Page 37 of From Rakes to Riches

“It was an accident, my lord. Surely, you don’t blame Miss Templeton for an accident that might have happened to anyone?”

“I don’tblameher, Mrs. Norris.” Of course, he blamed her. Whose fault was it, if not hers? “But surely you see that Miss Templeton is a small little bit of a thing, and not physicallyup to the task of managing two energetic young boys. She also happens to be a single young lady.”

A rather attractive single young lady, at that. Those eyes…

He cleared his throat. “It’s not appropriate for her to remain here, now I’ve returned to Hawke’s Run.” If he’d been any less of an infamous rake it might not have mattered, but here they were.

“Governesses do tend to be single ladies, my lord, and there’s nothing scandalous about it, but if you’re concerned for Miss Templeton’s reputation, I will personally take responsibility for her well-being while she remains under your roof.”

He drummed his fingers against his desk, eying her. “I don’t understand, Mrs. Norris. At least half a dozen governesses and as many nursemaids have come and gone from Hawke’s Run since…”

Since Sophie died.

But he wouldn’t think on that just now. The memories would catch him soon enough, just as they always did when he was here. “Are you so reluctant to take on Ryan and Etienne until another governess can be found? I’m aware they’re rather a handful?—”

“That isn’t it at all, my lord. I love those boys as if they were my own, as naughty as they are. That’s the very reason why I can’t stand by silently by while you dismiss Miss Templeton. She’s turned Ryan and Etienne around, and make no mistake. You won’t find another like her, and it isn’t…forgive me, Lord Hawke, but it isn’t fair to the boys to take her away from them when they have so little constancy in their lives.”

He winced. Well, that was plain enough.

He’d never intended to stay away from Hawke’s Run as long as he had. Business had taken him to London, but once he was there, he’d lost himself in an endless round of drinking and debauchery. Every morning over the past six months he’d woken with an aching head and bleary eyes and sworn to himself he’dreturn home to his sons that very day, but then the numbing cycle would begin again, and he’d lose another day.

And another, and another…

Now he was home, and his boys had grown so much like Sophie that looking into their eyes was like looking through a window into the past. Or was it a looking glass? Yes, a shattered looking glass, with the reflection of the life that should have been theirs, only with a massive crack down the middle that distorted everything, ruined it?—

“…she has a way with the boys I’ve never seen before, and as you’re aware, my lord, Ryan and Etienne become more wild, more unruly with every subsequent governess.”

It was his fault his boys were so lost. Their every struggle, their every failing—all of it was his fault. He couldn’t bear to scold them, or lecture them, or shout at them.

He couldn’t bear to look at them…

He loved them desperately, but with a strange sort of fierce hopelessness, forever torn between the urge to snatch them both tightly to him, and push them away for their own good. He might have become a decent father with Sophie’s help, but she was gone, and bit by bit he’d fallen back into the same disgraceful behavior he’d indulged in before he’d made her his.

He was, alas, his father’s son. If that weren’t bad enough, he was also his sons’ father, and his boys deserved so much more, so much better than him?—

“…a truly extraordinary talent with children.”

He dragged his attention back to Mrs. Norris, who was still talking. She was a dry woman, not given to extravagant praise, but she was waxing veritably poetic about Miss Templeton. “I don’t know how she manages it, but they adore and respect her in equal measure. Indeed, my lord she’s done wonders with them. They want to please her, and hang on her every word.”

That little bit of a blue-eyed thing and her fiendish hell cat had tamed his wild boys? Surely not, yet to hear Mrs. Norris tell it, Miss Templeton was the patron saint of wicked children.

“Indeed, my lord, you do Ryan and Etienne great injury, dismissing Miss Templeton. I simply cannot let it happen without voicing how strenuously I object to?—”

“Yes, yes, all right, Mrs. Norris.” He held up his hand to quiet her. “I’ll have a word with Miss Templeton. But I make no promises. If I find she’s lacking the qualifications to properly instruct my boys, then Iwilldismiss her.”

“I’m certain you’ll find her qualifications more than adequate, my lord.”

Doubtful. How much knowledge could the girl possibly have? She couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty years old. “That remains to be seen.”

“Yes, my lord, and thank you, my lord. I assure you that you won’t regret it.”

“That remains to be seen, as well,” he muttered, pouring himself another measure of brandy, because clearly the troublewasn’tthat he’d had too much brandy last night, but that he hadn’t had enough of it yet today. “Please tell her I wish to see her at once.”

“Right away, Lord Hawke.”

Mrs. Norris hurried out the door, and he slumped in his chair, his glass clutched in his hand. He’d told Miss Templeton her dismissal was final, and she didn’t seem like the forgetful sort, so he’d likely be swallowing a healthy draught of his pride along with the brandy soon enough.

A few minutes later, there was a sharp rap, and he looked up from his morose study of his glass to find Miss Templeton standing in the open doorway.

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