Sylvia Andrew - A Very Unusual Governess

Edward Barraclough was not quite sure why. She dressed quietly enough, with no attempt to attract. If he had not seen those honey-gold curls that had tumbled about her shoulders at their first meeting he would never have known they existed. Miss Petrie wore her hair in a firmly disciplined knot, or even under a cap. She was not particularly tall, and her figure, from what he had seen of it, was slight. Apart from her forget-me-not-blue eyes, he would not have said there was anything interesting or attractive about her.

But Miss Petrie wasn’t dull. She was quick-witted and amusing. And there was something about that small figure…Her carriage was graceful, her manner unassuming, but Miss Petrie was neither humble nor respectful, not underneath.

Edward Barraclough was intrigued. Perhaps he should spend more of the time he was forced to spend at Wychford in getting to know his nieces’ governess!

A Very Unusual Governess

Harlequin ®Historical

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TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Tall, with black hair, broad shoulders and a powerful stride, Edward Barraclough was an impressive sight as he walked through Green Park on his way back to North Audley Street. Though he was plainly dressed, his dark green superfine coat, silver-mounted cane, buckskins, and boots were all of a quality which indicated to the discerning that he was a man of wealth and distinction. The discerning might also have wondered what such an obvious member of the ton was doing in London, for this was the time of year when Society deserted the town for the pleasures of their country estates and the capital was very thin of company.

So, when Viscount Trenton saw Mr Barraclough emerge from the Park and prepare to cross Piccadilly, he hailed him with surprise and pleasure.

‘Ned! What the devil are you doing in town?’

‘The same as you, I imagine,’ said Mr Barraclough. ‘Business.’

‘I didn’t think the Foreign Office did any work till next month.’

‘They don’t. This was family business—bankers over here from Vienna.’

‘Ah! What a bore, old chap!’

Mr Barraclough gave his companion an amused glance. ‘Not at all! I enjoy talking to bankers.’

In Viscount Trenton’s experience, interviews with bankers, or any men of business, were usually to be avoided at all costs, but he knew that Ned Barraclough did not suffer from the same reluctance. With good reason. The Barracloughs were enormously wealthy, with large estates in the West Indies and interests in banking and trade all over the world. And though you would never have guessed it, Edward Barraclough had a strange liking for work. Not only did he keep a personal eye on his own family fortunes, he also spent hours giving the Foreign Office the benefit of his considerable experience in the Americas. But, though it might seem odd, it did not prevent him from being a popular member of London society, and welcome wherever he chose to go. Jack Trenton liked him.

As they went up Clarges Street towards Grosvenor Square, he gave Ned a sly look and asked, ‘Is Louise in town, too?’

‘I wouldn’t expect her to be anywhere else,’ Mr Barraclough replied. ‘She hates the country. Though she informs me that she wouldn’t object to a trip to Brighton.’

‘Are you going to take her there?’

‘I might.’

‘You want to keep a careful eye on that particular bird of paradise, Ned,’ said Jack. ‘If you hope to keep her, that is. Louise Kerrall is a damned handsome creature. You’re a lucky dog to have such a prize. There’s quite a few fellows in London who would soon take her over if you gave them half a chance.’

Mr Barraclough’s teeth gleamed in a mocking smile. ‘Are you one of ’em, Jack? I don’t advise you to try. I’ve no intention of letting Louise go at the moment.’

‘Oh, Lord, Ned! I didn’t mean—! Y’needn’t worry about me. I couldn’t afford her! And I’m sure she’s devoted to you—’

‘Devoted?’ Mr Barraclough’s smile took on a cynical twist. ‘Louise’s devotion is in direct proportion to the value of the last trinket I happen to have given her. Particularly if it is diamonds. She’s very fond of diamonds. But you needn’t worry, Jack. It’s not devotion I look for when I’m with Louise. Nothing so abstract.’

With a picture in his mind of Louise Kerrall’s dark hair and languorous brown eyes, her creamy skin, red lips and generous curves, Jack said appreciatively, ‘I dare say not!’

‘So if you’re not planning to take my mistress away from me, Jack, we’ll forget her. Tell me instead why you are in town.’

Lord Trenton’s expression grew gloomy. ‘That’s business of a sort, too. I’ve been seeing the lawyers.’

‘Your father disinheriting you at long last?’

‘No, no! Just the opposite. I’ve finally given in and made an offer for Cynthia Paston.’

‘Have you, begad? Which one is that? The one with the teeth or the one with the nose?’

‘The one with the teeth and a dowry of thirty thousand pounds.’

‘And she accepted you?’

‘Oh, yes. I may not be much myself, but the title is quite a draw, y’know. The Pastons like the idea of having a future Countess in the family.’

Mr Barraclough looked at the expression on Lord Trenton’s face and burst out laughing. ‘You’re obviously the happiest of men! My congratulations!’

‘It’s all very well for you to laugh, Ned! Y’don’t know how lucky you are! No one’s putting any pressure on you to marry. No one’s reminding you day after day that you’re the only son and there’s the damned title to consider. I’m not like you, with two brothers both older than me!’

‘Only one now, Jack. My eldest brother was killed earlier this year. So was his wife. I thought you knew.’

‘I’d forgotten. Sorry, Ned!’

‘It’s all right. Antigua is a long way away. Why should you remember?’

‘All the same I ought to have. Carriage accident, wasn’t it…? Is your other brother still out there in the West Indies?’