The Mysterious Governess (Daughters of Sin 3)

Lissa was feeling distinctly forlorn by now, and Mr. Tunley gave her a bolstering pat on the shoulder. “If I could look forward to imminent elevation in my job, I would suggest that we eloped this very minute. Not only are you beautiful but you’re clearly wondrously talented, and sound as if you’d be a great asset to a young man trying to make his mark in the world.” He sent her a self-deprecating grin, then shrugged. “The fact is, I cannot offer you anything, and you face the prospect of being thrown out onto the street without a character if you don’t gain access.”

Lissa put her hand to her mouth. The truth was terrifying. “I’m not sure whether to be flattered or not, Mr. Tunley. Though of course, it’s easy to make extravagant declarations when you follow them up with the caveat that they’re entirely impossible.” She liked this young man, whose humor and lightness of being was so different from what she was used to.

He raked his fingers through the thatch of hair that flopped over his forehead. “One day I shall be a man of influence and plump enough in the pocket to make spontaneous offers of marriage to beautiful women I rescue from carriage accidents. Sadly, though, for now, I’ll just have to be ingenious enough to find a way to breach the stone fortress that stands before us.”

Mr. Tunley might not have been flush with funds but he was incredibly daring, climbing the drainpipe and entering the house through an open window. Lissa had never been so frightened, watching his precarious ascent and then perilous acrobatics as he’d struggled to push up the sash while balancing on the narrow window ledge. It took all her willpower not to hug him again when he triumphantly opened the kitchen door and greeted her with out-flung arms and a grin of self-congratulation.

***

Lissa had not expected thanks but she was surprised by the force of her feelings when, the following day, Cosmo flaunted the portrait he claimed to have painted while his mama and sister gushed their admiration. Lissa, who was passing the breakfast room to take her two charges out of the house for a walk, hesitated in the passage and looked through the half open door. The eldest Lamont daughter, eighteen-year-old Maria, thought her brother’s talent prodigious, while Mrs. Lamont declared her son’s brilliance sufficient to ensure him all manner of lucrative commissions amongst the haut ton.

“You tell your Miss Danvers that she’s to show it to the company when her mother entertains that new MP, Lord Debenham and his friends,” cried Mrs. Lamont as she held the painting up to the light. She patted her ringlets as she sighed pleasurably over the family’s future prospects. “I read all about His Lordship in the gossip sheets and he’d be just the man to help advance you, Cosmo. He’s not married but he has the look of someone in need of a wife, eh Maria? Or perhaps he has a nearly-betrothed in need of painting.”

Lissa tried not to cough and thus alert Cosmo to her outrage at the smooth manner in which he accepted his family’s praise, with not one word to indicate he was not the lone architect of his masterpiece. Instead, she had to satisfy herself with a very brief but focused glare as she passed by while she digested the rather disconcerting news that Mrs. Lamont was familiar with the very man her governess had been dancing with the previous night. It was some small consolation that the Lamonts only aspired to the social ranks that would enable them to invite a man like Lord Debenham to the house.

Lissa’s revenge upon Cosmo for his arrogance came in a most unexpected manner about an hour after his return. She was on her hands and knees in the drawing room, turning down the hem of one of Miss Maria’s older morning gowns and wondering if she’d have the chance of conversing with Mr. Tunley if he returned her damaged ball gown that afternoon, as he’d promised.

Thanks to Miss Maria’s father’s success as a broker in the city, the young lady had a fair selection of evening gowns for her debut, but she’d put on an unexpected spurt of growth and the family was not wealthy enough for luxuries like new morning gowns, which were only for lounging around in at home, besides. The lady of fashion was an expensive creature, with so many changes of clothing required, but Mrs. Lamont was, in addition to being frighteningly ambitious, extremely enterprising. And ruthless.

Miss Maria, prettier than her mother had ever been, Lissa suspected, was not nearly as clever and did not do much in the way of lounging. When she wasn’t being drilled in deportment, she was to be found flitting around, checking her appearance in her hand mirror and scanning the street from the drawing room window for a sign of the various men who might have caught her interest at the few social events to which she was invited, or taking visits with her family to the theatre or the National Museum.

Lissa was terrified her eldest charge would discover the absence of her silver-flecked ball gown and every minute that ticked by was spent in an agony that the charming young man she’d met the night before would let her down. It wasn’t too much to say that her entire future rested in his hands, for if he reneged on his promise to return Miss Maria’s dress properly mended before its disappearance was discovered, Lissa would be out of a job. Without a character, she had no hope of securing another position.

When the parlor maid put her head around the door a moment later and announced with a frown that a gentleman wished an audience with Miss Hazlett, all three heads jerked up. Not Lissa’s for she could only stare at Maria’s daintily shod feet while heat burned her cheeks.

“Gentlemen callers are not allowed,” Mrs. Lamont responded in warning tones, rising and taking a few threatening steps toward Lissa. “Miss Hazlett, can you explain what this is about?”

“Excuse me, ma’am, but the gentleman—a Mr. Tunley—says he’s here on behalf of his employer, Lord Debenham.” The girl looked confused, as if she had no idea whether this might be a man of importance or not.

Mrs. Lamont’s reaction left her in no doubt.

“What would Lord Debenham want with you, Miss Hazlett?” It was an accusation, not a question, and Lissa made to rise without an answer, though in truth her terror threatened to overwhelm her.

Mr. Tunley worked for Lord Debenham?

It was Cosmo who strode forward, smoothly taking charge and saying, “Tell this gentleman we shall see him in the conservatory.”

Lissa shook her head, shrugging off his hand upon her shoulder. “But he wants to see me.” Whatever the gentleman had to say must be said in private. Dear Lord, had Lord Debenham learned she was the mere governess and Mr. Tunley was here to warn her? If it were about the dress only, he’d have been more circumspect about it, surely?

“I was speaking of Lord Debenham to an acquaintance and of His Lordship’s potential interest in a portrait just an hour ago,” Cosmo hissed to Lissa under his breath when he’d nevertheless propelled her toward the doorway that opened into the passa

ge. “You’ve got a message to him, haven’t you? Telling him that you painted the portrait of Miss Danvers when it was really me!”

Lissa stepped back at the vitriol in his eyes as she defended herself in a whisper, “Truly, Cosmo, I have no idea what this is about. I’ve said nothing to anyone about... You know.” She trailed off at the warning look in his eye. “It’s just that I met Mr. Tunley last night when my hackney was in an accident. He must be here to see if I’m all right.”

Cosmo looked first mollified, then assessing. “So you met Lord Debenham’s equerry, or whatever this servant calls himself, last night, did you? Well, Miss Hazlett, you’d better be careful what you tell this gentleman.”

Lissa squared her shoulders. “I value my position, Master Cosmo, besides which, I have nowhere else to go. Ah, Mr. Tunley, what a pleasant surprise.”

She was relieved he was dressed like a gentleman of fashion and not a lackey, and unprepared for the lurch she felt in the region of her heart as he was invited at that moment by the maid to step into the drawing room Lissa had hoped to vacate. She certainly did not wish the family to witness her meeting—or her suddenly disordered wits, for such feelings were new to her, as was this young man’s response.

His easy open grin and the way he tossed his unruly thatch of hair back from his face were signs of an open heart, she thought, liking him even more in the daylight. The only man apart from her brother that she’d had dealings with were Cosmo. Most other gentlemen didn’t deign to look at lowly governesses.

Mr. Tunley inclined his head then, with a glance at the assembled company, said with all the aplomb of the consummate diplomat, “Is there somewhere Miss Hazlett and I might speak in private? I have something to communicate on behalf of my employer...in confidence.”

After the rather bemused Lamont family had watched Lissa lead Mr. Tunley to the conservatory, Ralph thrust the parcel he carried under his arm at her and said triumphantly, “I pledged to return your gown—or your mistress’s gown—none the worse for wear.”

“And managed to set tongues wagging in the process.”