Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Aurelia had only chosen the surname Grey because the cloth covering the table was so dingy it appeared that very color in the dim parlor, though she imagined it was once white in a long-ago life. She had fabricated the title of widow because, despite the fact that these men had saved her from a worse fate with the awful farmer, she was still alone with two near strangers in a parlor. Well, and to save herself the embarrassment of being remembered for who she truly was.

She rolled the situation over in her mind while chewing on the buttered roll. The men had left before consuming a single bite of the meal, and manners dictated she wait for them before cutting into the savory pie, but she allowed herself the one roll.

At first, she was slightly offended when Lord Ryland had not recognized her in the taproom but, in truth, it was a blessing. He would not be predisposed to like the woman whose brother teased and fought him at every turn when they were in school together. More than that, Aurelia did not wish for him to recall her embarrassing interlude the one time they'd met. What an utter fool she'd made of herself in his company.

Spilling all over her gown was the behavior of a schoolroom miss, and Aurelia needed it to be lost from memory entirely. Besides, she would not see the earl again after today. They might be soon residing in the same town, but she would be relegated to a child's schoolroom—their circles would not overlap. The false surname she had provided was only a short-term deception. Completely harmless.

She was taking a large bite of the roll when a soft knock came at the door and Lord Ryland pushed it open. Scrambling to chew, Aurelia picked up a napkin and dabbed at her lips to cover her overly stuffed cheeks.

"It will be a few minutes until we can leave. Do not hesitate to eat your fill, Mrs. Grey." He closed the door and looked at her, seeming to notice that she was already doing just that. A smile tugged on the corner of his mouth.

"There is plenty to share," she said, finally swallowing the gargantuan bite. Must she always embarrass herself in his company? From that moment forward, it would be nothing but birdlike nibbling for her.

"I've eaten." He walked toward the small square window with his hands resting behind his back. He looked through the wavy glass to the street outside.

"Will your father be eating?"

"Stepfather," he corrected, still looking outside. "Most likely not." He turned his attention to her. "It was specifically requested for you."

Her stomach squirmed. There was a fine line between humbly accepting charity and taking advantage of another's generosity. Aurelia did not have much experience with either, for she had grown up in a household that could easily provide for itself. Or they could have before Father's gambling debts were discovered and Nathaniel was taken to prison.

Now Aurelia's grumbling stomach was at war with her pride.

Lord Ryland focused on her so deeply, watching her with such interest, she began to suspect he knew more than he let on. Was he waiting to see her reaction to his blunt statement? Did he remember her from the ball where they'd met a decade ago? Perhaps the excitement of the farmer's unwanted advances had cloaked her originally, but now that time had passed, Lord Ryland could have recalled where they'd met before.

And she'd provided a false name. The very idea that he could see through her made Aurelia desire to curl into a ball and hide beneath the table. Instead, she did what any respectable woman would do. She straightened her posture and cut into the pie.

"Thank you for the meal, my lord," she said, focusing on keeping her hands steady while slicing an even portion and moving it to her plate. "And for coming to my aid earlier."

He leaned against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. The length of the small table and a few chairs sat between them. She couldn't help but feel he was doing his best to maintain a proper distance while they were alone. It was a kindness, for he certainly could see she was past her prime and firmly on the shelf. Her reputation was already in tatters—one meal with an earl could not worsen her muddied name.

"Any gentleman would have done the same." Lord Ryland glanced from her to the door.

Aurelia cut a bite from the meat pie and placed it on her tongue. She chewed the buttery crust and dry meat longer than normal. Her seatmate with the roaming elbows had been correct—this inn's food left something to be desired.

Yet something about the pathetic situation she found herself in gave her the urge to prove she was not as naive or incompetent as she seemed.

She set down her fork and knife. "I was not entirely helpless."

He looked at her for a long while, his dark brown eyes so much like she remembered—as if they could see through her brave facade to the trembling girl beneath.

"I wasn't," she insisted.

His lips curved into a shadow of a smirk. "I believe you."

It sounded, to her, that he did not. Aurelia pushed away from the table and stepped around it, opening her reticule as she walked. "The situation had not yet become so dire as to warrant it, but if it had progressed, I would have used this." She clasped the small pistol, the cold steel hard and unyielding in her palm, and pulled it from the bag.

Lord Ryland's eyes grew wide when they lit upon the gun and he straightened. "You were most definitely not unarmed," he agreed. His gaze lifted to her face. "It didn't seem to help, though."

Aurelia popped a hand on her hip. "If I could have reached it, it would have."

"Ah, an important component of using a gun. Being able to hold it in your hand."

She lifted her reticule. "It was in my hand…in a way. Surely a swing across the head would have done some damage."

"Indeed." He looked at the pistol. "It's a piece of fine workmanship—looks to be more useful as a blunt object than in precision shooting anyway."

She glanced at the handle. It was rather ornate. She hadn't noticed that before. Her eye had been drawn to it because of its size and how easily she'd be able to conceal it.

Lord Ryland pushed her wrist down. "Careful where you point that thing."

Now was probably not the time to tell him it wasn't loaded. It would weaken her argument about being prepared to defend herself. She dropped the gun in her reticule and pulled on the cords to close it again. "As you can see, I did not embark on my journey without a way to protect myself."

He looked warily at her reticule. "You mentioned you are a governess?"

Not yet, but she soon would be. Instead of arguing semantics, she returned a question of her own. "Can a governess not carry a pistol?"

He seemed to consider it. "I suppose, in such a case where it is always attached to you and not left about for the young boy to find."

"You must carry a poor opinion of me if you believe I would allow a child within close range of a loaded gun."

"It isn't as though he's unfamiliar with guns. He's shot them before." Ryland coughed. "I assume. Hunting with his father, perhaps, or target practice."

The earl's redirection piqued her awareness. He'd not just spoken of a hypothetical—he sounded as though he was familiar with the child she would soon bring under her care. "You know the boy?"

"Yes." He watched her, waiting for a reaction. "I do."

Aurelia's heart hammered, pounding against her breastbone. If Lord Ryland was close to the family, she was in a bind. She could not deliver the letter to her employer from Mrs. Hoskins while pretending to be Mrs. Grey—not when the letter clearly stated it was a reference for Aurelia Beswick.

Would it matter if this man ran to Tilton and informed the lad's parents they'd hired a governess who brandished guns, found herself in uncomfortable situations in strange inns, and lied about her name? They would send her off before she had a chance to unpack.

But off to where?

Aurelia straightened her spine. That would not happen. She wasn't about to lose this job. She had nowhere else to go. "Then I hope you will assure the family I have acted with the utmost decorum despite the circumstances I've found myself in."

Lord Ryland's eyes narrowed. "Are you concerned you've given me reason to say otherwise?"

In the last thirty minutes, she had lied to him, waved around a gun, and nearly led him into a bout of fisticuffs with a drunk farmer. It would snow indoors before Aurelia brought any of these things to his attention.

Except the name. It would be better to explain that now. She cleared her throat, returning to the table and lowering herself in the seat so her attention could lay upon the pie instead of Lord Ryland's handsome, investigative face. "I was not entirely honest with you in one regard, my lord, but you might forgive me once you understand my reason."

"Oh?" He crossed his ankle over the other leg and leaned against the wall again. She had the sense he was trying not to appear as interested as he was. "In what way?"

"My name. I wanted to protect myself?—"

"And I am a stranger."

"—so I invented a surname to retain some anonymity. If you are familiar with the family who will be employing me, there is no sense in continuing the farce."

"No, there truly isn't," he agreed. "We are on very intimate terms. Anything your employer knows, I ought to know as well."

She would not go so far as that.

"What is your surname, then, Mrs. Grey?"

Aurelia chewed a bite of pie and swallowed, then dabbed at her lips with her napkin. "Beswick." She swallowed. " Miss Beswick. I was never married."

His eyes flickered. "I knew a Beswick once."

A Beswick who had fooled and harassed him through their years together at Eton. She swallowed against a dry throat. Lord Ryland's lips pressed together, his rich brown eyes falling flat. Ought she to come clean about her relationship to Nathaniel as well?

The door opened as Mr. Wycliffe stepped inside. "The carriage is ready." He looked to her plate of food, then to Lord Ryland. "When you've finished eating, of course, Mrs. Grey."

She'd lost her appetite. It wasn't only that the earl recalled her brother that made the pie turn over in her stomach like a carriage wheel; it was the dimness that filled his expression when he recalled the connection. Surely it was all over and she didn't even have to confess. He would remember Nathaniel Beswick had a younger sister—blonde, slim, and moon-eyed over him—and he would advise the boy's family not to hire the sister of such a tyrant.

"Mrs. Grey does not exist," Lord Ryland said to his stepfather. "Miss Beswick merely created the name and position to protect herself and her reputation."

Mr. Wycliffe turned an interested look on her, but nodded. "I can understand why, ma'am."

She felt sick. "I am finished eating."

"Then let us be on our way. You have had enough adventure for one day, I assume. Should we put an end to your traveling?"

She wiped her mouth and placed the napkin on the table before rising. "That would be good."

Lord Ryland lifted her portmanteau.

Mr. Wycliffe offered his arm and she took it, allowing him to lead her outside toward a waiting carriage. As they walked across the inn yard, small pebbles poking her thin soles, he leaned close, bringing the scent of leather and pipe smoke. "I suppose it must have come as a great shock to you, ma'am," Mr. Wycliffe said with a quiet, fatherly kindness. "Between you and I, Ryland is a much better employer than you'll find in most of the houses in Harewood. He is good and fair. He will treat you well, dear." He patted her hand.

They stopped at the door and he raised her hand to help her up, but she stood rooted to the place, distantly aware of the earl taking her portmanteau to the boot to be strapped on. "I'm not certain what you mean."

"Your employer, dear."

She understood that much. Her heart threatened to run away from her. "You mean to say that the child in question belongs to Lord Ryland?"

"Yes." Mr. Wycliffe's thick eyebrows pulled together. "Did he not explain it clearly? Tilton is his home, Mrs. Gr—excuse me, Miss Beswick. Ryland's son is the boy in need of a governess."

Lord Ryland stepped around the carriage and came to a stop beside her. "I hadn't gotten that far yet," he muttered, then did his best to smile at her, though she could sense it was strained. "Evidently, Providence has seen fit to introduce us before we reach Tilton. Welcome to my household, Miss Beswick."

Aurelia could only stare. She fought a rising tide of nausea. Surely fate would not be so cruel? Mrs. Hoskins had mentioned Tilton Manor, and she had called the boy Edmund Pelham. Never once in Aurelia's life had she heard Lord Ryland be referred to as anything but Ryland or my lord . Had she known it was his house, she wasn't certain she would have accepted the position. Now she had no other choice. No money, no home, no position.

Lord Ryland's gaze did not falter, adding to the sense of dread making her body feel weighted and dull. She let Mr. Wycliffe press her gently into the carriage and took the seat, her mind racing with the implications of her situation and the options she had to extricate herself from it.

Aurelia came up empty.

Lord Ryland entered the carriage and sat beside his stepfather, across from her, his brown eyes sweeping over her with a new sense of curiosity. What had she done to give him that expression? Was it because she had provided the false name? Pretended to be a widow? Because he was now connecting her to Nathaniel?

The door shut behind them, securely closing her in the small space with these two men. This was it. She was subjecting herself to the next few hours under a quizzing glass, and she had no way out.