Isabella raised her head tentatively, experiencing a vast sense of relief when she gazed into the familiar face of Hodgson, the coachman. His watery brown eyes were filled with concern.
“Is everything all right?” The older man repeated his question when Isabella did not readily answer.
“Everything is fine, Mr. Hodgson,” Isabella assured the coachman. “The children have had a minor disagreement, but all is well.”
Isabella relaxed her grip and relinquished her tight hold on Robert's shirt collar. She favored him with a stern, pointed stare. “Isn't there something you wish to say to Caroline?”
The boy's lower lip jutted out rebelliously, but after a few moments of tense silence, he muttered a somewhat ungracious apology to his sniveling sister.
It was not precisely the kind of apology Isabella felt was proper, but she was not about to press the point. She gathered the three children close to her and spoke to the coachman.
“I believe it is time for us to return home, Mr. Hodgson.”
“Yes, Miss Browning.” The coachman tipped his hat politely and began climbing the embankment toward the gravel path where the carriage awaited them. The children and Isabella followed close behind.
“And just where do you think you are going, Emmeline?”
Isabella groaned out loud at the sound of the now-familiar voice. Oh Lord, not him again, she thought with genuine dismay. The ruckus with Robert and the girls had momentarily distracted her from the stranger's disturbing presence. He had not, unfortunately, forgotten about her.
Isabella could feel him walking closely behind her, but she waited until they reached the carriage before addressing him.
“As I have explained to you before, sir, I am not Emmeline,” she stated in a voice dripping with icy formality. Dismissing the stranger with a curt nod of her head, she deliberately turned her back on him and ushered the children into the carriage. Their young faces were shining brightly with curiosity, but they wisely did not question their governess.
Â
Â
Damien knew he had upset her. He did not miss the dark flush of anger on her cheeks, or the sparkle of annoyance in her beautiful eyes. Emmeline has learned to control her temper much better these past few years, he noted wryly to himself. But angry or not, he was hardly going to allow Emmeline to simply walk away from him. The earl sprang into action the moment he saw her raise her foot to climb into the carriage. Moving swiftly, he blocked her entrance.
“You cannot possible think I will let you go so easily,” he said in a deliberately sarcastic tone.
He stood before her like a wall of granite. There was a challenging gleam in his steely gray eyes, a waiting look on the arrogant features of his handsome face. Isabella looked up at him and felt a cold fury sweep through her. She had been polite; she had been patient; she had been tolerant. Now she was furious.
“You have no choice but to let me go, sir,” she spat at him in a scathing tone, “since I am not, nor have I ever been called Emmeline. And furthermore, I strongly suggest you refrain from accosting innocent young women in broad daylight or you might find yourself arrested and locked up in Bedlam, which in my opinion is precisely where you belong!”
Damien felt a flicker of uncertainty. Was it possible he had made a mistake? He attempted to look more closely into the woman's face, but she turned her head up to the driver. “Take us home at once, Hodgson,” she commanded.
Isabella put a firm hand on Damien's sleeve and tried to push him out of her way. Her action startled the earl and in his confusion he unintentionally took a step back from the carriage. It was all the space Isabella needed. Seizing her opportunity, she jumped lithely into the carriage. Once inside she slammed the door loudly and determinedly pulled down the shade.
The earl turned a questioning eye to the older man who sat atop the box, holding the ribbons securely in his hand. “Are you in the lady's employ?”
“The lady you are referring to is Miss Isabella Browning, my lord,” the servant answered readily. “Governess to the Braun family of Sparrow Court.” After responding to the earl's s question, Hodgson flicked the reins and the coach moved forward.
Isabella felt a vast sense of relief when the coach finally pulled away, but the astonished expression on the handsome stranger's face stayed with her on the short ride home. Try as she might, she could not shake the unsettling feeling this was not the last time she would see those steely gray eyes.
Chapter Three
The summons came before luncheon. Isabella glanced briefly at the potato soup, fenelle of fish, and fresh bread on her meal tray and sighed regretfully. Cook's culinary skills were somewhat limited, and Isabella had learned the food was infinitely more palatable if eaten hot. She was certain that by the time her meeting with her employers was concluded, her meal would be ice cold and unappetizing.
Before leaving the room, Isabella paused a moment to check her appearance in the tiny cracked mirror hanging on the wall. Several strands of her rich chestnut hair had come loose and were curled charmingly around her face. She immediately brushed them back and readjusted her severe hairstyle.
Isabella studied the rigid face of the prim, straightlaced woman reflected in the glass, hardly believing she was looking at herself. Her life had taken a far different turn than she had ever imagined it would. She thought wistfully of the plans and dreams she had as a young girl, dreams of a loving husband and children of her own. Only by escaping to her fantasies had Isabella been able to survive the bitterness and hate her father directed toward her after her mother's death.
Not her father, Isabella sharply reminded herself, her stepfather. Discovering eight years ago that Charles Browning was not her natural father had brought a ray of hope into her bleak world. On her seventeenth birthday, Charles Browning had told her the truth about her birth and then shipped her to her mother's family in York. “I've done more than my share,” he said in a chilling voice. “Let your mother's snotty family care for their daughter's bastard.”
Charles Browning was hoping to wound Isabella with his revelations, but she did not react as he planned. She was happy to go. She firmly believed escaping from him was going to be the beginning of a new and wonderful life. At long last she would have her chance to be among a family who would love and cherish her.
But it was not to be. Though bearing little physical resemblance to her mother, Isabella nevertheless was a reminder of her mother's disgrace, and her grandfather, the Earl of Barton, detested Isabella on sight. He chose to ignore her presence in his house and rarely spoke to her. Her two aunts, her mother's older sisters, were married and occupied with their own families and expressed little interest in Isabella. Her grandfather's sister, a formidable dowager who lived with the earl, was charged with supervising Isabella. The dowager, who was childless, resented Isabella and was not averse to showing her feelings.
Although the earl was a wealthy man, he was not generous with his granddaughter, and Isabella lived a miserly existence. In time she learned to swallow her disappointment and accepted the fact that she would never have a season in London. She hoped for an opportunity to be introduced into local. society, but after accompanying the dowager to a few minor social functions, Isabella realized there was no place in this elite circle for a young woman who was such an obvious embarrassment to her family.
When she reached the age of twenty, Isabella realized her dismal situation was not going to change unless she took drastic action. In a rash act, Isabella made an impassioned speech to her grandfather and great-aunt about assuming responsibility for her own destiny and announced she was leaving to take a position as a governess.
Secretly, she had hoped her grand gesture would somehow jolt her family into taking an interest in her future, or at the very least shame her grandfather into providing her with a modest income and a small dowry, but he, appeared vastly relieved to hear she was moving out of his house. Wounded, but not surprised, Isabella left, and her life as a governess began.
Isabella quickly discovered it was a tenuous existence. Technically she was an employee, but she was seldom treated as a servant. Yet she was not regarded as a member of the family either. As a governess it became necessary to learn to live somewhere between the two.
Her open nature and attractive person cost Isabella her first position. Lady Alcock did not approve of her, and when she realized that many of the young men calling at the house took more than a passing interest in the pretty young governess, she promptly dismissed Isabella.
Isabella learned from her mistakes. In her next post she took great pains to appear less attractive by wearing only modest gowns of dull colors. She also drew her hair back severely. This made her look older and more like hired help. Whenever she was called upon to supervise her charges in front of company, she always quietly removed herself to a corner of the room, taking precautions to avoid drawing any attention to herself.
The cool manner she adopted kept most of the young men at a distance. Yet the older males she chanced to encounter were more experienced, ignoring her when in the presence of others, but adept at catching her alone for a moment. Among gentlemen of society, governesses were considered fair game. It often amazed Isabella how normally civilized men could behave in such an uncivilized, boorish manner, especially when she told them in no uncertain terms that she was not interested in their scandalous propositions.
Isabella did not find all males repugnant, however. She was genuinely flattered by the subtle attention she began receiving from the eldest son of the house. He was a shy, earnest young man of twenty-two, and while she did not encourage him, she also did not discourage him. The climax of their mutual admiration was an innocent stolen kiss, unfortunately witnessed by her would-be lothario's overprotective mother. Isabella was immediately dismissed. Without a reference.
When searching for a third post, Isabella decided to try a different route, and she became a companion to the Dowager Duchess of Osbourn. That post had the distinction of being the shortest in duration. The dowager duchess was a cantankerous old lady who proved very difficult to work for and live with. By mutual consent, Isabella left as soon as she secured the position she now held with the Brauns.
Working for the Brauns was by far the most successful experience of her career, and Isabella finally felt a measure of security. The Brauns were of the merchant class, exceedingly wealthy but not socially elite, and that suited Isabella fine. There were no young bucks of the
ton
calling at the house to harass her, and the only male family member was the children's father. Mr. Braun always treated her with the utmost respect. Isabella long suspected he was enthralled with the notion of having the granddaughter of an earl caring for and teaching his three children.
The striking of the hall clock pulled Isabella's attention back to the matters at hand. Knowing she would be late for her meeting if she did not hurry, she quickly left her room. Summoning up her finely tuned inner discipline, Isabella succeeded in firmly pushing the emotional memories aside by the time she reached the large entrance foyer on the first floor.
She glanced briefly at the closed drawing room doors and wiped her damp palms on the skirts of her plain gray gown. Then she signaled the footman with a curt nod of her head and he opened the door.
“Miss Browning,” he announced in a bored voice.
Mrs. Braun ceased speaking the minute Isabella entered the room. Wearing an over-bright smile, she greeted her children's governess breathlessly. Isabella could not help noticing how uncharacteristically nervous Mrs. Braun appeared.
Mrs. Braun was a middle-aged matron with an ample figure, yet she was attractive in a rather obvious way. This afternoon her black hair was dressed high up on her head, with several wispy ringlets artfully arranged around her ears. Her sea-green gown was cut low for a woman of her size and revealed more than a hint of swelling bosom. Even though it was early afternoon, Mrs. Braun wore an impressive array of expensive jewelry, attesting more to her husband's wealth than to her good taste.
Mr. Braun was the exact opposite of his wife. Tall, fair-haired, and almost painfully thin, he was hardly the image of a successful merchant. He was dressed in his customary somber black business suit, and Isabella belatedly realized that he normally was at his office down on Market Street at this hour of the day. He, too, seemed on edge.
“Thank you for coming so promptly, Miss Browning,” Mr. Braun said. He cleared his throat loudly. “Please, do sit down.”
With a questioning look, Isabella complied with his request, taking the seat directly across from Mrs. Braun. After Isabella was seated, Mr. Braun joined his wife on the settee. Isabella shifted her gaze back and forth between the two, from the grinning face of Mrs. Braun to the somber continence of Mr. Braun, trying to read from their very opposite expressions what was happening.
“Now then, Miss Browning, I would like to ask youâ” Mr. Braun began, but he was cut off by a loud gasp of astonishment from Isabella.
Isabella could scarcely believe she had missed seeing the third occupant of the room until this very moment. He was leaning casually against the wall, a glass in his hand. When their eyes met, he flashed a slow and tantalizingly wicked grin. Everything else seemed to recede into the distance as Isabella stared in appalled silence at the rude man who had accosted her in the park.
She was conscious of a sudden feeling that the room had shrunk in size. There was something infinitely more unsettling about having to face this strange man in closed quarters. Instinctively she wanted to flee, but she had far too much common sense to allow herself to act in such an irrational manner in front of her employers.
The stranger's larger-than-life presence dominated the room. He was staring intently at Isabella, and when he caught her eye again, he gave her a mocking bow. Then he spoke.
“As you can clearly see, Mr. Braun, this woman knows me,” he stated in an arrogant voice.
“Is this true?” Mrs. Braun asked. “Are you acquainted with the earl?”
“I have seen him before,” Isabella admitted slowly, her mind whirling in confusion. An earl? This strange man who had spent the morning stalking her through the park was an earl. But what was he doing here? Was he a friend of the Brauns?
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Braun exclaimed breathlessly. “I am afraid we owe you an apology, my lord.” She turned a jaundiced eye to Isabella. Mrs. Braun looked properly scandalized. “You must believe we had no idea who she really was when we hired her.”
“Do not concern yourself, Mrs. Braun,” the earl replied in . an even tone. “I found it equally baffling to discover Emmeline was in your employ. And doing such a credible job.” He shot Isabella a hard, challenging look.
Isabella gulped, trying to marshall her thoughts. It was obvious the earl had followed her to the Brauns' home to tell them his ridiculous story about her being some woman named Emmeline. Isabella took a steadying breath and attempted to assert a measure of control over the situation.
“Mrs. Braun, Mr. Braun, I can assure you this is all a bizarre misunderstanding,” Isabella began imploringly. “When I said I had seen this gentleman before, that is precisely what I meant. Yes, I have
seen
him. I did not mean to imply that I know him. The one and only time I have ever laid eyes on him was this morning, during my outing with the children in the park. He stared at me for a considerable length of time before approaching me. He then addressed me as Emmeline and insisted he was acquainted with me. Naturally, I told him he was mistaken. As to why he has followed me here, I cannot even hazard a guess.”
Isabella finished speaking and stared intently at her two employers, trying to read their reactions to her explanation. Mrs. Braun's round face held a closed look, but her husband appeared to be wavering. Isabella addressed her next comments to him.
“I am not certain what the . . . umm, the earl has said about meâ” Isabella began calmly.
“He told us you were his wife,” Mrs. Braun bluntly interrupted.
“What!” Isabella's eyes flashed and she jerked her head up to look at the earl, who was still standing on the far side of the room. “My God, this man is obviously some sort of lunatic!”
“Really, Miss Browning,” Mrs. Braun admonished. “It is hardly necessary for you to insult his lordship.”
“Insult his lordship?” Isabella sputtered, unable to believe Mrs. Braun was defending the earl. “This ... this man spent the better part of the morning stalking and harassing me, following me around a public park calling me Emmeline, which I might add, is not, nor has ever been my name. He now has somehow managed to track me to my residence and place of employment, and you have the audacity to imply I have insulted
him
. I strongly doubt he even possesses the wit necessary to be insulted!”
“That is quite enough,” Mrs. Braun huffed. She turned to her husband in annoyance. “George.”
Mr. Braun's expression revealed his shock at Isabella's angry response. In all the months she had worked for them, he had rarely seen her raise her voice to his children, let alone speak to anyone in such a passionate manner. The quiet, self-contained governess he knew appeared to be unraveling before his eyes.
“Did the earl hurt you this morning, Miss Browning?” Mr. Braun inquired. “Or threaten you in any way?”
“Not exactly,” Isabella answered truthfully. “But he did try to prevent me from entering the carriage when we were leaving the park.” She stared pointedly up at the earl.