Governess in Disguise: Historical Regency Romance Read online

  “I’m fine, Jenny.” Emilia attempted a smile, but it didn’t work. “Thank you.”

  Jenny didn’t look convinced, but she left. Charlotte shifted beside Emilia and reached for the teapot.

  “I’ll pour out the tea.”

  “Oh, Charlotte!” Emilia gasped. “I’m the hostess. I should be pouring the tea.”

  “Oh, should you?” Charlotte arched an eyebrow at her friend. “Do you think you’ll be able to pour the tea when your hands are shaking as they are?”

  Emilia looked down. She hadn’t realized that she was still trembling. Normally, she could keep her composure and hide it behind a facade. But this wasn’t exactly a situation that could be compared to anything else. How could anyone maintain composure after hearing someone they loved dearly was dead in suspicious circumstances?

  Emilia tried to focus on something else. Anything else. Crying was not going to bring her father back. She had to concentrate on something different. Like anger. Anger Emilia could deal with. She could direct that to where it was needed. She knew just where to direct it.

  Thomas Andrews. The man who was responsible for all of this. Emilia knew, deep down, that there was a chance that Andrews could be innocent in all of this, but his name kept coming up. Chances were, he was the last person to see her father alive. He had to have something to do with it. Emilia needed to focus on him. She needed answers.

  She wanted answers. And from what Charlotte and Peter had just said about him, going straight up to Andrews and demanding the truth was not going to be easy. Andrews would straight-up deny that he had anything to do with it. From her experience, men were smooth-talking individuals when they wanted to be, and they were believed. Women were not so lucky; men could walk away from a scandal unscathed and leave the women to drown.

  Charlotte finished pouring the tea and handed one cup to her husband. Then she passed one to Emilia.

  “Here you go. Take it easy drinking from it.”

  “All right.” Emilia’s hand trembled only slightly as she took a sip. She was glad that she didn’t tip it completely over on herself. She lowered her cup and put it back in the saucer. “How long has Mr. Andrews been running this place? Drake’s, did you say?”

  “Just over two years,” Peter said. He had settled into the chair across from his wife, crossed his legs as he raised his cup to his lips. “Came straight out of mourning and bought the place.”

  Mourning. So, the man was a widow. Emilia stored that away for later.

  Charlotte picked up a biscuit from the tray. “Apparently, this isn’t the first time someone’s come under his wrath, but it’s the first…” She glanced at her husband, who gave her a slight frown. “It’s the first time someone’s died because of it.”

  “Does he make a habit of attacking his patrons, then?”

  “From what I’ve been told,” Charlotte said hurriedly, gesturing at Peter. “Peter’s mentioned some stories about Mr. Andrews, and they make me very nervous.”

  Peter sighed. “My interactions with Mr. Andrews have been brief, but he’s treated me with respect. I keep to the rules that Drake’s has, so I don’t have any trouble.”

  “But word gets around,” Charlotte protested. “You’ve told me so yourself.”

  “It’s called gossip, darling. You shouldn’t take that as gospel.”

  If it had been any other situation, Emilia would have said the same thing. But she had also learned that in among the gossip there was a sliver of truth. And so, she found herself leaning forward, focusing on the man across from her.

  “Go on, Peter. What have you heard?”

  Peter arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you listened to rumours, Emilia. You’re constantly saying that it should be taken lightly.”

  “Just talk to me, Peter. I want to know.” Emilia glared at him. “What have you heard? Why have your stories about Mr. Andrews made Charlotte nervous? What’s he done for that to happen?”

  Chapter Three

  Peter hesitated. Then he rubbed a hand over his eyes.

  “He does have a temper, but that’s always reined in. If you do come across his temper, it’s a rare thing and not something you want to be honoured with.”

  “And the governesses,” Charlotte added. “Don’t forget about them.”

  Emilia blinked. “Governesses? He has children?”

  “A young girl named Anna.” Charlotte shook her head as she nibbled on her biscuit. “And she’s had twenty governesses in the last two years alone.”

  “Twenty?” Now Emilia was staring. “How is that possible? Is she an unruly child?”

  “She’s outspoken, but polite enough child,” Peter answered. “I’ve bumped into Mr. Andrews with his daughter before, and she’s a respectful young lady.”

  That didn’t explain anything. If the child wasn’t the reason so many governesses were running away, it had to be the father. He had to scare them enough that they disappeared quickly. A shiver went down Emilia’s spine.

  “Do these governesses…” she swallowed, “He doesn’t make them disappear, does he?”

  “What?” Peter blinked. “No, of course not. They just leave. Then the rumours start up again. It’s been nearly six months since he had a governess, and now he’s spending less time at Drake’s to look after his daughter himself.”

  “Which makes me worry for the daughter, with all the stories I’ve heard about him.” Charlotte bit her lip. “I don’t understand what Lady Wilson sees in him, in all honesty.”

  “He actually has women falling over themselves to be in his company?” Emilia asked.

  Peter rolled his eyes. “Just one woman, and not the type of woman anyone would be happy being pursued by.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Evelyn Wilson is a twice widowed, a neighbour of his. It’s an amusement in the area. That woman has been vocally devoted to Mr. Andrews since they were barely grown, and Mr. Andrews doesn’t care for her at all. I’ve personally witnessed her coming into Drake’s to see him and then being escorted out moments later.” Peter shook his head and sipped his tea. “Those evenings are certainly entertaining.”

  Emilia could imagine. She had met Evelyn Wilson a few times, and she didn’t care for the woman. She had a lot of airs and graces, far more than her current status, and she was one who possessed a single-minded attitude. If she didn’t have someone agreeing with her immediately, they were the enemy. Evelyn liked to think she was better than everyone. Emilia chose to keep out of her way as much as she could. She didn’t have time for women like Evelyn Wilson.

  “I think I would side with Mr. Andrews with regards to Lady Wilson.” Peter went on. “I don’t know how anyone can stand to be in her company.”

  “She’s a beautiful woman of wealth and contacts,” Charlotte pointed out. “That makes her prime marriage material.”

  Emilia snorted. “That doesn’t put anything towards her character, Charlotte.”

  Peter shrugged. He sat up and put his cup and saucer on the table before sitting back.

  “There has been a whisper many times over the years that Mr. Andrews had been having affairs with Lady Wilson over the years, even when their respective spouses were alive. He protested many times, but now Mr. Andrews simply ignores it when it’s brought up in his presence. I think he’s given up trying to protest his innocence. I would if that was me.”

  “If you had a woman pestering you like that and spreading rumours, I would be certainly objecting if you did not.” Charlotte shot back.

  Peter shot his wife an affectionate smile and winked at her. Emilia would normally smile at this sweet interaction. Charlotte had been unsure about Peter in the beginning, but it hadn’t taken long to fall hard and fast for the young man. Emilia could understand why; Peter Chambers was a kind, considerate person and could certainly turn women’s heads when he entered a room. Charlotte was a lucky woman, and Peter was incredibly patient to put up with Charlotte’s little eccentric ways. They were a perfect balance.
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  This had Emilia thinking about her father. He had always told her that she would be able to find someone like that for herself one day. He wasn’t concerned if Emilia was unmarried, as long as she was happy.

  She missed him. Badly. Emilia could feel the tears starting back up again and she swallowed hard. She would not cry, not in front of them, again. This was something she needed to do elsewhere.

  Focus on your anger. That works. Focus on that.

  “He’s hiding something.” Emilia looked at her hands twisting around her handkerchief in her lap. “Even if he didn’t kill Father, he knows something. I’m sure of it.”

  “Emilia?” Charlotte frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  Emilia looked up, seeing her friend watching her warily.

  “I’m talking about confronting him. Finding out what really happened. If he won’t come out and admit that he’s done wrong, I’m going to make him do it.”

  Charlotte’s eyes widened. She looked at her husband, who wore an equally bewildered expression. Charlotte turned back to Emilia.

  “You’re thinking of going to Drake’s and confronting him? You’ll be thrown out if you do that. You won’t be able to get anywhere near him if you go and cause a fuss at his business.”

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  Emilia hadn’t been planning on doing that, not initially. But the more her anger built, the more she knew she couldn’t sit back and do nothing. She had to know what was going on, and if Thomas Andrews wasn’t going to give anyone any answers, she was going to get them. Her father was dead, and the finger was being pointed at the gambling hall owner. Emilia wasn’t about to let him sit back and think he had got away with something so awful.

  Uncle Christian might be willing to drink his grief away, but Emilia wasn’t going to be passive. Someone had to do something.

  Peter sat forward with a worried expression. “Emilia, I know you’re distraught over your father’s death, but you need to take a step back and calm down. If you do anything rash, it could damage your family’s reputation.”

  Emilia scoffed. Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms.

  “If there are rumours going around regarding Father’s death, there’s a chance my family’s reputation is already being attacked. I can’t make it any worse for myself. And I’m not going to sit back and let my father’s reputation get smeared any further.”

  If Mr. Thomas Andrews had committed a crime, then he needed to be exposed.

  Thomas was worn out. He was always exhausted after going out riding. Anna liked hard riding. The child was mad, he was sure of it.

  Though he did not begrudge his time with Anna. His daughter was a lovely person, far too grown up for a child of her age, she was too much for him. When she became old enough to find a husband, Thomas was sure Anna would make the young men jump through a series of challenges to prove that he could keep up with her and love her enough to do it.

  But time with Anna meant less time working. Thomas had bought Drake’s on a whim, and he had found it to be the best investment he had made in years. It was a prosperous place, and Thomas could certainly have a day or two off, if he wanted, but he couldn’t be gone from work all the time. But still Anna did not have a proper caregiver, and Thomas was finding himself away from Drake’s far too often.

  His staff had their own jobs in the house, and it wasn’t to look after a twelve-year-old child. Thomas couldn’t rely on his mother all the time; Lady Margaret Andrews had her own life to lead, and while she adored Anna, it wasn’t her responsibility to look after her.

  Thomas rubbed his sleepy eyes, leaning back heavily in his large, leather office chair.

  The search for a governess was almost futile. So many women had come applying to be governess, and all of them had been qualified, perfect for the job, but they always left and disappeared without explanation. Thomas had been searching his mind for an answer, as he was never inappropriate with them. He wasn’t even in the room alone with the women beyond their initial interview, and up until they suddenly left, all of the ladies were courteous towards him. Had he missed something? Was he supposed to have done something and they got offended? Thomas had no idea.

  Anna needed a caregiver, but until that happened, Thomas was going to have to stretch himself thin trying to figure out how to teach a child their lessons and Manage Drake’s. At least he had listened to his mother and taken on an estate manager to deal with everything else, otherwise Thomas would be severely struggling.

  Who knew that it was this difficult to raise a child? Anna needed someone to guide her, a woman to show her things in the world. Thomas could teach her, but there was only so much he could do.

  He was still trying to figure out the balance between his work and his home.

  And he was still trying to figure out his estate manager’s handwriting in the account books. He was too tired to focus properly, and the scrawl in front of him was just making it worse. Thomas scowled and sat back again, rubbing at his eyes. Maybe if he went back to sleep for a little while? Seeing as he was the one in charge, they couldn’t complain about that, could they?

  A knock at the door made Thomas’ head throb and he growled, glaring at the door. “What?”

  The door opened and a familiar face appeared. Thomas blinked.

  “Jenkins? What is it? I thought you were supervising something upstairs.”

  Thomas’ valet came into the room. “I came to notify you of a visit you had while you were out this morning.”

  A visit at this hour? Thomas groaned.

  “Not Lady Wilson again?”

  “No, it wasn’t her.” Jenkins paused. “It was Constable Bowers.”

  That had Thomas sitting up. Constable Bowers was the local parish constable, and he was an overweight, jolly man who had an innate ability to make everyone feel at ease while maintaining authority at the same time. But as far as Thomas was aware, nothing had happened that would mean a visit from the constable.

  “What did he want?”

  “He wanted to talk to you about Jonathan Hill.”

  “Jonathan Hill?” Thomas frowned. “He’s not complaining about something, is he? I thought we left on amicable terms and he was going to pay off his debts.”

  “It’s not about debts.” Jenkins was shuffling from foot to foot. “He’s dead.”

  It took a moment for the words to sink in. Thomas tried to grasp hold of what Jenkins had just said and it wasn’t quite working. Jonathan Hill was dead? The man was the picture of health. Sharp mind as well. Thomas had a lot of respect for the man, especially when he paid off his debts and agreed to things like a gentleman.

  “How?” Thomas’ voice sounded hollow for his ears. “When?”

  “Last night. Dead in an alley near Drake’s. Constable Bowers wouldn’t say how he died except that they were treating it as possibly suspicious.”

  Possibly suspicious. That didn’t settle well in Thomas’ stomach. That could mean anything. Now Thomas was nervous. Nervous about what? He hadn’t killed him.

  “And I presume Constable Bowers wants to speak to me about Mr. Hill.”

  “Yes.”

  Another thing to deal with. And one that was more worrisome than anything else. Someone had possibly killed a patron of his, or it could be that it was an accident and Constable Bowers wanted to make sure that no stone was left unturned. He was good like that.

  So why did Thomas feel like he was about to be scrutinized? He slumped in his chair.

  “When Constable Bowers comes back, send him in. I’ll talk to him.”

  “Very good, Mr. Andrews.” Then Jenkins paused, tilting his head to the side. “I think that’s your mother arriving now.”

  “I don’t hear…”

  Then Thomas heard the distant rumble of a voice, just out of hearing.

  His mother had arrived, and she was not happy. Thomas sighed.

  “If you manage to catch hold of Lady Andrews, send her in.”

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nbsp; “Yes, sir.”

  Jenkins bowed and then left. Thomas rose to his feet and stretched his arms, preparing himself for whatever was wrong. Lady Margaret Andrews was normally a mellow, sensible woman, especially in recent years since becoming a widow. But when she was upset, she could get very irate. That didn’t happen much lately, so hearing it now meant something big had happened or Margaret’s patience had been pushed too much.