The Governess Club: Claire (10 page)

“Brilliant,” Peter and Michael cheered while Allison began to run in circles screaming. Sophie and Mary clapped their hands.

“What’s more,” Claire continued, gaining their attention again, “Miss Edwards, your mother writes that if you have been behaving, she will consider letting you take tea with the ladies one afternoon.”

“Truly?” Sophie’s eyes were wide. “She has written that?”

Claire nodded. “Masters Peter and Michael, your father is anticipating seeing how your horsemanship has developed. Miss Mary and Miss Allison, you are both to expect special treats from London.”

“That’s not fair,” Peter complained. “They get treats and we just have to ride our horses.”

“Master Peter, a gentleman does not begrudge his lot or the fortune of others,” Jacob broke in from schoolroom door, where he was watching the scene. “Your father’s message was somewhat vague; he may have more planned than simply watching how you ride.”

“But—” Peter began.

“No buts.” Jacob’s tone was uncompromising. “Be grateful for all your father has provided you with so far; you could have much less than you do.”

Peter bowed his head, chagrined. “Yes sir, Mr. Knightly.”

Claire sent Jacob an amused smile. “Now, your parents will be interested in how you are progressing. Ladies, shall we go practice our music?”

Claire moved toward him on her way out of the nursery. “The Aldgates will be interested in your progress as well, Jacob. Be prepared to give detailed reports on the boys.”

“That might be difficult,” he replied in a low voice and a smile. “I’ve been spending all my waking hours thinking of you. Not to mention my nights.”

Claire was sure her face had never been as red as she hurried after the girls toward the music room. Or felt as pleased.

L
ucy entered the nursery with the tea tray, breathless and with a red face. The arrival of the lord and lady had sent the entire household in a frazzle. Claire had been proud of the children standing so still as they waited for their parents to descend from their coach. Only Allison, the youngest, had broken ranks to run to her mother.

“Cor, but the kitchen is hoppin’ wit’ all the foodies an’ nibbles to be made fer the party,” Lucy complained. “Gets so a girl can’t even make off wit’ a proper tea tray.”

Claire stepped away from Jacob, smiling at her friend. “We are grateful for anything tonight, Lucy. The children were so wound up with excitement they were difficult to settle in bed.” She sat in the chair Jacob offered her as Lucy set down the tray.

“Well, ye best be pleased wit’ what I brung you. Me light fingers even managed to lift this off Morrison’s desk.” Lucy brandished a periodical.

Claire gasped. “The London
Tattler
?”

“Brung by her ladyship herself ta read in the carriage. And now fer us,” Lucy gloated.

“Don’t tell me you read that rubbish,” Jacob said, sipping his tea. But Claire was too engrossed in the gossip columns to notice his disdain.

“What it say, Miss?” Lucy asked, unable to read it herself beyond the simplest of words.

“There’s a Lady H- who has retired to the country due to her delicate condition,” Claire said. “Lords T-, A- and J- participated in a curricle race to Brighton that left Lord J- with a broken arm and several farmers with frightened cows that will no longer give milk. Lady S- and Lord C- were seen exiting the bushes in Hyde Park with twigs and leaves all over their clothes. Hmm, I wonder what they were doing,” Claire added with a knowing smile.

Jacob wasn’t listening. All the town gossip bored him, having seen and been a part of it for the last several years. He added a bit more whiskey from a flask to his tea and moved to stare out the window.

“Oh my,” Claire breathed.

“What?” Lucy asked, her tone anxious and her face eager. Even Jacob glanced back at the two women hunched over the gossip rag.

“It says here,” Claire read, “that the Earl of Rimmel has been missing for several weeks now.”

Jacob froze. He had never presumed his disappearance from society would make it to the newspapers. Or that Claire would end up reading about it. He thought his family would have covered up the fact they had no idea where he was.

Claire continued reading. “He was last seen exiting the Duke of Maberly’s townhouse in a state of extreme wroth. A source inside the house indicated that his father, the duke, has finally cut the Earl of Escapades off, refusing to pay any more of his debts or even a living allowance. This columnist suspects the earl to be hiding in the slums of Cheapside, the only place he can afford without paternal support. Debt collectors have been ringing the bell at the earl’s bachelor lodgings endlessly to no avail; even his landlady claims she will not allow him back in without settling outstanding rent owed. Others have claimed not to even notice his disappearance aside from the fact that events are now more enjoyable without his presence to pollute the festivities. However, the length of the earl’s absence is starting to worry some—perhaps something more disastrous has befallen the handsome peer?”

Silence reigned in the nursery. Jacob could not speak, could not even move. Would Claire put the clues together? His arrival at Aldgate Hall coincided with the date of disappearance. All his slip-ups—did she remember all of them? What would happen now? He risked a glance at her.

Claire put the gossip paper down. “What horrid things to say about a man. An earl, no less. To say they are better off without him? Those are people who have no respect. I have yet to meet anyone who is entirely worthless and would make life better by being absent.”

Lucy patted her hand. “But ye ain’t met much people of London, Miss. They be a different sort of people there.”

Claire looked at Jacob. “Well, I have met two people from London that I hold in high esteem—Louisa and Mr. Knightly. And the Aldgates aren’t all that bad—I certainly do not believe my life would be better off without any of them. No, I think the columnist has gone too far. Indeed, I pity the earl’s family. They must be beside themselves with worry. I wonder if they have hired a Bow Street Runner?”

Not very likely,
Jacob thought. His older brother perhaps would have, so long as he could keep it from the duke. But Jacob wasn’t concerned about that. All he could do was look at Claire and wonder at how his love for her had grown exponentially in these last moments. Whatever happened in his life, he would never forget this moment, never forget the way she defended who she thought a complete stranger. Never forget that he did not deserve such a champion and likely never would.

P
eter, Michael, and Allison all exclaimed over the horses while Sophie and Mary cooed over the fashionable dresses of the ladies descending from the coaches. All five faces were pressed against the nursery windows. From her place in the rocking chair, Claire smiled and answered the questions she could.

Jacob stood at a corner window, answering the questions directed at him, but largely keeping to himself. His attention on the arriving guests never wavered. He was intent on determining if he knew any of the guests, if any of them would be capable of unmasking him. So far none had seemed familiar. Such was the reason he had chosen to come to Aldgate Hall. He did not know Lord Aldgate himself, nor was he aware of any of his acquaintances knowing him either. It was a perfect place to hide. Until possibly now.

For a brief minute, he looked at Claire. She felt his gaze on her and looked his way, smiling the tender smile that she had taken to giving him. He returned her smile, wishing, not for the first time, that he really was simply Jacob Knightly, tutor. That man was worthy of her affection. That man was happy. That man had a future with the woman he loved.

Not so the Earl of Rimmel. Jacob turned his attention back to the coming coaches. The earl had little to speak of in regard to character. He could play a mean game of faro and
vight-et-un
, owned a set of prime goers for his phaeton, and had been lucky enough in a few investments. But he lacked substance, lacked character. As proven by that article.

Jacob pressed his forehead against the cool window and continued watching, continued wishing.

“I
do not like it.” Jacob’s tone was mulish as he slouched against the wall of Claire’s room, watching her ready herself in her finest dress. One thing he was looking forward to once this charade was over was providing her with dresses of the finest silk, muslin, and whatever other material she wanted. Her best dress was at least three years old and only practiced eyes would be able to spot the repairs, but it still screamed of hardened circumstances.

Claire finished putting in her earrings and checked her hair again. “It happens all the time, Jacob. As Lady Aldgate said, one of the guests was delayed a few days by illness. I have evened out the numbers before.” She looked at him through the mirror and smiled reassuringly.

“I wish I was going with you,” Jacob said, frowning. “I would ensure your safety.”

“I will be safe enough,” Claire replied, pulling on her only pair of gloves. “The biggest risk is that I will be seated in the lowest seat next to a bore, which is what normally happens. And bores are nice gentlemen who just desire someone to listen to them, which I am capable of doing. I will be fine.”

“There will be more than just bores seated at the table.” Jacob had seen the young gentlemen as they had arrived. He recognized their ilk easily enough; he had been part of their ranks at one point. Those who thought servants, and especially governesses, fair game at any cost.

“I am under the protection of Lord Aldgate, Jacob. The guests will not wish to offend their host.”

Jacob kept silent on that. He knew too many hosts who had been more than willing to turn a blind eye to behavior involving their servants. He captured her hand as Claire moved toward her door. “You will tell me if something happens?”

Her reassurance never wavered. “Nothing is going to happen.”

“You will tell me.” He squeezed her hand for emphasis.

“Yes, of course.”

Jacob raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on her palm. “I am looking forward to the day when I can buy you silk gloves. No more threadbare and worn fingertips for you.”

Claire smiled and cupped his cheek. “I don’t need things, Jacob, just you.” She kissed him lightly on the lips.

“Enjoy your dinner, my lady.” Jacob released her and watched her add an extra sway to her walk, just for him.

J
acob was not happy. He prowled the corridor above the library, cursing the Aldgates for not building a two-storied room with access from the upper hallway. If they had, he would be able to surreptitiously slip into the upper level to keep an eye on Claire instead of ducking into alcoves whenever footmen or Fosters were around the library.

Laughter emanated from the library, causing Jacob to frown. Four days now she had been called upon to even out the numbers in the evening entertainments. Her days, understandably, were dedicated to the children, but each night Lady Aldgate demanded Claire’s presence, bemoaning the illness that had prevented her guest from arriving. Each night Claire assured him that nothing would happen—and nothing had. But Jacob couldn’t escape the heavy feeling in his stomach that something was going to happen when he wasn’t there to protect her.

He hated not being there to keep an eye on her. When they were married, when his deception was over, he would never let her out of his sight at house parties. Too many scandals and incidents occurred at such events; why the
ton
felt they were still suitable entertainments was beyond him. He knew what could happen at a house party for the basic fact that he had made a lot of those happen at the ones he attended in the past. No, being unescorted at a house party was not for Claire.

“Psst! Mr. Knightly!”

Jacob turned at the sound and saw Lucy sticking her head out of the servants’ stairs. At her wild gesturing, he moved over closer to her.

“Ye can’t be here no more,” she warned him in a whisper. “Fosters has heard about it and ain’t happy. He says yer spyin’ on the guests. If he catches ye here—”

“I can’t leave Claire alone in there,” Jacob said.

“Ye must. Ye can’t go in there yerself, so ye ain’t doing nobody any good.”

“But—”

“I’ll ask William ta keep an eye on her,” Lucy promised. “He’s been in and out of there all night. He’s first footman tonight on account of Ben bein’ ill.”

Jacob felt a modicum of relief. She wouldn’t be entirely alone. With a nod of thanks to Lucy, he returned to the nursery to await Claire.

C
laire stifled a yawn behind her hand.

“Never say we are boring you,” a voice said at her elbow. She looked at Mr. Blatherly, a young man with puffy blond hair and kind brown eyes. He had been most solicitous to her since the first night, ensuring that she had partners for cards, charades, and the informal dancing. He did not appear to be so high in the instep that her position as a governess hindered his socializing with her.

Despite his kind attention, Claire often found herself wishing to be in the nursery with Jacob or he here with her. It made her uncomfortable to be parted from him for such a length of time. Since the house party began, they had barely any time alone together. Of course, Jacob came to her bed every night when she retired, but they didn’t leave much time for talking. She missed hearing his voice.

She smiled politely at Mr. Blatherly. “Of course not, sir. It is merely my governess duties coupled with these recent late nights. I am unused to sleeping so little.”

He smiled back. “That is a relief. Only we can find ourselves boring, whether it be real or practiced ennui. Heaven forbid someone not of the
ton
find us so. How lowering that would be to have the truth so pointed out to us.”

Claire laughed. “Surely you are too hard on yourself.”

“I disagree.” Mr. Blatherly leaned closer to her on the sofa to whisper conspiratorially. “See Lady Tusset with her fan in the corner? I daresay she has naughty lines written on that fan just to keep herself from dying of boredom. And Lord Whittle looks about ready to expire if he has to hear one more fishing story from Lord Haggerty.”