His Bewitching Jewel (A Regency Holiday Romance Book 7) Page 2

  The man who had employed her was a gentleman. It was the first time she would work for someone and receive payment for it. She was usually the one who fetched things for the other ladies in her family—she supposed she had filled the role of companion for them. Now, now, she was an independent woman, aside from when she was fulfilling her duties as governess. The generous wages advertised, would allow her to live comfortably. Alas, she would not be able to live the life of luxury, she had once enjoyed. She had decided over the course of her travels that maybe, maybe, she would miss it. She had decided with romantic notions in her mind and heart that she could make do without all of the decadence her position as the niece of a wealthy gentleman had afforded her but now…now she knew she had been silly to think that. She had been a naïve little chit.

  Her mind went again to all that she had left behind, and she fought the regret that threatened to haunt her. People without money, or those who scraped to make ends meet, had surrounded her during her time on the road, and she had discovered with a sinking heart that she had lived a sheltered and pampered life. Before this trip, she had never realized how lucky she was. She had never thought she was like Rose, Iris and her other cousins, but she was. She was every bit the spoiled little princess, thanks to her uncle. Her uncle had protected her from the roughness of the world. He had kept her from the horrors of it, as well.

  The carriage rattled to a stop, and people started to disembark. They had arrived. Falmouth beckoned to her. This was where she got off. For the last time, Thank God. From here, it was onward to Penryn House, and she would have to embrace her destiny—whether she liked it or not. She bid adieu to the old man who had been her travel companion for much of the journey, and he tipped his hat to her, and mumbled something that slightly resembled a farewell.

  She stepped out of the carriage, and as soon as she did so, lightning flashed, and thunder rumbled through the area. She swallowed thickly, as one of the men dressed in the black and scarlet Royal Mail livery, tossed down her luggage. Her trunk landed at her feet, and she carried her portmanteau in her left hand, and had her reticule on her right wrist, though she had a death grip on the bag.

  The sky darkened to an ominous shade of grey. She shivered. She wished she were at home in front of a nice warm fire. Oh, why hadn’t she fled to Wiltshire? Maybe allowing Lord Prescott to pursue her, wouldn’t have been so bad after all.

  How would she reach Penryn House?

  She supposed that it was a fair jaunt from Falmouth, and her employer hadn’t told her if anyone would be waiting to pick her up and deliver her there. She had traveled here on a whim, and now it seemed to be quite the folly, making her a little idiot. She should have known more first. She should have looked, before she leaped.

  It almost felt as if she had entered another world. Everything seemed so different from what she knew.

  Reaching for her trunk, she dragged it behind her. What could she do next? Exhaustion clawed at her, and she was almost tempted to go over to The Red Lion Inn, and stay the night. She wore her best traveling cloak, and her best traveling boots, and still the chill was getting to her. She should have worn something heavier underneath her cloak.

  Hearing a timid meow, she looked down to see a small black kitten. Looking around to see if anyone was looking for the kitten, she reached down to scoop her up in her arms. The kitten’s yellow eyes, almost glowed, and she licked at her gloved hand.

  A shiver went up and down her spine. The kitten snuggled against her chest. Sighing, she considered placing it back down. She couldn’t bring the kitten with her, could she? How would she find her way to Penryn House? She still didn’t know how to reach Penryn House, and if no one came to fetch her, she would have to figure out a way to hire someone to take her there.

  Her cloak was a dark brown, and enabled her to walk among the crowds unnoticed. She hated standing out. She had pulled the hood up over her head. She tried to shy away from bright colours, though her mother had a fondness for yellow, and made her wear it whenever she could. As such, Ruby had quite a few yellow garments in her wardrobe and sometimes, she had no choice but to wear them even when her mother wasn’t about. Fortunately, Julia had presented her with quite a few items that allowed her to leave everything yellow behind at Rosehill Manor.

  When she wore yellow, she felt as if everyone stared at her. As if she commanded their attention, both good and bad, and she hated that feeling. Under her cloak, she wore a mazurine blue spencer over her white muslin dress. Blue was one of her favourite colours, and she hadn’t the opportunity to wear it as much as she had liked. Now…now, she could wear whatever she pleased, and the thought made her smile despite her current circumstances.

  “Are you Miss Massey?” A young man asked, walking up to stand in front of her. He was dressed in gold livery, and looked quite smart. She suddenly felt as if she was lost in a world, she knew nothing of. The man standing in front of her was dressed far too sharply to be part of a simple country gentleman’s household.

  She nodded her head. “We have been sent here whenever the Mail Coach is due to check to see if you were on it. Come with me,” he said. Reaching for her trunk, he easily hefted it up onto his shoulder. She waited a few moments, while she watched him walk toward a waiting carriage. She couldn’t quite make it out, but it looked like the carriage had a crest marked on it.

  “Oh, dash it all,” she muttered beneath her breath. It would seem that while she hadn’t been entirely truthful with her employer, her employer had also left out a few pieces of information. He had represented himself as a gentleman in charge of two young nieces…this man was no gentleman…well, he was…but he was also a member of the Peerage.

  How now would she deal with this latest development? If he was a nobleman, he might just know the Lovetts and the Devilles…oh, how was she going to navigate out of these dangerous waters?

  She didn’t want to go back…not yet. Reverend Beasley had been eager to marry her, he had been terribly eager in his search for a wife…she didn’t want to return to Sussex, until he had found another hapless victim to become his servant for life. She was in no hurry to become any man’s wife, and had said as much, in her correspondence with her employer’s household that she was a spinster.

  She merely had to breathe deeply, and remain calm. If she were lucky, she wouldn’t even meet the master of the house. She expected to meet the housekeeper first. The governess didn’t exactly live in her employer’s world, and she didn’t belong with the rest of the servants either. She lived precariously between the two worlds. Hopefully, the Duke wouldn’t attempt to bring her into his world. She prayed he would leave her in peace, to eat her meals in her chambers.

  Alone.

  “Oh, Ruby,” she whispered to herself, as she dashed forward to follow the footman, being careful to avoid the puddles that the rain pouring down around them caused, “What have you gotten yourself into?”

  Chapter Three

  Phineas Charles Trevelyan Trelawney Godolphin-Harrington, 3rd Duke of Camblesforth, grimaced, as he listened to the screams of his nieces while they played and raced through his house.

  He supposed he should try to take charge of their unruly attitude. Alas, he hadn’t the heart to speak sternly to them since they had lost their mother, and he had been unwilling to give that responsibility to their nursemaids, as his own bad experiences with his first nanny had put a sour taste in his mouth when it came to them. As such, he had given them strict instructions not to discipline the girls.

  Perhaps, that had been a grievous error on his part. Their nannies were to watch over them, and take care of all of their needs, but they knew they were not to raise their voices to them, and most of all, they were not allowed to raise their hands to them.

  Finn couldn’t understand it. His youngest niece, Cordelia, could scream and giggle while playing, but she didn’t seem to be able to speak for herself. She let her older sister, Miranda do that for her. Cordelia was terribly shy around him, and hid behind Mirand
a whenever he was around. It broke his heart to see her so fearful of him, but he hadn’t been able to get her to warm up to him—yet.

  Their mother, his older sister, Isolde, had died seven months ago, leaving him as the guardian of her children. They were the only family he had left now.

  He had lost his mother while he had been off fighting Napoleon, and his father had died while he had still been a lad. His sister and her husband had perished on the same night, and thoughts of that night still rattled him.

  The events of that fateful night threatened to ruin his family. Some of the locals still gossiped about it, and he prayed that he would be able to keep the truth surrounding that awful night hidden.

  If he couldn’t…it would cause unbearable pain to those that remained behind.

  Finn was the last male of his line. He had a few distant cousins, but he was the last direct descendant of the 1st Earl of Camblesforth. They had been promoted to the rank of duke during the reign of George I.

  While their family seat was in Yorkshire, he chose to spend most of his time at Penryn House here in Cornwall, as it was where he had spent the majority of his youth. They had made Penryn House their main residence after his mother had grown tired of Yorkshire and London. Seeking to make his beloved wife happy, his father had made Penryn House the family’s secondary seat. He had been seven years old at the time.

  He didn’t know how to deal with the responsibility thrust upon him. His nieces were a challenge, and they had all of the spirit that his sister possessed as a child, and then some. He vividly remembered how strong willed Isolde had been, and she had not lost any of that strength, as she had grown into womanhood.

  Finn looked over at the clock. If the new governess had come in with the Royal Mail Coach, his carriage that had been sent to fetch her home, should be arriving shortly. He wondered what she would think of the ruggedness of Cornwall, and the way that they were isolated from the rest of civilization. He preferred living in his own little world. He preferred keeping Miranda, Cordelia and himself away from the rest of the ton. It made life simple—and he had come to love the simple things in life since Isolde’s tragic passing.

  The life of the Beau Monde, and the Season in London had never appealed to him. He hadn’t even gone searching for a wife there. He couldn’t bear to become that man searching for a wife, and from what little he had seen in the past, most of the women that were on the marriage mart were simple headed little chits, who couldn’t think beyond counting how many frocks they had in their wardrobes—and to be fair, they usually didn’t want to.

  To his shame, he had taken one of those women as his mistress while in London, and had rid himself of her before coming back to make his life here with his nieces. She had been none too happy when he had left her in London, and he hoped that she would not decide to make his life difficult.

  Finn had served in the Royal Navy during the Napoleonic Wars, and though the sea called to him from time to time, he had not left the land in years. Returning from the wars, he had thrown himself into debauchery and excess, becoming a man that he now thought of as a stranger. He had spent thousands of pounds making his mistress happy, and had hit every gaming hell in London, while also drinking heavily, becoming a libertine, foxed out of his head most of the time. Hearing from his sister sobered him up, and gave him the dose of reality that he had sorely needed.

  Now he was the only thing that stood between his nieces becoming orphans. He was not attracted to going back to sea—or living so recklessly anymore. He had to act responsibly. He could no longer stay out most of the night and start his day at four o’clock in the afternoon.

  Finn wondered what the new governess would be like. As a spinster, she would probably be a hard, older woman, devoid of any sense of humour, or womanly softness. She would probably be like his housekeeper, as hard as bloody granite, with a gaze that could turn someone to stone.

  Perhaps, he should have given the task of hiring the governess to his housekeeper, but he had always been one to take full charge of everything, and hiring the woman who would teach his nieces, was not a job he took lightly.

  Finn wanted someone who would take them in hand, while not being too strict with them, and he hoped he could trust the new governess with that—as he hadn’t been able to trust the nannies—yet. With a sigh, he recalled the first nursemaid he could remember. Nanny Evans had been dreadful. She had possessed a heavy hand, and had favoured his older brother and Isolde over him. She had even gone so far as to keep food from him. Isolde had tried to sneak food to him—but his brother hadn’t cared. His brother had thought himself superior to everyone else. As the second son, Nanny Evans had looked upon him as being inferior to his brother, Randall, who was destined to become the next duke. She had called his brother the little duke, and had called him the little dunce.

  When his mother had finally figured out what the dreadful woman was doing, she had promptly given her the sack, but it had been too little, too late. His experience with Nanny Evans had scarred him, and from that day forward, he had carried those dark times with him.

  “Your Grace, the carriage is pulling up. It seems she has arrived,” his housekeeper, Mrs. Teague said.

  He nodded his head, and stood up. He regarded the tall, rail thin woman for a few moments. She had eyes like a hawk, and a nose to match. Why hadn’t he rid the house of her yet? He did not particularly like her, though she did run the house in an efficient manner. She lacked all warmth, and from what he had heard in the past, she was harsh with those who worked under her.

  Mrs. Teague left his library, and he went over to the Gothic window to stare down at the courtyard, as the carriage rumbled to a stop. He resisted the urge to go and meet her. He knew that he should leave that to Mrs. Teague, and yet…he wanted to be certain that she was the right woman to take care of his precious little monkeys.

  Turning away from the window, he determinedly strode to the door of the Library. He would meet the new governess, and see if she quaked in her boots, or if she had the kind of the spunk he sorely wanted to see in the woman who would take care of Cordelia and Miranda. If she had that mean look in her eyes that Nanny Evans had possessed, he would not allow her to stay.

  Finn wouldn’t take that chance.

  *****

  Ruby looked out the carriage window, as they drove up to the gate. She suddenly felt nervous. It was all becoming far too real for her. They rumbled to a stop, as the gatekeeper opened the gates for them, and she stared at the magnificent stone dragons that were perched up onto the gateposts.

  They were perched on their hind legs, and the one held a shield against its chest, while the other held a sword. They looked like guardians of the Estate, and seeing them sent an emotional thrill through her. The dragons were quite magnificent, and looked almost as if they could come to life and breathe fire upon any who dared to invade the grounds they protected.

  Oh, how majestic they would look flying across the grounds, ready to do battle. She had always possessed a fanciful heart, and now that she was far away from her mother, she could let her imagination roam free—and she could dream to her heart’s content. Oh, what dreams she could dream here.

  Ruby stepped out of the carriage with a footman’s assistance, and gulped down her trepidation. Looking up, she stared at the imposing structure looming before her. The house dated from before the Tudor times, and had an air of melancholy to it. Part of it looked as if it dated back to the Medieval Era, and it did indeed look as if it had Tudor additions, and there was a good chance those dated from the latter part of the 15th Century.

  It easily fit in with the wild, gorgeously untamed lands of Cornwall. The air nearly crackled with magic, and maybe it was the romantic inside of her, but she could almost imagine how this land must have once been when the ancient Celts and Druids roamed it. She could easily believe that little pixies ran freely through the moorland leading men, women and children on long chases that meant they had been pixy-led.

  The grey stone
of the imposing manor house and the Gothic windows and architecture beckoned to her, but as the wind wailed mournfully around her, she looked up at the foreboding dark clouds in the sky. Suddenly, she was quite aware of the fact that this house, and the surrounding lands were most likely haunted.

  How could they not be? A shiver swept through her. She had encountered one ghost in Wiltshire and that had been quite enough.

  Could she endure having them in her life here?

  There was so much history here…so many had lived their lives within the walls of the majestic house and roamed the lands. The wind could almost be the voices of those who had lived and died here hundreds of years ago.

  The Tudor style door that led into the main part of the house, opened, and a tall woman wearing widow’s weeds met her.

  “I am Mrs. Teague. I am the housekeeper of Penryn House, and I take it,” she said witheringly, “I take it, you are the new governess, Miss Massey.” Mrs. Teague looked down her nose at her, and Ruby’s heart plummeted. The woman had small cunning, icy blue eyes behind her spectacles, and they narrowed suspiciously, as her gaze swept over her. Ruby did not like the way Mrs. Teague studied her—she was assessing her, and finding her to be wanting. “You…you are not as old as I expected,” she said, obviously surprised, and not at all pleased by the prospect.

  Ruby held the kitten against her chest with her left hand, and clutched her portmanteau nervously with her right hand. Mrs. Teague continued to look at her as if she were a criminal. Ruby had said she was a spinster in her correspondence, but she hadn’t given her exact age. She supposed that since she had said she was a spinster, they had surmised she would be in her forties or fifties. Fortunately, Mrs. Teague hadn’t yet noticed the kitten, or else, she felt quite certain the woman would have commented on it, in a disparaging manner.

  “I…I…” Ruby couldn’t find the words to give a rebuttal to the woman.

  Mrs. Teague sighed. “Regretfully, there is nothing to be done about that now. You are here, and we cannot very well send you back. Not yet, anyway. No matter. Come along, Miss Massey, I will show you to your chambers, and I am quite certain you are cold, hungry and tired. I shall have your dinner sent up to you, and then, you can retire for the evening. Come the morrow, you can meet your two young pupils.”