What Happens in Piccadilly - Chasity Bowlin Page 0,2

to work, and too small to care for herself, and the workhouse was only for people who could do so. But the vicar of a nearby church arranged for a childless couple to take in the little girl and care for her. And they did so, until the little girl was eight years old. In eighteen hundred and twelve, the little girl’s foster father went away to war. He was very brave but, alas, he died in battle. Then her foster mother became very sick and died. The vicar, now a widower, couldn’t take her in himself as it would not have been seemly to do so… instead, he sent her back to the workhouse where first he’d found her. And that is where her true guardian angel found her… Miss Euphemia Darrow.”

“Sounds like a governess’ name,” the oldest girl said.

Calliope bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “It is a governess’ name, but not simply any governess. Miss Euphemia Darrow is the ultimate governess. She trains young girls who have no other way to make their way in the world in how to be excellent governesses so that they might be able to fend for themselves in life.”

“Is that what she did for you?” the smallest child asked.

Calliope did smile then. “Indeed, Miss Euphemia Darrow plucked my young self from the workhouse and took me to her school which is not very from here. And there, she taught me to read and write, speak multiple languages, do arithmetic, sew, paint, play the pianoforte and comport myself with all the dignity and propriety that is deemed necessary by society. She taught me those things, among others, so that I might be able to pass them on to my charges.”

“It sounds boring,” the boy scoffed.

“Some of it can be,” Calliope admitted. “So, to make it less of a burden, Miss Darrow gave us prizes. We would earn sweets or get to stay up late or get to sleep later in the morning. There were all sorts of little things and freedoms that we were given if we did what was asked of us all and did it well.”

“Our old governesses didn’t do that,” the oldest girl said. “They’d tell us to do something and if we didn’t, they’d wallop us.”

Calliope blinked at that pronouncement. Certainly, she was not unfamiliar with such practices. But it never failed to leave her stunned when a child spoke so matter of factly about being beaten. “Well, walloping did not occur at Miss Darrow’s school.”

“Would you wallop us if you was our governess?” the boy asked with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t believe so. You’d have to do something very terrible indeed to warrant any real punishment, I think. Even then, I would likely not do so myself but speak to your uncle about whatever infraction had been committed and let him determine a suitable consequence,” Calliope answered. But it would never be walloping.

“You’ll be our governess,” the little girl said firmly. “We’ve decided.”

Calliope grinned at the small child’s dirty face and tangled hair, all of it outshone by her beatific smile. “But I haven’t decided yet, my dear. And I must have a say, as well.”

“Well, what sort of say?” the boy demanded of her.

“I must speak with your uncle first. We must see if we can come to agreeable terms before I can commit to anything… and perhaps he will not like me and then he would not wish for me to be your governess!”

“He don’t care,” the boy scoffed once more. “Don’t care one whit. Wants to be shed of us all, I think.”

“I think that’s quite enough from you, William.”

Calliope looked up to see a man standing in the doorway. He wore a simple but elegantly fitted coat and a pair of snug riding breeches. His boots were dusty, his gold-streaked, brown hair disheveled and wind-blown. And he was, quite possibly, the most handsome man she’d ever seen. From his broad, high forehead, patrician nose and perfectly sculpted jaw line and cleft chin, he was simply perfection. His undeniable masculine beauty was coupled with a tall and imposing frame, broad shoulders and lean hips. If this man was the Earl of Montgomery, she could never work for him. Not in a million years.

Chapter One

T he scene spread out before Lord Winn Hamilton, Earl of Montgomery, was unlike anything he’d witnessed in all of the madness that had become his life since the children first appeared on his doorstep. Ignoring the chaos