Cold April (3 page)

“
Miss Shallcross.” Wheatly came toward her. “Don’t get up. We shall draw our chairs near. You remember Mr. Graham, of course.”

Beth had to swallow before she could answer. “Yes, sir.” The sight of the handsome though arrogant man she’d met on the dock made her uncomfortable.

“
Mr. Graham and I have been discussing a matter and now we would like your opinion.”

“
My opinion?” Beth said in an oddly high-pitched voice. What on earth could they want her opinion about?

Lord Wheatly sat well back in the seat he’d chosen, placed his elbows on the chair arms and made a tent of his fingers. “Mr. Graham, as you may know, is an associate of my company here in London, and I have just persuaded him to take a similar position in my New York branch.”

Lord Wheatly paused, so Graham interjected, “Miss Shallcross and I spoke for only a few minutes in Southampton the other day. We did not exchange personal information, other than the fact we were both acquainted with you and Lady Wheatly.”

“
I see. Then, perhaps, if you don’t mind, you could tell Miss Shallcross about our decision.”

“
If you wish.” He looked over at Beth. “I, too, am returning to New York. I’m an American, but I’ve been living in England for several years.” He paused as if weighing his next words, choosing what information he wanted to impart.

He rose from his seat and faced her. “I was fortunate to find a good position in this country with Lord Wheatly’s firm and even more fortunate now that he wants me to continue in his employ in New York.”

Beth looked from one man to the other, wondering which of them would reveal what they wanted her opinion about and why.

“
Do go on,” Wheatly said to Graham.

He cleared his throat. “While living here in England, I married a young lady and we have a child, a little girl.” Another pause, this one accompanied by a swipe of his hand across his thick, dark hair.

Beth wondered if his recitation was somehow emotional for him. His next words revealed she was right.

“
My wife has … passed away, and during the crossing to New York, I shall need someone to look after my child. After we arrive in New York, I shall be fully employed during the day and so will continue to need help for a time.”

The long speech had apparently been difficult. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow before continuing.

“
Since you are a trained governess—and Lady Wheatly has spoken so highly of your skills—she, they, we—decided to ask if you would be willing to accept that position.” Finished at last, he sat down.

So the proposition they were offering involved another job as governess, a career she did not wish to continue. As she’d told her parents, she wanted to get away from the roles of servant and teacher and become a typist in a business office.

“
If you need to think this over, I quite understand.” Graham seemed embarrassed by the favor he had asked, perhaps because of their initial encounter, before he’d discovered her lowly station.

Her mind sorted through ways to turn him down gracefully. The strained silence stretched.

“
The offer is perfect for her,” Lord Wheatly said to his wife, as if Beth weren’t in the room, as if, in fact, Lady Wheatly was only now learning of the plan. “I believe you have already written letters of recommendation.”

His wife’s face had turned a trifle pink. “But, my dear,” she protested, “Beth is returning home after she handles the matter of renting our New York house.”

Neither Lord nor Lady Wheatly knew she no longer wanted to continue as a governess, for Beth had never confided her plans about the typewriting lessons to anyone but her parents. Not even to her sisters and brothers, who would probably laugh at her idea.

“
You’re in favor of the proposal, are you not, my dear?” Wheatly asked his wife.

A forced smile crossed Lady Wheatly’s closed lips.

Lord Wheatly spoke to Beth again. “In addition, as you will act as governess on the voyage and for as long as you’re needed in New York, we will certainly see that you are accommodated in first class on the ship and will occupy your usual room in our house in New York.”

In the silence that followed, Graham spoke up again. “Perhaps Miss Shallcross has already made other plans.”

Bless the man. He was clairvoyant. But should she refuse? How would that look to the Wheatlys, the family that had already been more than kind to her and would pay her way back to America besides? In first class, at that?

“
I do have relatives in America,” Graham said next. “I plan to try to persuade one of them to move to New York to help with my daughter. In any event, you need only keep the position for a short time, until I find someone else.”

He looked at her expectantly, as if he, too, considered this a necessary arrangement, if only to make their hosts feel they’d done something admirable for two worthy, if not titled, people.

Beth felt she ought to say something. “How old is your little girl?”

“
Three and a half.”

Lord Wheatly gave her a broad smile. “The same age as Charles when you came to us.”

“
There is no one in your late wife’s family ... ?”

“
No one who wishes to travel to America at this time.”

“
And time is of the essence,” Lord Wheatly said. “We need him to sail as soon as possible. Since you’re going back now, you might as well sail together so that Richard will have the use of your services during the week’s crossing.”

He made it sound like the most sensible thing to do, and Mr. Graham had said the position wouldn’t last long. If one of his very own relatives didn’t step forward to help with the child, he could hire another governess in New York. She’d met several during her three years in the post whom she could recommend. As an American, he’d have no qualms about hiring a non-English person.

But, even so, if she agreed, there would be no leisurely Atlantic crossing after all. No relaxing on deck chairs during the afternoons, no dining with adults in the evenings, and no opportunity for new friendships. Still, the offer was extremely generous, and she couldn’t refuse without seeming ungrateful.

“
Very well,” she said at last.

Upon first meeting Richard Graham, she’d experienced a sudden, if brief, flash of intuition that he might wish to become a suitor. Now she was destined to be his employee. No, worse, his servant.

She’d be forced to work with a man who considered her beneath him, who hadn’t even wanted to share a limousine ride from the dock. A grieving widower, as well. And she would be saddled with a no-doubt devastated little girl who’d lost her mother. So much for her new life.

* * *

Richard Graham paced the floor of the downstairs sitting room, waiting for Beth Shallcross’s arrival. Rather than riding in his motorcar for her visit to his home on Eaton Place, she told him she’d prefer to take a taxi. When they were leaving the Wheatlys’ home the previous day, he’d proposed bringing his daughter for a visit to her home so that they could become acquainted before the sailing, but she’d suggested that the introduction might be better in the child’s own home. Of course, she was right.

Not having a butler—only a woman who cleaned and cooked for him—Graham opened the door for her himself, almost as soon as she pressed the bell.

“
Miss Shallcross. Do come in.” He ushered her into the sitting room and gestured toward a chair. After she was seated, he took his place across from her.

He sat in another chair but then fell silent, unable to think of anything but how beautiful the young woman looked, her slender figure clothed in a lovely gown of pale green. She wore a fetching hat that concealed most of her hair. What he could still see was a honey-like shade of blonde.

She spoke first in the growing silence. “May I offer my condolences on the passing of your wife?”

“
Thank you.”

“
It must be very difficult for you to raise a child all alone, and especially to move her from her home in England to a new one in the United States. Two such drastic occurrences are hard on a child.”

Puzzled, Graham thought for a moment. “Thank you, but perhaps I should explain.” He paused. “You see, my wife died shortly after Kathleen was born.”

“
Oh, I am sorry,” she said quickly.

“
So Kathleen—my daughter, that is—never knew her.” Another pause. “And it has been more than three years.” He swallowed before continuing. “Less than five days after giving birth to Kathleen, my wife contracted influenza, which proved fatal.”

After a pause of her own, Beth responded. “What a pity. I’ve heard the disease is becoming more prevalent.”

“
Yes.” His mind reverted back to those agonizing days of his wife’s illness. To his relief, such memories didn’t return often.

She continued. “Although your wife’s untimely death was indeed tragic, I can see that, in some ways, it might have been easier for your child.”

“
Yes, it has proved so.” He leaned toward her as he spoke. “I’ve shown Kathleen pictures of her mother, of course, and her aunts have told her lovely stories, even that she’ll see her mother some day in heaven.”

“
I see.”

“
Her two aunts have been most generous with their time and attention to Kathleen. I don’t know how I should have coped without them.”

“
That was very fortunate for you.”

“
And their children—Kathleen’s cousins—have been her playmates, so she has enjoyed the closeness of loving relatives all around her.”

“
How nice for her.”

He rose and walked across the room, considering both Miss Shallcross’s words and the tone of her voice. When he’d met her on the dock at Southampton, she’d seemed so charming, so open and friendly. Now—in fact, ever since Lord and Lady Wheatly had approached them, as well as in their home the day before—she’d changed. Today, she seemed cool and distant. Polite, of course, but nothing more.

He glanced toward her, carefully choosing his next words. “As a woman, and a governess at that, you may think it odd I would want to remove my child from her pleasant surroundings and loving relatives in order to return to the United States.”

“
Not at all. We all make choices in our lives which appear right to us at the time.”

“
Exactly. As I said, I’m most grateful that my late wife’s family has rallied around me and been so supportive, but Kathleen is my child and I need to be responsible for her.”

“
Naturally, you must take her with you when you go to New York.”

He returned to his chair and pulled it closer. “I’m so pleased you understand. Lord Wheatly’s offer is a generous one which no one could rightfully refuse, even if he didn’t wish to live in America for the rest of his life. As I do.”

Her expression softened. “I can certainly understand your wish to do so. As a matter of fact, I think I’d like to live in America for the rest of my life, and I was born in England.”

Her sudden smile disappeared almost at once and a guarded look returned to her face. He contemplated her statement only briefly, then spoke softly, confidentially.

“
Perhaps I ought not to say it, but I have another reason for wanting to make this important change. In fact, I believe I ought to explain something to you.”

She looked attentive, but still cool, and didn’t answer. So much for trying to reconnect with the charming person he’d rescued from the lorry driver.

“
You see, Lady Wheatly is also a relative of my late wife. When I took the position in Lord Wheatly’s company, she arranged for my wife and me to meet and seemed overjoyed when her matchmaking resulted in our marriage. She, as well as my late wife’s two sisters, have been—shall we say—inordinately involved in my daughter’s life.”

Her only response was a quizzical look.

“
I like English women and don’t regret having married one, but I don’t want my daughter raised by three women who will instill only British manners, morals, and attitudes in her. She’s half American, and I want her to learn at least as much about that side of her heritage.”

“
I see your point.”

He leaned in closer. “I’m losing my child. I almost never see her. I didn’t mind when she was a mere babe and needed a woman’s constant care, but she’s almost four years old now. I want to spend more time with her, talk to her, play with her, understand her.”

“
As, indeed, you should. In the absence of a mother, it’s all the more important she grow closer to you.”

He couldn’t help grinning at her declaration. Engaging her sympathy had been a good idea. “May I call you Beth or Elizabeth?”

His request seemed to surprise her. She paused.

“
Yes, of course, sir,” she said, her tone subservient.

“
Please call me Richard.”

“
Excuse me, sir, but, under the circumstances, I would not feel comfortable doing so.” She stood and touched her hair, a gesture he recognized as anxious.

She had returned to her formal, no-nonsense servant mode and was no longer the smiling, pretty girl he’d met on the dock.

“
If it pleases you, sir, perhaps I could meet Miss Kathleen now.”

“
Of course. She’s upstairs with her aunts and is looking forward to it.”