Page 11 of It's a British Christmas

“Good afternoon, Your Grace.” Ballard, the stable master, tugged on his forelock as Penrose dismounted.

He nodded at the man. “Tafoya needs more exercise. Have him ready for me in the morning−say seven o’clock. I’m going to try to work in a ride each day.”

“Will ye be joining the others, then?”

Penrose frowned. “What others?”

“Yore brother and the new lady.”

“Lord Brandon is planning on riding in the mornings?” Penrose smiled and shook his head as he turned to head to the house. His younger brother rarely saw the light of day before noon. He came to an abrupt halt as the rest of the man’s words penetrated his brain. “What lady?”

Ballard yanked the saddle off the horse. “That new one what’s come with the little girls.”

“Miss Chambers?”

“If that’s her name. Don’t think yore brother said.”

Penrose strode away. Why would the governess be going for rides in the morning with Brandon? Of course with Miss Jennings taking over the girls’ schedule, Miss Chambers would have time for a ride. Even with that justification, a sense of foreboding swept over him. She should be furiously writing letters to secure a new position. He needs remind her that her tenure here would soon come to an end.

“Have my brother join me in the library.” Penrose tugged off his gloves and handed them to the footman at the door.

He crossed to a side table and poured brandy into a crystal glass. Swirling the amber liquid, Penrose settled behind his desk, noting he only had about fifteen minutes until his steward arrived for their meeting.

“I hear I’ve been summoned by The Duke.” Brandon sauntered into the library with the perennial smirk on his face and headed directly for the brandy.

Penrose waited until his brother lounged in the chair in front of his desk, glass in hand, before he spoke. “I understand you have decided to take early morning rides.”

Brandon’s eyebrows rose. “I’m flattered my comings and goings are of such interest to someone as overburdened as Your Grace.”

Choosing to ignore the sarcasm, Penrose took a swallow of his drink. “I’m interested enough to wonder about the identity of the young lady accompanying you.”

“Ah, Ballard has been talking again.” Brandon stretched out his long legs. “Give over, Penrose, you already know it’s Miss Chambers, so why the games?”

“I merely wish to warn you, Miss Chambers is a governess. A temporary one at that.”

“Surely you don’t begrudge the woman a mount?” Brandon crossed a booted foot over his other knee, swallowing the last of his brandy. He set the glass on the desk, disregarding Penrose’s frown at the wet spot under the goblet. “As for her being short-lived, I suggest you seek out Mother for enlightenment.” Brandon smirked and stood, then bowing slightly, quit the room.

Mother?

Unable to spare any more time to the mystery, Penrose retrieved ledgers from the bottom shelf of the bookcase, then flipped through the pages as he waited for his steward.

“But Miss Merry always lets us go for a walk in the afternoon. She says it is part of our education.” Charlotte stood with her back straight, arms crossed over her chest, a mulish expression on her face.

“Miss Chambers is no longer your governess. We will abide by my schedule which does not allow for strolls outdoors during regular schoolroom time.” Miss Jennings raised her chin a notch, her face red.

“Lady Charlotte!” Merry entered the nursery in the midst of an apparent mutiny by her former charges.

Both girls hurried to her side, hugging her fiercely.

“Miss Jennings doesn’t do things the right way. She won’t let us go for a walk.” Clare gazed up at Merry, tears rimming her eyes. She began to chew on her fingernail and rested her head along Merry’s hip.

“Miss Jennings is now your governess, and she will surely do things differently, pet.” She ran her fingers through the young girl’s silky curls. “But it’s part of your growth, and journey toward womanhood, to be exposed to other routines.” She bent and eyed Charlotte. “And I believe you owe Miss Jennings an apology for the way you spoke to her just now.”

The governess moved forward, lips in a thin line. “Thank you Miss Chambers, but I am capable of handling my charges.” She turned her attention to the girls, still clinging to Merry. “Ladies, you will write a composition on proper manners. I will expect to see the finished essay before dinner.”

Heat flooded Merry’s face at the dismissal. Was the woman purposely attempting to make Merry dislike her? Or was it just her nature to be so abrupt? Someone else besides the girls needed to do an essay on proper manners.

At a nudge from Merry, Charlotte mumbled “Please accept my apology, Miss Jennings.” The girls released Merry and trudged toward the table.