The Mysterious Governess (Daughters of Sin Book 3) (14 page)

Cosmo rounded on her when they were out of hearing. “Do you not see how you might have brought the price down with your little reassurance? Mr. Crossing was only too ready to believe the worst of Mrs. Crossing’s misdemeanors. He will pay well to have evidence of her duplicity.”

“I will not be responsible for setting up his bristles,” Lissa muttered. In the shadow of a large statue-topped plinth by the edge of the rotunda where the orchestra was playing, she swung round to face him. “Mr. Crossing has the look of a man spoiling for violence at the slightest opportunity, though I think we already know that from what we overheard his wife telling her...friend.”

Cosmo gave a snide laugh as he regarded Lissa. “What are you, really?” He shook his head, adding with unusual introspection, “You pretend to the world that you’re a demure governess, but you’re the first to cut shams the moment you’re in a hobble.” Reaching forward, he pinched her cheek. “Maybe you and I make a better pair than I thought.”

He did not seem to mind that she flinched away from him with a look of horror.

Taking her hand and caging it once more on his sleeve, he bade her continue walking as he went on, conversationally, “Directly after my tailor’s visit in the morning, I shall deliver my sketches.” Then he stopped, his look cold. “I certainly won’t let your conscience prevent me from making a handsome return on this evening’s work.”

L
issa barely slept that night. Cosmo had taken the sketch from her, forcibly, at the front gate. There was nothing she could do.

For hours she tossed and turned on her lumpy mattress. How could she live with herself if she were responsible for the beating of an unhappy wife? How could she get the sketch back? Was there any possibility of stealing it from Cosmo in the morning, before he could deliver it?

Dawn lightened the room but it was the maid’s knock on the door that wakened Lissa from the exhausted sleep into which she’d finally fallen not long before.

After that, there was the usual round of supervising the girls over their breakfast in the schoolroom, followed by the thankless task of trying to enthuse them with some simple demonstrations on the abacus.

Miss Maria sauntered in while Lissa was again explaining the principles of addition to a yawning Harriet. Lissa likened the eldest Lamont girl to a cat. Miss Maria could be very still and quiet but then she loved to pounce, contradicting Lissa at every turn, undermining her authority in front of her sisters.

After ten minutes of this, Lissa sighed. “You are clearly bored, Miss Maria. Perhaps you’d like to take the lesson.”

Maria’s eyes narrowed, and she was about to offer some no doubt rude rejoinder when she remarked in surprise, “Why, there’s a young lady stopped by the fence. Where’s her maid? My goodness, that is a fine pelisse she’s wearing. Oh, but I do like it.”

Lissa would have ignored her had she not then crinkled her nose and said, “Good Lord, she’s looking right into our garden. Like she wants someone.”

Lissa scrambled up and hurried to the girl’s side. “Look after Nellie and Harriet for just a moment, Miss Maria.” Under normal circumstances she’d have kept a low profile, but memories of last night’s extraordinary series of events and the thought that Araminta might help her, or indeed needed help, were more important.

“Where are you going?” Maria squeaked in outrage as Lissa brushed past her. “To the young lady? What business can you have with such a fine personage? Who is she?”

The fact that Araminta did indeed cut a mighty impressive figure should be sufficient for Maria to let Lissa go without further objection or the need to tell her mother, Lissa thought as she hurried into the garden. Araminta was striking whatever gown she chose to wear, and Maria would be eaten up with curiosity, perhaps jealousy.

“I recognized you at the Masquerade last night,” Araminta said without preamble, pursing her lips and clasping her hands on the top of the fence when Lissa appeared. “I recognized you, even in costume, near the orchestra. I hope you weren’t spying on me.”

“Spying? On
you
?” Lissa’s sharp response was quickly replaced by interest that Araminta was looking like Lissa felt. Drained and wan. “Araminta, are you quite well?”

“No, I am not!” the girl snapped. “Have you not heard the news that will soon be all over town, making me a laughingstock?”

Lissa clapped her hand over her mouth and felt the pain of Araminta’s public shame. “So that was
you
running from Lord Debenham’s supper box?” she gasped.

If possible, Araminta looked even more stricken. “No!” But the strangled cry only confirmed her guilt. Quickly she added, “Hetty has eloped. Can you believe it? Hetty!” She spoke her sister’s name as if she were the most loathsome creature on the planet. “And who do you think she’s eloped with?”

Araminta answered her own question with another strangled sob. “Yes, with Sir Aubrey! Sir Aubrey led me to believe he would be speaking to Papa to ask for my hand, but he ran off with Hetty last night. Married her by special license and now they’re on their way to France. What am I supposed to do? I can’t bear being at home. Mama and Papa are utterly horrified, as you can imagine, and it’s all anyone is taking about. Hetty is such a selfish girl! Mama is nearly at her time, and now Hetty has gone and done this just when she’ll need her most.”

This news was even worse than that of Hetty and Sir Aubrey’s elopement. “Lady Partington is...about to be confined?” she whispered. “She’s having a...?” She couldn’t even say the words.

Her poor mother. Lissa had left home more than six months ago and her mother had certainly not known then. Perhaps she still had no idea that the man she regarded as her husband—the man who had abandoned her at the altar more than twenty years before—had fathered a child on his real wife. A baby that would be delivered at almost exactly the same time as hers.

How could Father? Rage bubbled through her veins, making it difficult to concentrate on Araminta’s own troubles, until her sister snapped, “I said I shall be a laughingstock and you don’t even care!”

Lissa blinked and responded without thinking. “You’ll just have to marry Lord Debenham then.”

She was taken aback when, with no warning, Araminta covered her face with her hands and burst into tears. What a pitiful sight she looked, with the flowers adorning her gypsy bonnet appearing to droop by her pretty face in sympathy. “I would if I could but he...” She left the sentence hanging then looked up at Lissa with tragic eyes. “Oh, I wish I were a simple governess with not a care in the world. Like you.”

“I have more cares than you, Araminta, when I have not a feather to fly with while you have been indulged your whole life. I’d thank you not to make such comparisons without thinking first.”

“Well, Papa has lost a lot of money, so I may well have to be a governess if I don’t make a decent match before the end of the season.”

Lissa felt herself go cold. She had not known this, either. She thought again of her mother’s tenuous security. If Lord Partington were indeed floating in the River Tick, he’d not be able to afford to keep up two households. He was hardly generous with his by-blows in the first instance.

“Why did you come here, Araminta? To elicit my help in your matchmaking endeavors?” she asked, not quite understanding her. “I don’t see how I can achieve that?”

“My reputation is in ribbons. Hetty has shredded it into tiny little pieces.” Araminta rested her head on top of her whitened knuckles and let out another little sob. “Only marriage to Lord Debenham can salvage it, but he is not...in a marrying frame of mind. I don’t know why I came here. I don’t know you. I wish you didn’t exist, in fact. But I am friendless.”

To Lissa’s concern, Araminta began to cry even harder. Whatever would Miss Maria think? Lord, but her half-sister really was in a bad way.

“I didn’t mean what I said before. Marriage to Lord Debenham would not be a good idea,” Lissa murmured, shivering at what she’d overheard the previous night.

“And what would you know about Lord Debenham?” Araminta raised her head to glare at her, prompting Lissa to say defensively, “His man of business tells me Lord Debenham is mixed up in some very havey-cavey business. I’d caution you, Araminta—”

“Lord Debenham’s man of business? You know him?” Araminta cut in, her eyes widening.

“Yes, and he’s told me a great deal about Lord Debenham that—”

“Why, that’s capital! Just the sort of information I need you to find out.” Araminta rubbed her hands together. “So, if you’re friendly with his secretary, he’d tell you all about Lord Debenham and his...weaknesses. Oh, Larissa, you need to tell me what they are. You need to think of any little thing that will aid my cause.”

Lissa felt trapped. “I
am
...friendly...with Mr. Tunley but a lowly governess does not get many opportunities to leave her place of employment.” Lissa really didn’t think aiding Araminta’s cause was a good idea. However, perhaps there could be mutual benefits to such an arrangement. She was desperate to speak to Ralph who might be able to advise her with regard to Mrs. Crossing.

“Well, you must find a way for I’m relying on you to tell me everything there is to know.” Araminta clapped her hands, her face shining.

“Yes, but how, Araminta? Despite what we talked about before, I still have no respectable clothes and the Lamonts keep me all but under lock and key.”

“Fiddlesticks! Why do you need respectable clothes if you’re only going to an office to see a man who works for Lord Debenham?” Araminta looked truly perplexed. “It’s not as if you need a ball gown for a day visit. You will go now, won’t you?”

“All right, not a ball gown or an evening gown, but I
do
need an afternoon gown, since our father has not seen fit to provide me with a wardrobe beyond what a lowly governess would wear and if I appear at Mr. Tunley’s office wearing this, I’ll be turned away.” The fact that her father had not provided Lissa and Kitty with a decent wardrobe had always rankled with Lissa. She did not mention that in a fit of resentment towards her nobly born half-sisters, she’d refused to take the several fine gowns with which her father had presented her before her London trip, as she’d known they were Araminta’s castoffs from two seasons ago.

She’d since regretted such stubborn pride. “Give me two of your last season’s gowns,
including
a ball gown. That can be your return on the information I provide. I can make them over. I’m good with a needle.”

As she walked back up to the house, she saw Maria’s nose still pressed against the window, and when she let herself back into the schoolroom, her eldest charge rushed forward with a look of imperious anger. “You’d better tell me what you were discussing with that young lady or I shall tell Mama,” she threatened.

But Lissa had a plan. She might not be devious and totally self-absorbed like Araminta, but she had a strong streak of self-preserving cunning, so she knew exactly what she had to say.

“Only if you promise that what I tell you is strictly secret between you and me,” she said in a tone to convey great gravitas once she’d settled the girls.

Miss Maria eagerly took the bait, and when Lissa had drawn her to the two seats across from the unlit fire at the far end of the room, she said in a low voice, “The young lady is a viscount’s daughter—I shall not tell you who—but if you had observed her more closely, you’d have seen the resemblance between us, which has been remarked upon in public circles. She has sought me out as she wishes me to help her secure a most desirable match since, as you know, I have connections with Lord Debenham and his man of business. Both these men are friendly with ...er...
an
other gentleman, whose friendship the young lady wishes to build upon.”

She was, naturally, not about to reveal that Lord Debenham was the focus of Araminta’s interest.

Miss Maria’s mouth dropped open. “But how can you help? You’re just a governess.” She said the word with such derision that even Lissa felt her hopes plummet.

Regaining her enthusiasm, she responded robustly, “But a governess with good connections, and a face and figure that already have people wondering if this viscount’s daughter and I are cousins. Her maid will bring around several gowns for me to make over so I can aid her in her enterprise.”

“But you’re employed here.” Miss Maria was looking increasingly stricken.

“Yes, and that’s where I’ll need your help, Miss Maria.” Lissa hoped the excited suggestiveness of her tone would bolster Miss Maria’s enthusiasm, for it seemed she was too unimaginative to wonder at the benefits for all of them. “You want to make a good match, and surely you would be looking higher than a clerk. With your pretty face and figure, you could really rise in the world. If my good offices have been elicited by a viscount’s daughter whose fine gowns will enable me to attend certain society events, surely I can in turn help you to meet a...better class of potential husband.”

With it put so simplistically and so compellingly, Miss Maria was like clay in her hands. “Oh yes,” she whispered, shifting excitedly in her seat. “Mama says I’m pretty enough to snare an earl...if I could only be introduced to one.”

“Well, I shall introduce you to lots of titled gentlemen.” Ironically, Lissa could indeed see the plump and pretty, dark-haired Miss Maria being introduced with some success into such lofty echelons, but the only person she herself was interested in was Ralph.

Ralph was her next quest. A quest that needed Miss Maria’s assistance.

She pondered her alternatives as she rose. A small lie was needed to achieve success. “I know how much you would love to attend Lady Smythe’s ball on Thursday, Miss Maria. I can arrange that, but only if I can get away to visit Lord Debenham’s man of business this afternoon. I’ll need you to look after your sisters and you must promise not to tell anyone that I’ve gone out. Or where I’ve gone—and especially don’t tell your brother. I can’t tell you the reason but I can promise that there will be no invitation to the ball on Thursday if you cannot agree to this.”