Steam & Sorcery (5 page)

Merrick was touched. Considering the lengths he’d gone to avoid his new charges, he didn’t deserve such confidence.

“Me too,” piped in Jamie from the couch, albeit weakly. “’E’s all right.”

“Very well. Then trust him to take care of your brother. What Jamie needs now is quiet, and for that, the rest of you must remove yourselves from this library. Is that clear, ladies?” Dorothy cast her dark gaze on Wink and Nell, until both girls gave reluctant nods.

On that note, Mrs. Granger and Mountjoy herded the four momentarily subdued youths out of the library, shutting the thick oak door with a near-silent snick.

Something had tightened in Merrick’s chest when not one of them quibbled over Dorothy’s use of the term
brother
. Despite what he knew had to be widely disparate backgrounds, these five had indeed forged a closely knit family. It wouldn’t be easy to be considered a part of it—if one wished to, that was.

No.
He shook off the thought. These children weren’t his family—they were simply a responsibility he’d chosen to accept. It was important to remember that.

Later, the surgeon had been and gone, Jamie had been put to bed, and Merrick sagged back into his chair in the library, a frazzled Dorothy right beside him.

“You’re right,” he acknowledged, pouring them both a healthy measure of brandy. “We need a governess—or six.”

His aunt didn’t even pretend to be too ladylike to consume the spirits. She took a healthy swig. “Yes. Immediately.”

“It won’t be easy,” he reminded her. “Most of those children are gifted, in one way or another, and there are Order issues to be considered.” Nell saw ghosts, Wink’s mechanical aptitude extended beyond the range of natural genius, Jamie occasionally had glimpses of the future, and Piers was just bloody brilliant. In addition, any governess he hired would also have to be up to the task of training them in the manners of the gentry. After all, as his wards, they’d be expected to move in his social circles one day.

“Don’t worry, dear.” Dorothy patted his hand. “I know just the person.”

Caroline leaned back against the smooth cordovan leather of Miss Hadrian’s private carriage, turned her head and tried not to sigh at the luxurious, nearly sensual feel of it beneath her cheek. She hadn’t traveled in this sort of comfort since she was sixteen years old. Not even when she’d gone places with her employers—the children and governess were generally relegated to a less elegantly appointed conveyance. Although this ride was only from one neighborhood of London to another, she was determined to enjoy every fleeting second.

It had shocked her to receive a letter last night from Miss Hadrian—Caroline really couldn’t think of the older woman by her first name, no matter how many times she was told to do so. The note had been brief and to the point, just as one would expect from such a straightforward woman. Miss Hadrian’s nephew had recently come into guardianship of five children, aged nine to fifteen. The eldest boy would have a tutor, but a governess was desperately needed for the other four.

Caroline had lain awake all night, pondering the wisdom of accepting this invitation. On the one hand, she desperately needed the position. On the other, she was terrified at the thought of working in a household that included Sir Merrick Hadrian. After her first brief meeting with the man, she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind—or dreams—for weeks.

The carriage pulled to a halt in front of a Georgian stone mansion that made Caroline gulp. She’d known the Hadrian family was wealthy, but she hadn’t envisioned quite this degree of magnificence, especially for a mere baronet. Still, she held her head high as the liveried footman helped her alight. She kept it there as a dignified butler looked down his long nose at her while she entered through the front door, rather than the rear entrance reserved for servants, or aspiring ones. She’d been surprised as well, when the carriage had stopped at the front of this dwelling, but since it had, she was going to act like she deserved it.

“Caroline, dear, I’m
so
grateful you could come.” Miss Hadrian hurried into the foyer just as the butler was taking Caroline’s serviceable gray cape. The older woman clasped Caroline’s hand warmly in her own and held her arm to guide her down the wide, imposing hallway.

As usual, Miss Hadrian was dressed in understated elegance. Her deep blue gabardine day dress was made from the finest fabrics, but boasted a single flounce to the skirt and simple braided trim in lieu of the usual ribbons and ruffles. She also wore far fewer petticoats than was the norm for women of her social class. In such company, Caroline didn’t feel quite so dowdy in her brown serge dress, trimmed only by a small ivory lace collar with a tiny brown-and-green ribbon at the throat. It was her newest costume, though it was no more flattering than any of her others. Flattering was not something she strove for when meeting prospective employers.

“You really couldn’t have been available at a more opportune time.” The paneled corridor was unexpectedly free of any knick-knacks or even paintings, though there were several nails still showing where paintings would once have hung. Odd. Had the Hadrian family fortunes taken a sudden reversal? “You’ll understand why I thought of you when you meet the children, my dear. You are exactly what they need.” There was a harried note in Miss Hadrian’s voice that Caroline had never heard before. Certainly something was amiss in this household.

The two women entered a pleasant sitting room, though it too, was devoid of any decorative items save a single bronze urn and a pair of small silver statuettes on the mantelpiece. The furniture was expensive and covered in quality fabrics, so whatever reverses had occurred must be quite recent.

Sir Merrick stood as they entered. The moment she laid eyes on him, Caroline forgot all about the sunny yellow room with the thick green and bronze carpet. Twin shivers coursed down either side of her spine and she knew at once she was going to have to regretfully decline the position.

Households with men were dangerous to a young, relatively attractive governess.

Households with men like this were dangerous to any woman with blood in her veins.

He was even more devastatingly handsome than she’d remembered, tall and broad-shouldered, in an impeccably cut black morning coat. Dark brown hair with just a hint of a wave had been tamed ruthlessly back from a wide forehead, leaving his intelligent golden brown eyes unshadowed, except for slashing dark brows and absurdly thick black lashes. Perhaps thirty or thirty-five, he had fine lines about his eyes and mouth, but no trace of infirmity in his powerful physique and no silver strands in his hair. His features were strong and sharp, his keen gaze giving Caroline the notion that he saw right through the bravado she wore as a shield.

“Merrick, you remember my friend, Miss Caroline Bristol. Caroline, once again, this is my nephew, Sir Merrick Hadrian.”

“Of course I remember, Miss Bristol.” Sir Merrick held out his hand for Caroline’s.

“Sir Merrick.” As if she could have forgotten him. Mentally squaring her shoulders, she held out her own gloved hand and dropped into a slight curtsey, one perfectly befitting a member of the upper gentry, such as a baronet. The tingling sense of connection she felt from his big warm hand had to be an illusion, as she could have gotten no such impression through the thin leather of her gloves.

“Have a seat, dear,” Miss Hadrian urged as a footman entered with a laden tea tray. “You take your tea with a little cream, no sugar, correct?”

“Yes, thank you, Miss Hadrian.” Caroline could barely take her eyes off Sir Merrick long enough to smile at her friend and accept the surprisingly sturdy and plain china cup and saucer she was handed. Then her gaze lit on the tea tray, and she was finally distracted. It was all she could do not to fall voraciously on the plates heaped with sandwiches and cakes. She hadn’t eaten a thing since last evening’s supper.

Sir Merrick accepted his own cup, but Caroline could tell his regard never wavered from her. “Forgive me, miss, but you’re significantly younger than I’d expect in a governess.” His dark brows drew together and his full lips pursed. “Are you certain you’re capable of managing four unruly children?”

Caroline allowed herself a hint of a smile. So the interview had commenced. “I’ve yet to meet the children I cannot teach, provided their parents or guardians allow me to do so.”

“
Allow
you to do so? Precisely what do you mean by that?” His voice, never warm, had grown colder.

After a fortifying sip of the marvelous tea, she took as deep a breath as her corset would permit, cursing herself for the vanity of having laced it rather tighter than usual. “In some households, the governess is permitted to administer neither punishment nor reward. I find that it is difficult to manage children without those tools.”

His spine stiffened even further. “What sort of punishments do you recommend?”

Here she was on comfortable ground. “Generally one that fits the crime. If one of the children does something to hurt another, the punishment might be to assist the one who was hurt with all of their chores for the rest of the day. If the offense was insulting someone, a written letter of apology might be in order, or a public admission of disgrace, whichever is more fitting. Loss of privileges can also be effective—for example, staying at home and working while the others visit the park.”

“Never physical punishment?” There was no indication in his demeanor to indicate whether he approved or disapproved of the examples she’d given, though, of course, the common wisdom was, “Spare the rod and spoil the child,” with which Caroline fervently disagreed.

Choosing her words carefully, she answered, “I have, upon occasion, physically
restrained
a child. There was a toddler determined to run into traffic, and another boy intent on beating his younger brother. Both of us sustained some mild bruising that time, though I never actually struck him. I realize my views are radical ones, but I hold them sacrosanct. I have walked away from employers who insisted upon corporal punishment, and will doubtless do so again during the course of my career.”

Sir Merrick tipped his head and let out his breath. “Fine. Have you ever taught…gifted children?”

“Gifted in what way?” She bit her lower lip and looked longingly at a lemon tart on the tea tray. “I’m no musical virtuoso, so couldn’t teach anything more advanced than the basics. The same is true of my ability with pencil or paint. My Greek, Latin, French and history are excellent, and my skill with mathematics and the sciences should be adequate for most young children.”

“I believe my nephew is speaking of supernatural gifts.” Miss Hadrian heaped a plate with food and handed it to Caroline. “I know we’ve discussed such things in the reading circle and you’ve professed an open mind upon the subject.”

Caroline lifted an eyebrow as she swallowed a bit of watercress and cucumber sandwich, savoring every morsel. She used the pause to compose her reply. “An open mind, yes. I do not profess to have any experience or expertise in the matter.” And this was the excuse she’d been looking for. There was no way she could work in a household headed by a man as virile and overwhelming to the senses as Sir Merrick, as much as she liked his aunt. “I’m so sorry, but clearly I’m not the governess you require. Thank you very, very much for considering me, and for the lovely tea.”

Just as she set her empty cup back on the tea tray, the door burst open, and what sounded like a herd of rhinoceros lumbered into the room. There were five, she noted as the running shapes sorted themselves into individual children, plus a rather remarkable collection of mechanical pets—a dog, a monkey and a bird. A cup smashed and suddenly she understood the lack of ornamentation in this otherwise lovely home. The horde been here just a few days, Miss Hadrian’s letter had said.

One of the youngest children, a thin boy of perhaps nine or ten, with straight, medium brown hair and a pallor that hinted at recent illness, skidded to a stop in front of Caroline and winked up at her. “I’m a bastard, you know.” He snatched a crumpet off the tray and flitted away, grinning wickedly.

Caroline couldn’t help the smile that emerged through her mask of propriety. “I see.” She helped herself to a raspberry tart off her plate.
Delicious
. “As am I. How nice that we have something in common.” The noisy cluster all stopped and stared at her with wonder as she bit into the tart and chewed.

After swallowing, she added, “However, most people would prefer us not to discuss such things with strangers. It makes them uncomfortable, you know, and the whole point of good manners is to avoid making people feel awkward.”

“We don’t need no governess.” One of the girls rubbed her toe on the carpet and stared intently downward. Her dark hair and almond-shaped eyes hinted at an exotic heritage, though her Cockney accent was all London.

“Of course you don’t.” Caroline found she was enjoying herself for the first time since she’d left the coach. These children were fun. It was a shame she couldn’t stay. Then her glance strayed over to a scowling Sir Merrick and the thrill of attraction she still felt reinforced her resolve. “And I shan’t be staying, so you needn’t worry. Perhaps, though, since I have been a governess, and I am here at the moment, I can help you understand the purpose of the species while we enjoy our tea?”

“You talk funny.” The youngest boy, a tow-headed imp, had his arm in a sling. He stuffed a lemon tart into his face, all in one piece.

“I probably do, sometimes.” Caroline saw the fear that lurked behind his pale gray eyes. These children were bold but terrified. It would be good to put their minds at ease before she went on her way—and she could have another bite or two while she was about it. The sandwiches were delicious, after all—if she nibbled long enough, she wouldn’t have to buy supper tonight. “But never mind that. What do you think a governess is supposed to do?”

“Take away all our fun,” answered the thin, pale boy, his mouth full of sandwich. The other children nodded.

“I see.” Caroline sipped her tea. “So what do you consider fun? How do you like to spend your days?”

“Playing.” It was the young blond who piped up. Caroline patted the sofa beside her and he climbed up, allowing her to slip a pillow under his injured arm.

“Reading.” The middle boy, the thin, sickly one, injected the single word with reverence.

“Working on my machines.” The eldest girl, a lovely waif with rich auburn curls, wore coveralls stained with machine oil, but boasted a surprisingly proper accent.

The dark-haired girl shrugged, then whispered softly, “Singing.”

“Those are all excellent activities.” Caroline regarded each of them seriously. “But wouldn’t any of those things be easier to do with a bit of learning? For instance, one can play more games if one is able to read the rules. Isn’t that so? And how about all those books in Latin, or Greek, or French? Wouldn’t you like to learn to read those as well?” She turned to the girls. “One needs advanced mathematics to study engineering, and there’s a rather lovely pianoforte over in that corner. Someone to give lessons on that would certainly be helpful to a singer.”

Each of them stopped to consider her words.

She went on. “And of course, there are a thousand silly things to learn too—like which fork to use for shellfish or how to write a proper thank you note. Totally pointless, but people
do
expect one to know them. You wouldn’t want to embarrass Sir Merrick or Miss Hadrian, would you? It will look very poorly for them if their wards were unaware of proper behavior.”

“She’s right.” The eldest girl nodded her head sharply. “We do need to put on a good front for Sir Merrick’s sake.”

The others seemed to take their cue from her and nodded glumly.

“All right.” The littlest boy gazed up at Caroline plaintively. “But can we still play
some
of the time?”

Caroline laid her hand on the lad’s good one. “Of course. Play is an important part of everyday life. I’m sure that Sir Merrick and Miss Hadrian will find you a governess who will make time to play alongside you, as long as your lessons are done as well.” Even though she knew she wasn’t the right person for the job, she had confidence that Dorothy Hadrian would let no harm come to these orphaned youngsters. Still, she felt a small pang of loss at the idea of leaving. There was something about this raggle-taggle group that certainly tugged at the heartstrings. Guiding a cadre of street toughs into becoming ladies and gentlemen would be a monumental but rewarding task for a teacher.