take a seat? That will be all, Mansfield.’

Initially taken aback, she squelched the reaction, reminding herself she had been ushered into this man’s presence merely to have her credentials examined and be given whatever instruction he deemed necessary prior to taking up her work. She shouldn’t expect to be entertained or offered refreshment.

Yet the stark contrast with the warm hospitality she’d been offered upon her arrival at every other stately house she’d ever visited brought her close to tears.

You will accustom yourself. You must. And you’re not going to turn weak and faint-hearted at the very first hurdle.

Willing herself to calm, she walked over and handed him the documents the hiring agency had made up for her, then took the chair he indicated in front of his desk. ‘These should confirm what the agency already informed you about my background.’

Scanning the papers, he nodded. ‘Yes, I see that you were well educated at a private ladies’ academy. You are capable of teaching English, literature, mathematics, geography, French, Italian, music and proper deportment? I see also that you have excellent references from several titled ladies.’

Who were once my mentors and friends.

‘Yes.’

He nodded. ‘That sounds suitable, though I can’t claim to know anything about what young ladies should be taught. How much did the agency tell you about your charges’ circumstances?’

‘Just their ages, the fact that they had recently been orphaned and that their new guardian, a military gentleman who served in India, had requested a superior candidate be sent to Somers Abbey with utmost dispatch.’

The Colonel sighed. ‘The reality is slightly more complicated. About six months ago, my cousin, who owns—owned—an estate at St Kitts in the Caribbean, wrote asking that I act as guardian to his daughters. My cousin being a young man, I had no expectation of actually having to take up that charge. Even after learning of his unexpected death, I assumed I would be required to do nothing more than manage their inheritance. Instead, with neither my knowledge nor my consent, my cousin’s second wife sent the girls to England. They arrived here unannounced about a week ago.’

Olivia stared. ‘You had no idea they were coming?’

‘None, else I would have made other arrangements. I fear, in its present condition, Somers Abbey could hardly be less suitable as a home to shelter and raise two little girls. The estate I inherited from my elder brother had been...neglected, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed. In the eighteen months since returning from India, I have been doing everything I can to restore it to proper condition, which requires long hours of work and has forced economies that required me to reduce the staff to a bare minimum. I have neither wife nor mother to undertake their guidance and my household staff includes exactly four females—the cook, the housekeeper, a tweeny and one maid-of-all-work.’

‘Which explains your haste to hire a governess,’ Olivia said.

After giving her a sharp look—perhaps he didn’t expect a mere employee to interrupt his explanation with a comment?—he continued, ‘Unfortunately, I have no close female kin to whom I could send the girls, which is why they are still at Somers Abbey. I am in the process of making further enquiries, in hopes of finding them a more suitable situation. I tell you all this so you may understand that, although you were hired for a six-month period, it’s quite possible the term of your employment will be much shorter. After agreeing to journey here in such haste, you will, of course, be compensated for the full six months, whether or not whoever takes over the supervision of the children decides to retain you as their governess.’

She might be free—before the end of six months. Free to return to London with the whole of her pittance in her pocket!

Where, of course, she would simply have to secure a new position.

‘So I am to do my best for them until some genteel lady agrees to supervise their care. I suppose I shall also work with the maid or nurse who accompanied them from the Caribbean.’

‘They were not sent with a maid or nurse.’

Surprised, she said, ‘Who cared for them during their long journey?’

‘A couple returning to England—whom they had not previously met before the journey began.’

Olivia angled her head at him, frowning. ‘They travelled all alone across the ocean without a single companion they knew? Those poor little mites! They must have been terrified! Surely they had a nurse at home. Why was she not sent—?’

As the Colonel raised his eyebrows, Olivia realised that, once again, she was questioning her employer as an equal, rather than merely listening, as befitted an employee. With difficulty, she pressed her lips together and went silent.

‘A good question to which I doubt there is a charitable answer,’ he said drily. ‘You are...rather outspoken, are you not? The governesses I encountered in India all seemed to be meek, retiring creatures who barely had a word to say for themselves.’

‘I’m afraid I’m not at all retiring, Colonel. I ran my mother’s household until...until her recent demise and am quite used to being in charge.’

A glimmer of a smile flickered on his lips and lit his eyes before his expression turned sombre again. Unexpected—and unexpectedly engaging—that tiny spark of warmth raised her flagging spirits, like a candle illumining a dark room.

Even solemn, with a thin, care-worn face, she had to allow the Colonel was attractive. An aura of command surrounded him, subtly proclaiming this was a man used to making decisions, acting upon them and expecting others to obey. He had none of the charm or charisma of her friend Emma’s handsome husband, Lord Theo, but his air of competence and absolute dependability was unexpectedly appealing.

And she had no business finding her new employer attractive or appealing. While she was reminding herself of this fact, he said, ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

Her throat gone suddenly tight, she merely nodded. His comment was too sharp of a reminder of just how much she had lost—not only her mother, but her home, position, friends and the future she’d always expected would be hers.

He stood, signifying the interview was over. ‘I shall appreciate any help you can give in making the children feel more at ease during their stay at Somers Abbey. Mansfield will take you to meet Mrs Wallace, the housekeeper, who will see that you have dinner and show you to your room.’

‘Are you not going to take me to meet the children?’

‘Mrs Wallace will do so, if they are still awake after you’ve dined.’

Finding that odd, Olivia said, ‘Are they not brought down to visit you in the evenings, after you return from working on the estate?’

‘No. I often don’t return until well after dark. Mrs Wallace believes children do better if they are kept on a regular, dependable schedule. As I am almost a total stranger to them, there really is no need for them to see me.’

‘But you said you were their last remaining relative...’

The quelling look the Colonel gave her had her words trailing off. Though there was a good deal more she’d like to know on the subject, she stifled the questions. She’d meet her charges, coax out their feelings on the matter, then decide whether or not to bring it up again with their guardian.

She might now be an employee, but she was never going to be meek or retiring.

The Colonel was a military man, used to the company of rough soldiers and adventuresome officers. Like many men, he was probably not accustomed to dealing with children, especially young and female ones.

However, as she knew only too painfully, coping with the loss of your entire world was frightening and devastating—and she was an adult. Being the sole remaining relative of two small girls who had recently lost theirs, he should be making a greater effort to help them adjust.

A few minutes later, Mansfield arrived to conduct her to her room.

It appeared the main part of the manor was medieval, to which several additions had been added. She followed the old man around a maze of twisting corridors and up a flight of stairs, down a draughty hallway to what looked like a wing of bedchambers. At least she was to be given a proper room, rather than a garret in the attics.

The room itself was large but spartan, containing only a bed, a single dresser with a washbowl on it, and a wardrobe. Perhaps it was the approaching shadows playing over the few pieces of furniture in a room that had obviously once contained many more that gave it such a bleak air, but it was also dusty, she noted in disapproval. Since the household obviously knew of her arrival, that didn’t give her a very high opinion of the housekeeper.

A knock at the door was followed by the entrance of a kitchen maid bearing a tray, which she set on the single side table beside the bed. She was followed by a tall, thin, dark-haired woman in a lace cap with a chain of keys hanging about her neck. ‘Your supper, Miss Overton,’ the woman said, giving her a slight curtsy, to which Olivia responded in kind. ‘I am Mrs Wallace, the housekeeper.’

As if the keys worn on a chain hanging about her neck didn’t identify her quite clearly, Olivia thought. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Wallace. Will I also meet my new charges this evening?’

‘No, the Misses Glendenning have already retired. Their nursery is further down this corridor. Mary, here, will show you to it after she brings up your breakfast in the morning. Goodnight, Miss Overton.’

That was it? No welcome, no ‘let me know if you need anything’? Olivia swallowed hard. Yet another reminder that she was no longer a guest to be accommodated, but simply another employee.

‘Goodnight, Mrs Wallace, Mary.’ She smiled at the maid who, apparently startled by her notice, smiled back—before she caught the sharp eye of the housekeeper fixed on her, dropped a quick curtsy and scurried out.

Lighting a candle—fortunately, the derelict house seemed to at least provide candles—against the gathering gloom, Olivia shivered as she sat on the bed. The stone walls seemed as chilly as her greeting.

She hoped the poor children’s room was more inviting. In any event, this house needed a large infusion of light and cheer, and beginning tomorrow, she was going to provide it—regardless of what her distant employer and his stiff-necked housekeeper might want.

She could use some cheer herself. As the weariness of long travel loosened the tight grip with which she’d been containing all the devastation of loss, grief and fear for the future bottled up within her, she felt tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. Alone, with no one to witness her breakdown, she wrapped her arms around her pillow and wept.

Some time in the night, as she huddled in her bed, counterpane pulled up over her head for warmth, Olivia woke with a start, conscious of a sense of alarm. What had roused her from a deep, exhausted sleep?

Pulling the covering from over her head, she heard it again—a soft, distant, mournful noise that sounded almost like—weeping.

The hairs rose on the back of her neck. Did this near-empty house contain—ghosts?

Given its gloom, she wouldn’t be surprised if the manor’s halls were trod late at night by wraiths of the unfortunate monks who’d been murdered during its seizure. However, as she told herself stoutly that supernatural spirits were only a myth, the sound continued.

Might it be coming...from the nursery?

After lighting a candle and throwing on her thick dressing gown, Olivia walked out of her chamber into the hallway, where the sound grew louder. She followed its increasing volume down the hallway, to halt before a closed door, which must be the nursery. Because she was certain what she heard was the sound of a small child crying.

After rapping on the door, she walked into the night-dark room, where the wavering light from her candle fell over two small girls. The larger one had her arms wrapped around a smaller one, who was weeping piteously.

At her entrance, the sobbing stopped abruptly and both children froze. Then the older girl released her sister and jumped from the bed to stand protectively in front of her. ‘It was me crying! Don’t beat Sophie!’

Taken aback, Olivia said, ‘Beat her? Why on earth would I beat her?’

‘Because she woke you up. Mrs Wallace says we are never to disturb anyone at night, because she doesn’t have enough servants to take care of this big house and they need their sleep. Most ’specially, we are not to disturb the master.’

‘And she has you beaten if you do wake someone up?’

‘Yes. But Sophie is so cold, she can’t help crying.’ Her own lip quivering, the girl added with an almost desperate defiance, ‘We’re both s-so cold.’

‘Don’t be afraid. I have no intention of striking you,’ Olivia said, walking nearer. Frowning, she inspected the large room, which contained only two small beds side by side, a dresser, and a wardrobe, with a large open area that must serve as a schoolroom. Much like hers, it, too, was more sparsely furnished than its size warranted.

‘I’m Miss Overton, your new governess,’ she continued as she reached the girls. ‘You must be—Elizabeth...’ she motioned to the bigger girl ‘...and Sophie?’

The standing sister curtsied. ‘Yes, ma’am. We’re sorry we woke you up. So...you aren’t going to beat us?’

‘Certainly not.’ Her frown deepening, Olivia fingered the thin cotton blanket on the bed. It might be June, with full summer nearly upon them, but the stone abbey walls held in the chill like an ice cellar. The girls, too, wore only thin cotton nightgowns.

‘Goodness, no wonder you are frozen. Come here, both of you!’

Untying her robe, she sat on the bed. Pulling the girls into her arms, she settled one on each side of her and wrapped the thick garment around all of them.

It didn’t quite meet in the middle, but the girls were small enough that she was able to almost completely cover them as they clung to her, their need for warmth obviously stronger than their fear of being so close to a stranger.

‘Haven’t you told Mrs Wallace that you are cold at night?’

‘Oh, yes, ma’am,’ Elizabeth said. ‘The very first night, when Sophie woke up crying. But she said we were in England now and we would have to get used to it.’

‘Used to it? You grew up on an island where it is warm all the time, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Snuggling closer, the little girl said, ‘It was always sunny, too! It’s so dark here and it rains so much.’

‘I’ve never been to your homeland, but I’ve read that it’s beautiful. Full of exotic birds and trees and beautiful flowers. After we get you warmed up, you must go back to sleep. Then tomorrow, when we get acquainted, you must tell me all about it. Now, let’s see if I can find you more blankets.’

Shrugging off her robe to leave it around them, she padded to the chest, shivering in her thin linen night rail. She looked through all the drawers, which contained only an array of lightweight, cotton clothing. She went then to the wardrobe, but it stood empty.

She had no idea where the household linens might be kept and certainly didn’t intend to rummage about the dark to try to find them. Still—she couldn’t leave the girls with nothing but that worn excuse of a blanket to cover them.

Walking back to the bed, she pulled her robe from around the girls and donned it before urging them to their feet and enfolding them against her again. ‘You shall just have to spend the rest of the night in my chamber. We’ll find you adequate blankets tomorrow, when I can talk with Mrs Wallace.’

Sighing, the younger girl pressed closer. But Elizabeth piped up, ‘Mrs Wallace won’t like that. She says everything must be in its proper place. We aren’t allowed to move things, or touch things, or go into any of the other rooms besides the nursery.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll deal with Mrs Wallace.’

If the housekeeper were such a fanatic about order, she’d do a better job of dusting, Olivia thought. Being short-staffed was no excuse for slovenliness.

She ushered the girls down the hall and into her room, then helped them climb up on the big bed. Moving them to the middle, where she could be reasonably sure they wouldn’t roll off in the night, she settled the thick counterpane around them and hopped into bed herself.

She smiled as she noted that Elizabeth had arranged herself protectively on the far side of her sister, giving Sophie the warmer place next to Olivia. What a brave little champion she was.

‘Go to sleep now, girls,’ she said, blowing out the candle.

‘Thank you, Miss Overton,’ Elizabeth whispered into the dark.

‘You are very welcome, sweetheart. Sleep well.’

As soon as she settled herself on the pillow, the four-year-old Sophie snuggled close to her warmth.

As she tried to recapture sleep, the unfamiliar presence of two little girls at her back, Olivia thought that perhaps she had been meant to come to Somers Abbey. She was no longer in a position to write to Members of Parliament about the great political and social causes of the day. But reduced as her circumstances had become, she could still help two small beings who were even more lost and alone than she was.

A wave of compassion displaced, for a moment, her simmering anger. After this incident, she was even less impressed with the housekeeper who ran Somers Abbey—and its deliberately distant master.

Both were going to get a piece of her mind in the morning.

Chapter Four

Despite her assurance that Elizabeth did not need to concern herself with the housekeeper, the little girl woke Olivia well before daylight. ‘Miss Overton, we must go back to our room. Before Mrs Wallace comes up and finds out we came here.’

The poor child was obviously afraid of the housekeeper—and small wonder, if she were threatened with a beating for any small infraction of the woman’s rules. After lighting a candle, Olivia turned to reassure her.

But the worry etched on the child’s face made it quite clear she didn’t trust the new governess to protect her, despite the fact that Olivia had rescued them last night. Her lack of confidence in the person appointed to look out for her was not surprising, considering that the adult who should have cared for the children had instead sent them across an ocean to live with a stranger.

A stranger who then consigned them into the charge of a woman who beat small children and was unconcerned that they were cold and lost, Olivia thought, her anger against both the housekeeper and her employer reviving.

Not wishing to increase their anxiety by keeping them in her room, she said, ‘Very well, I’ll take you back to the nursery. But I’m bringing the counterpane with us, so you may stay warm until I can obtain suitable clothing and bedding.’

Elizabeth’s eyes went wider. ‘But Mrs Wallace will see your blanket! She will know right away it isn’t ours.’

‘I’ll tell her I came to check on you in the night and found the nursery too cold for you to sleep in with just a cotton blanket. Since I didn’t know where more blankets were kept, I brought you mine. And please believe me, I am quite capable of dealing with any objections Mrs Wallace might raise. So, ready? Let’s get you back down the hallway before your toes freeze!’

After hurrying the little girls back to the nursery and draping the counterpane over their two beds, Olivia brought the candle over to the dresser and once again inspected its contents. Though the cotton undergarments and dresses were all of excellent quality, they had obviously been intended for wearing in a tropical climate. She didn’t discover anything made of wool or even linen. ‘We shall have to get you heavier clothing, too, at least until the weather is sufficiently warm.’

‘Does it ever get warm in England?’ Elizabeth asked.

Compared to what she knew of weather in the tropics, the child had a point. ‘Probably never as warm as you were accustomed to at home, but we do have pretty, sunny summer days sometimes. Now, wrap up tight! I’ll get dressed and be back before Mrs Wallace arrives.’

Sophie gave her sister an anxious look, but both obediently huddled down in their beds. Girding herself for the confrontation to come, Olivia paced back to her chamber, threw on her garments and returned to the nursery.

Just as dawn was lighting the sky, Olivia heard the maid’s footfalls in the hallway. Stepping into the corridor, she said, ‘Good morning, Mary. Bring my breakfast tray in here, won’t you? I will eat with the girls.’

‘If you please, miss,’ the maid said. Her eyes widened as she entered, no doubt noting the forbidden counterpane draped across the beds. ‘I’ll bring the girls’ tray up in a trice.’

‘Thank you. And would you tell Mrs Wallace I would like to speak with her at her earliest convenience?’

Mary’s gaze travelled from Olivia to the counterpane covering the girls’ beds and back. Setting down Olivia’s tray, she gave her a nervous smile. ‘Yes, miss. I can take that coverlet back to your room on my way.’

Olivia returned the smile. ‘That’s kind of you, but it shall remain here until the children are provided with adequate blankets of their own.’

The maid stared. ‘Are you sure about that, miss?’

Evidently it wasn’t just her two charges who feared the housekeeper. ‘Quite sure. Indeed, that is what I wish to speak with Mrs Wallace about.’

The maid hesitated, as if she meant to say something, then shook her head. ‘As you wish, miss.’

After the maid walked out, Elizabeth whispered, ‘Mrs Wallace is not going to be happy with you.’

‘Probably not. But that’s all right, because I am not happy with her, either.’

Olivia was able to finish her coffee, toast and cheese and assist the girls to dress before she heard the housekeeper’s light step in the hallway. No doubt Mrs Wallace had deliberately delayed responding to her summons, intent upon putting the new employee in her place.

However, a governess occupied a unique position within a noble household. Being gently born, she was not part of the staff below stairs or under the housekeeper’s authority. A fact Olivia suspected she was about to have to prove.

Which was fine with her. After the way the children had been treated, and the slovenly condition of her chamber, she was quite prepared for a confrontation.

Mrs Wallace walked into the nursery, spied the coverlet over the beds and frowned. ‘Miss Overton, what is the counterpane from your bedchamber doing here?’

‘The girls were cold when I came in to check on them this morning. Not knowing where the linens are kept, I brought in my own coverlet to keep them warm until I could have you bring them thicker blankets.’

Anger flaring in the woman’s eyes, she turned her gaze accusingly on the girls. With a whimper, Sophie cowered behind her sister.

Looking back at Olivia, she said, ‘As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Miss Overton, the household is living in...reduced straits. The children are newcomers to England, and will soon become adjusted to our climate. I have no household funds to spare for such frivolities as extra blankets.’

Though Elizabeth remained protectively in front of her sister, she looked nearly as scared as Sophie. The fear on their faces raised Olivia’s simmering anger several more degrees.

One of us is going to yield and it won’t be me, she thought. But no point terrifying the children by having them witness what promises to be an unpleasant exchange.

‘Perhaps you will accompany me to my chamber so we may discuss this further.’

Mrs Wallace opened her lips, obviously intending to refuse. Olivia fixed on her the hard, unwavering stare that had, in the past, reduced impudent housemaids and a few insolent footmen to silence. ‘Very well,’ she said at last. ‘I wouldn’t wish to embarrass you in front of the children.’

‘Nor I, you. Shall we?’

As soon as they reached Olivia’s room, Mrs Wallace said, ‘Let me put some things straight right away. The household, and all household supplies, are my responsibility and I won’t have you interfering in my realm. Besides, it’s ridiculous, indulging a pair of orphans like that.’

‘The welfare of girls is my realm, and I shall “interfere” wherever necessary to ensure it. I’m not demanding you provide them satin quilts and eiderdown pillows. Just thick woollen blankets of sufficient warmth to make comfortable two small children brought up in the tropics and unused to English weather.’

‘Cotton blankets are what have always been used in the nursery.’

‘Well, now it shall be using woollen ones.’

Pausing, the housekeeper scanned Olivia up and down, her gaze scornful. ‘I understand you grew up in a fine house before your...change in circumstances. You should realise at a glance, having seen something of Somers Abbey, that I don’t have a fraction of the funds or servants necessary to properly maintain a dwelling of this size. We all have to make do.’

‘I should think there are enough servants to make sure that the few rooms that are occupied—like this one—are in clean and orderly condition.’

Mrs Wallace gave her a thin smile. ‘At Somers Abbey, servants clean their own rooms.’

Olivia gritted her teeth against the sharp reply she wanted to make. If the woman thought she could cow or embarrass her over her loss of status, she was in for a disappointment. ‘If you will supply me with the requisite supplies, I shall bring this chamber up to the standard I expect. I shall still need woollen blankets for the girls, of course. Or must I take up that matter with the Colonel?’

‘I would certainly not disturb him over such a trifling matter,’ she retorted—and then stopped abruptly. Her smile broadening, the housekeeper continued, ‘If you think the matter important enough, by all means discuss it with him. Good day, Miss Overton.’

‘It certainly is important enough for me to “disturb” him,’ Olivia snapped furiously as she strode past the housekeeper and down the passageway. Hoping she wouldn’t get lost in the maze of hallways, she retraced her steps to the front hallway and found the door leading down to the kitchens.

‘Mansfield!’ she called as she walked into the servants’ hall. ‘Where are you? You must convey me to the master at once!’

Eight years of running an aristocratic household must have rung in her voice, for when the butler popped out of the pantry, he didn’t offer even a token protest. ‘This way, Miss Overton.’

Carefully, Hugh walked over to his desk and lowered himself in the chair, his mouth as dry as road dust. A quick sideways glance towards the nearly empty whisky bottle on the desk set off the hammer-on-anvil throbbing in his head again. His stomach roiling, he sank his head into his hands.

He hadn’t intended to drink that much whisky last night—or to spend the night on the sofa in his library. But then, in the early evening after he’d returned to the manor, Mansfield had pleaded with him to come up to the west bedchamber wing and inspect the outermost room, where he feared a leak had begun around the chimney. Reaching that room meant that Hugh was forced to walk right past the nursery.

He’d tried to shut his ears, but he’d heard it anyway—the soft murmur of a childish voice emanating from within the schoolroom. The timbre of the voice, the remembered blue, blue eyes of his cousin’s girls, brought the vision back with searing clarity.

Drew, chattering to his ayah in the nursery of the cantonment house...jumping up with a shout and coming to the doorway for a hug as Hugh looked in on him before leaving for duty.

Though he’d immediately fought to suppress the memories, the flashback had beat against the doors behind which he bottled up all his still-unresolved guilt and grief. Memories made even harder to suppress after he met with the girls’ new governess—the managing Miss Overton, who was not at all meek and mild. Who had not hesitated to interrupt or question him.

He’d initially been amused by her admission of her controlling nature, before its implications registered. For the last week, he’d done a fair job of avoiding his wards, even at times forgetting they occupied the schoolroom. He had a feeling that Miss Overton was going to question him every time she thought there was a problem with her charges.

Hell and damnation, that was why he’d hired a governess—to assume oversight of the girls so he would have to deal with them as little as possible. If Miss Overton expected to continually plague him with her opinions or question him over the girls’ treatment, he would have to disabuse her of that notion as soon as possible.

A knock at the door reverberated through his head, eliciting another wave of pain. Pressing his fingers against his aching temples, he looked up as Mansfield entered.

‘What is it?’

‘Miss Overton to see you, Colonel.’

For once, Hugh didn’t appreciate being right. He felt wretched enough this morning without having to deal with a managing female. ‘Tell her to come back later. And ask Cook to send up some strong coffee.’

To his infinite irritation, the blasted woman walked in anyway, dropping a curtsy that was long on graceful form and very short on deference. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Colonel, but the matter can’t wait. I need to see you now.’

‘You’ve been here less than twenty-four hours. What could be so important that it cannot wait until later?’

She drew in a deep breath, as if preparing to speak—and then hesitated. Wrinkling her nose, she scanned the room, her gaze coming to rest on the whisky bottle. She frowned.

Doubtless the room reeked of spirits. Apparently she disapproved of drinking, too.

‘Are you sober enough to understand what I’m saying, Colonel?’

He stared at her in disbelief. Had a man uttered such a remark, Hugh would have struck him.

Meanwhile, his eyes widening in alarm, Mansfield hastened to the door. ‘I’ll bring your coffee shortly, Colonel,’ he called out before disappearing.

Refraining with difficulty from delivering the sharp reprimand that sprang to mind, Hugh said stiffly, ‘I am quite capable of comprehension, Miss Overton. You do realise you are addressing your employer?’

‘I realise I am addressing the guardian of two small girls who, since he chose to accept that responsibility, ought to concern himself with their well-being.’

You should have been more concerned with his well-being!

The echo of that long-ago accusation lanced through him, sparking irritation into anger.

‘And just what is it that you think I’m neglecting?’ he asked hotly.

‘As for that, I shall have more to say later. But for the moment, the issue is blankets.’

That seemed so trifling, Hugh wasn’t quite sure he’d heard her correctly. ‘Blankets?’ he repeated.

‘Yes. The girls have only thin cotton blankets. Obviously, being from a much warmer climate, they are cold at night.’

‘Good—’ Hugh swallowed the curse and tried to rein in his anger. ‘You barged into my library at the crack of dawn to complain about blankets? Do I look like a housemaid? Take that up with Mrs Wallace.’

‘I already have. She was decidedly unhelpful. The girls need woollen blankets—and warmer clothing, too. Doubtless they will acclimate to English weather in due time, but a week is hardly sufficient. Surely the household has woollen blankets somewhere that could be given to them. You must tell Mrs Wallace to place some in the nursery, or, if there truly aren’t any in the house, authorise their purchase.’

How dared she accuse him of negligence over a matter of housekeeping? Incensed, he said, ‘You are outspoken indeed, Miss Overton. Take care that you don’t speak yourself right out of your position.’

Her cheeks flushed at that. But, fire sparking in her eyes, she retorted, ‘If you mean that as a threat, I’m not worried. Should you discharge me, I can find someone else who will pay me a pittance to watch their children.’

‘Not unless I write you a character,’ he shot back.

‘At least I have character!’ she cried, her voice growing strident. ‘I’m not so neglectful of the welfare of two poor little girls put into my care that I would condemn them to being cold and miserable!’

How could you be so neglectful...

‘Enough!’ Hugh shouted, head pounding as his own voice rose to block out the memory of that devastating accusation. ‘Get. Out.’

And when she hesitated, looking as if she meant to speak further, he roared, ‘Get out now!’

Her face rosy, looking as angry as he felt, Miss Overton picked up her skirts and swept from the room.

Chapter Five

Late that afternoon, Olivia settled her two tired charges back in the nursery to rest before dinner. She’d just gone to her own room to tidy up when Mansfield knocked at her door and informed her that the Colonel wished to see her at once.

Sighing, Olivia nodded. ‘Inform him that I shall be down directly.’

Most likely, after their acrimonious exchange this morning, her irate employer intended to formally discharge her. When, as furiously angry as she could ever remember being, she’d stalked from Colonel Glendenning’s library that morning, she’d been single-mindedly focused on providing for the children the warm blankets and clothing the caretakers of Somers Abbey were unprepared to furnish. Once that task was performed, she had resolved to resign—if the Colonel didn’t discharge her first.

But over the course of the day, her anger had cooled and her compassion kindled. Who would look after brave little Elizabeth and silent Sophie, who had yet to speak a word to her, if she left Somers Abbey?

Knowing how they were situated, she couldn’t just walk away—not until the Colonel found some kind female relation to take over their care—someone who showed a willingness to actually care for them.

So, as little stomach as she had for the idea, she was going to have to apologise to the Colonel. In terms humble and contrite enough to persuade him to keep her on.

She would have to be—how had he described the governesses in India?—meek and retiring.

If she kept before her the vision of the fear in little Sophie’s face when Mrs Wallace had looked at her accusingly this morning, maybe she wouldn’t gag on the words.

Her face washed and her hair and gown straightened, Olivia took a deep breath and took herself to the library.

Looking stern and contained, but much better than he had in the early morning light, when he’d been unshaven, bleary-eyed and obviously the worse for a night of hard drinking, the Colonel nodded to her as she entered. ‘Take a chair, please, Miss Overton.’

He wanted her to sit? Perhaps he intended to berate her at length before dismissing her. Wanting to head him off, Olivia said, ‘I’d rather stand, sir, if you don’t mind.’

Quirking his lip, the Colonel shook his head. ‘Are you always contrary?’

Belatedly realising she’d once again failed to be an obedient servant, Olivia said hastily, ‘Sorry, sir. I don’t mean to be.’

‘I don’t suppose you do. However, I’d like to inform you—’

‘Please, Colonel, if I might speak first?’ Without waiting for permission, she rushed on. ‘I... I must apologise for my conduct this morning. It was not my place to criticise the way you are discharging the responsibilities you generously agreed to shoulder in the raising of your cousin’s children, especially when you are already burdened with the heavy task of restoring your own estate, and have no wife or sister to assist you with their care. I let my...distress over their situation lead me into being much too impetuous and outspoken. I hope you will forgive me and let me begin again anew.’ Not at all sure she could make good on the promise, she made herself add, ‘It will not happen again.’

For a moment he stared at her unsmilingly. ‘Are you sure?’

Innate honesty warred with her determination to remain the girls’ protector. ‘I shall do my utmost to prevent it,’ she said at last.

She thought she saw the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. But surely she was mistaken, for he said, ‘I understand you were...impetuous and outspoken with my head groom this morning. Commandeering a vehicle? Taking the girls with you to Bristol?’

She swallowed hard. ‘Yes, sir. Since...since you referred me to Mrs Wallace to obtain necessities for the girls, necessities she had already refused to provide, I felt compelled to go to the city and buy them myself. As the day was warm and fair and the girls have seldom been allowed to leave the nursery, I decided to take them with me. After all, how can they come to love their homeland if all they know of it is a rainy field seen from the nursery window? And you had not given any orders that the children and I were specifically forbidden to venture away from Somers Abbey.’

‘No, I had not expressly forbidden it, Miss Overton. But I am not in the habit of having those in my care taken away without my knowledge. Nor did you think to take a groom along to protect them, should anything have happened on the road.’

‘I... I know the house is short-staffed, sir. I didn’t want to pull any of the other servants from their tasks. I can manage a team quite competently, the road is well travelled and, in broad daylight, I didn’t expect to encounter any malcontent who couldn’t, if necessary, be discouraged by the use of my driving whip.’

‘Deciding and managing once again, Miss Overton?’

Her cheeks heating, her eyes flew up to meet his gaze. It was for their good! she wanted to insist. But rather than voice the protest hovering on her lips, she made herself lower her eyes and say, in the most penitent tones she could manage, ‘Yes, I suppose I was. I’m sorry, sir.’

‘And you promise not to do that again, either?’

Eating humble pie was harder than she’d imagined. Keeping the image of Sophie’s face firmly in mind, she said, ‘I will earnestly try not to, Colonel.’

She heard something that sounded like a choked laugh. Surprised, she looked up—to find the Colonel chuckling.

She wasn’t sure what was more shocking—his sudden mirth, or how the smile made his blue eyes sparkle and transformed his stern features into something unexpectedly appealing—and undeniably handsome.

She was still trying to make sense of those startling observations when he said, ‘I’ve tortured you enough, Miss Overton. I can only imagine how difficult it was for you to hold your tongue and abase yourself to apologise, especially knowing you were right.’

‘I—I was right?’ she repeated, caught off guard.

‘Yes. Actually, I’d summoned you here so that I might apologise to you. I am not normally so churlish, but you caught me with the devil’s own headache—and, yes, I’d indulged far too much, so you needn’t add that scold.’

Then, as understanding dawned, she said indignantly, ‘You were going to apologise to me? And yet you led me on...’

‘True.’ He nodded. ‘It wasn’t well done of me, but I think we both have a...managing bent. As I know only too well, it isn’t easy for a person of that nature to apologise—especially when one knows one was in the right. I’m afraid I couldn’t resist encouraging you to go through with it. You were hoping a display of penitence would dissuade me from firing you, I suppose. Because you felt you must stay on and protect the girls from their evil, uncaring guardian.’

‘Not evil. But you did seem rather...uncaring.’

Some sort of anguish briefly crossed his face, gone before she could even be sure she’d actually seen it. ‘I shall have to do better. Once I’d calmed down after our confrontation—and some strong coffee and beefsteak had made me feel human again—I went up to the nursery and found it just as you described. I don’t recall what was on the beds when my brother and I were boys, but those threadbare cotton rags wouldn’t warm a flea. Somers Abbey’s finances may still be recovering, but we can certainly stand the cost of clothing and blankets, and so I informed Mrs Wallace.’

She must have grimaced, for the Colonel nodded. ‘Dreadful woman. I try to have as little to do with her as possible.’

‘Would that I might!’ Olivia said feelingly.

The Colonel frowned. ‘Do you fear she will try to exact retribution for your having come to me after she refused your requests?’

Now that she knew she had her employer’s support, Olivia was quite sure of holding her own. ‘I can deal with Mrs Wallace.’

He smiled slightly and once again she was caught unawares by the strength of his sheer masculine appeal. Goodness, what a transformation when he smiled! He should do it much more often.

‘I’m sure you can, my Managing Miss Overton,’ he was saying. ‘But if she does give you any trouble, you are to inform me. Also if she baulks at providing any other supplies you feel the girls need.’

‘If she is so unpleasant, why do you not discharge her?’ Olivia asked—and then remembered that, as an employee, she had no business asking such a question.

Instead of putting her in her place, though, the Colonel sighed. ‘After reducing the staff to a skeleton level and spending most of my time away from the house, I had to leave someone in charge. Why my brother hired the woman, I have no idea. Once things are in better order and finances improve, I intend to replace her.’

‘Providing her with a good character so you may pass your problem along to another household?’

‘You are impertinent, you know,’ he said, giving her a reproving glance.

‘I, too, have managed a household,’ she reminded him. ‘To be charitable, perhaps she would be happier in a larger household with more staff to manage.’

‘And to underscore her importance,’ the Colonel said.

‘Precisely.’

To her surprise, the Colonel chuckled again. ‘I should like to have been a fly on the stable wall when you commandeered that pony cart. What exactly did you say to John Coachman?’

Feeling a little embarrassed, she confessed, ‘I used my “Mistress of the Household” voice and simply ordered him to prepare it.’

‘Ah, yes. Behaving as if one has the authority to command something generally gets results—whether or not one actually has that authority.’

‘To be fair, he was hesitant at first. But a governess does have charge of the children, and once I demonstrated my driving ability, he was content to see us go.’ She smiled. ‘He probably reasoned that, if anything untoward transpired, since he’d not had orders to refuse me, I would mostly likely bear the blame of it.’

‘I imagine he did.’ The Colonel shook his head. ‘You are the most insubordinate subordinate I’ve ever encountered.’

‘Well, sir, you may be a colonel, but this is not the army and I am not your corporal.’

‘What are you then, I wonder?’

She looked at him...and something flashed between them. An odd sense of being kindred spirits, underlain with a strong physical attraction that sent a wave of warmth through her. The feeling of connection was gone almost before she was aware of it, but the simmering heat remained, exciting, energising...and dangerous.

Before she could pull her shaken senses together, he looked away. ‘We still have the matter of your purchases,’ he said, all business again. ‘By the way, how did you pay for them? Petty larceny from the household funds?’

‘Certainly not. Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mrs Wallace carried the precious “household funds” around on her person. I used my own funds.’

The Colonel cocked his head at her. ‘Have I paid you anything yet?’

‘No, sir. I... I have a small amount of my own laid by.’

‘Then I shall see you reimbursed at once. Can’t have you drawing down your pin money buying necessities for the children.’

Her light mood faded as she recalled just how little money she had left. ‘No, that would not be wise.’

‘Very well. What was the total?’

After naming the sum, she tried to rally her suddenly sagging spirits. After all, she wasn’t going to be discharged, she would have important work to do, making her charges feel comfortable in their new home—and maybe, if the Colonel really wanted to do better by them, she might figure out a way to coax him to interact more with them.

The orphaned girls so desperately needed a permanent, protective presence in their lives. She could only sympathise, as she yearned for one, too—but at least she had Sara in London to turn to, should matters become truly dire.

After counting out what he owed her, the Colonel closed the desk drawer. ‘Very well, Miss Overton. You will let me know if you encounter any difficulties with Mrs Wallace—or if you feel the girls are in need of anything else.’

Might as well start now. ‘There is...one more thing. You are their last remaining close relation, you told me. I’m sure they would adjust more quickly, feel less frightened, lost and alone, if they could get to know you better.’

Immediately, that forbidding look came over his face, the same look she’d noticed before when she’d mentioned him seeing more of the children. ‘As I believe I already told you,’ he said, his tone noticeably cooler, ‘I’m busy and away from the house on estate business all day, almost every day.’

‘Do you know what Elizabeth said to me in Bristol? What convinced me I would have to apologise and try to retain my position?’

The increasing grimness of his expression warned she was once again risking an abrupt dismissal. Too certain he needed to hear the child’s comment to back down, she met his gaze unflinchingly.

For another fraught moment, she thought he meant to tell her he had no interest in childish confidences and send her away. Instead, with a wry grimace, he said, ‘I suppose you are going to tell me, whether I want to hear it or not.’

After biting her tongue to keep herself from responding to that provocation, she said, ‘Once we had made our purchases and were preparing to leave town, Elizabeth asked if I would be taking them back to Somers Abbey—or if I was going to leave them in Bristol with someone else. Please, Colonel, if you could just let me bring them in to see you occasionally, so they might start to feel they can rely on you and be reassured that you won’t simply pass them along to—’

‘Enough, Miss Overton,’ he interrupted, a sharp look of—surely it wasn’t pain?—crossing his face. Standing abruptly, he walked to the bookcase and halted there, his back to her. Though she ached to say more, she made herself remain silent and waited.

Finally, he turned back to her, his expression tightly controlled. ‘I will do as much as I can. I rely on you to reassure them.’

She knew better than to press him further. At least he hadn’t ordered her out of the room this time. ‘Very well. Thank you, Colonel.’

‘No, thank you, Miss Overton. For helping me “discharge my responsibilities”.’

So he did feel he should do more for them. She had the grace to feel a little ashamed at pushing him so hard. ‘That was unfair. I am sure you are quite capable.’

He sighed. ‘This time, I sincerely hope to be.’

With that enigmatic utterance, he nodded a dismissal. Giving him a curtsy, she left the room.

Late that night, Olivia tiptoed into the quiet nursery to check on the girls. As she’d hoped, her two charges slept peacefully, their small bodies covered from head to toe in thick flannel nightgowns and tucked in under heavy woollen blankets.

She smiled, remembering Elizabeth’s awe when she’d first donned the nightgown. ‘Oh, miss, it’s so soft!’ she cried, rubbing her small hands down the material. ‘Sophie, we shall finally be warm!’ Giggling, she’d hugged her little sister, then looked back to Olivia. ‘Thank you so much, Miss Overton!’

‘I may coax you into liking England after all,’ she’d said, then settled them into bed and told them a story—having discovered, when she’d given the schoolroom a closer inspection that evening, that its cupboards contained neither toys, nor slates for writing, nor books she could read to them.

Predictably, when she’d asked Mrs Wallace about it, the woman had replied icily that until last week, the schoolroom at Somers Abbey had been unoccupied for the whole of her tenure as housekeeper, so she had no idea if the household possessed such items. ‘Since you have such good rapport with Colonel Glendenning, perhaps you should ask him,’ she’d said snidely, obviously not at all happy that Olivia’s earlier talk with the master hadn’t resulted in the rebuke the housekeeper had expected.

Biting back the reply she would like to have given, Olivia hung on to her temper. Much as she’d like to give as good as she got with the woman, it would make life more pleasant, especially for the children, if she could find a way to establish a more cordial relationship. ‘Perhaps I shall do just that,’ she’d said brightly and left it at that.

Though it was now a bit later than she’d intended, the task of putting away the supplies she’d obtained in Bristol and the storytelling having taken longer than anticipated, she still had time to visit the library. Encouraged by her employer’s friendlier reception this afternoon—he hadn’t entirely retreated, even when she’d pleaded with him to see more of the girls—she’d decided to ask him about the schoolroom supplies. Most likely, once the Colonel and his brother were grown, all such items had been packed away, perhaps consigned to the attic. If the Colonel had some idea where they might be located, she could go in search of them first thing tomorrow.

Thinking it best to be cautious, she went quietly to the library on her own, without asking Mansfield to announce her. She’d heard that army officers serving in India were hard drinkers and the Colonel’s appearance this morning certainly seemed to confirm that. It probably wouldn’t be prudent to approach him about anything this evening if he were already in his cups.

The problem of how she would manage to open that heavy oak door without announcing her presence was solved by her finding it had been left ajar. Peeping inside, she saw the room was unoccupied.

Before she could turn away, disappointed, she noticed that the desk chair was pushed back and the desk itself boasted a fully lit brace of candles, a book and a whisky bottle sitting beside a half-filled glass. All of which suggested that the Colonel had only stepped out of the room for a moment and meant to return shortly.

She’d wait for him.

She walked in, intending to take the chair in front of the desk to which he’d invited her earlier. But just as she was about to seat herself, she noted one more object on the desk, sitting in the spot most brightly illuminated by the candelabra. Curious, she bent over it to take a closer look.

It was a miniature portrait in a gilded frame, she realised. Without thinking, she picked it up and angled it so that, from her position in front of the desk, the candlelight fell fully upon it.

A small boy with ash-blond hair and brilliant blue eyes smiled up at her. A small boy whose features reminded her strongly of—

‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’ an angry voice demanded.

Startled as much by the voice’s ferocity as the profanity, she looked up from the miniature to the incensed face of the Colonel pacing towards her, back to the portrait and up again. ‘You—you have a son?’ she gasped.

Reaching her, he ripped the small frame from her hand. ‘Had a son,’ he spat back. ‘Quite legitimate, I assure you, so you needn’t go all faint and maidenly on me. How dare you creep in here and snoop among my private things?’

‘I was not snooping!’ she cried indignantly. ‘I wished to speak with you, the door was open and the room appeared as if you’d only left it for a moment. I intended just to wait for you.’

‘Isn’t it anguish enough that he lies thousands of miles away, his little body trapped underground in a small wooden box with nothing but a stone angel to keep him company? Must I tolerate having indifferent strangers gazing upon his face?’

As he looked down at the portrait, his breathing went ragged, his jaw worked and tears sheened his eyes. ‘His beloved face,’ he whispered.

Horrified by what she’d inadvertently discovered, agonised by his agony, Olivia stood speechless, her mouth open in shock.

Before she could dredge up a reply, with his eyes still locked on the portrait, the Colonel made a swishing motion with his free hand. ‘Leave,’ he said, his voice raw. ‘Please, just leave me.’

Picking up her skirts, she ran from the room.

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