Michelle Styles - Compromising Miss Milton

Daisy twisted the black stuff of her gown around her fingers. Governesses never engaged in shouting matches with their students. Governesses always maintained rigid self-control. ‘I said might as well be undressed and we were speaking about formal dress at a ball.’

‘Oh.’ Nella’s eyes grew round. ‘I do beg your pardon.’

Daisy walked over to where the basin of water stood and splashed water on her wrists, restoring some equilibrium. How much damage had Nella done with her embellishment? ‘Lord Ravensworth, third Viscount Ravensworth, is the grandson of Lord Charles Ravensworth, the second Viscount Ravensworth.’

‘But why was he—?’ Nella stopped, raised herself up on her tiptoes and rocked back and forth. ‘I have heard of Viscount Ravensworth. He is worth a tremendous fortune and unmarried. I am certain he was mentioned in the scandal sheets recently. His name appears quite regularly. He goes to all the best parties. Women keep throwing themselves at him or something.’

‘How do you know this, Nella?’

‘I know where Mama keeps her secret store of newspapers, which she reads when she thinks no one is looking. One must be up to date on all of society’s news.’

‘Never mind who Lord Ravensworth is.’ Daisy wished she could sit down with a tisane to drink and a cold cloth over her eyes. Less than a minute with Nella and everything was beginning to spin out of control again. Her worst fear was confirmed. Lord Ravensworth was a notorious rake of the highest order.

‘I would like to meet a man who has made courtesans swoon.’

‘You have caused a bit of mischief, young lady.’ Daisy cleared her throat and gave Nella what she hoped was a suitably quelling look. ‘Hopefully you will have learnt a lesson. Luckily, the situation was resolved and I did not delay at the riverbank, waiting for help that never came. And ladies should not worry about what courtesans do.’

Nella gave a slight nod before sniffing loudly and scrubbing her eyes. ‘Mama wants to see you as soon as you appear. You know I did love you as a governess, Miss Milton. You have been much better than my seven other governesses. Even better than Mademoiselle Le Claire.’

Daisy closed her eyes and leant back against the wall. Nella’s word echoed round and round in her brain like some ghostly chant. Ice stabbed at her heart. She had done nothing wrong, but Nella’s quick tongue had put her position in danger. Her position and her reputation.

She could not afford to be without a reference. Not with a score of other women vying for each place. She had worked hard to achieve her success and the salary it commanded. She might not earn the same as a top-drawer finishing governess, but she did well enough to allow Felicity and Kammie some small measure of freedom. And after her stint with the Blandishes was complete, finally she would perhaps have enough in savings to open a proper school in the little village of Hinckley, one which could take a charity pupil or two. Felicity knew of a house that they could rent.

Silently, Daisy counted up her current savings. Meagre, although it should see her through until she could secure another position, but the dream of being with Felicity and Kammie would have to be postponed yet again. Panicking never solved anything and there was a slim chance that Nella was wrong. Her cases had not greeted her at the door as Louisa Sibson’s had when her affair with Jonathon Ponsby-Smythe had been discovered. She might yet keep the job.

Yes. Nella was up to her attention-seeking tricks. The tension eased out of Daisy’s neck and shoulders. She would be the mistress of the situation. Mrs Blandish would have to take action about Nella.

Daisy grabbed a cloth, went over to the basin and wet it. ‘Scrub your face and stop feeling sorry for yourself, Nella. You were the one who was caught out.’

‘But…’

‘Prunella Blandish, telling tales can get you in trouble. I trust you will remember this lesson and there will be no need to repeat it.’ Daisy shook out the folds of her gown. The mud splatters and rents made it impossible for her to wear the gown in public. She would have to take the time to change. And she would wear her grey gown and her Indian brooch, the one her brother had sent her just before he had died. It would set the right tone for a sober and responsible governess, one who could not possibly have shared a kiss with a rake of the first order.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To see your mother and inform her of the truth. You will have to write out a hundred lines for me.’

Nella screwed up her nose and made a gagging sound.

‘In your best handwriting, Nella.’

‘And what do I have to write?’ Nella gave a winning smile. ‘How much I love my governess?’

‘Telling tales leads to mischief. It will give you something to do rather than sitting here, feeling sorry for yourself. Remember I am still your governess.’

Nella’s lips curved upwards. ‘I will do that.’

Daisy resisted the urge to smile back or show any sign of softening. Without discipline, Nella would not learn. And that was what she was here for—to be a governess and not to be anything else at all.

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