The Mysterious Governess (Daughters of Sin 3)

While the orchestra played, Lissa tweaked the lustrous folds of her silver-flecked evening gown—well, Miss Maria’s ball gown—and tested her smile, reflected in the enormous silver epergne, from which protruded at least three dozen lilies on the center of the refreshments table.

“One dance, and that’s all. Then the evening’s over,” Cosmo muttered as he plucked a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and handed it to her. “I get few enough invitations to such events and I won’t suffer you to ruin my chances of more.”

Cosmo had gone to great pains with his appearance. His hair, short at the sides, had been brushed upwards to gain him even greater height, while plunging south into a pair of razor-thin sideburns. Lissa glanced at the nipped-in waist of his royal blue swallow-tail coat and wondered if he’d resorted to his sister’s corsetry. Well, perhaps not Miss Maria’s stays, but lately he’d been adopting, more and more, the accouterments of style favored by the tulips or pinks of whom her brother Ned—a true nonpareil himself these days—spoke so scathingly.

Fingering the ridiculously high points of his collar, which looked like it was choking him, he muttered, “Drink up, Miss Hazlett, and then we shall dance a set before I take you home. It was pure chance I was invited here tonight and I don’t want to be exposed.” Cosmo glanced nervously over his shoulder as Lissa responded with a forced smile, “Others might have considered me an asset, Master Cosmo.”

She wished she’d been cleverer at negotiating terms. Certainly, it would be a scandal if it were discovered the governess had slipped unnoticed into such hallowed precincts, but Master Cosmo was an accomplished liar and Lissa knew how to conduct herself in such a setting. However, if her duplicity were revealed, Cosmo would no doubt find a way to turn to it his advantage while Lissa might well lose her position.

“Excuse me...”

Both turned at the interruption, Lissa experiencing a sudden and curious reaction that certainly wasn’t admiration as a lean, dark-haired man gazed at her through a pair of speculative dark eyes.

“My apologies. I had thought you someone else.” Despite his error, the gentleman still asked Lissa to partner him in the quadrille once he’d introduced himself and ascertained she was free for that set.

Within minutes, Lissa was close enough to smell the whiskey and tar soap that impregnated his inky locks and dark wool coat, and to wonder why she felt so uncomfortable in his company.

“Miss Hazlett?” As they waited for the head couple to perform their figures, he stared at her intently. “Is it possible you are related to Miss Araminta Partington?”

Shock rendered her speechless. How could he possibly have guessed at a family connection? But of course, he had not, she reassured herself. He was merely commenting upon a resemblance that had been remarked upon before, as resemblances were remarked upon in many families. However, with Lissa and Araminta on opposite sides of the social divide, Lissa had never—until now—considered it could be a complication.

She hoped he didn’t notice her fiery blush as she replied, faintly, “I’m a visitor to these parts. I have not heard of the young lady.”

He nodded, his thin lips tightening, turning to bow to the lady on his left, as the dance required, before turning back to Lissa, the music and figures of the quadrille sedate enough to continue their conversation. “Interesting. When I glimpsed you across the dance floor, I thought you were she. Not that I am disappointed, of course.”

He smiled suddenly, as if it were a prop intended to make him appear disarming, as he led her in a short promenade. He exuded confidence and entitlement—and danger—and Lissa, who was not one to suffer nerves, was frightened her carefully cultivated façade may suddenly dissolve.

“This is my first season, Lord Debenham,” she murmured, returning to her place beside him after the ladies’ chain. “How interesting that I have a double.”

“Yes, and there she is.” His Lordship raised a thin eyebrow as he clasped her in a waltz hold, ready to gallop her across to the other side of the set. “Dancing with the very undesirable Sir Aubrey, in fact. You’ve surely been in town long enough to know he is someone of whom to beware.”

Lissa followed the direction of his gaze and her heart lurched. Not on account of the sudden requirement for energy or fear at not knowing the steps. Though the quadrille in its modern form had been introduced relatively recently to the upper classes, Lissa and her siblings had been taught to dance. Their mother, not the most maternal nor ambitious of women, had nevertheless insisted her offspring receive a classical education, which included dancing and watercolors, even if there would be no occasion to flaunt these refinements. Having the accouterments without opportunity until now to practice them in public was one of the many reasons Lissa was enjoying every moment rubbing shoulders with the rich and titled.

Well, she had been enjoying every moment, until she saw her half-sister. There she was dressed in virginal white silk with a pale green sash to match the green feather in her simple headdress. Miss Araminta Partington, living the life Lissa would have lived had her father followed his heart, not his parents’ dictates.

The young woman’s supercilious glance about the ballroom did nothing to ameliorate the raw hatred that surged through Lissa, though fortunately when Araminta looked pointedly at Lord Debenham, her gaze didn’t encompass the unknown Lissa.

Araminta’s interest in Lord Debenham immediately made him more interesting. Certainly his dark, cruel looks were not to Lissa’s taste. She could tell that, in his own way, he was as self-absorbed as Cosmo; but the fact Araminta was clearly sizing him up as a prospect was unexpected. Lissa immediately wanted to know more. And of Sir Aubrey, with that striking streak of blond hair in his otherwise dark locks, whom Lord Partington clearly held in aversion. A rival, perhaps?

“Why should I be wary of Sir Aubrey?”

A glance down his hawk-like nose would have made lesser girls quail. As if her question singled her out as utterly ignorant.

“You really are from the country if you’ve heard nothing of the scandal attached to our lowly baronet. The blackguard is barely received. But I shall leave it at that for what would you know of politics? You only have to read the gossip sheets to understand it would be wise to steer clear of the villain.”

Lissa bristled at his dismissive tone. In fact, she followed politics with great interest and regularly purloined her employer’s newspaper when he’d finished with it.

“I am interested in politics, Lord Debenham,” she said. “I’d like to hear the details.”

Lord Debenham stroked his snowy cravat, then shrugged. “Sir Aubrey drove his late wife to take her own life—though others suggest he played a more personal role in her death—when he learned she was preparing to reveal his involvement in a group of Spenceans suspected of plotting the assassination of Lord Castlereagh.”

Lissa gasped. “He’s a Spencean? A murderer? And he’s received?”

Lord Debenham shrugged again before taking her hands to execute the next figure of the set. “Only because there is as yet insufficient evidence to convict him, but mark my words, Miss Hazlett, it will not be long before Sir Aubrey is brought to justice.”

“And Miss Partington is dancing with him?” Lissa was truly shocked. She knew her sister enjoyed taking risks, but surely she’d think associating in any way with a suspected traitor and murderer would be unacceptably damaging to her reputation?

Lord Debenham sent a narrow look in the couple’s direction. “Sir Aubrey likes to look the Pinkest of the Pinks but the truth is, he’s shockingly loose in the haft, if you’ll pardon me coining a phrase your brother might use. Sir Aubrey thinks he can get away with anything if he puts up enough front. He’s certainly cunning and desperate enough to be a danger to anyone who falls foul of him.”