Page 22 of One Night of Surrender
“No, that’s Miss Shipley’s duty now,” she said coolly.
He winced.“Damn me.I regret how all this happened.I didn’t realize Lady Barkley was going to arrive with a new governess in tow.”
“You weren’t aware she was going to hire someone to replace me?”
“She’s been threatening it for some time—interviewed several candidates—but I admit I didn’t think she’d actually do it.You’re quite accomplished, and the girls adore you.”He glanced beyond her along the gallery and lowered his voice.“In truth, I am trying to convince Lady Barkley to keep you on.Why can’t the girls have two governesses?It only makes sense.”
Yes, it did, but given the animosity Lady Barkley now freely showed toward Isabelle, it seemed sense might not emerge the victor.“I do appreciate your support, my lord.”
He took her hand in his.“You shall always have it.It is not just the girls who will be bereft by your departure.”He ran his thumb along the back of her hand, and though it was a slight movement, it changed everything.What he said next only confirmed her fear.“It would be my pleasure to ensure you are well cared for.”
Thatwas a proposition.Had he always felt that way about her?Had Lady Barkley realized it and decided to replace Isabelle?She felt sick.
Snapping her hand away from his, she resisted the urge to wipe it on her apron.“I have always cared for myself, my lord, and will continue to do so.My welfare is no longer your concern.”
She pushed past him and strode straight to her room, where she shut the door and engaged the lock for good measure.Shaking, she made her way to the desk and sank onto the chair.
How could she stay for the remainder of the fortnight?It was already torture to be with the girls, seeing their sadness and knowing their time together was finite.Now it would also be torture knowing Lord Barkley looked at her in a different light, and that Lady Barkley likely knew it.
What a tangle!
She had to find a job—any job—immediately.There had to be something she could do, even temporarily.Shehadalways cared for herself, and shewouldcontinue to do so.
Armed with resolve and courage, she grabbed her things and went in search of freedom.
CHAPTER 8
It became evident that Isabelle should have dedicated far more time and enthusiasm toward needlework.If she had, she might have obtained employment in a millinery shop sewing hats or stitching dresses for a modiste.Instead, she found herself standing at the back door of a tavern that was apparently in dire need of a barmaid.The pie seller at the end of the street had pointed Isabelle in this direction after she’d inquired about any jobs in the area.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door.After several moments with no answer, she lifted her hand to knock again just as the portal opened.
“Delivery?”the woman asked, wiping her hands on her apron.
“I’m inquiring about a position for a barmaid,” Isabelle said, thinking she’d never imagined herself saying those words.But desperation called for drastic measures.
The woman, who seemed about Isabelle’s thirty years, looked her up and down.“Do you have experience?”
“Er, no.”Isabelle thought of how the dowager would have cringed at her vocalization, but then decided her speech would pale compared to her situation, which would have horrified Val’s grandmother.
And what would Val think of her working as a barmaid?
Isabelle stiffened.She refused to let his or his grandmother’s opinions—or anyone else’s—dictate her life.She’d always done what she must to survive, and she would continue to do so.
As the silence stretched while the woman studied Isabelle, rejection seemed imminent.Isabelle was about to turn when the woman said, “Well, you look reliable.Are you reliable?”
“Very.And I can start immediately.”
The woman’s face lit, and she grinned.“You should have started with that.I need someone tomorrow.In fact, if you can come in now, I’ll give you a tour and get you situated so you can start right up tomorrow.”
It was exactly what she needed, if not what she wanted.“Show me what I need to know.”
The woman held the door open and beckoned her inside.“I’m Prudence.Welcome to the Wicked Duke.”
The…Wicked Duke?It couldn’t be.He wouldn’t own a tavern.He was a duke.
“I’m Mrs.Isabelle Cortland.Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Prudence led her through a passageway into the kitchen, then turned and narrowed an eye at Isabelle.“You don’t sound like our usual barmaid, but then you said you aren’t a barmaid.What are you, exactly?”
