Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage 05] (4 page)

After a moment, Felix tossed aside his stick and followed quickly at her heels.

Scratching his chin, Steele nodded. “Now that’s a governess.” Mayhap this crazy scheme would work out.

Now if only he could keep the boys alive until their next birthdays.

A
bigail shook her head, wondering if she’d heard right. “What do you mean, I’m going to be sleeping here?” Her eyes traveled the expansive room decorated in Chippendale furnishings and gilded splendor. “These chambers are for the mistress of the house!”

Carlton, Lord Steele’s butler, stood in the doorway rubbing a cloth over the four silver spoons in his hand. Each spoon was given meticulous attention before he moved on to the next. “Cursed first footman,” he muttered to himself. “Doesn’t he know I’m too busy for him to break his arm? This isn’t a charity hospital. Everyone must carry his weight.”

Carlton studied a silver spoon, holding it this way and that in the light. “And now I’ve a dratted governess to deal with,” he muttered. “Had to hire a porter with a horse and cart to haul her trunk from her lodgings…”

Sure enough, Abigail spied her trunk in the corner by the window. The old brown luggage was scratched and shoddy, with a long strip of leather holding it together since the lock had broken. It was hardly
worthy of the elegant furnishings of the chamber. “I cannot stay here. These rooms are not appropriate for a governess.”

“It’s your duty to do as you’re told, Miss West. The sooner you grasp that, the easier this will be on you.”

Abigail straightened.
What the blazes does he mean by that?
“I don’t understand.”

Stabbing a spoon at her, Carlton glared. “It’s quite simple. Don’t expect that what you signed on for won’t change. Additional duties can be tacked onto whatever you thought you’d be doing no matter how…unpleasant or…
unorthodox
.”

“Unorthodox?”

A look of distaste washed over Carlton’s thin face as he resumed his polishing once more. “We live at the whim of the master. Lord Steele gets what Lord Steele wants.” Peering at her from the corner of his eye, his contemptuous gaze traveled from Abigail’s face down to her breasts. “And you are subject to his
every
desire.”

A terrible taste soiled her mouth. Abigail swallowed. Could Steele know about Phineas and somehow fancy that he’d gotten himself a plaything along with a governess? Lord Steele had seemed so nice, but clearly he expected a level of compliance beyond anything she’d ever encountered before.

Abigail bit her lip. Mayhap she was reaching unwarranted conclusions.

“Where does Lord Steele sleep?” she asked.

Carlton waved a spoon toward the large double doors at the side of the room. “In the master’s suite
next door, of course. His Lordship was quite explicit that he wants you
within arm’s reach.”

Abigail felt ill. Pressing her hand to her aching belly, she turned away, trying to sort out what to do. She already owed the moneylender the thirty shillings she’d used to pay off her rent. If she quit this job she’d be in the duns for sure! And what about Reggie? She needed to stay in London to find him.

And the boys…in the few hours they’d spent together, Seth and Felix had managed to worm their way into her resistant little heart. Her charges were the only people that she truly allowed herself to love. And these two boys desperately needed the love she longed to give. This was the first time she’d ever had charges who were orphans, like her. And the boys’ grief was so painfully apparent that her heart ached in harmony with theirs.

Could she desert them?

Finishing the last spoon, Carlton adjusted the sleeve of his black swallow-tailed coat. “I don’t have the time for this. I have many pressing matters to attend to and have little patience for your discontent.”

“Discontent…?” Gritting her teeth, Abigail held up her hand. “Just give me a moment.”

She exhaled. If she left now, the boys were well off and Steele would certainly find another governess soon enough. Perhaps a woman willing to put up with the additional requirements of the job that Abigail had been blind to. She couldn’t quite believe that “servicing” the master was part and parcel of the duties. Steele had to know about her past and have selected her specifically because of it.

She straightened. Did Mr. Linder-Myer know about this arrangement? Was that why he’d ignored her missing references? Had all this been a ploy? That meant that if she left now, she’d never gain a post through that agency, or probably any other agency in the city of London! Where did that leave her?

Abigail looked up and caught a glimpse of her haunted face in the gilded mirror above the dressing table. She was so tired of playing the victim, so tired of being on her own.

Suddenly Headmaster Dunn’s face swarmed her vision.
Never compromise your principles
, he spoke in her mind.
For at the end of the day, they’ll stand by you as staunchly as any friend.

Swallowing, Abigail turned back to Carlton. “There’s been some mistake. I thank you for your time, but I will not be taking this post.”

Quickly she lifted her skirts and sprinted down the hall. She swept down the servants’ stairs and into the kitchen. The hustle and clamor of preparations for the evening meal were under way, and the odor of fish made Abigail even sicker. She barely avoided toppling a tray of liver and onions as she raced toward the door. “Sorry!”

Once outside in the darkening evening, Abigail sucked in the fresh air and closed her eyes, hoping to block out the painful truth of it. She was on her own and in trouble; she was without employment, a place to live, food to eat…

Angrily she wiped away a tear. She’d considered herself lucky, secure for a time, at least. She’d been such a fool not to have noticed that something was amiss, that Lord Steele was not as he’d appeared. She
wondered what additional consequences she’d have to face; a peer wouldn’t take kindly to not getting what he wanted.

“Oh, dear Lord,” she groaned, recalling her words to Steele about not disappointing him. Pressing her hand to her forehead, she desperately tried to think of what to do. If only Headmaster Dunn were alive! He’d always helped her out in the past. If only she had a friend to talk to! Someone to help her think through her options. She glared up at the house, spying movements in the windows. What would Carlton say to Lord Steele? How would he react? Should she try to explain herself? How could she face the man, knowing what he wanted of her?

With her heart racing and bile rising in her throat, she forced herself to straighten. “I’ll not let them get to me. I can’t. I won’t.”

Before she could question her actions, she turned and marched down the alley at the side of the house and out to the street. Spotting the park across the way, she dashed across the cobblestone street and made her way onto the pebbled lane. Her feet crunched loudly as she strode along, but she made it only about thirty paces before the energy drained from her legs like sap bleeding from a tree.

Spying a bench, she collapsed into it, slouching in a manner that would have had any governess worth her salt smacking her shoulders to straighten.

Dusk was falling, and she welcomed the veil of darkness. She wanted to hide, wanted to crawl away and cry. She knew she was being pathetic, but she spared herself a few moments of self-pity before she’d have to be the businesslike adult she’d been
pretending to be ever since her parents had died ten years earlier.

The leaves rustling in the tress calmed her, and she inhaled a deep breath, smelling pine. “I’m alive,” she muttered to the shadows. “I have my limbs. I have my sanity, what more do I need?”

She straightened.
Oh no
,
I have to somehow retrieve my things!

As she pressed her hand to her mouth, Abigail’s eyes widened in horror. What if they searched her trunk and found the secret compartment? Her pistol! And her widow’s costume! What would they think of her then?

She bit her lip, trying to decide what to do. She’d always consoled herself with the fact that the pistol was not loaded and was secure inside a locked box inside the secret compartment with the widow’s costume, but still…

“What the blazes is wrong with you?” a smooth, cultured voice demanded.

Abigail blinked, only then realizing that it was full dark. Moonlight speared through the trees, encircling Abigail’s little bench in a whitish glow.

Pebbles crunched under Steele’s leather boots as he made his way toward her like a commanding general leading an army. Carlton was at his heels, his black coattails flying. Mrs. Pitts, the housekeeper, padded behind, her keys jangling with every huffing step.

Slowly Abigail stood, her knees wobbling only slightly.

“Are you ill?” Steele demanded.

Abigail stepped backward, bumping her knees up against the wooden bench. She didn’t know what
to say. She knew she should answer, but she had no words for this man who’d presumed so much.

“She looks fit ta me.” Mrs. Pitts sniffed. “Mayhap she’s flighty.”

“Why did you leave like that?” Lord Steele demanded. The moonlight shone on his raven hair, and his eyes pierced into her like beacons in the night. His chiseled features were locked into a hard glare, and his body thrummed with barely contained irritation.

She felt the power emanating from his brawny physique like a siren’s call and cursed the power he so negligently exercised on others. The man was breathtakingly handsome, and distantly she wondered if in the past his servants had seen bedding him as some sort of additional recompense.

Well, not me!
From deep inside her, anger sparked, and she welcomed it, fanning the tiny flame with every slight and insult she’d suffered at the hands of nobility over the last five years.

Crossing his arms, Steele challenged, “I have no time or patience for games. Answer me!”

Games? Here stood a man demanding that she play along in a role of his design and he said
she
was the one playing games? Her anger warped and turned toward this big, brawny target. “You’re the one with the twisted games, not me!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t you curse at me!”

The muscle in his jaw worked. “Then explain yourself so that a reasonably intelligent person can understand you.”

Abigail met that dark, gleaming gaze with
narrowed eyes. “Let me be perfectly clear so a
reasonably intelligent
person can understand one simple thing: I cannot work for you.”

“Cannot or will not?”

Abigail lifted her chin. “Will not. Not for the likes of you.”

“Why, you impertinent wench!” Carlton hissed.

Two more sets of feet came scrambling down the lane, sending pebbles flying.

Seth raced toward her. “Miss Abigail! Miss Abigail! They say you’re leaving!”

Felix charged after his brother. “Seth! Come back here!”

Seth slammed into Abigail’s skirts. “Tell him it ain’t true!”

Without thought Abigail corrected, “It’s
not
true.”

Turning toward his brother, Seth jeered, “See! I told you she wouldn’t leave!”

Abigail’s heart dropped. “Oh no, that’s not what I meant.”

Lord Steele turned and looked down the path. “Where are the footmen that are supposed to be keeping an eye on you? You’re never supposed to be left unattended!” Fury interlaced his voice, causing Seth to clutch at Abigail’s skirts.

“Unruly lads!” Carlton’s eyes were filled with aggravation, and his lips curled in distaste. “This is house business, and the two of you don’t belong here!” Carlton grabbed Seth by the shoulder and yanked him away from Abigail.

Seth shrieked, swinging his arms in defense. A fist landed on Carlton’s middle.

“Why, you disobedient pup!” Carlton shook Seth, hard.

“Ow!” Seth cried in obvious pain.

Fury engulfed Abigail. “Unhand him!” Stepping over, she wrenched Carlton’s hand off Seth’s shoulder and twisted his wrist around so that the man’s whole body was forced to follow. The butler collapsed on his knees with a yelp of pain.

Leaning forward, Abigail hissed in Carlton’s ear, “If you ever lay a hand on him again, you’ll be the finest one-handed butler in all of London!”

“You’re hurting me!” Carlton cried.

Disgusted, Abigail shoved him away, and he collapsed on the ground whimpering and clutching his wrist.

Silence filled the park as everyone’s eyes landed on Abigail.

Lord Steele exhaled softly. “You are definitely not what I expected.”

“I can say the same for you,” Abigail retorted, shocked by the fury, now lit, that blazed within her. It filled her with a fire that made her want to scorch the earth with righteous vengeance.

Two burly footmen came racing up the path. “Sorry, m’lord. We told the lads not to leave the house.”

Looking down at Seth, Steele declared, “You cannot leave the house unattended. Do you understand me?”

“He wasn’t unattended.” Felix stepped up beside his brother. “He was with me.”

Steele furrowed his brow. After a moment, he nodded. “You’re absolutely right. I wasn’t being fair.”

Abigail blinked, surprised.

Lord Steele squatted down and spoke to Seth. “The
new
rule in my house is that neither of you leaves without being attended by at least two adults. Do you agree?”

Abigail could hardly conceal her astonishment that Steele would ask the boys to agree and not simply make his edict and expect it to be followed without question.

“Can Miss Abigail be one of the adults?” Felix asked, his eyes seeking hers.

Her heart twisted with the agony of deserting these two children.

Steele nodded. “Yes.” His gaze met hers, and she was shocked to see a hint of admiration shining in his dark eyes. “I believe she’s proven herself handy in a pinch.”

Seth preened. “Then I agree!”

“Me, too,” Felix declared.

“Then we have a deal.” Extending his hand, he shook hands with each boy with dramatic solemnity. “Now please go back to the house with Foster and Claude before your grandfather worries.”

“But we want to be with Miss Abigail!” Seth wailed.

Steele rose. “Miss Abigail will be joining you for dinner in a moment. You must dress first, though. She would be most disappointed if you showed up for dinner in your shirtsleeves.”

The lads looked to her for confirmation, and she hadn’t the heart to tell them the truth. They’d learn soon enough. “Go along, boys.”