A Stranger's Promise (Lords of Chance Book 1) Page 3

  He slanted a smile her way with a graceful incline of his head, and announced, “Children, this is your governess, Miss Atchenson. Step forward and tell her your names.”

  They didn’t budge, nor did they speak.

  He waited a moment, then shrugged. “Well then, there you have it.” He gave a dry humph of a laugh and shook his head in some private joke. Turning to her, he added, “We leave at once, Miss Atchenson. See the lad and lassie settled in the carriage, will you? And be quick. We are late.”

  Charlotte frowned, confused. Their names? Did the man not know them? Or was it some strange sort of game? She faced her young charges once again, and mustered her brightest smile. “Come now, children, let’s go to the carriage, shall we?”

  To her delight, the little girl smiled back and took a timid step forward. But her brother, with a single, large step, blocked her way, eyes flashing outright defiance. Charlotte blinked, startled at the intensity of his reaction.

  “You’re welcome to stay, lad,” Lord Cassilis calmly remarked over her shoulder. “I’m certain Lady Prescott will find you pleasant enough company.”

  The words had a rousing effect. The boy seized his sister’s wrist and pulled her toward the door. Charlotte started forward, but he ran with his sister down the stairs before Charlotte reached the first step. A deep chuckle rumbled through Lord Cassilis’s chest as he stepped up behind her.

  “My lord.” Charlotte raised a brow. “Please, sir,” she smoothed her suddenly sweating palms over her skirt. “Might I know their names?”

  His eyes twinkled as he bent close and whispered in her ear, “I confess, my dear Miss Atchenson, I haven’t the faintest notion of what they might be.”

  His breath warmed her ear. She took a startled step back.

  His lips quirked in a devilish grin. “But please do not let them know, aye? Especially the lad.” He spun on his heel and strode down the hallway.

  Charlotte stared in astonishment. What manner of man failed to know the names of his own children? And the boy? She’d recognized the raw emotion under that defiance. She’d seen it often enough in the mirror, staring back at her from within her own eyes. Anger. Deep anger. She’d do well to stay on her toes.

  “What a fine kettle of fish you’ve landed yourself in,” she groused, then marched down the stairs after them.

  Charlotte caught up with the children in the foyer. Lady Prescott wasn’t there to bid adieu, but the staff had formed a respectful line leading to the open door. They bowed and curtsied their farewells as Lord Cassilis acknowledged each one on his walk toward the door. Finally, he reached the end of the line where the butler waited, holding a dark wool overcoat and a black silk top hat.

  “Safe travels, my lord,” the butler spoke in soft, polite tones, as he handed Lord Cassilis the hat and coat.

  With a crisp nod, Lord Cassilis swirled the great overcoat over his broad shoulders and clapped the hat on his head, then stepped out the front door.

  Charlotte took it as her cue to follow and shooed the children forward, but this time, the staff responded with only chill, silent stares and, by the time they’d reached the end of the line, the butler had long gone. Affronted on the children’s behalf, she hurried them out the door and down the steps.

  “Pay the judgmental creatures no heed,” she advised as she marched them down the walk to the waiting barouche.

  “We will not be traveling far, milord,” the coachman was saying to Lord Cassilis as they neared. “I fear it will snow.”

  Charlotte glanced at the line of dark clouds massed on the northern horizon. Indeed, it did look like snow, but the prospect of returning to Lady Prescott’s oppressive household looked even worse.

  Apparently, Lord Cassilis felt the same. “If we get no farther than a mile from this house, I will dance with joy.” He stepped back and waved Charlotte and the children to the carriage.

  The mutton-chop whiskered footman helped the children into the coach. When he grasped Charlotte’s hand, she ducked as she entered, then paused. Double-stitched, quilted, black leather lined every inch of the luxurious interior. Ornate brass oil lamps hung on either side of the door. The polished plate glass windows rested in gilded frames with crimson velvet curtains held back in gold-tasseled loops. The seats, soft and plump, with fleece-lined lap blankets, begged to be used. A finely woven carpet covered the floor.

  “Miss Atchenson?”

  Charlotte startled at Lord Cassilis’s voice so near her elbow. She turned and plopped down on the seat beside the little girl. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Lord Cassilis’s large frame as he grasped the handle. She jerked her gaze aside and spotted a folded blanket on the seat beside the boy.

  Crossing her fingers he would listen, she pointed at the blanket. “Hand me the blanket, sweetheart, and I shall tuck it around you and your sister for our journey.”

  To her relief, he obeyed, perhaps as eager to leave Lady Prescott’s domain as she was herself. She quickly shook out the blanket and spread it over their legs. She’d just tucked it around them when the carriage dipped under Lord Cassilis’s weight.

  He ducked as he entered the small space and removed his hat as he took the seat opposite them. The door closed with a click and he rapped sharply on the window to signal the coachman their readiness to leave. Hat on his lap, he settled back and stretched his long legs to the side. With a long sigh of apparent relief, he closed his eyes.

  The barouche lurched forward and Charlotte caught sight of the footmen, mounted on fine geldings and dressed in warm coats and scarves against the bitter winter air, before they disappeared behind the carriage. As the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves and the jingle of harnesses filled the air, Charlotte heaved a deep breath of relief. It was really happening. She was leaving London. At last. She glanced at the children and read an excitement in their eyes that mirrored her own.

  She smiled.

  It was the wrong move. The boy responded with a dark scowl and deliberately turned his bony shoulders away to ignore her. Charlotte suppressed a snort. Well, she’d outwit the little trouble-causer. Give her time. Still, it would be helpful to know what had made him so distrustful. Perhaps Lord Cassilis had taken too long in accepting his responsibility?

  From the corner of her eye, she studied the man. Heavens, he was a handsome devil. The kind of man who could charm birds right out of the trees. The children’s mother had likely found him irresistible. But he had to be a cad…a man should know the names of his own children. Her mouth twisted in disapproval.

  Almost as if sensing the subject of her thoughts, the dark ruffled line of his lashes fluttered. Charlotte yanked her gaze to the window. Shame washed over her. She, of all people, had no cause to judge. She could only be grateful. After all, the man had basically plucked her off the streets and made her a governess…a role for which she was scarcely qualified. She winced. Well, she could read and write. Pianoforte? Eh, maybe she could stay ahead of her pupil. But French? Melting back in her seat, she scavenged her memories for every French word she might have heard, wondering how many a smattering made.

  The barouche threaded its way through north through London, and when Charlotte looked at the children again, she found them fast asleep, mouths slack. She studied their thin, pinched faces. Poor motherless mites. They probably felt much like herself, lost and overwhelmed.

  A glance at Lord Cassilis revealed he’d fallen asleep as well. She had to admit. Something about him drew her eye. The firmness of his lips? The sensual line of his jaw? Oh, he was quite attractive. If he looked at her with even a hint of passion in those striking eyes, could she resist? Heat flooded her cheeks. She hastily forced her gaze back out the window and schooled her thoughts into the task that lay ahead as governess.

  The carriage rolled on. Slowly, they left London behind, always heading north, until the sun sank below the horizon and darkness fell. The footmen took the lead with bright torches and lanterns to light the way along the forested road. The way turned rough
. The carriage jolted and creaked along, rocking her body to the uneven rhythm.

  Still, the children and Lord Cassilis slept.

  Snow began to fall. The footmen’s torches illuminated the large, feathery flakes that drifted down from the canopy of darkness above. Charlotte pressed her cheek against the window and trailed a finger down the plate glass, dreamily following the snowflakes’ lazy descent.

  She abruptly became aware of being watched and glanced over her shoulder. Lord Cassilis’s green eyes glittered against the faint flicker of the exterior torchlight. She froze, heart beating like a drum as their gazes locked. Long seconds passed before his eyes slid away. Her cheeks heated and she busied herself with adjusting the children’s blanket when the distinct odor of urine unexpectedly wafted up to her. Frowning, she lifted a corner of the fleece for a closer inspection. The odor blasted her nostrils. She squinted until she discerned a dark, wet patch on the little girl’s dress.

  “My lord.” She cleared her throat. “We must stop the carriage.”

  The children awoke with a start.

  Lord Cassilis queried softly, “Why must we do so, Miss Atchenson?”

  Charlotte hesitated. How did one tell a peer of the realm that his daughter had wet her petticoat? “A necessity. A necessity of nature, sir.”

  “A necessity of nature?” he repeated.

  She sent him an exasperated look. What did the man expect when traveling with children? Yes, he didn’t know their names, but did that mean he knew nothing of their care?

  Understanding dawned on his handsome face. “Ah, I see.” He shrugged. “But the deed is already done, is it not? Can’t…she…” His voice trailed off when Charlotte stared in shock and he heaved a sigh, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Very well, then.”

  He gave the window a solid rap.

  The carriage rolled to a stop.

  A footman opened the door and torchlight filled the interior. Charlotte took the girl by the hand and addressed her employer once again, “I will need fresh clothes, my lord.”

  His inscrutable gaze raked her from head to toe. “Very well,” he granted, then addressed the footman, “Ye heard her, I’m sure? Untie the children’s trunk.”

  A little flustered, Charlotte stepped down from the carriage into ankle-deep snow with both children close behind. It didn’t take long to search through their trunk. It was practically empty. Charlotte pulled out the only other dress inside—a thin, patched pink fabric adorned with a limp, bedraggled ribbon—and held it up in the torchlight.

  “Is this all you have?” she asked, surprised.

  Both children nodded.

  “Well then, it must do.” She nodded her thanks to the footman, then escorted the little girl to the nearest tree. The girl’s brother followed and Charlotte hid a smile when he stood guard while she and the girl stepped out of sight behind the trunk.

  In minutes, they were back inside the carriage, the children rosy-cheeked and shivering. Someone had lit the interior brass lamps during the wait. Charlotte bundled the children back under their blanket and wondered if their feet were as cold and wet as hers. Flickering light caught the gilded windows and the silver buttons of Lord Cassilis’s fine overcoat. The contrast to the child’s worn dress couldn’t be sharper.

  Charlotte settled back beside the lass and couldn’t stop herself from saying, “My lord, your children are in dire need of clothes.”

  Surprise shone in his eyes. His chiseled lips parted as if to reply, then his gaze fell on the children. An awkward moment of silence passed before he said in a mild voice, “Then see to it, Miss Atchenson.”

  She nodded, pleased.

  A ghost of a smile curved his lips. “If you are satisfied, may we leave?”

  Her stomach fluttered at the smoky timber of his voice. She managed a prim, “Yes, my lord. As it pleases you.”

  Once again, he rapped on the plate glass window.

  Silence returned. The carriage lumbered on. And this time, lulled by the vehicle’s gentle sway, Charlotte fell asleep.

  * * *

  “Miss Atchenson,” a man’s deep voice intruded upon her dreams. “Miss Atchenson, we’ve arrived.”

  Charlotte frowned. “Go away.” She melted deeper into the corner, seeking a more comfortable position.

  “Miss Atchenson,” the deep voice insisted with a distinct note of humor. “We have arrived.”

  This time, someone shook her shoulder.

  “Devil take you, sirrah. Can you not see I am trying to sleep?” She slapped at the fingers that gently gripped her arm. Realization pierced the haze of her thoughts and she froze. She’d fallen asleep. Even worse, had she just sworn at her employer?

  Charlotte jumped to her feet and collided with the solid, muscled wall of Lord Cassilis’s chest. He grunted and chuckled a, “Ho, lass,” as he fell back under her momentum. His hands fell about her waist as he landed on the opposite seat and she tumbled into his lap.

  Heart pounding, Charlotte stared up into his green eyes.

  His mouth twitched in humor. “That will teach me not to wake you from a sound sleep, eh, lass?”

  Charlotte swallowed. His eyes shifted to her throat. Something primal leapt to life in his green eyes. A charged tension ignited between them. Slowly, he released her, trailing a hand down her hip before she was able to shove off his thighs.

  She plopped onto the opposite seat and managed a subdued, “Pardon me, my lord.”

  “We will lodge here for the night, Miss Atchenson,” he said, quite unruffled, and rose to exit through the carriage door.

  Embarrassment washed over her. She hadn’t noticed the open door. Had everyone witnessed their inappropriate encounter? To her dismay, Lord Cassilis extended a hand into the carriage to help her down. He nodded and her gaze caught on his dimpled chin. She placed her hand in his. As his large fingers swallowed hers, she tried her best to ignore the shiver of attraction. Heavens, what was it about the man?

  She touched down on the ground and he released her. He stood for a moment, eyes intent on her face, then touched his fingertip to the brim of his hat, and moved to join the footmen untying the trunks at the back.

  Charlotte caught sight of the children, huddled together a few feet away. She hurried to their side and took a moment to study her surroundings as Lord Cassilis directed the unloading of the luggage. The carriage stood in front of a tidy stone inn at the edge of a small village as picturesque as a painting. Pine trees surrounded a courtyard blanketed with snow, and an oil lantern swayed on a lamp-post by the door. The inn’s diamond-paned, leaded windows twinkled with lights that made her think of a hot meal and a warm bed.

  A wave of exhaustion washed over her as she stretched her hands toward the children. “Let’s go, shall we?”

  They didn’t hold her hands, but they followed her properly enough, perhaps enticed by thoughts of a hot meal and a bed themselves. Whatever the reason, she felt grateful. She hadn’t strength enough to engage in a new clash of wills.

  She’d no sooner bustled them inside the inn than Lord Cassilis joined them with his black silk hat tucked under his arm. With a nod for her to wait, he crossed the small reception area in three long strides and, in minutes, the short, wiry innkeeper slid two large skeleton keys on brass rings across the counter.

  Looping the keys over his thumb, Lord Cassilis yawned and waved for them to follow. He led them through a maze of narrow, twisting passages.

  Charlotte hurried behind him, and tried her best to ignore the muscled thighs of the man she’d sat on in the carriage. She found herself relieved in more ways than one when he finally paused before a door and fitted a key into the lock.

  The lock tuned with a click, then he stood aside and said, “This is where you’ll stay with the children.”

  With a quick but tired nod, Charlotte shepherded the children into the room. It was a pleasant enough place with one large bed located against the far wall and another placed near the window. A table stood before a fire that crackled in
an iron grate, and a rose-colored china basin stood in one corner.

  “Your supper and luggage will arrive shortly,” Lord Cassilis announced. “I bid you good night.”

  Charlotte turned and bobbed a quick curtsey. “Good night, my lord,” she replied. He grasped the doorknob to pull the door closed and she recalled that, as a governess, she held the responsibility to teach her charges the ways of polite society. Clapping her hands, she ordered as kindly as she could, “Bid your father good night, children.”

  They stared at her with unblinking eyes.

  The little devils. Of course, she should have known they’d resist. The tips of her ears warmed with embarrassment, but she tossed a glance over her shoulder to gauge Lord Cassilis’s reaction as the door softly clicked shut. Her jaw dropped open.

  “Polite society?” she snorted under her breath. The man clearly stood in need of a governess himself.

  She pulled off her gloves one finger at a time and bade the children wash their faces and hands. She’d just gotten her gloves off when a knock rattled the door. Charlotte opened the door and the footmen entered with the luggage, followed by a maid with a large tray of covered dishes. Surprisingly, this time, the children listened when Charlotte instructed them to sit at the table. Most likely, their obedience had everything to do with the food rather than her asking.

  Whatever the case, in short order, they sat down at a table set with parsnip and savory roast pork pie, a dish of chestnuts, and a flavorsome boiled cod and oyster-sauce casserole. It was a silent but tasty meal. The children ate quickly and with better manners than she’d expected but, at the end of the meal, the little girl yawned, nearly falling asleep at the table.

  Charlotte rose, picked up the small dish of chestnuts, and held it out to the boy. “Why don’t you teach your sister how to roast these in the fire? I’ll tidy up a bit and find your bedclothes.”

  He glowered but, to her delight, snatched the dish and pulled his sister to the coals glowing in the grate.