8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

A fter what felt like an eternity, the Baron cleared his throat. "Well," he said, his voice gruff but no longer thunderous, "I suppose that's... thoughtful of you girls." He turned to his daughters, who were doing their best to look angelic. "Take Brutus and Caesar back outside now. They've had quite enough excitement for one morning."

The girls nodded quickly, relief evident on their faces. They scurried towards the chaise longue, coaxing the two enormous dogs out from their hiding place.

"Come on, Brutus," Augusta called softly.

"Here, Caesar," Julia added, patting her leg.

The dogs emerged, tails between their legs, looking as sheepish as their young mistresses. The motley procession shuffled towards the door, the girls shooting grateful glances at Evelyn as they passed.

Evelyn watched as the girls and dogs disappeared from view, a small smile playing at her lips. She felt a sense of triumph, having navigated her first challenge as governess with unexpected grace. The girls' grateful glances hadn't escaped her notice, and she hoped this shared secret might form the foundation of a bond between them.

Her satisfaction was short-lived, however, as she became acutely aware of the Baron's intense gaze upon her. Evelyn turned to face him, smoothing her rumpled dress as best she could. She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes with a mixture of deference and quiet confidence.

"Your daughters seem quite... spirited, my lord," she ventured, her tone carefully neutral.

The Baron's expression remained inscrutable, his grey eyes searching her face. He let her comment pass without acknowledgement, the silence stretching between them like a taut wire.

Just as Evelyn began to feel her composure slipping, the Baron spoke. "I'm glad to have this moment alone with you, Miss Bane."

Evelyn's eyebrows rose involuntarily, surprise flickering across her features. She hadn't expected such a direct approach, especially not so soon after her arrival. A thousand possibilities raced through her mind, each more alarming than the last.

Had he seen through her charade already? Was she to be dismissed before she'd even begun? She had only been taken on a trial basis, after all, and could be summarily dismissed without notice.

She swallowed hard, forcing her expression into one of polite inquiry. "Indeed, my lord?" she asked, her voice remarkably steady despite the nervous flutter in her chest.

Evelyn felt her heart quicken as the Baron straightened, his imposing figure casting a shadow across the room. His grey eyes, usually so inscrutable, now bore into her with an intensity that made her want to shrink back. She steeled herself, refusing to show any outward sign of discomfort.

"Miss Bane," he began, his voice low and grave, "I wish to address the matter of my daughters' education."

Evelyn nodded, relief washing over her. This, at least, was familiar territory. She had been thoroughly educated as a lady, and while she might not have experience as a governess, she certainly knew what was expected of young ladies of quality.

"Of course, my lord," she replied, her voice steady and assured. "I assure you, I have every intention of moulding Miss Augusta and Miss Julia into accomplished young ladies. By the time I've finished with them, they'll have their pick of suitors at every ball in London."

Evelyn smiled, certain she had said exactly what any father would want to hear. She could already picture the girls, resplendent in silk gowns, dancing with handsome young men at Almack's. It was the future she herself had once dreamed of, before... well, before everything had changed.

To her surprise and dismay, the Baron's expression didn't soften at her words. Instead, his brow furrowed deeper, his jaw clenching visibly. The air in the room seemed to grow colder, and Evelyn felt a chill run down her spine.

"Miss Bane," the Baron said, his voice tight with barely suppressed emotion, "I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding."

Evelyn's smile faltered, confusion and a hint of fear creeping into her mind. She had been so certain she knew what he wanted to hear. What could she have possibly said wrong?

Evelyn felt as though the ground had shifted beneath her feet. She stared at the Baron, certain she must have misheard him. His words echoed in her mind, each repetition more startling than the last.

"I... I beg your pardon, my lord?" she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

The Baron's expression remained stern, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—determination, perhaps, or a hint of vulnerability. "You heard me correctly, Miss Bane. I have no desire to see my daughters paraded about like prize mares at a county fair. Their worth is not measured by their ability to secure a wealthy husband."

Evelyn's mind reeled. This was utterly unprecedented. In all her years in society, she had never encountered a father who didn't view his daughters' marriages as a matter of utmost importance. It went against everything she had been taught, everything she had believed about a woman's place in the world.

And yet...

As the initial shock began to fade, Evelyn felt a strange stirring in her chest. It was a feeling she couldn't quite name—a mixture of curiosity, excitement, and something that felt dangerously close to hope.

"You wish for them to be... independent?" she asked, carefully choosing her words.

The Baron nodded, his gaze never leaving her face. "I want them to be capable of standing on their own two feet, Miss Bane. To have minds of their own and the skills to support themselves, should the need ever arise."

Evelyn found herself nodding along, almost unconsciously. The idea was radical, even scandalous, but there was something undeniably appealing about it. She thought of her own situation, how different things might have been if she had been prepared for a life beyond the ballrooms and drawing rooms of London.

"I see," she said slowly, her mind racing with possibilities. "I confess this is not what I expected when I took the posting."

Evelyn's mind whirled with the implications of the Baron's words. She opened her mouth to speak, but thinking better of it, fell into silent contemplation again. The Baron seemed to take her silence as hesitation. He nodded, a flicker of understanding crossing his face.

"I realise this is not what you expected, Miss Bane," he said, his voice softening slightly. He gestured towards the door with one arm. "If this arrangement is unacceptable to you, you may leave without any stain on your character. I'll ensure you have a glowing reference for your next position."

Evelyn's eyes widened. Leave? When things had suddenly become so intriguing? She held up a hand, surprising herself with her boldness.

"My lord, I'm not disagreeing with you," she said quickly. "I'm merely... surprised. Your views are quite progressive."

The Baron's eyebrows rose slightly, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue. Evelyn took a deep breath, knowing she was about to overstep the bounds of propriety, but unable to contain her curiosity.

"If I may be so bold," she began, her heart racing, "how will the young ladies live once you're... that is to say, ladies can't inherit titles. How will they manage?"

For a moment, Evelyn feared she had gone too far. The Baron's face remained impassive, and she braced herself for a stern rebuke. To her surprise, he merely nodded, as if he had been expecting this question.

"You're quite right, Miss Bane," he said. "The title is entailed to a distant cousin. However, I took steps long ago to separate the estate from the title." Evelyn's eyes widened as the implications of his words sank in. The Baron continued, his voice matter-of-fact. "My daughters will inherit the estate in its entirety. They will be very wealthy women, Miss Bane, with no need to rely on a husband for their security."

Evelyn felt as though the world had tilted on its axis. Everything she had believed about a woman's place in society, about the importance of making a good match, suddenly seemed less certain. The idea was shocking, almost scandalous, and yet... intriguing.

Evelyn turned away from the Baron, her gaze drifting to the ornate fireplace. Her mind wandered unbidden to darker times, to the suffocating confines of her marriage to the Judge.

The memories washed over her like a cold wave: the constant fear, the bruises hidden beneath long sleeves, the desperate struggle to break free from his iron grip. She remembered the night she had finally escaped, how she had run through the rain-slicked streets of London, her heart pounding in her chest. The terror of being caught, of being dragged back to that gilded cage, had haunted her for months afterwards.

As these painful recollections swirled in her mind, a new realisation began to dawn: Augusta and Julia would never face such a fate. They would never be trapped, never be forced to endure what she had. The Baron's unconventional approach to their upbringing would ensure they always had choices, always had the means to chart their own course in life.

A smile began to spread across Evelyn's face, slow at first, then blossoming into something radiant and genuine. She turned back to face the Baron, allowing the full force of her joy to shine through.

The effect on the Baron was immediate and striking. He blinked rapidly, clearly taken aback by the transformation in her countenance. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, his usual stern demeanour cracking ever so slightly.

"My lord," Evelyn said, her voice warm and filled with newfound determination, "I believe we shall get along quite well indeed."

The Baron simply nodded, apparently still struggling to find his voice. He turned abruptly and made his way towards the door. As he reached the threshold, he paused, glancing out the window.

"Good luck, Miss Bane," he said gruffly, before disappearing into the hallway.

Evelyn moved to the window, curiosity piquing as she wondered what had caught the Baron's attention. Outside, she spied Augusta and Julia engaged in a boisterous game with Brutus and Caesar. The girls were laughing, their hair flying wildly as they tumbled about on the lawn, the enormous dogs bounding around them with joyful abandon.

Despite her misgivings about the appropriateness of such behaviour, Evelyn couldn't help but laugh softly to herself. She was beginning to feel like there might be a place for her here after all.

She gazed out at the girls thoughtfully. Though she approved of the Baron's demand for an unconventional education, Evelyn realised with a start that she hadn't the faintest clue as to what that actually meant.

Evelyn watched the girls from the window, a small smile playing on her lips as she observed their carefree antics. The sight of Augusta and Julia romping with the dogs was a far cry from the prim and proper young ladies she had expected to find. There was something refreshing about their unbridled joy, even if it did fly in the face of societal expectations.

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of hushed voices in the hallway. Curiosity piqued, Evelyn moved closer to the door, careful not to make a sound. She recognised the voices as belonging to some of the household staff.

"I give her a fortnight, tops," one voice declared with a snicker. "You saw how she looked when she arrived, all fancy frocks and airs. She'll be running back to London before the month's out."

"Nah," another voice chimed in, "the young misses'll see to her before then. Remember the last one? Didn't even make it a week before she was in tears."

Evelyn felt her cheeks grow hot, indignation rising in her chest. She pressed her ear closer to the door, straining to catch every word.

"Well, I heard from Cook that the Baron himself doesn't think she'll last a week," a third voice added, barely containing her glee at sharing such juicy gossip. "Said he'd never seen anyone less suited to country life."

The servants' laughter echoed in the hallway, each guffaw stoking the fire of Evelyn's determination. She straightened her back, chin lifting defiantly. City princess, indeed! She'd show them all what she was made of.

As the servants' voices faded away, Evelyn turned back to the window, her gaze falling once more on Augusta and Julia. She watched as they tumbled about, their laughter carried on the breeze, and felt a fierce protectiveness wash over her. These girls needed her, whether they knew it yet or not. And she'd be damned if she'd let a few snide comments or country discomforts drive her away.