LITMIR.BIZ

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he still looked down on her hair, which was, he noted objectively, a color the poets called flaxen. He lowered his fingers in a pincer movement and grabbed the lizard.

      “Ha!” he murmured under his breath.

      “Am I to assume from your cry of triumph, Mr. Granville, that you have Captain Emerald in your grasp?” Miss Somerton asked. “And that I am therefore free to move?”

      “I have the creature, yes, but one of its feet has become tangled in your hair.” Dominic was suddenly aware he was closer than he’d ever been before to his children’s governess—and that he was touching her hair. Chaperoned by a butler, a footman and a housemaid, to be sure, but still... He wasn’t sure if this morning’s letter made the proximity more or less acceptable. “May I, er, attempt to extract it?”

      “That would be an excellent idea.” She encouraged him in much the same tone she used with Thomas.

      Which had the effect of removing any impropriety—which was good—but at the same time relegated her employer to the status of one of her charges.

      Dominic narrowed his eyes and applied himself to his task. “By the way, I wouldn’t describe my earlier reaction as a cry of triumph, Miss Somerton.”

      “My mistake,” she said demurely.

      “You might hear such a cry from me in, say, the hunting field,” he continued, “but I scarcely think capturing a lizard is worthy of acclaim.”

      “Slaughtering a large animal is a far more admirable achievement,” she said.

      Dominic paused in his untangling to meet her eyes. They were wide and innocent.

      He wasn’t fooled. No wonder his children were running wild! Their governess valued chasing butterflies and lizards above the academic and sporting pursuits essential to the life of an English country gentleman.

      Dominic freed the lizard at last and took a relieved step back. “Gregory, could you take this and deal with it as you see fit?”

      “Yes, sir,” the footman said with grim pleasure.

      “Oh, Gregory, no,” Miss Somerton protested. “You wouldn’t harm one of God’s creatures, would you?”

      Gregory looked uncertain at this invocation of the deity. “It’s a pest, miss. And it frightened Alice,” he added virtuously.

      “Only for a moment,” the maid said. A quelling look from Molson sent her hurrying toward the kitchen.

      “Gregory...” Miss Somerton clasped her hands in front of her and gave the man a look so beseeching, Dominic was amazed the servant didn’t melt into submission. “I realize you’ve been grossly inconvenienced by Captain—by this lizard. It definitely does not deserve your mercy. But Thomas is anxious to have it as a pet.”

      When Gregory scowled at the mention of Thomas, she added quickly, “Hetty is, too. I’m pleading with you, for Hetty’s sake, to leave it in the stables. In a jar. With a few twigs and leaves for comfort. And maybe a fly or two—the common lizard eats invertebrates, so any insect will do. A worm would be wonderful, if you happen to come across one.”

      As her list of demands grew more unreasonable, Dominic almost laughed. Clever of her to include the blameless Hetty in her plea for a reprieve for the lizard.

      And plea it was, since strictly speaking she couldn’t order Gregory to do anything. It was an awkward situation for Miss Somerton, Dominic knew. Since she was neither a member of the family nor a guest, she had no authority over the servants. But her status was unquestionably above Gregory’s...even more now than it had been.

      “Unfortunately, miss, Mr. Molson would need to excuse me from my duties for me to perform such tasks.” Gregory directed a hopeful glance at the butler, clearly wanting permission to be denied.

      “You may do as Miss Somerton asks, Gregory,” Molson said, and the footman departed in reluctant possession of one green lizard.

      “I shall tell Thomas—and Hetty—the good news,” Miss Somerton declared.

      “The library first, if you please,” Dominic said, deliberately forgetting his suggestion that she tidy herself. If he waited for the governess to comport herself in a more orderly fashion, he would be here until midnight.

      * * *

      After Molson had relieved Serena of her dented bonnet, she preceded Mr. Granville into the library. She was conscious of him behind her, conscious of his innate authority and, also, something she feared was disapproval.

      Perhaps he’d learned of one of those incidents that she’d decided wasn’t serious enough to report to him. In her opinion, the children were so courteous and well-behaved, few infractions were that serious.

      Dominic Granville waved her to a seat. “Miss Somerton, you probably know why I wish to talk to you—”

      “About Thomas going away to school?” she asked hopefully. “As I see it—”

      “Not that.” He frowned as he settled into the studded leather chair on the other side of the oak desk. “Obviously, Thomas will start at Eton in September, just as I did, and my father did before me.”

      Oh, dear. That frown...she could think of only one incident that might cause such a reaction. “I should have made Charlotte confess to you herself—please don’t blame her for my error. But, Mr. Granville—” she leaned forward in her seat “—if Cook has dared call Charlotte a thief again, when she was acting purely out of Christian compassion, I...I—” She sputtered, outrage on Charlotte’s behalf causing words to fail her...but not for long. “I hope you will tell that evil woman she has overstepped the mark!”

      Mr. Granville rubbed his right temple. “It seems to me, Miss Somerton, that calling my cook evil might be ‘overstepping the mark.’”

      “I apologize, sir.” She ignored the skeptical rise of one dark eyebrow. “However, Charlotte is the kindest—”

      “What did she steal?” he demanded.

      “A leg of lamb,” Serena admitted. “Technically, half a leg—we ate at least half of it for dinner on Sunday, you’ll remember.”

      Mr. Granville began rubbing his left temple, as well as his right. “If she was hungry, why did she not ask for food?”

      “She gave it to a beggar who came to the kitchen door. Mr. Granville, he looked starving!” Just thinking about the poor man brought tears to Serena’s eyes. “Cook turned him away, without so much as a crust.”

      “That was wrong of her.” Mr. Granville had a reputation for giving to those in need, which encouraged Serena to hope for mercy.

      “Very wrong,” she agreed. “Charlotte was in the kitchen at the time, and she took matters into her own hands. She grabbed the meat and ran after the man.”

      Mr. Granville winced, doubtless at the thought of his nine-year-old daughter chasing a vagrant across his property.

      “I agree, it wasn’t the most ladylike conduct,” Serena reflected. “But her sense of compassion is most commendable.”

      “Did you punish Charlotte?” he asked.

      “For giving to someone in need?” she said, shocked.

      “She took the meat without permission.”

      Serena bit down on a heated defense of her charge. “I told her she should have come to me, and I would have negotiated with Cook.”

      “That’s not sufficient,” he said.

      Serena had had very little conversation with her employer. She took her instructions, such as they were, from his sister, who’d hired her. But she knew he wouldn’t welcome the kind of robust debate that prevailed in the rectory at Piper’s Mead, her parents’ home. A pang of homesickness for her family stabbed her. She managed a stiff, “I apologize, sir.”

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