Healing Her Heart Page 2

  Jane had fabricated a detailed history of Abigail’s widowhood. Apparently, her “brave husband” owned a small textile mill in Norwich. Tragically, he died when a fire tore through the entire building and he went to rescue a woman trapped inside.

  “Thank you for your kind words,” Abigail replied as she looked down at her clasped hands. Abigail detested having to lie. Lady Sunderland appeared to be a good-natured woman and the idea of misleading her did not sit well. “It has been a difficult time. I hope gaining employment will engage my thoughts in a new direction.”

  Caroline gave her a reassuring glance. “That is a constructive way to look at things,” Caroline said. “That approach may be useful for your new post,” Caroline stated. She furrowed her brow and appeared to be carefully choosing her next words. “The gentleman you may be working for is Lord Marcus Everton. He is a close friend of my husband. His brother died in the war, several years ago. Now, the unfortunate death of his brother’s wife has left him in custody of his young niece, Olivia,” Caroline continued “she has been in a terrible state and Lord Everton is very concerned over her well being.”

  Abigail could identify. After losing her parents it amazed her that daily life seemed to continue as if nothing had happened. Little tasks like eating breakfast or washing her face seemed to take such an effort. She truly believed she would never laugh again. She had felt laughing would be like stomping on her parents’ memory. “She must be in a great deal of pain,” Abigail concluded. “I also lost my parents at a young age. It takes a great deal of time to heal.” Abigail thought it was fitting she should be charged with the care of a child who was going through a mourning period. She had always been grateful her grandfather had taken such expert care with her. Now it was her turn to be the nurturer. “Lady Sunderland, if I am given this opportunity, I will not disappoint you.”

  Caroline grinned with approval and looked deep into Abigail’s eyes. “Something tells me you will be a much-needed part of the Everton household,” Caroline said as she jotted down a few words on paper and rang for a footman. “I will send word to Lord Everton that you will be stopping by for an interview later today,” Caroline explained as she handed the note to the footman. “You will take my carriage, but first, help yourself to some pastries. It would be a shame for them to go to waste.”

  Abigail decided she liked Lady Sunderland very much. “That is very kind of you,” Abigail said as she reached for a warm scone. “It will feel good to be needed again.”

  ∞

  “Please, Olivia, just one more bite,” Marcus pleaded as Olivia pushed the potatoes around on her plate. “Cook made it especially for you.”

  Marcus was at his wit’s end. Olivia appeared pale and sickly. She had always been a thin child, but now she was practically skin and bones. She seemed to be swimming in her pink taffeta gown, a cheerful frock with lavender embroidery and white trimming. The dress was the perfect contrast to her sullen expression.

  “If I take another bite, can I go back to the garden?” Olivia proposed.

  Marcus hated that damn garden. Olivia must have spent hours there since her arrival, merely staring into space or drawing in her sketch pad. It tortured him to see her so lonely. “Two bites and you may return to the garden,” Marcus countered. Olivia looked down at her plate, appearing to be weighing her options. Marcus sighed with relief as she managed two big swallows of the cottage pie. “Before you go back outside,” Marcus said as he reached for a box wrapped in brown paper, “I have something for you.”

  “Thank you, Uncle Marcus,” Olivia said in a sweet, quiet tone. “But you have already given me so many presents.”

  Most children would grab the gift and tear it open, but Olivia was not most children. She was quite possibly the most serious child in all of London. At times, he felt like he was talking with an adult woman rather than a little girl. “Just humor your poor Uncle and open it,” Marcus said. Olivia opened the box with the finesse of a gently bred young lady. “I hope you like it.”

  She pulled out a wooden case filled with vibrant blocks of color and two round paintbrushes. Her eyes filled with tears. “They are very special,” Olivia said in a shaky voice as she hugged Marcus. She placed the watercolor set back into the box. “Can I go now?”

  Marcus did not understand why Olivia seemed so upset but decided not to press the matter. “You may go.”

  He was failing Audrey. He was failing his brother. And worst of all he was failing Olivia. “What can I do to make this better?” Marcus asked himself.

  Chapter 3

  Abigail hoped she would be the answer to Lord Everton’s current situation. She surveyed his study with avid interest, trying to picture the type of man that would be her employer. She had always thought she was a good judge of character, that was, until her marriage. Now she tended to second guess herself.

  The matching rosewood desk and bookshelves, an exquisite marble and onyx chess set, and sheepskin rug all made the room exceedingly masculine. The large brown velvet chair she sat in smelled of fine cigars.

  Abigail closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She needed this job and feared not being hired. Abigail decided to mentally compile all her attributes that would make her a desirable candidate. She heard him enter as she got to her proficiency in Latin.

  “Miss Jenner, you appear to come highly recommended,” Marcus announced as he strolled into the room, his head facing downward as he scanned her references.

  Abigail decided the décor of the office did fit well with Lord Everton. He stood well over six feet tall with broad shoulders and an athletic physique. If she had to guess his age, she would say he was in his early thirties. She wished he would look up so she could see the color of his eyes.

  Abigail got her wish. His handsome features included soft blue eyes with hints of silver. At present those eyes seemed to be surprised as they glanced in her direction. Abigail knew that look. Ever since the age of thirteen she had received such perusals. She often thought it had to do with the unusual shade of her eyes, a hue similar to amethysts. “Thank you, Lord Everton,” Abigail said. “I hope everything is to your liking.”

  Lord Everton let out an uncomfortable cough and averted his eyes to the paperwork in his hand. “What do you mean?”

  “The references, they are to your liking,” Abigail clarified. “Lady Sunderland told me about your niece’s circumstances. I am very sorry for your loss.”

  “Yes...Yes...the references,” Lord Everton confirmed, “and thank you for your kind words. This situation has been terribly difficult on Olivia.”

  Abigail noticed he said it was hard on Olivia and not “us”. She was curious if Lord Everton felt any loss over his sister-in-law’s passing. Nowadays, it was hard for Abigail to believe men could still be sensitive creatures, but she decided to give Lord Everton the benefit of the doubt. “I am sure it has been an exceptionally arduous time for you, also.”

  Abigail could have sworn that Lord Everton’s shoulders tensed.

  “Olivia’s mother was a special woman. Audrey’s death was a great loss for everyone,” Marcus said as he pulled out a miniature from his desk and showed it to Abigail. “My brother fell in love the minute he laid eyes on her.”

  Abigail gazed at the tiny portrait. Audrey’s features were delicate in nature, with hair the color of wheat and a smile that could light up a room. “She was lovely. Her smile must have been contagious.”

  “Just like my niece,” Marcus said with a grimace. “Of course, Olivia has become very thin and rarely smiles now.”

  Something told Abigail that Lord Everton was not in the habit of sharing his family’s personal information with strangers. She could sense desperation had brought him to that. “May I speak freely, Lord Everton?” Abigail asked.

  When Marcus nodded in the affirmative, Abigail knew this was her opportunity to convince him to hire her. “To put it simply, you need me.”

  Marcus smiled. “You seem rather sure of yourself, Miss Jenner,” Marcus s
aid. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back, as if readying himself for a salesman’s pitch. “Make your case, Miss Jenner. What makes you so special?”

  Marcus’s choice of words struck a chord with Abigail. During the last three years Abigail had felt anything but special. Clayton had made sure of that. He would relish every opportunity to criticize her, especially in front of others.

  Clayton and his friends would meet monthly to discuss a book they had all read. Her husband loved hearing his own opinions and it was a perfect opportunity for him to showcase himself. She had always been an avid reader and made the mistake of contradicting Clayton’s viewpoint during a lively debate on Robinson Crusoe. Abigail’s wrist was broken that night. She never voiced her opinion again.

  Her newfound silence allowed Clayton to make stinging remarks to his friends regarding his “dimwitted” wife. You must forgive my wife. She simply does not have the intelligence to understand the fundamental concepts the authors are trying to put forth. Her time would probably be better spent doing needlepoint than discussing literature. Abigail could still hear their cruel laughter.

  “Miss Jenner, are you all right?”

  Abigail mentally kicked herself for getting lost in the past. She needed to appear focused. “Yes, Lord Everton. I was just collecting my thoughts,” Abigail continued. “I do not think ‘special’ is the appropriate word to describe myself. In many ways, I have the same attributes as the other women you would interview. I am well versed in literature, history and mathematics, and possess a great appreciation for the arts and music,” Abigail said, leaving out the tiny fact that her singing voice could trigger migraines in others. “Those are things you would expect in a governess. I also have qualities that are unexpected.”

  Marcus appeared curious. “And those things would be?”

  Abigail decided to make her quirks known. “For starters, my grandfather was a brilliant physician and taught me everything he knew. I can make your cough disappear or your knee stop aching,” Abigail said with confidence. “I love nature. I believe most answers to life’s big questions can be found in the great outdoors,” Abigail warmed to the point, “and above all I am a good listener with a great deal of patience.” Abigail looked Marcus directly in the eye. “If you give me the chance, I will do my best to make your niece happy again.”

  Marcus raked his hands through his coal black hair. She wondered if her speech hurt or helped her cause. “Miss Jenner, the job is yours upon two conditions,” Marcus said as he stood up from his chair. “One, I want weekly progress reports on my niece.”

  Abigail’s entire body relaxed. It took a great deal of effort not to jump up and give Lord Everton a fierce hug. “Absolutely,” Abigail declared. “I will include every detail.”

  “Two, I expect total honesty from my employees. I need to know I can trust you with my niece.”

  Abigail’s throat felt dry. It felt terrible to lie and for some unexplainable reason it felt doubly worse to lie to Lord Everton. “You can trust me with Olivia. I will take excellent care of her.”

  Marcus strode to the door. “I will have Grumman ready your room,” Marcus said. As he started to walk out, he reached for the knob and turned around. “So, you really believe you can help Olivia?”

  Abigail was moved by Lord Everton’s concern for his niece. If it was possible, he seemed even more handsome than previously thought. Abigail could feel the warm blush on her face and was thankful he could not hear her thoughts. “I will do my best.”

  Marcus shot her a reassured look and left the room. Abigail hoped her best would be good enough.

  ∞

  Marcus had been staring at the shipping contract for nearly twenty minutes. Not so unusual for him except for the fact he had not read a single word of it. His thoughts, at present, involved the young woman he just hired. For some reason he had expected a more mature woman, grey hair and wire rimmed spectacles, not a raven-haired goddess with flawless skin and lavender eyes. Get a grip on yourself. You are supposed to be looking for a bride for God’s sake! Not plotting an affair with your niece’s governess. The last thing Marcus needed was any more scandalous gossip. He never minded his rakish reputation until he became Olivia’s guardian.

  In truth, he chose Miss Jenner because she appeared qualified for the job and believed she would be good for Olivia, not because she was attractive. Marcus knew he was a harsh judge of character, but something told him Abigail was just as she appeared. Sweet and intelligent, albeit a bit unusual. But maybe unusual was just what Olivia needed.

  Marcus had also been advised on Abigail’s current predicament. Lady Sunderland informed him she was penniless and desperate for employment since her husband’s death. He was many things, but he was not heartless. He knew London was a difficult place to find respectable work. It would not sit well on his conscience had he not hired her. Marcus doubted she would gain a position as a governess elsewhere. Not many women would want such a pretty young creature around their husbands.

  Jordan strode into the study. “Did you not hear me knocking?”

  “I guess I was too busy reviewing the Ipswich deal,” Marcus said. They were expecting a large shipment of sugar cane from the West Indies. “I need your signature for several of the documents.”

  Jordan smirked. “First, you need to thank me,” Jordan said as he waved two small envelopes in front of Marcus. “These are the Almack’s vouchers you requested. I will remind you again, I am against this marriage nonsense but if this is what you want, I cannot stop you.”

  Marcus recognized that Almack’s went against everything Jordan stood for. They usually avoided the exclusive social club that was known for strictly adhering to society’s rules and regulations. A dance floor full of proper debutantes in the pursuit of marriage was never tempting for either one of them. “Olivia needs a mother, end of story,” Marcus said firmly. “Am I to assume you will not be joining me next week?”

  “And miss the opportunity to see you swarmed by matchmaking mommas? Never.”

  Marcus knew that despite Jordan’s cynical humor and opposition, he would ultimately have his support. “Are you forgetting you will be equally swarmed?”

  Jordan smirked. “Not likely, my valet has already fit me for a garlic wreath and cross,” Jordan continued as Marcus erupted in laughter. “Besides, I am a mere mister, not an illustrious Earl, such as you.”

  A small tapping on the door interrupted their conversation. “Come in,” Marcus said.

  Abigail entered. Marcus noticed a few strands of her shiny hair had escaped from her chignon and her full lips were the same shade of rose as the gown she wore. She had taken off the full-length pelisse she had worn during the interview. This allowed Marcus a better glimpse of her slender frame. Abigail clasped her hands behind her back and straightened her spine to her full height, which seemed to emphasize her full, perky bosom.

  Marcus was rethinking his decision to hire her; clearly, she was going to be a distraction. His attention shifted to Jordan who also seemed to be enjoying the view. “Miss Abigail Jenner, may I introduce you to my friend, Mr. Jordan Stockdale.” Abigail gave Jordan a delicate curtsy. “Miss Jenner is going to be Olivia’s new governess.”

  “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Stockdale. I am so sorry to interrupt, my lord. I was unaware you had company,” Abigail said, turning around to leave. “I can always come back later.”

  “Don’t be silly. What is it that you need?” Marcus asked. “Was your room not to your liking?”

  “My room is perfect,” Abigail stated. Marcus noticed she had dimples when she smiled. “I wanted to ask your permission for something.”

  Jordan decided to join the conversation. “I am sure Lord Everton would be happy to grant you permission for just about anything,” Jordan said with exaggerated certainty.

  Marcus shot Jordan a warning glance. “What do you need permission for?”

  “I think it would be good for Olivia to be more productive in the ga
rden. Would you mind if we used a small patch of land behind the duck pond? It would be a perfect place for us to plant some flowers and herbs.”

  Abigail was proving to not only be unusual but unpredictable as well. “If you think it will benefit Olivia, I see no reason why you should not. I will have Grumman arrange for anything you might need.”

  Abigail smiled. Marcus thought if she continued to smile at him in such a manner he would let her dig up the entire house. “Thank you, my lord. You will not regret your decision.”

  Gardening was the last thing on Marcus’s mind as he watched the tantalizing sway of Abigail’s hips as she left the room. He suddenly became aware of Jordan’s sardonic stare. “Do not say anything,” Marcus cautioned. When Jordan averted his eyes and began to sign the Ipswich contracts, Marcus added, “I am in the market for a wife, not another meaningless dalliance.”

  Jordan shrugged his shoulders. “Are you trying to convince me or are you trying to convince yourself?”

  Marcus did not have an answer.

  Chapter 4

  Abigail sat in front of the dressing mirror and brushed out her long, heavy hair. Today had passed so quickly it almost felt like a dream. In many ways she felt safe for the first time in a long time, but she knew there was always the risk of being discovered. Luckily, Clayton hated London and most of his friends shared the same view, so her chance of being recognized was slim. Abigail dismissed her paranoia and decided to focus on her new purpose.

  In the afternoon, Olivia had given Abigail a tour of the school room. Abigail found her big brown eyes and blonde curls to be irresistible. She was the perfect little hostess and invited Abigail to use anything she wanted. Every book and toy were meticulously put away in its proper place, as if Olivia was trying to create order in her world of chaos. She could feel Olivia’s sadness and was determined to help her in any way she could.

  If all went well, Olivia would need a governess for several years. If she was frugal with her salary, she would be able to save for her future. With any luck, someday she could purchase a small cottage in some remote village and live out the rest of her years in peace. Although it was a sound plan, she could not help but feel robbed of a normal life.