Regency Surrender: Defiant Lords. Anne Herries
were exposed as an impostor? It would be so very embarrassing and could ruin her reputation. For a moment she was tempted to turn tail and run away now before she was dragged into something beyond her control, but pride would not let her.
No, she was doing nothing wrong...not terribly wrong anyway. Having embarked on her masquerade, she could at least stay to greet the children. If the challenge became too much for her she could always hand in her notice and leave and no one would be any the wiser. Besides, it was unlikely that anyone she knew would visit Cavendish Park and, providing she gave good service, her employer would have no cause for complaint.
Having calmed her fears, Sarah changed into a fresh gown. It was clean, neat and clearly the kind of plain no-nonsense dress that a governess would be expected to wear. She pulled at the bodice because it was a little tight across her breasts. Although of similar heights, she and Hester were of a different build, Sarah being rather more curvy.
However, the dress fitted well enough and perhaps she would have time to let out the seams a little. Had she been impersonating a maid there would have been a uniform but governesses were expected to provide their own gowns.
Sarah wondered how much Hester had been promised as her wage. It was one of the many things she hadn’t had time to discuss and now regretted. Money was not a problem for the moment, because she still had several guineas in her purse and would need very little while she stayed here. She might miss her clothes and favourite pieces of jewellery, but had decided to have her trunks stored until further notice. Had the housekeeper decided to investigate her closet, it would not have done to have a dozen silk dresses hanging there. Mrs Brancaster would have immediately thought the worst, because there was only one way a governess could come by such gowns.
Hester Goodrum had given her the reference from Lady Mary, also the schedule she’d intended to set for Francesca and John. A swift perusal had left Sarah feeling that it was sadly lacking in imagination and she made a few notes in the margins of lessons she thought a young woman might enjoy.
Making her way downstairs to the kitchens, she heard voices and, since her name was mentioned, hesitated outside the door.
‘What do you think of her, then?’ a woman’s voice asked. ‘Will she last longer than a month, do you think?’
‘Well, Cook, all I can tell you is that she seems very sure of herself—and that’s what I told his lordship. She’s not like any of the others so she might just succeed where they failed.’
‘I hope as you’re right, Mrs Brancaster. Those young devils were in here earlier and they took all the cake I’d baked yesterday and I had to start all over again.’
‘Well, let’s hope she can keep them in order—’ Mrs Brancaster broke off as Sarah opened the door and walked in. ‘Ah, there you are, Miss Goodrum. We were just talking about you, wondering whether you would settle here.’
‘It is a lovely house and the grounds are magnificent,’ Sarah said. ‘Have Miss Francesca and Master John returned yet?’
‘I believe they went upstairs just a few moments ago. His lordship said we’re to serve tea at the normal time—and he asked that you should join them in the drawing room. Says he’s going to introduce you to your pupils.’
‘Oh...’ Sarah’s heart hammered in her breast. ‘I thought I was to have tea with you, but if I’ve been summoned... Where is the drawing room, please?’
‘You recall the parlour? Well, the drawing room is at the far end of the corridor and looks out over the park. Shall I send one of the maids with you?’
‘No, I dare say I can find my own way.’
‘Well, Miss Goodrum, I’m pleased you’ve come,’ Cook said, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘In my opinion it’s time those youngsters were taught some discipline.’
‘I shall do my best to make them behave, but I can’t guarantee it.’ Sarah smiled. ‘I think Lord Myers will soon have Master John under his control. I hope I may have some success with preparing Miss Francesca for her future role.’
‘She’s been allowed to run wild and that’s the truth of it,’ Cook said. ‘Their grandfather has spoiled them too much in my opinion.’
‘Well, perhaps they just need someone to take an interest in their needs. If you will excuse me, I shall find my way to the drawing room before they ring for tea.’
Sarah left the kitchen and walked up the back stairs, letting herself out into one of the back halls. For a moment she looked about her, trying to get her bearings. Had they turned left or right for the parlour? It was a large house and if she took a wrong turning she might lose herself.
‘If you’re looking for the drawing room, Miss Goodrum, you turn to the right,’ a voice said. Sarah turned and found herself being addressed by a footman. He was young and attractive, with dark blond hair and blue eyes and his smile was friendly.
‘Oh, thank you,’ she said. ‘I visited the front parlour earlier, but couldn’t quite recall which way to turn.’
‘It’s easy enough once you get used to it,’ he said. ‘I’m Trevor Bent, Miss Goodrum. Your name is Hester, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but I don’t like it,’ Sarah said, her cheeks faintly pink. She hesitated, then, ‘My father called me Sarah. I prefer the name, if you don’t mind.’
‘I don’t mind,’ he replied and grinned. ‘May I call you Sarah—or am I being too forward?’
‘I don’t mind at all,’ she said. ‘Thank you for your help, Trevor.’
Turning in the direction the footman had pointed out, Sarah was pleased by the respectful admiration in the young man’s eyes. He seemed to like her and it was refreshing to know that he had no idea that she was rich. She was tired of being courted for her fortune—and, of late, a certain person’s pursuit had been nothing short of menacing. He was determined to push her into marriage and she was equally determined to resist—but her uncle and aunt were on his side, forever telling her what a good husband Sir Roger would make.
‘He’s a gentleman,’ Uncle Matthew had told her. ‘He won’t interfere in the running of the mills, but he’ll be there at your side to give you more authority. A woman alone can’t hope to mange everything your father left you.’
‘But I told you what he did—that he is a rogue. How can you say he would make a good husband for me?’
‘Reformed rakes make the best husbands,’ her aunt had told her with a foolish and rather coy smile. ‘I dare say he got carried away a little at the party by his love for you, Sarah. Gentlemen can be like that sometimes.’
‘Love is neither here nor there,’ her uncle had said. ‘A woman should be married and caring for her children, not managing the mills. Sir Roger has mills of his own and would take the burden from your shoulders.’
It was no use telling her uncle that Sir Roger left his mills to the care of neglectful overseers and was in danger of losing them—or that she would never subject her people to the kind of treatment they received from Sir Roger’s managers. Of course, Sir Roger never went near them himself. He was far too busy enjoying himself in London—and no doubt he imagined her money would allow him to continue with the life he desired.
Sarah had bitten back the hasty retort that rose to her lips. She had been managing her mills alone quite well, with the help of her managers. It was true that she had found it time-consuming, giving her little leisure for herself, which was why she’d decided to take this time out. Yet she would hate to relinquish them to a man like Sir Roger.
As she approached the drawing room, she heard the sound of voices raised.
‘Why doesn’t Grandfather come himself?’ a girl’s voice said on a truculent note. ‘John and I are tired of being given boring lessons and told to get on with them. We want to see other people—to have some fun.’
‘Well, you have