The Mysterious Governess: Daughters of Sin, #3

Chapter 1

From her hiding place in the shadows of the schoolroom, Lissa studied the back of Cosmo’s foppish coiffure as he bent his head over his work.

She was reluctant to reveal herself; the young master only visited the third floor when he wanted something and Lissa had simply intended a quick dash upstairs to fetch a pile of mending, one of the many extras Mrs. Lamont had added to her governessing duties.

Finally, curiosity got the better of her. Even from three yards away, Lissa could see that the cast of the nose Cosmo was attempting to sketch—or rather copy—of the angel framed upon the wall was all wrong.

He must have become aware of her, for turning suddenly, his expression suggesting first embarrassment, then pride, he beckoned her over.

Exquisite, don’t you think?

Cosmo was always quick to crow his dubious triumphs. As quick as he was to anger. Lissa had learned to temper her responses.

Beautifully rendered, tripped off the tongue, followed by a hesitation, her frown indicating the considered, critical response of a fellow artist to a great work that might be made greater with just a charcoal stroke here or a blending there.

The gentle snoring of Clara, the nursery maid, sleeping in the next room beside the cot containing the youngest Lamont child, was reassuring. It reduced the need for Lissa, who was becoming increasingly uncomfortable in Cosmo’s uncertain company these days, to manufacture a reason to scuttle away. Courting Cosmo’s professional regard had its benefits, she’d realized, and was one way to ensure the security of her job.

A job she’d undertaken reluctantly.

However, she supposed, overseeing the education of the two middle Lamont children was better than the fate that had been forced upon Lissa’s sister.

Poor high-spirited Kitty had been required to remain in the tiny village where they’d grown up and were branded the local bastards, caring for their mother in the final term of her latest pregnancy. Yes, another full-blood sibling for Lissa and Kitty. Another Hazlett bastard or Partington by-blow—however one liked to term it.

Cosmo looked smug. I thought the same, he said, studying his work with, if possible, even greater appreciation.

Lissa, a bad liar, was reminded of the fact when Cosmo glanced at her, his self-satisfaction wiped away by suspicion before Lissa affected sudden astonishment.

Why, it looks just like Miss Danvers! she exclaimed. Miss Danvers in the guise of an angel. It had been fortuitous that she’d gleaned from conversation that this young lady was the object of Cosmo’s current interest and therefore quite possibly the subject of his artistic endeavors, for in truth, Cosmo had not a jot of painterly talent in his little finger.

You think so? Placated, he apparently strove to sound insouciant. Since attaining his majority, Cosmo had worked hard to cultivate an attitude of sophistication edged with patent boredom. Lissa’s brother, Ned, had been the same, though he had fortunately grown out of it. He’d had to, since unlike Cosmo, he had no pretentions to respectability.

Well, it so happens, Miss Hazlett, that is indeed who it is, and it is my plan to present the painting to Miss Danvers when I see her on Friday.

"Oh, but she will be flattered by your attention and impressed by your talent, Master Cosmo." Lissa gathered up the mending and had taken several steps toward the door when Cosmo called her back. Inwardly she groaned, for she knew what was coming; and she had so hoped to have an early night.

A moment, Miss Hazlett. The supercilious flare of Cosmo’s nostrils and the disdainful cast of his mouth could not hide his inner desire that Lissa help him. Twice in the past two weeks she had, with a few artful brush strokes, transformed Cosmo’s work-in-progress from hopelessly inept to a strikingly faithful rendition of his subject. She was not vain; she simply knew it was so.

Cosmo tapped his fingers on the wall beside the painting as he apparently gave thought to his next words. Lissa knew this was all part of the act. Wearily, she waited for what was to come.

Predictable as ever, Cosmo frowned as he turned toward her, biting his lip as if in the grip of great deliberation. I am extremely busy over the next couple of days, Miss Hazlett, and I barely know where I shall find the time to finish my painting, though as you can see it is all but complete. He stared at her, no doubt waiting for her bright offer of assistance.

Lissa hesitated in the doorway, a polite smile upon her lips. She remained silent.

Cosmo shifted his weight. Clearly he’d expected more cooperation, such as the last time he’d asked her for help. And the time before that. Now Lissa merely raised enquiring eyebrows.

The silence lengthened. Upon a gusty exhalation, Cosmo muttered, There are but two days before I see Miss Danvers and I cannot find even five minutes from the pressures of so many important claims upon my time. However, you, Miss Hazlett, enjoy a leisured lifestyle in the employ of my family. I wonder if I could prevail upon you to sacrifice just several minutes to add to this painting the minor details needed so that I might present it to Miss Danvers.

Lissa pretended to give the matter thought, then shook her head and said upon a sigh, I’m terribly sorry, Master Cosmo, but I’m on call with the young girls all day for the next week and, in the evenings, your mother has been assiduous in ensuring I have not a second to call my own, much less to help others.

She could see the thunderclouds gathering. His gaze darkened and his brow appeared to protrude over his angry eyes. When in fine temper he was a good-looking man. More often he resembled a sullen gargoyle. Master Cosmo did not like being crossed.

Well, Lissa might be a lowly paid governess but she was not going to be taken advantage of more than she already was.

Fortunately the storm didn’t break. Perhaps he remembered the sleeping baby, or was sufficiently cognizant of the likelihood she’d not help in future, for he kept a lid on his temper. An inducement, then, Miss Hazlett? Cosmo’s smile looked more tortured than pleasant. You are busy, as am I, but perhaps I might be in a position to offer something that might make it worth your while.

Lissa had never thought along those lines. An inducement? Goodness, a couple of shillings would go a long way toward the new gown she’d been saving for. Not the kind of gown a governess would wear, either.

She was about to accept when she glimpsed her opportunity. Money was not the only currency to get her where she wanted to go in life.

With her eye on the prize, she pretended to deliberate even more. She was not calculating by nature, but since becoming a governess in this middle-class household, with its pretentions and aspirations, she’d learned how much more people wanted something when it seemed they could not get it. An inducement, sir? When I am so very content with my lot? What could possibly serve as an inducement?

When she saw him open his mouth she added quickly, adopting a dreamy look, Though now I reconsider the matter, and the fact that you’re so kindly offering to facilitate my desires in order to further yours, then yes, there is one thing. She wondered if she dared voice it. Cosmo had no imagination. He’d dismiss the idea out of hand as simply preposterous if she didn’t follow it up with how he might achieve it.

Her heart beat quickly, despite her pretense at whimsy, as she whispered, Oh, Master Cosmo, the only thing I’ve ever truly wanted is to go to a ball. Yes, you have every right to look shocked that I harbor ideas so above my station, yet all I lack is a ball gown. A ball gown that does not mark me out as what I am: a poor governess. Lissa raised her eyes heavenward and swayed slightly as, in truth, her dreams threatened to overcome her.

She knew her half-sisters went to balls regularly. Araminta, the elder, was in her second season—her first having finished under a cloud, Lissa recalled, after a young man had put a pistol to his head and pulled the trigger. The younger, sweeter one, Hetty, was now a regular on the dance floor, hoping no doubt to secure a husband before the season ended in a few weeks.

How wonderful if Lissa could secretly observe how these half-sisters, who did not even know of her existence, deported themselves in society. How wonderful to have just one night of seeing how her own life might have played out had her father, Viscount Partington, honored his promise to her mother, a lowly solicitor’s daughter, and made her his wife.

Instead, he’d left Lissa’s mother at the altar and married the earl’s daughter his parents had chosen for him, a decision he appeared to have immediately regretted, since he was quickly back in his true love’s arms, foisting upon Lissa’s mother four bastards during the next twenty years.

Though he could not be faulted in his attention to their mother, he showed more inclination to discipline rather than show affection toward his illegitimate children. All were expected to go out and make their livings. Lissa as a governess, when she longed more than anything to be a renowned artist; Ned, who’d been apprenticed to a goldsmith, as that conventionally led to a financial career; and Kitty, who frequently scandalized her parents with her declarations that the only living she was prepared to countenance was a career upon the stage.

Hiding her anger, Lissa fluttered her eyelashes in a gesture she hoped Master Cosmo would regard as more helpless than flirtatious and turned her face appealingly toward his. How I would love one night to dance beneath beeswax candles and partake of champagne and thinly sliced ham, pretending I am not the lowly creature I know myself.

Predictably, Cosmo was already shaking his head, his look making no secret of the fact he thought she’d taken leave of her senses. Even my father, who as you know is a good deal plumper in the pocket than I am, balks at the cost of my sister’s ball gowns. I really do not think, Miss Hazlett, that you can be serious.

Cosmo had no imagination. It was one reason he’d never be an artist.

But Lissa had both imagination and cunning and she was determined that somehow these would aid her.

Still wistful, she went on as if she’d not heard him. I once heard a young man declare he had the cunning to achieve the impossible: get the kitchen maid into Lady Rutherford’s ballroom decked out and behaving like a lady so she’d be asked to dance by Lady Rutherford’s son. Lissa was conscious she had his attention as she went on with her story. He stiffened as he appeared to study the angel painting.

Clutching the mending more tightly to her breast, she went on, ingenuously, You see, the young man’s sister was the same height as the kitchen maid, so he decided he’d borrow one of his sister’s ball gowns and accompany the kitchen maid to the ball. All he had to then do was effect an introduction…and after the dance was requested, he would win his bet.

How much was the bet?

A hundred pounds. He’d boasted to his friends at White’s that he could do it, and it was in their betting book. Oh, but there was such anticipation over whether he could be so clever…

She really had his attention now. No doubt the possibility of making some money was very appealing. His eyes bored into her as he waited for her to conclude her story, finally asking a trifle acidly, no doubt because he had to, Well, did he?

"Sadly he was not so clever. In fact, he couldn’t even get so far as borrowing one of his sister’s gowns, because she caught him and quizzed him and point-blank refused to let him take what wasn’t his. Lissa sighed and leveled her gaze at Cosmo. Young ladies in high dudgeon can be formidable. And as I mentioned, he’d thought he was so much cleverer than he was but I’m afraid one has to be exceedingly clever to successfully put one over one’s sister. And your sister would be impossible to bamboozle."

Lissa inclined her head. Good night, Master Cosmo. I’m sure Miss Danvers will like her painting whether it’s perfectly executed or not.

Chapter 2

While the orchestra played, Lissa tweaked the lustrous folds of her silver-flecked evening gown—well, Miss Maria’s ball gown—and tested her smile, reflected in the enormous silver epergne, from which protruded at least three dozen lilies on the center of the refreshments table.

One dance, and that’s all. Then the evening’s over, Cosmo muttered as he plucked a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and handed it to her. I get few enough invitations to such events and I won’t suffer you to ruin my chances of more.

Cosmo had gone to great pains with his appearance. His hair, short at the sides, had been brushed upwards to gain him even greater height, while plunging south into a pair of razor-thin sideburns. Lissa glanced at the nipped-in waist of his royal blue swallow-tail coat and wondered if he’d resorted to his sister’s corsetry. Well, perhaps not Miss Maria’s stays, but lately he’d been adopting, more and more, the accouterments of style favored by the tulips or pinks of whom her brother Ned—a true nonpareil himself these days—spoke so scathingly.

Fingering the ridiculously high points of his collar, which looked like it was choking him, he muttered, Drink up, Miss Hazlett, and then we shall dance a set before I take you home. It was pure chance I was invited here tonight and I don’t want to be exposed. Cosmo glanced nervously over his shoulder as Lissa responded with a forced smile, Others might have considered me an asset, Master Cosmo.

She wished she’d been cleverer at negotiating terms. Certainly, it would be a scandal if it were discovered the governess had slipped unnoticed into such hallowed precincts, but Master Cosmo was an accomplished liar and Lissa knew how to conduct herself in such a setting. However, if her duplicity were revealed, Cosmo would no doubt find a way to turn it to his advantage while Lissa might well lose her position.

Excuse me…

Both turned at the interruption, Lissa experiencing a sudden and curious reaction that certainly wasn’t admiration as a lean, dark-haired gentleman gazed at her through a pair of speculative dark eyes.

My apologies. I had thought you someone else. Despite his error, the gentleman nevertheless asked Lissa to partner him in the quadrille once he’d introduced himself and ascertained she was free for that set. Within minutes, Lissa was close enough to smell the whiskey and tar soap that impregnated his inky locks and dark wool coat, and to wonder why she felt so uncomfortable in his company.

Miss Hazlett? As they waited for the head couple to perform their figures, he stared at her intently. Is it possible you are related to Miss Araminta Partington?

Shock rendered her speechless. How could he possibly have guessed at a family connection? But of course, he had not, she reassured herself. He was merely commenting upon a resemblance that had been remarked upon before, as resemblances were remarked upon in many families. However, with Lissa and Araminta on opposite sides of the social divide, Lissa had never—until now—considered it could be a complication.

She hoped he didn’t notice her fiery blush as she replied, faintly, I’m a visitor to these parts. I have not heard of the young lady.

He nodded, his thin lips tightening, turning to bow to the lady on his left, as the dance required, before turning back to Lissa, the music and figures of the quadrille sedate enough to continue their conversation. Interesting. When I glimpsed you across the dance floor, I thought you were she. Not that I am disappointed, of course.

He smiled suddenly, as if it were a prop intended to make him appear disarming, as he led her in a short promenade. He exuded confidence and entitlement—and danger—and Lissa, who was not one to suffer nerves, was frightened her carefully cultivated façade may suddenly dissolve.

This is my first season, Lord Debenham, she murmured, returning to her place beside him after the ladies’ chain. How interesting that I have a double.

Yes, and there she is. His Lordship raised a thin eyebrow as he clasped her in a waltz hold, ready to gallop her across to the other side of the set. Dancing with the very undesirable Sir Aubrey, in fact. You’ve surely been in town long enough to know he is someone of whom to beware.

Lissa followed the direction of his gaze and her heart lurched. Not on account of the sudden requirement for energy or fear at not knowing the steps. Though the quadrille in its modern form had been introduced relatively recently to the upper classes, Lissa and her siblings had been taught to dance. Their mother, not the most maternal nor ambitious of women, had nevertheless insisted her offspring receive a classical education, which included dancing and watercolors, even if there would be no occasion to flaunt these refinements. Having the accouterments without opportunity until now to practice them in public was one of the many reasons Lissa was enjoying every moment rubbing shoulders with the rich and titled.

Well, she had been enjoying every moment, until she saw her half-sister. There she was dressed in virginal white silk with a pale green sash to match the green feather in her simple headdress. Miss Araminta Partington, living the life Lissa would have lived had her father followed his heart, not his parents’ dictates.

The young woman’s supercilious glance about the ballroom did nothing to ameliorate the raw hatred that surged through Lissa, though fortunately when Araminta looked pointedly at Lord Debenham, her gaze didn’t encompass the unknown Lissa.

Araminta’s interest in Lord Debenham immediately made him more interesting. Certainly his dark, cruel looks were not to Lissa’s taste. She could tell that, in his own way, he was as self-absorbed as Cosmo; but the fact Araminta was clearly sizing him up as a prospect was unexpected. Lissa immediately wanted to know more. And of Sir Aubrey, with that striking streak of blond hair in his otherwise dark locks, whom Lord Partington clearly held in aversion. A rival, perhaps?

Why should I be wary of Sir Aubrey?

A glance down his hawk-like nose would have made lesser girls quail. As if her question singled her out as utterly ignorant.

You really are from the country if you’ve heard nothing of the scandal attached to our lowly baronet. The blackguard is barely received. But I shall leave it at that for what would you know of politics? You only have to read the gossip sheets to understand it would be wise to steer clear of the villain.

Lissa bristled at his dismissive tone. In fact, she followed politics with great interest and regularly purloined her employer’s newspaper when he’d finished with it.

I am interested in politics, Lord Debenham, she said. I’d like to hear the details.

Lord Debenham stroked his snowy cravat, then shrugged. Sir Aubrey drove his late wife to take her own life—though others suggest he played a more personal role in her death—when he learned she was preparing to reveal his involvement in a group of Spenceans suspected of plotting the assassination of Lord Castlereagh.

Lissa gasped. "He’s a Spencean? A murderer? And he’s received?"

Lord Debenham shrugged again before taking her hands to execute the next figure of the set. Only because there is as yet insufficient evidence to convict him, but mark my words, Miss Hazlett, it will not be long before Sir Aubrey is brought to justice.

And Miss Partington is dancing with him? Lissa was truly shocked. She knew her sister enjoyed taking risks, but surely she’d think associating in any way with a suspected traitor and murderer would be unacceptably damaging to her reputation?

Lord Debenham sent a narrow look in the couple’s direction. Sir Aubrey likes to look the Pinkest of the Pinks but the truth is, he’s shockingly loose in the haft, if you’ll pardon me coining a phrase your brother might use. Sir Aubrey thinks he can get away with anything if he puts up enough front. He’s certainly cunning and desperate enough to be a danger to anyone who falls foul of him.

Are you going to warn Miss Partington?

Lord Debenham raised an eyebrow. I suspect Miss Partington’s actions are designed to invite just such a warning from me. Thank you for the dance, Miss Hazlett. Here is your cousin. I shall bid you adieu and do exactly as you suggest.

Lissa’s high spirits came crashing down as His Lordship deposited her with Cosmo before he immediately set off in Araminta’s direction.

You’ve had your dance and now we must go. Cosmo was waiting anxiously by the edge of the dance floor, ready to whisk her through the crowd and into a waiting hackney cab while Lissa had had but a mere taste of what she had been hoping would be the substance of her young life before too long. She knew she looked beautiful. That in fact, in looks, she rivaled her half-sister.

What a cruel twist of fate that it was Araminta who was living the life that should have been Lissa’s; Araminta who was anticipating a glittering marriage and a life of ease. For Lissa, the only life-changing event she could anticipate would be to graduate from her role of governess to Cosmo’s two little sisters to that of unpaid companion to her mother in her old age.

With a grim look, Cosmo caged her hand on his arm, as if the touch with someone so lowly were utterly repugnant.

The double doors that opened into the lobby grew closer, and now the bewigged footman was ushering her outside, into the cold. It was not where she belonged. Always on the other side of these doors. Her throat thickened and tears formed behind her eyes.

Stop looking so Friday-faced. I have fulfilled your wish, Miss Hazlett. Cosmo turned to her as they descended the stairs. Now you must fulfill your part of the bargain. I need to give Miss Danvers’ miniature to her in the morning.

Lissa, who’d not put it past him to steal it, had hidden it beneath her pillow as further protection against him reneging on his promise. She suspected he’d already rummaged through her room trying to find it.

Now, she weighed up whether to push the advantage as Cosmo helped her into the waiting hackney he’d flagged down as they’d rounded the corner from Lady Stanely’s Bruton Street residence, for he couldn’t be observed, in public, putting a lone woman into such an equipage. She decided against it. Cosmo could turn nasty if he felt he was being taken advantage of.

"Never fear, the miniature will be waiting for you in your bedchamber when you return, Master Cosmo. And now you must return to the ball. You won’t want to squander the invitation.