The Duke’s Unexpected Governess (Preview)

Chapter One

Life was amusingly terrible or terribly amusing—it depended on the person. For Clara, her life was so awful that she could only laugh bitterly at her misfortunes. There she was, sitting on a bale of hay because she didn’t have enough money to secure transport, and worrying whether her new employer would be able to see that her ‘good’ dress had been patched more times than she cared to count.

An unexpected gust of wind whipped past her face, bringing dust from the dry, dirt road. If only it had rained the previous night, then she wouldn’t have arrived at Westcliffe Hall looking like she had bathed in dirt and coated her attire in it for good measure.

“Just call me Miss Dirty, Your Grace,” she muttered.

Clara sighed and released an almost silent rueful chuckle as she took out her soiled handkerchief and did her best to dust herself for the umpteenth time. The poor scrap of fabric had seen better days.

“Mr. Freeman, did you say there was a stream nearby?” she asked her driver.

The white-haired man nodded, briefly looking behind him. “It belongs to the duke,” he said. “It’s rather pretty. I’ve seen it occasionally when I’ve delivered vegetables to the house.” He chuckled. “If one can call it a house.”

“I heard Westcliffe Hall is rather magnificent,” she remarked.

“It certainly is,” Mr. Freeman agreed. “I wager it’s a little like what we might find in heaven.”

Mr. Freeman was a vegetable farmer and the cousin of her family’s housekeeper, Mrs. Dove. Well, she used to be their housekeeper, but since her father’s death, she had become Clara’s savior. She was the one who had heard about the governess post and suggested Clara inquire about the position. Three months later, there she was, on her way to an unknown future as governess to the Duke of Westcliffe’s orphaned twin nieces.

“I think you’ll have a lovely room somewhere near the little ones,” Mr. Freeman continued. “I hear they’re quite the handful.”

A little trepidation sent a flurry of nerves to her belly. Clara wasn’t concerned about the girls—most children were a little mischievous—but their uncle was another matter altogether. She had heard the duke was a cold tyrant who could freeze anyone’s heart with just a look. Of course, that could only be an exaggeration, but she understood the feeling behind it. The duke was supposedly a harsh, unfeeling man who would not accept failure, or anything below standard. He was too accustomed to the best of everything to accept anything less.

Clara gripped her dress, bunching up the fabric in her tight grasp as determination flared in her heart. She could do it—she could be the best. She just needed to ensure she utilized her genteel upbringing as Baron Ashford’s daughter, to convince the duke that she was the perfect governess. She couldn’t afford to lose the position. Failure meant once again becoming a burden on others. Clara couldn’t let that happen.

“This is as far as I can take you, Miss Ashford,” Mr. Freeman announced moments later. “You just take that path all the way to the house.”

Clara blinked repeatedly in confusion and looked around her. “But this is the middle of nowhere.”

Other than a road that split off from the one they were on, all she could see were trees. She was surrounded by a forest—he couldn’t possibly leave her there.

“That road leads to Westcliffe Hall,” Mr. Freeman told her. “I am not allowed to use it unless I have a delivery. The duke is rather firm about his privacy and property.”

Clara frowned. “I do not understand. Mrs. Dove said you would take me to the estate.”

“And I have,” Mr. Freeman replied. “I’m afraid you’ll have to walk the rest of the way. I thought you knew this.”

Clara shook her head in bewilderment. “I knew nothing of the sort.”

Mr. Freeman sighed and climbed down, walking around the wagon to where she sat perched on a hay bale. He took her meager bag of belongings, placed it on the ground, and offered his hand.

“There is nothing to be done about it, Miss Ashford,” he said when she hesitated. “I have my assigned days to enter the estate. I’ll lose the duke as a client if I go against his wishes. You understand, don’t you?”

Clara didn’t want to understand. She just wanted him to take her to the house like she expected. However, it wouldn’t be the right thing to do.

She hung her head slightly and released a soft, defeated sigh. “Yes, I understand,” she said, taking his calloused hand. “How long will it take me to reach the house?”

Usually, one could spot a large house from a distance, but Clara had not noticed a single building that would match what she had heard about Westcliffe Hall. His estate was evidently far bigger than she anticipated.

“It’s another ten or twenty minutes by wagon at a casual pace, so I’d say it would take you up to an hour if you ambled up the path,” Mr. Freeman answered thoughtfully as both her feet touched the ground. “A quick pace will get you there in forty minutes.”

He said that as though it was nothing at all, just a stroll in the park. Clara placed her hands on her hips and looked around her. It was all greenery for as far as the eye could see. She adored nature, but at that moment, she wouldn’t have minded fewer trees.

“I suppose I should get started,” she said, letting her hands fall to her sides.

She shouldn’t even have been surprised about the trek up to the house. Her life was a medley of challenges and hurdles that sometimes made her wonder if she or an ancestor had offended God. The amusing side of her situation was that she was born an aristocrat with a lineage that stretched all the way back to the 12^th century. The Ashfords were once a powerful and wealthy family, but years of lavish living and not ensuring the family coffers had a suitable income source finally ruined them. It didn’t help matters that her father became a drunkard and gambler after her mother’s death over fifteen years ago.

“I wish I could take you further, dear,” said Mr. Freeman, bringing her out of her thoughts. “I simply cannot risk my livelihood. You understand, yes?”

Clara nodded almost begrudgingly. “I do.”

Oh, she most certainly did. Since Clara was in dire need of money, she understood that others were willing to do anything to keep it.

“Well, then, I wish you the very best, Miss Ashford,” said Mr. Freeman, looking relieved.

At least he apparently felt some discomfort in leaving a young woman to walk alone up a deserted-looking path. Although Clara wasn’t that young; in fact, she was fast approaching the end of her youth and entering spinsterhood. At twenty-five, some already considered her a spinster with minimal prospects.

“Thank you for bringing me this far, Mr. Freeman,” she said, picking up her bag.

She noticed a bit of loose thread on her dress and was tempted to pull it, but that could potentially unravel more than she intended. Hopefully, with her first wages, she would be able to purchase fabric and make a few dresses suitable for her post before anyone noticed that she only had somewhat shabby-looking clothing.

“All the best, Miss Ashford,” Mr. Freeman told her. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

She gave him a small smile and turned away to stare at the path ahead. She didn’t have much choice—she had to be fine. Better than fine.

Clara was still standing in the same spot when Mr. Freeman drove away. She couldn’t seem to move. Unfortunately, the wagon’s wheels kicked up such a dust storm, giving her an unnecessary shower. She did her best to escape the dust, but grimaced when she looked down at herself. First impressions were important, and at this rate, the duke was bound to take one look at her and send her away. Clara had to do something to make herself more presentable, even if it meant being a little late. At least she would be cleaner.

Marching up the path, she looked for the stream Mr. Freeman had mentioned. A quick dip in the water and dusting her dress off seemed her only choice. Clara would just need to give an excuse for her tardiness and hope the duke would believe her. Under any other circumstance, she would never consider bathing in someone’s stream, but she was desperate.

It took nearly twenty minutes of near frantic searching before Clara heard water flowing nearby. She tucked her bag under her arm and lifted her dress before she ran toward the stream as fast as she could. Twigs cracked beneath her feet, and branches snagged at her arms, but she kept going. Finally, she found the flowing body of water and hurriedly looked around before stripping down to her underthings and flapping her dress in the air. Once satisfied, she spread it out on a relatively flat stone and waded into the stream, her shoulders hunched as the frigid water touched her sensitive skin.

Sighing as her body grew accustomed to the cold, Clara released her hair from its confines and dipped her entire head in the water. She gave it a quick scrub before flicking her head back and closing her eyes as water fell on her face. A sudden crunch of twigs breaking startled Clara, forcing her into the shallow water. She immediately crouched and wildly looked around her, but she saw nothing. She eventually decided it must have been an animal, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling that perhaps it had been a person.

Not wishing to waste any more time, she ran out of the stream and ducked behind a large stone, wringing out her hair and underthings as much as she could before donning her dress and shoes. Her thin muslin dress should dry quickly in the slight summer breeze, but her thick, curly brunette hair would remain damp. Clara shrugged. She would rather be a little wet than dirty for her first meeting with the man who could change her life for the better.

Chapter Two

It took her another half an hour before Clara finally spotted the majestic and beautiful Westcliffe Hall. She quickly realized that Mr. Freeman had not exaggerated anything. This couldn’t be called a house. Clara paused in wonder as she took in the building’s grandeur. Already, she had been impressed with the trimmed hedges she had seen ten minutes ago, but this was something else. Her mouth gaped slightly as her eyes struggled to take in the sheer size of the house. There had to be at least five floors, but that was nothing compared to the length of it. Westcliffe Hall was its own village, a continuous row of connected houses that hinted at the wonder she would find inside.

“Oh, goodness me,” she breathed.

It was far beyond what she had ever known. Despite being an aristocrat, Clara had not been surrounded by much opulence. There was always a shadow of ruin hanging over her head, a stark contrast to how the duke lived. It was almost unfair, but such was the world. However, she didn’t covet his riches or seek to be wealthy. Clara just wanted a simple life where she could provide for herself and live happily. If she remained the duke’s nieces’ governess until they reached womanhood and saved enough of her wages, she could buy a small cottage, tend a little patch of vegetables, keep chickens—

“Can I help you, miss?”

Clara’s body jerked slightly before she turned to the young man staring at her curiously. She self-consciously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and wondered about her appearance. She hadn’t had time to look at her reflection in the water after she heard twigs snapping, so she could only imagine that she appeared disheveled.

“Good day,” she said. “I’m Miss Ashford. I have come to speak with His Grace about the governess position.”

“Ah, the new governess,” the young man replied, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Just continue along this path all the way to the front door. And good luck. You will need it.”

He lowered his head in a shallow bow and walked off whistling a jolly tune. Clara wanted to call him back and ask him what he meant by, good luck, she will need it. That sounded rather ominous.

Fortunately for her, the need to earn money was stronger than her apprehension about what she was about to walk into. Clara was determined to survive and survive well.

The walk to the front door seemed longer than expected, but she finally reached it and rapped the rather large and menacing-looking knocker against the oak wood. The gargoyle knocker was complemented by other creatures carved into the perimeter of the double doors. Clara loved this kind of architecture. It was dark yet beautiful, reminding her of churches with statues of gargoyles perched atop their buildings.

She was still admiring them when one of the doors opened to reveal a gray-haired man with deep wrinkles etched into his face. He looked her up and down, his bushy white eyebrows framing slightly milky blue eyes. There was intelligence in those eyes. Clara believed that likely nothing got past the man.

“Miss Ashford, I presume?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Clara lowered her head slightly. “Yes, sir.”

“You’re late.”

She smiled weakly. “Yes, I know. I ran into some trouble along the way, but that is no excuse. Please, forgive me.”

“It is not for me to forgive,” the man replied. “Please, come in. The duke expected you nearly an hour ago. Fortunately, he is still willing to see you.” He looked her over and frowned. “I would suggest you refresh yourself first, but it cannot be helped. Come in.”

The man had spoken in an even tone, but she felt thoroughly chastised. “Thank you, sir.”

“I’m Mr. Bentley,” the man informed her. “The family butler.”

Clara nodded her head in acknowledgment and followed behind him. She entered what she knew had to be the foyer, though it looked more like a mix between a lavish ballroom and parlor. Chaises and settees were placed against walls, while half-moon tables carried vases of fresh flowers and figurines. Grecian columns appeared to hold the ceiling up… and what a pretty ceiling it was, she thought, with painted clouds and Eros flying about a lush garden. A beautiful crystal chandelier completed the decadent décor, and hung in the middle of the grand room.

“Come along, Miss Ashford,” said Mr. Bentley.

Clara didn’t realize she had stopped to admire the room. She blushed a bit and continued behind him. If the foyer had been impressive, then the hallway was ridiculously extravagant, yet tastefully so with its rich fabrics and colors. Purples, golds, and reds graced the walls and floor in the form of wall hangings and carpets, but they didn’t darken the area. Whoever had decorated the home knew how to balance rich jewel tones with more neutral colors like whites and creams. Clara was surprised that Westcliffe Hall had not fallen into the new decorating style of pastel shades, but frankly, what she had seen so far suited the home better.

“Your Grace,” Clara heard Mr. Bentley say.

Clara’s eyes widened as nerves sent her stomach into knots. She was finally going to meet the duke, her new employer. Well, assuming that he didn’t hold her tardiness against her. It didn’t help that she wasn’t as tidy and neat as she should be. Clara was tempted to inch closer to a nearby mirror and catch a glance, but it would be too obvious. Instead, she should just do her best to create a first impression.

She looked around her to see the duke but found no one who could be him. Clara frowned and glanced at the butler. He was looking up toward the stairs. She followed his gaze slowly until her eyes landed on an impressive figure at the top. Long legs, a narrow waist, broad shoulders, muscular legs, and that face…

Clara gaped slightly. A chiseled jawline framed a thin but attractive set of lips, and his nose appeared in proportion to the rest of his features. She looked a little higher to find narrowed eyes that watched her with all the intensity of a displeased man. The duke was undeniably handsome, and perhaps there was a flutter within her that hinted at a physical attraction, but she couldn’t focus on that right now. Not when it seemed he was ready to send her right back outside. Although she had to admit he was much younger than she had initially believed.

Movement to the duke’s far left caught her attention. Two little girls crouched and stared at her through the bars of the balustrade. They had to be his nieces. She smiled at them, and they smiled back, which was a good start. Clara returned her attention to the duke and awaited his greeting. He carried a higher rank and needed to initiate their greeting, but he merely stared at her. Confused and just a little intimidated, she stepped forward and curtsied. She had not yet raised her head when a large, shaggy, and rather dirty dog appeared out of seemingly nowhere and knocked her down so hard that she bit her tongue. A copper taste soon filled her mouth, and her body felt jarred and bruised. However, what surprised her most was the sound of suppressed giggling. Clara raised her head and found the girls looking at her with triumph in their eyes. She had a feeling that they had something to do with the dog knocking her down, but she didn’t know how. A pair of boots appeared before her before a veined hand was offered. Clara looked up, meeting the duke’s striking gray gaze. She hadn’t even heard him approach.

“Are you all right, Miss Ashford?” he asked with sincere concern. “I apologize for my nieces’ dog. He’s rather unruly.”

Clara tilted her head slightly, her attention still on the wonderment of him appearing before her so silently. His eyes were also rather mesmerizing, enough to send that little flutter in her belly again.

“Miss Ashford?” he called.

She blinked when he crouched before her. The movement sent a waft of something fresh and spicy her way, addling her brain ever so slightly. The feeling reminded her of the time she stole into her father’s study and gulped down half a glass of whisky, but sans the burning sensation she had experienced in her throat. Clara had a weakness for scents, and she wanted nothing more than to lean in and take a stronger whiff, but she reined in her impulses and reminded herself of her current situation.

“I’m f-fine, Your Grace,” she stammered. “Thank you.”

She finally took his hand and was surprised by the odd tingly sensation that erupted between their palms. It didn’t help that she was gloveless. She couldn’t afford them. The duke released her hand as soon as she was upright and stepped back. The concern in his eyes had disappeared, and now what appeared to be mild disgust darkened his features as he observed her. He looked at his butler.

“Have Ellie show Miss Ashford to a room to freshen up,” he said. He turned to her. “We will have our meeting in the parlor.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Mr. Bentley replied.

The duke nodded and walked off, dismissing her without a second glance. Clara inwardly sighed. This truly was not a good start.

“Please, follow me, Miss Ashford,” Mr. Bentley insisted.

Clara nodded, and moments later, she met a kind maid called Ellie, who showed her to a pretty room. However, she didn’t have time to appreciate her surroundings. The duke didn’t seem pleased with her, and her first impression was a disappointment of epic proportions. It appeared she might have failed before she even began.

Chapter Three

It was her—Gabriel was sure of it. The new governess was the woman in the stream.

Shaking his head, he sank into an armchair. Gabriel didn’t know what to make of his nieces’ governess bathing in a private stream instead of ensuring she was on time for her appointment with him. Fortunately, he hadn’t seen anything that would embarrass the woman. He had only just jumped off his horse intending to take a walk along his usual path when he heard splashing. The noise was too loud to be a fish, so he wondered if someone was fishing in his stream. It had happened several times before, so he was strict about who entered his estate.

Gabriel’s fingers drummed on the armrest. What does she mean by arriving late and looking so disheveled?

Although he couldn’t deny that the woman possessed a certain allure that he couldn’t understand. That long brunette hair hastily confined by a few pins, the few tendrils sticking to her neck and the sides of her face because her hair was still damp, the flush of her cheeks… Miss Ashford was undeniably attractive. However, he wasn’t looking to hire a governess based on her beauty but on her ability to teach, be presentable, and be responsible. So far, she had failed to show responsibility and had not put enough care into appearing presentable. Gabriel was leaning toward not hiring her, but his nieces couldn’t go without a teacher. They had chased off all their other governesses with their tricks and pranks, so he didn’t have much choice. Still, he would rather they not have a governess than be exposed to someone potentially inappropriate.

He sighed as he considered his nieces’ behavior. Alison and Olivia appeared to be well-behaved girls when they wished to be, but it was evident that they had been spoiled by his sister and brother-in-law. Gabriel squeezed his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to think about his sister—it hurt too much. His guilt was almost as suffocating as his pain, so he preferred to not think about Juliet. Unfortunately, his nieces were constant reminders of their mother, so he preferred to keep his distance. He knew it wasn’t right. His nieces needed him, but he couldn’t bring himself to give them the attention and affection they needed.

“Your Grace,” his valet called, stepping into the room.

“Lewis?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I found out the woman’s identity from the stream,” Lewis told him. “It’s—”

“Miss Ashford,” Gabriel said before his valet could speak.

Lewis’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, I see. She must have finally arrived at the house. Did you ask her about using your stream without permission?”

Gabriel’s cheeks reddened slightly. “You think I should ask why she was half naked in my stream? To inform her that I saw her? That would merely embarrass her. She didn’t steal any fish. She just took a dip.”

Lewis’s eyes widened more. Gabriel didn’t blame him. He also couldn’t understand why he was so lenient about the matter. Usually, he would have swiftly dealt with the situation by ordering her off his land, but he strangely couldn’t.

“If you are fine with the matter, Your Grace,” his valet finally said. “Shall I pour you something to drink?”

“Whisky.”

Lewis nodded and moved to the drinks trolley. “I noticed the muddy pawprints in the hallway,” he remarked. “The maids were hastily removing the mess. I gather that Sweetness somehow entered the house again. I shall try harder to train him.”

Gabriel waved his hand dismissively. “Do not bother,” he said. “Alison and Olivia routinely ruin your good efforts. I would take the mutt away, but the girls seem to need him.”

He also had a suspicion that they somehow let the dog inside to scare Miss Ashford away. He didn’t have the evidence yet, but he believed someone had to have assisted them with opening the door. Sweetness wasn’t allowed inside the house because he never remained clean. He was always digging in the flowerbeds, trying to catch fish in the stream, chasing after squirrels, or rolling in the pig pen. The dog was a nightmare, but he made the girls happy. Gabriel could at least give them this happiness.

Lewis handed him his whisky. “Will you attend the town meeting this evening?” he asked. “They seem to need your opinion on a few matters.”

Gabriel groaned. “I forgot all about that. I do not know if I wish to attend yet another meeting. I do not know why I agreed to take over my uncle’s responsibilities as a town council member. This new position has only been a headache.”

Every decision had to have a stuffy meeting that lasted far too long. The last meeting had been about whether to hold a market fair during summer and autumn. The suggestion was denied because no one wanted to organize two major fairs every year. Gabriel hadn’t cared about having one or two fairs a year, but as a prominent member of their town, he couldn’t appear completely disinterested.

“I’ll send a letter with my decision,” he decided. “That should be enough.”

Lewis nodded. “Of course, Your Grace. Shall I saddle your horse for your afternoon inspection with Mr. Collins?”

Gabriel usually accompanied his steward around the estate to keep abreast of everything. He liked knowing what occurred on his land, from the smallest to the biggest events. Every detail was significant.

“I’ll have to skip today,” he said. “Miss Ashford has delayed my day significantly. I hope she has an explanation other than the need to swim in my stream.”

He didn’t know what had possessed her to do such a thing. It was bizarre yet somewhat intriguing.

“I shall inform Mr. Collins that you will not be available today,” Lewis replied.

Gabriel nodded and sipped his whisky, enjoying the illegal drink. It was a sad day when their laws forbade the sale of Highlander whisky in England. Fortunately, having money meant that rules could be broken.

Lewis left just before Gabriel heard a tentative knock at the door. “Your Grace?” said Miss Ashford. “May I come in?”

Gabriel rose to his feet. “Yes, do come in. Take a seat.”

Miss Ashford entered the room, taking a chair opposite him. She fiddled with her dress, drawing his attention to its shabby state. He inwardly frowned. The last one had been just as shabby. It was a terrible dress, but Gabriel could easily recognize the quality of the fabric. When he looked a little more closely, he could see the stitching in some places didn’t match. Perhaps all her attire had the same look. Instead of being annoyed or disappointed that his nieces’ governess would not live up to his standards, he felt sorry for her. Perhaps he could give her an advance on her wages, and she could buy fabric and—

Gabriel paused when he noticed the path his thoughts were following. He barely knew the woman. Also, there was no guarantee that he would hire her. He had specified that all governesses would be put through a trial period to gauge their suitability for the girls. Unfortunately, all governesses had fled before the trial ended. They had expressed their frustration and defeat, apparently unable to handle the emotional strain of two orphaned girls. Gabriel knew his nieces were challenging, but it didn’t seem right that no one could help set them on the right path. People, especially children, were capable of change.

He sighed softly and rubbed his eyes, weariness from sleepless nights catching up with him. Life had become more complicated since his sister’s death. Despite their estranged relationship, she had still named him as her children’s guardian, yet Gabriel wasn’t equipped to handle grieving girls, let alone happy ones. He couldn’t understand Juliet’s thinking. Oddly, Miss Ashford reminded him a little of his sister. Juliet had always exuded a quiet strength and maintained her grace no matter the situation, even when he hurled insults at her for marrying someone he didn’t approve of. Now, Gabriel wished he could take those words back and have his sister with him.

“May I just apologize for being late today, Your Grace?” Miss Ashford suddenly blurted, startling him. “I didn’t know about your rule concerning anyone coming to your estate. My driver left me at the beginning of your road, so I had to walk all the way here.”

He almost smiled. Almost. She didn’t mention anything about the stream. It was rather obvious she had done something with water because her dress and hair had been slightly damp. It hadn’t rained in days, so she couldn’t use that excuse.

“I see,” he said. “Why did you not think to leave earlier?”

“I was at the mercy of my driver’s time,” she replied. “But that is no excuse at all. I sincerely apologize. I did not mean to waste your time. I understand you are an important and busy man. If you give me a chance, I can show you how prompt and reliable I can be. This will not happen again.”

She appeared so earnest that he didn’t doubt it. Still, he couldn’t let her think he would easily set the matter aside.

“You are correct that it is not an excuse,” he told her. “However, I shall accept your apology. I will not tolerate tardiness in my employees. You need to be an example to my nieces. They are at an impressionable age.”

Miss Ashford smiled slightly. “They are seven, yes?” she said. “It is a critical age. I find it is the age when children usually develop their beliefs about the world. They decide if they will be good people or not.”

“There is no such thing as a good person,” he pointed out. “I merely want the girls to be responsible people and well-raised women.”

Miss Ashford stiffened slightly. The movement was so slow and slight, but he still noticed it. She appeared to not like what he had said.

“I see,” she said, lowering her gaze. “Being responsible is important. However, I find that addressing all areas of learning is important.” She lifted her head. “That includes how they express their thoughts and feelings. How they feel affects what they think about themselves. It will affect how much they learn and—”

Gabriel lifted his palm, silencing her. He didn’t want to hear about the emotional states of his nieces. He was already aware they were grieving their parents’ untimely death. Nothing would change that. They would heal in their own time.

“Your job as governess is to teach my nieces what they need to become accomplished young women,” he pointed out. “You are not to interfere in other areas of their lives. Do you understand?”

Gabriel watched Miss Ashford’s jaw tighten. She wasn’t good at hiding emotions. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. It meant she would never be able to hide her thoughts from him, which might also cause trouble. Sometimes not knowing how someone felt was a blessing.

“Yes, I understand,” she said, nodding curtly. A determined glint appeared in her lovely honey-brown colored eyes. “Is there anything in particular you expect that might not be part of the information I’ll teach your nieces?”

“You are the governess,” said Gabriel. “I expect you to teach them the usual—languages, etiquette, history, geography, musical instruments—whatever is necessary. They must lack nothing. I travel a lot,” he continued. “Sometimes as far as London. I need to be certain that I can trust you to do what is expected while I’m away.”

Gabriel wanted Olivia and Alison to have the best education and governess possible. According to the letter Miss Ashford had sent him, she was more than capable of fulfilling their academic needs. He would discover that soon enough if she had embellished her skills.

She nodded again after a moment of slight hesitation and looked down, saying nothing. He had the feeling she wanted to say something he probably would not like. Miss Ashford’s silence undoubtedly didn’t seem to be that of a timid woman. She had appeared embarrassed earlier and unwilling to meet his gaze, but her current demeanor was entirely different. Despite this different impression of her, she likely knew that since she needed this position, she couldn’t behave rashly and say whatever came to mind. Although, it would have been somewhat amusing to have someone scold him just for a moment.

“I think it will quickly become obvious that my nieces have struggled since losing their parents,” he said. “I wish to create an environment with as little disruption as possible, which is why their daily lessons need to be immersive and thoughtful. I do not need you to interfere emotionally, but do not stifle them should they exhibit challenging behavior.”

Miss Ashford looked up with a frown. “You wish me to not discipline them if they misbehave?” she asked in disbelief. “How on earth am I to help them become responsible?”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by discipline?”

“Certainly not what you’re thinking,” she replied, her face revealing annoyance. “I do not abuse children, Your Grace. A gentle but firm approach is enough, especially if you continually reinforce a teaching. They must understand that there are consequences to their actions. This fosters a sense of responsibility. It is necessary for stability.”

To tell the truth, Gabriel agreed with her. However, the other governesses had been too quick to discipline, and when they failed, they immediately blamed the children. His nieces were not angels, but it seemed odd that a person in the teaching profession could not find a way to guide them down the right path.

“I would prefer you to come to me should you need to discipline them,” he told her.

“That will be difficult, Your Grace,” said Miss Ashford. “If you travel so much, I’ll have to wait until you return to discipline them. Children do not work like that. This will only give them more cause to misbehave.”

Again, she was right. However, Gabriel didn’t want her to think that she had the freedom to do as she believed necessary. Not yet.

“You do recall that you are on a trial?” he asked. “Your position is not permanent yet. We can revisit this conversation about your suitability once the trial ends.”

That seemed like the better option. He wasn’t dismissing her opinion, but he also wasn’t giving her full access to his nieces until he was confident about her.

“Yes, I know,” she said. “I assure you, I will be most suitable for this position.”

Her steady gaze and look of determination sent a trickle of admiration through him. Miss Ashford indeed appeared different from the other governesses, but only time would tell if the difference would help his nieces. Usually, he would have looked away by now, but something about Miss Ashford’s pretty honey-brown eyes arrested him for a moment. Perhaps it was a sense of understanding from someone who had also suffered tragedy in her young life. Gabriel knew about her circumstances, having looked into her background.

“I hope you are right, Miss Ashford,” he finally said. “I hope you are most suitable for this position.”

Gabriel oddly wanted her to exceed his expectations. Not just for his nieces, but also for himself. He didn’t understand the feeling. Miss Ashford was merely a stranger, but he sensed she was much more than she appeared. Any woman who thought swimming in a private stream was acceptable had to be different. It made her interesting and a little exciting. Gabriel didn’t know if that was what he and his nieces needed in their lives, but a small part of him wanted to experience something other than grief, coldness, and despair. Even if it was just for a brief moment in time.