Seducing the Governess by Margo Maguire Read Free Book Online

lord?”
    He gave a brief nod and she started out of the library.
    “Allow me to escort you, Miss Franklin,” Lowell said, leaving with her. “The nursery and governess’s quarters are in the north wing.”

Chapter 6
    M ercy was finally able to breathe normally once she left Lord Ashby’s presence. It was clear that Emmaline was going to be a challenge, but at least Mercy would not need to have many more dealings with the girl’s uncle. She’d gleaned as much as she could about the occupation she was about to embark upon from Claire’s letters. What she knew was hardly enough, but Claire had mentioned that children and their nurses and governesses generally kept out of the way of the adults of the household. Holding Emmaline’s hand, they returned through the great hall, past a dreary drawing room, to a wide stone staircase that led to a gallery above.
    “Shall we go up?” Mercy asked.
    “This way,” said Mr. Lowell from behind. Mercy had nearly forgotten he had come along, for she had trained her complete attention on her young charge. The child was as thin as a waif, and abnormally subdued. Mercy could not help but wonder if this had always been her way or perhaps she still grieved the loss of her parents.
    Mercy knew how that felt. Even though her feelings for the Franklins were mixed with confusion now, the sense of being entirely alone was daunting.
    The upstairs gallery was wide, but encased in shadows, so Mercy could barely see the heavily framed paintings that hung at intervals on the cold, gray walls. There were groupings of tables and stiff-backed chairs, but Mercy had the distinct sense that they had been unused for quite some time. She hoped the nursery was not quite so cheerless.
    “I apologize for the darkness up here. We should have lit the sconces.”
    “I’m sure that would help,” Mercy said, but she doubted it. As she walked down the long, wide gallery, she could almost feel the weight of the dreary old house settling onto her shoulders. She did not know how she would be able to tolerate living within these medieval walls with a handful of rowdy soldiers to keep it running, and the smoldering perusal of Lord Ashby every time he looked at her. Of course, she’d seen his scars, but it was horribly rude of him to mention them to her the way he’d done. It wasn’t as if they detracted from the man’s appeal. If anything, they made him even more interesting than . . .
    The thought of contacting Andrew Vale returned with a vengeance.
    But Mercy wondered how awkward it would be if Mr. Vale had wed someone in the months since he’d visited St. Martin’s and proposed to her. If that were the case, she did not think a letter suggesting a renewal of their courtship would be quite welcome. Perhaps she could write without directly suggesting that he renew his suit. She did not know if he was aware of her parents’ deaths, so she could inform him of the drastic change in her life. And if he was still unwed, he could act upon that knowledge.
    Or not.
    Mercy did not want to think of that possibility, not when she could see no other option than remaining here in this run-down, isolated, uncivilized Hall.
    “The original Hall was built in the fourteenth century by the first Earl of Ashby,” said Mr. Lowell. “But additions have been built over the centuries. And a few modernizations.”
    “It’s a very old earldom, then,” Mercy replied. She wondered if Mr. Lowell was trying to impress her with the longevity of Ashby since it clearly had no other claim to distinguish itself.
    They went around a corner and down another long corridor, finally reaching an open door halfway down. Inside was a wide bank of mullioned windows that provided light for the room, dreary as the day might be. At least the furniture was not as antique as what Mercy had seen in the rest of the mansion, but had been furnished fairly recently, perhaps by Emmaline’s mother.
    Mercy wondered what had happened to her, but did