Pleasing the Colonel (2 page)

“Colonel,” she pronounced decisively, as if she hadn't been sure which man had been holding her until he'd spoken. For some reason that ruffled him, though why he would care that she knew it was he who protected her was a mystery. He was not a young man trying to court a wife. He was a widower who did not plan on ever remarrying. Falling in love was not something he wished to repeat.

“I'm lowering a rope down to help you climb out. Can you see it?”

He moved away from the lady and reached for the rope, which came tumbling down the rocks. “I have it!” he called up. “Come, Miss Downy,” he said, holding out his hand to her. She approached and he pressed the rope into her hands. “You're going to use your feet against the side of the rock wall and your hands on the rope to climb out, you see?” he said, boosting her up so that her feet scrambled against the wall and caught hold. “That's it. Now keep climbing. I'll give you another boost and then you see if you can do it for yourself.”

He used his hands to push her bottom, trying to ignore how pleasingly soft and round its shape was. The lady was still tipsy and appeared to have a difficult time negotiating the rope and the rock wall in the darkness, but eventually he saw with relief that she made it to the top where two men pulled her to safety. He sent the secretary up next and then followed himself. To his relief, his own carriage driver had repaired the wheel on his carriage, and was ready to take him home.

“Would you care to ride in my carriage?” he asked the other two passengers.

“That's all right,” Bartlby answered. “Our driver has already borrowed a replacement carriage.”

“And you?” he asked Miss Downy. He couldn't wait to get home, but he also hesitated sending her off alone with the secretary.

“No, thank you—the driver has my luggage loaded. Good night, sir, and thank you again.”

His conscience pricked him again at leaving her, but they were not far from London, and the driver was with them—surely she would be all right.

It had been almost a year since he'd seen his own children. His heart ached with guilt over having left them so long, even if it was to serve his country. He tried to enter the house quietly, but Violet, one of his staff members, came out to see who it was and then exclaimed, “Colonel! Welcome home!” so loudly that the entire staff and family came out of bed to greet him.

His sister Lucinda, ten years his junior, came running down the stairs in her dressing gown, throwing her arms around his neck and nearly strangling him. He laughed and squeezed her, then greeted Mrs. James, her paid companion and chaperone, and was halfway through greeting the staff individually when Tom and Rosie came barreling down the stairs, shouting “Papa! Papa!” at the tops of their lungs. They balked when they actually reached the bottom of the stairs, though, timidity taking over.

“Come, children. Don't be afraid. I've missed you so much!” He crouched down and held his arms out. Lucinda nudged them forward and they approached him nervously, eyes downcast. He squeezed them both and then picked them up, one on each hip, carrying them to their beds and tucking them in, promising to take them to the park the following day.

* * *

In the morning he sat down to breakfast with his sister and Mrs. James, and realized the only person he had not seen or met the night before was the new governess.

“Where is the new governess? I've forgotten her name.”

His lawyer had hired her several months ago when the previous governess did not meet expectations, so other than reading the letters about it, he knew very little.

“Miss Downy,” Lucinda said, slightly sourly.

The name sounded familiar, now that she said it. “Are you pleased with her?”

“Oh she's wonderful with the children, yes,” Lucinda said nonchalantly, as if that part was the least of her concern.

“And?”

Lucinda shrugged. “She's everything you could ask for, I'm sure,” she said a little too primly.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Does that mean she's too pretty or too talented for your taste?” he asked drily.

Lucinda flushed. “Charles!” she exclaimed indignantly, but then she laughed at herself. “Both,” she said with an exaggerated sulk.

“Mrs. James, I was hoping your influence would have improved my sister's sense of grace. What is the point of a companion for a young lady if you cannot instill good manners in your charge? Or if you could not, surely you could have paid her compliments enough that she would not feel threatened by ladies who might show her up.”

Mrs. James had paled at the rebuke. Only Lucinda was accustomed to his manner of speaking bluntly. She threw him an aggrieved look. “Well, I don't know why Miss Downy is late to breakfast, unless she did not return last night as she promised. Oh, there you are!” she exclaimed. “Did you mean to sleep the whole day away?”

He stood up and turned to face the young lady entering the dining room, then stopped short in recognition, watching as her eyes widened and her face paled. Her expression was one of absolute horror.

* * *

Oh no.
Ice washed over her and her mouth hung open in shock. It was the man from the carriage.
The Colonel.
Surprise flickered momentarily on his face as well, but then his face went blank again, as it had appeared the night before.

“You must be the governess,” he said, inclining his head in a slight bow.

She swallowed. Her mind was reeling. All the things she had said the night before came back in a wash of anguish—that she'd lied about her references, that the family she worked for was dreadful. She could feel the blood drain from her face completely, and she swayed a bit on her feet. “Miss Downy,” she managed to choke out with a curtsy.

“Colonel Watson,” he said coolly.

She stood there trembling, waiting for him to tell her to pack her things, that was she dismissed effective immediately, but he merely sat back down to his toast and jam. She stood there stupidly for another moment and then managed to walk to the table and take the seat opposite him.

“Have the children already eaten?” she asked, forcing herself to speak.

“Yes, Julie fed them in the kitchen this morning,” Miss Watson said crisply.

Had he not recognized her? Impossible. He most certainly had. But why say nothing? Was he sparing her the embarrassment? If so, she was grateful for the temporary reprieve, though she couldn't choke down much for breakfast. Miss Watson was prattling on, informing her brother of every member of their societal circle, including all the gossip that Mandy had heard her repeat tirelessly for the past five months.

She was grateful when the children peeked their heads into the dining room. She smiled at them encouragingly and beckoned them in, speaking in French, as she always did, to help them learn it. “Come in, children. Are you happy your Papa's back?”

They came in cautiously and stood with a curious mixture of eagerness and formality. Rosie, the seven-year-old, clasped her hands in front of her and her brother Tom, the four year old, hid partially behind her. “
Oui, Mademoiselle,
” Rosie said, her accent perfect. Then the child switched back to English. “Papa said he's going to—”

“
En français,
” she interrupted with a smile.

Rosie plowed ahead, used to her corrections, translating into her stumbling French. “Papa said he's going to take us for a ride in the carriage this morning, to go to the park. Would you like to come?”

She swallowed convulsively at the idea of being alone in a carriage with the Colonel. “If your father permits it,” she managed to say, still speaking in French.

“Well, I'm not sure there will be room, will there?” Miss Watson interjected shrilly in English. “Mrs. James and I wish to go as well.”

“Will you and Mrs. James take responsibility for the children, then?” Colonel Watson asked with one eyebrow raised.

Miss Watson blanched. She seemed to like her niece and nephew well enough, but considered their care to be beneath her. “Well, no, we wished to walk about the park, of course.”

“Then Miss Downy will accompany the children and me and you and Mrs. James may take the other carriage.”

Miss Watson looked irritated at that, but there was nothing she could say, as the Colonel's logic was sound.

“When do we leave?” she asked the Colonel.

“When do the children have their lessons?”

“Lessons are normally from after breakfast till noon, but I am flexible. I'm sure the children are quite anxious to spend time with you after your long absence.” She dared a look at him and caught her breath a little when she found him regarding her coolly. He was older than she—at least by 10 years—but his face was handsome, with broad planes that gave him the look of strength and determination. He had dark curly hair and dark eyes that held a penetrating intelligence. She'd never been attracted to a military man, but suddenly she could see the appeal. She felt herself flush immediately under his gaze, wracked with guilt and fear over the lies she had told to gain his employ. Something in his look told her he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“We will go after lunch, then. That will give me time to begin getting things in order here. All right, children?” he said, turning to look at them.

“Yes, Papa,” Rosie said.

Mandy's heart went out to her—the child seemed nervous. Not having seen her own father for so many long months seemed to make it awkward for her to interact with him now. Mandy stood and took the girl's hand.

“Come, my love, it's time for you to read to me,” she said in French.

“And to me?” Tom asked in English, taking her other hand. He understood French but didn't speak it much yet.

“
Et pour vous
,” she said, squeezing his hand and smiling warmly.

She spent the morning fully engrossed in the children's lessons, because if she let herself think about the utter precariousness of her employment, she would surely fall apart. To get through lunch, she directed her attention to the children, engaging them in lively conversation in French about what they might see and do in the park. It wasn't all that different from usual, as she had always taken refuge in the children, except that this time half her mind was occupied with worrying over every word the Colonel spoke.

Mrs. James did not accompany them to the park after all, so Mandy was not forced to ride in the carriage with the Colonel alone, which was a relief. Instead, Miss Watson rode with them and monopolized her brother's attention for the duration. Mandy was left to her own thoughts, which only served to increase her anxiety.

She was most certainly going to be dismissed. Why the Colonel was waiting, she couldn't guess. Perhaps he wanted to secure a new governess first. If not, she would have to ask him if she could remain until the end of the month, as she had borrowed against her wages just to make the trip to see her mother, and didn't have a farthing to her name. If he did not allow her to stay, she would literally be on the street with no means to even hire a coach to get to her mother or sister.

She could try to sell her locket, she supposed. It was silver, a lovely oval shape with filigreed etching. Her father had given it to her on her sixteenth birthday. If she could pawn it at a shop somewhere, she might have enough money to get herself to her relatives. But how horrible that would be! They hardly had the room or means to keep her mother, much less her. Well, she would just have to beg the Colonel to let her stay until he found a suitable replacement. It was her only option.

She entertained the children at the park—sitting on a park bench and sending them on a scavenger hunt for various things she invented for them to find—a feather, a heart-shaped rock, something purple, five different colored flowers, etc. They ran to and fro, eagerly seeking the items she named and racing breathlessly to bring them to her. She focused on them with only half her attention, as the rest of her mind was occupied with observing every move the Colonel made as he walked with his sister. The building tension was dreadful.

She watched the pair round the corner toward her, Miss Watson stopping to speak with a group of ladies and the Colonel leaving her behind, advancing directly to where she sat. Rather than invite him to sit with her, she stood up before he arrived.

“Miss Downy,” he said coolly, more like an ending statement than the beginning of a conversation.

“Sir?”

“We have some things to discuss, don't we?”

Her heart beat faster than a little bird's. “Yes, sir.”

“After supper. In my study.”

“Yes, sir,” she squeaked. Just then Tom ran up and wrapped his little arms around her leg, chattering on about the dove he had chased. Her eyes blurred with tears, realizing suddenly that she would have to say goodbye to these children who had become her whole world.

* * *

Miss Downy followed him to his office after supper, looking as though it were her death sentence. He was satisfied that she at least understood the gravity of the situation. Lying about a reference was an offense he didn't take lightly and it needed to be dealt with. However, from what he'd witnessed and from interviewing the staff, it seemed that she was an excellent governess, despite her lack of prior experience.

“Miss Downy. Have a seat,” he said, settling himself behind his large desk and indicating the chair opposite it.

“Colonel Watson, if I may just make one request?” she asked in a rush, looking anxious.

He raised his eyebrows. “All right, Miss Downy.”

“Please, I beg of you, allow me to stay through the end of the month. I had to borrow against my wages for my holiday this past weekend, and I want to be able to make that up to you.”

He frowned. He didn't like the idea that she'd had to travel to see her sick mother without the necessary funds. What if a carriage hadn't been found to bring her home after the accident? Would she have had the money necessary to secure lodging? The thought of her being alone in the country with no means to provide for herself made him feel inexplicably protective of her. “I wasn't planning on dismissing you,” he reassured her.