The Impossible Governess (10 page)

“Of course, Marissa knows me
,” Olivia added sweetly.  “Oh, do look, Anthony.  There are Elliot and his friends.”  She raised one slender, leather-gloved hand to wave at a group of young men in regimentals.  “We really must say hello.”

“Perhaps,” Raynor replied, eyeing the child speculatively.  “But I believe my niece is more interested in going to Gunter’s.”

As might be expected, the mention of the famous confectionery shop brought a smile to Marissa’s face as she bobbed her head up and down emphatically.

“’Tis I who’s been given the honor of treating the ladies, Tony,” Townsend said.

With a challenging glint in his eyes, Raynor asked smoothly, “Surely you wouldn’t deny Olivia and me the same treat?”

“But I am not the least bit hungry,” Lady Cosgrove interrupted. 

“I am,” Marissa protested.

“Then it’s settled,” Raynor said, ignoring the sulky expression his beautiful companion wore.

“No, it’s not,” Townsend said.  “Lady Cosgrove don’t give a fig for a child’s outing.”

“Real
ly, Anthony,” responded Olivia, reaching over to place one hand on Raynor’s arm, “I would much prefer finishing our ride.”

Georgeanne was irritated by the woman’s easy use of her employer’s sobriquet.  But then, she recollected, he had been just as free with the lady’s first name. 

“Oh, here are my brother and his friends.”  Olivia’s gay tinkling laugh put an end to the discussion.

As the three officers drew abreast of the curricle, Georgeanne had little trouble recognizing Lady Cosgrove’s brother, Major Elliot Heaton.  With his blond hair and blue eyes, he was striking in
the red uniform.  The two almost passed as twins except that Olivia Cosgrove, while definitely the younger, somehow seemed older, more worldly.  It might have been the set of her thin lips or the coldness in her eyes, Georgeanne speculated.  However, before she could compare the two more closely, she found herself an object of interest among the handsome gallants.

“I beg an introduction, Raynor,” Major Heaton said, oblivious to the scowling expression he received from Raynor and Townsend for singling out Georgeanne.

Raynor did as he was bid, with the major, in turn, making known his friends to her, Captain John Wottingham and Major Nigel Yates.  It had been a long time since Georgeanne had been the recipient of so much masculine admiration, and she took great delight in every moment of their flirtatious flummery.  But as Major Heaton was engaging her to ride out with him one afternoon, his sister deemed it time to set the record straight while redirecting the attention of the group back to her.

“La, Elliot, your wits have gone a begging for you to ask a servant out on the town.”  She appeared not to have noticed the sharp look Raynor threw her or heard Townsend’s fierce denial that Georgeanne was any sort of lowly minion.  Olivia focused her eyes on Georgeanne’s pale countenance and asked, “Did I misunderstand your relationship with my cousin?  Are you not Marissa’s governess?”

Georgeanne was spared the humiliation of answering when Raynor spoke up.  “Miss Forsythe’s family circumstances have made it necessary for her to seek assistance.  It is agreed she will act as my niece’s, er, companion for a while.”

“A companion,” scoffed Olivia.  “What does it matter, for she is still nothing more than a paid servant?”

“You forget yourself, Olivia.”  Though softly spoken, Raynor’s tone held such vehemence that Georgeanne wondered if it were an implied threat.

Olivia realized she’d gone too far and tried to pass off the moment by airily inquiring if her b
rother planned to attend Lady Sefton’s ball that evening.  But the spiteful woman’s words had achieved their purpose, dampening the soldiers’ ardor, thus leaving Georgeanne deflated by the desertion of those erstwhile gallants.  Though they were polite enough not to make a hasty retreat, none made any effort to speak to her again or glance in her direction.

Oddly enough, Marissa offered her the most comfort.  The little girl sensed Georgeanne’s mortification and, leaning into her, whispered loudly, “I am glad you are my companion, Georgie.”

With tears stinging the back of her eyes, Georgeanne had to smile and patted her charge’s small shoulder.

When she glanced up, Raynor was staring at the two of them.  Reacting in what she perceived as pity reflected in the softening of his blue eyes, she defiantly tilted her chin and stiffened her back only to be surprised by his nod of approval before he reminded everyone they were due at Gunter’s for refreshing ices.

As Will Townsend maneuvered the curricle around a coach stopped ahead, Georgeanne forced herself to smile for Marissa’s sake.  And upon reflection, she realized that, while she may detest Olivia Cosgrove, at least as a governess she need not fear her charge would disgrace her in public.  After all, what could go wrong on such an innocuous outing? 

As they left Hyde Park en route to the famous confectioner’s shop, Georgeanne was unable to restrain herself.  “How long have Lady Cosgrove and Lord Raynor known each other?”

“They met during her come-out,” he answered before chuckling.  “She tried to snag Tony back then, but he’s always been a slippery fish.  So, she ended up leg-shackling Cedric Cosgrove after her third season.  Nothing wrong with the fellow, mind you, just that he was a bit long in the tooth.  Cosgrove had plenty of blunt and a title, of course, and it was most obliging of him to make her a widow after only a few years.  Broke his neck riding to hounds, poor chap, and ever since she’s reset her cap for Tony.  There’s the family connection, too.  Olivia’s mother married Sir Richard Russell, Tony’s uncle on his mother’s side.”

“Oh, so they are cousins?”

“Not blood cousins,” Townsend said. “Sir Russell was a crusty bachelor.  But Lydia, Olivia’s mother, snagged him after her first husband died.”

Townsend was quiet for a moment, then added, “I suppose if anyone could bring Tony up to scratch, I wo
uld lay my blunt on Olivia.”

That bit of information did not s
it well with Georgeanne or, apparently, Marissa.  For when Georgeanne glanced down, she noticed the child wore an expression that didn’t bode well.

Once they were seated at Gunter’s, Lady Cosgrove began monopolizing Raynor and Townsend with a shamming, maternal air.  Georgeanne knew intuitively that Olivia was cognizant of just how much Marissa meant to her uncle.  Thus, the little girl became the recipient of the witch’s scheming when Olivia insisted Georgeanne move to another table so that she could sit next to Marissa.

As she moved away, Georgeanne noted with pride that Marissa accepted Olivia’s company.  Then, the odious woman tried to force Marissa to give her a kiss.

“Really, Marissa, do give me a kiss like a good little girl,” cooed Olivia, bending down and proffering one f
aintly rouged cheek. 

But Marissa ignored Olivia and continued to eat her ice in stony silence.

“Marissa.”  Raynor gave his niece a stern look.  “Cousin Olivia has requested a favor of you.  It is impolite to pretend you didn’t hear.”

From the next table, Georgeanne watched Marissa lower her ice and look mulishly from one adult to the next.

“Come, Marissa darling.  Be an angel and give me a kiss.”  Olivia took the tip of the child’s nose between two slender fingers and gave it a slight twist. 

Georgeanne’s eyes widened as she held her breath.  If Lady Cosgrove meant it as a playful gesture, it was completely lost on Marissa.  The child pulled away from the woman, hopped off her chair, and stood with one little fist flying upward.

***  Chapter 6  ***

It was sheer luck that Raynor intercepted the child’s balled up hand before she connected it with the Olivia’s proffered cheek.  Seeing the murderous glint in Raynor’s eyes, Georgeanne quickly jumped up, gathered Marissa’s pelisse and bonnet, and hustled her charge outside to finish their Italian ices while waiting for the others to emerge from the shop.

“She hurt me, Georgie,” said
Marissa, her doe-like eyes seeking her governess’s support.

Georgeanne released a deep sigh.  She could hardly blame the child for refusing to cooperate and wondered why Raynor had insisted his niece do the vixen’s bidding.  True, it was wrong of Marissa to have tried to wallop the woman, but it did serve Olivia Cosgrove right for tweaking the little girl’s nose just because she wouldn’t give up a kiss.

“Yes, dear, but striking someone just because you do not like what she did is not acceptable.  You must promise me to never do such a thing again.”

“She is not a nice lady,” Marissa protested, brown eyes swimming in tears.

Georgeanne silently admitted her little charge had an excellent point.  “But you are nice, dear.  So you must give me your word.”

Georgeanne looked up at the sound of Lady Cosgrove’s voice.  “No, Anthony, that . . . governess has allowed Marissa to become a horrid little brat.  Do you see how she . . . coddles the child?” sputtered Olivia, standing at the shop door with Raynor and Townsend behind her.  Olivia’s face contorted in a vicious sneer.  “She should be dismissed at once.”

“Enough, Olivia!”

With brows drawn together, Raynor looked murderous,
and Georgeanne was undecided toward whom his anger was directed.  But Townsend, Georgeanne noted, had no problem laying the blame.  “Maybe you shouldn’t have pinched Marissa’s nose, Lady Cosgrove.”

“
I suppose you cannot really blame the child, Anthony,” she said, ignoring Townsend.  “A decent governess would have beaten that sort of hoydenish behavior out of your niece by now.  Oh, you simply must get rid of her!”

“I said enough, Olivia.”

Raynor’s voice was low and sounded truly menacing to Georgeanne’s ears.  Fortunately, Townsend stepped past Raynor and Olivia, making a flimsy excuse about checking on his horses.  Once at their side, he suggested Georgeanne and Marissa head back to Curzon Street and solicitously handed them up onto the high seat of the curricle.

They rode in silence for some distance before Townsend glanced down at the child and remarked her woebegone expression.  “Don’t let Lady Cosgrove upset you, Marissa,” he said kindly before a frown creased his brow.   “Though, must admit, can’t say I’m overly fond of her myself, even if she is your cousin.”

No other mention was made of Marissa’s indiscretion, but when Townsend made his good-byes after depositing them on the front steps of the townhouse, Georgeanne saw the troubled look in their escort’s usually smiling eyes.

Leaning closer, he whispered, “Keep the little pugilist out of sight for a couple of days, heh?”  Then, his amiable nature reasserting itself, he gave them both a conspiratorial wink before abandoning them to fate.

Unfortunately, when Raynor arrived home an hour later, he made straight for the schoolroom.  Both Georgeanne and Marissa were seated at the long trestle table, applying themselves to schoolwork, and heard his heavy-footed approach.  Georgeanne took one look at the child’s pinched expression and knew Marissa genuinely dreaded her uncle’s punishment.

In the next instant, he appeared at the door, seeming to fill the entire entrance. He glowered down at his niece for a long, poignant moment.

“Marissa,” he called out.  His tone was harsh, unyielding.  “Do you realize just how terrible your behavior was at Gunter’s?  You leave me with no choice but to punish you with a good spanking.”

In a state of panic, the child let out a sudden cry and flung herself at
Georgeanne, clutching wildly at her.

Never could Georgeanne remember being so exasperated with two people.  Marissa reverted instantly back to the screeching child-monster she had been when Georgeanne first arrived.  The child was truly frightened by her uncle’s threat while, Georgeanne knew, inwardly Marissa was upset with herself for inciting his anger.  She cried over and over, “Please don’t beat me.  I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”  All the while, Raynor
towered over the two of them and expounded platitudes about the punishment suiting the misbehavior.

It was more than Georgeanne could tolerate.  “How can you possibly think that a spanking could make right the horrid scene in the confectionery shop?  Besides, if you are so bent on chastising someone, it ought to be Lady Cosgrove,” shouted
Georgeanne in order to be heard over Marissa’s ranting.  “That catty snob was as much in the wrong as your five year old niece.”

“Again, Miss Forsythe, you forget yourself,” he said, turning his scowl on her.  “Marissa’s conduct was reprehensible and, therefore, she must bear the consequences of her actions.”

“And what of your conduct, my lord?” she retorted without thinking.  “Were you not as much at fault for allowing the conniving female to harass your niece?”

Raynor stepped toward Georgeanne.  “Have a care, Miss Forsythe,” he warned.  His hand fairly itched to throttle the woman’s slender neck.  Her words held the ring of truth.  Still, Olivia’s charges concerning an unfit governess rankled.  He wondered what inner devilment had prompted the child to react so violently toward her.

“I would have thought your first duty would be toward your own flesh and blood.”

“Where did your duty lay as a governess?”