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“Now, you must understand that the captain’s a bit of an odd duck.” Aunt Julia bent forward and patted Emmeline’s hand as they rode in the carriage to Branhall Manor.
Emmeline didn’t care one whit. The master of the house could be a one-eyed, green-faced monster for all she cared. She was out of her sister-in-law’s house and away from her best friend’s too-happy life.
One year as a governess, she’d told Aunt Julia. And her aunt had delivered. It was remarkable, really, and Emmeline had spent the last day and a half with her aunt trying not to let the incessant questions and opinions rattle her too much.
Now, the two-story manor loomed ahead. The surrounding countryside was lovely and peaceful, and if it weren’t for the tragedy that had recently befallen the Ridout family, it would have been ideal.
“I’m not worried about the captain’s manner,” Emmeline declared. “I’ll be dealing with the children anyway. How old is the little girl again?”
“Seven.” Aunt Julia’s gloved hands fluttered over her puce-colored gown. “She’s a dainty thing. Follows her brother in everything, and he’s quite a handful.”
“I’m used to little boys,” Emmeline said.
“Now, mind you,” Aunt Julia continued, adjusting her pink-dyed, goose-feather hat, “Your visit might be quite unexpected.”
“How so?”
“His housekeeper told my housekeeper that he’s cancelled his post for a governess after interviewing several,” Aunt Julia said.
“Then he’s hired someone already?” Emmeline frowned. This was not good, not good at all. “We should turn around and not bother him.” Her mind whirled. Perhaps she could live at her aunt’s home for the year? Find a way to make herself useful? Or apply for a governess at another location?
“He hasn’t hired anyone,” Aunt Julia said, her brown eyes twinkling. “He appears to be indecisive. Some men need a bit of prodding, if you know what I mean, to move forward with the right decision.”
“Will he then send such young children to a boarding school?”
“Oh, nothing of the kind, I’m sure.” Aunt Julia leaned close to whisper, as if anyone could overhear them inside the enclosed carriage. The rather large pink feather in her hat tickled Emmeline’s cheek. “Captain Ridout is a reclusive, they say. It’s been six months since the tragedy, yet he never attends social functions. Never hosts any dinners. What’s an old bachelor got to offer two young children? He’s probably teaching them all about the war. Can you imagine? Boring the children with tiresome history lessons and battle strategy? He needs a governess whether he wants one or not. It’s for the good of the entire village. Little Andrew will be master someday of Branhall, since there’s no chance of Captain Ridout marrying and producing an heir.” She sat back with a satisfied nod.
Was this all true? Emmeline would never think of her aunt poorly or call her a gossip, but this information toed that line. Also, Emmeline was intrigued as to why the captain would never marry. If he was the younger brother of a man with young children, she guessed the captain to be in his thirties. Surely not an old man yet.
“Ah, here we are,” her aunt said.
Emmeline looked out the window as the carriage slowed. She’d stopped paying attention during the conversation, but now she saw that Branhall Manor was rather charming and well cared for. By no means a mansion, but a proper home of a country gentleman.
The driver handed both women down the step of the carriage, and with plenty of misgivings knocking around in her stomach, Emmeline followed her aunt to the front door.
Aunt Julia wasted no time in knocking with determination on the door. When it was opened moments later by a dowdy woman whose eyes popped wide, Emmeline didn’t take much consolation.
Had her aunt not sent notice they were coming?
“Hello, Mrs. Cooper. We’re here to speak with Captain Ridout,” Aunt Julia said. “The matter is quite urgent.”
The housekeeper opened the door farther and ushered them into the front parlor.
A feeling of melancholy permeated the room, and it was quite clear the place hadn’t been occupied in some time. The dried flowers, the prim cushions, and the bleak fireplace all looked forlorn somehow. As if the room itself missed its mistress.
“I will notify the captain,” Mrs. Cooper said. “I believe he’s still in the house because of some, er, delay with the children.”
Aunt Julia’s expression was triumphant as the housekeeper bustled out of the room.
Emmeline didn’t even know where to start questioning her aunt’s thought process of arriving unannounced at Branhall to speak to a man who’d taken down his post for a governess.
Yet Aunt Julia had no problem making herself at home on the settee and picking up an outdated women’s fashion magazine, La Belle Assemblée. Emmeline chose the chair closest to the cold hearth.
When a deep, rumbling, and decidedly unhappy voice sounded through the walls, Emmeline nearly showed herself out of the house. Was the captain upset? Was he about to send them away?
She fully expected Mrs. Cooper to reappear, but the weighty footfall approaching was too heavy to be a woman’s step.
The man who walked in was not in any way, shape, or form what Emmeline expected. First of all, he was younger than she’d been led to believe. Perhaps thirty at the most. Second, he wasn’t dressed like a captain. Not that she thought he might be in uniform, yet . . . he wore no cravat, and his jacket appeared to be hastily pulled on. And he was tall, lean—well, she could have surmised that. But he wasn’t harsh looking. In fact, he was quite handsome, in a brooding sort of way. His dark-brown hair looked as if he’d ran his fingers through it multiples times already this morning.
And . . . he hadn’t spoken a word of welcome but was staring straight at her.
What he was thinking behind those gray eyes?
She rose to her feet, propelled by some unexplainable urge to stand in his presence. His gaze cut to her aunt.
“Ma’am?” he said. “What is the nature of your visit, Mrs. Finch?”
His manner of speech was formal, yet direct.
“I’ve brought someone to meet you,” Aunt Julia said. “This is my niece, Miss Emmeline Finch.”
Again, his gray eyes landed on her. Emmeline swallowed. A sip of water might be nice right now. “Pleased to meet you, sir.” Her voice sounded so faint, it was a wonder anyone heard her.
Ridout didn’t nod, didn’t answer, but turned his gaze on her aunt once again. “What is the purpose of this introduction?”
Something thumped overhead, likely in the room above the parlor. Emmeline flinched. Had something fallen upstairs? Ridout glanced up at the ceiling, the edge of his jaw tightening.
Aunt Julia seemed oblivious to the sound. “I’ve brought my niece to meet you and inquire about the governess position, of course.”
Another thump.
This time Emmeline looked up. What on earth was happening?
“I’ve no need for a governess,” Ridout said, his tone tight. “I’m sorry you went to the trouble of coming here.”
“Don’t be so hasty, Captain Ridout. I understand that—” Aunt Julia started to say.
“Thank you for your time,” Emmeline cut in. “Sorry to have bothered you.”
Someone wailed. It sounded like a little girl, and it was getting louder by the instant.
“Excuse me,” Ridout said and strode out of the room.
He didn’t get very far, because Emmeline had a perfectly clear view of a young girl with cascading blond hair barreling toward him.
“What happened?” Ridout asked, crouching to grasp the child’s shoulders.
“Andrew stepped on my nurse,” the girl sobbed. “And he broke it.”
Ridout took something out of her hands and held it up.
From her perspective, Emmeline thought it looked like a wooden toy.
“That’s too bad,” Ridout said. “Perhaps we can glue it back together?”
“No,” the girl wailed, tears falling fast. “It won’t be the same. She’ll be broken forever. Like mama.”
Emmeline’s chest ached. The girl’s heartbreak was making it hard to stand by. Emmeline eased herself across the room, closer to the hall entrance.
“Very well,” Ridout rumbled, his tone ever patient. “We can carve another nurse for you. How does that sound?”
Ah, a nurse.
The girl sniffled, then she wiped at her nose. Ridout promptly searched for a handkerchief in his jacket. Nothing came up, so Emmeline stepped forward and handed over her own handkerchief.
The girl’s blue eyes widened at the sight of Emmeline.
She took the handkerchief and, after wiping her nose, said, “Who are you?”
Emmeline bent so she was more at eye level with the blond girl. “I’m Emmeline Finch.” She gave her a soft smile. “Who are you?”
“Charlotte,” she said. “Are you . . . the governess?”
“Well, I . . .” Emmeline’s neck heated. “I’m not quite sure . . .”
Charlotte’s eyes shifted back to her uncle. “Tell her about my broken nurse.”
Captain Ridout’s brows rose, but he straightened and opened his palm. Sure enough, there lay a very small carved wooden doll, broken clean in half.
Emmeline didn’t know what to say. Or what she was expected to say. So she said the first thing that came to mind. “I think a doctor could fix her. Do you have one?”
Immediately, Charlotte’s gaze went to her uncle’s.
Captain Ridout’s gray eyes settled on Emmeline, and while she couldn’t quite read his expression, a flutter erupted deep in her belly regardless. “I think we can remedy that,” he said.