Nina Coombs Pykare Read Free Page B

inauspiciously, she thought.
     

Chapter Two
     
    The outing took so long that Jennifer found she had kept the children beyond their usual dinner hour. Fortunately the cheerful Betty was there to help them and Jennifer could hurry to her room to change for her own dinner.
    As she slipped into the gown of drab brown she wondered idly about the people she would meet at the dinner table. There would be the still unseen Mr. Parthemer of the hearty appetite. And Mrs. Parthemer, no doubt tottering in, the very picture of a delicate invalid. Jennifer, who had always been as strong as a horse, had grown quite adept at smelling out those fragile ladies who made a business of invalidism. And admittedly she had little sympathy for them.
      The ladies in question, however, were not likely to discover this. For Jennifer had schooled herself to listen politely and attentively to anything her employers discussed. It was quite amazing, she thought with a slightly cynical smile, how the prospect of starvation could alleviate one’s boredom and make any subject appear interesting.
    She adjusted the high ruffled neck of the dress and twisted her blond hair into a severe knot at the back of her head. Certainly that ought to convince them that the new governess was a prim and proper creature, not throwing out lures for anyone.
    And yet she had dressed in precisely this fashion before, when the Earl of Linden had insisted on making improper advances to her. Well.... She sighed. She had done the best she could. And with a quick peek into the nursery to see that all was well, she made her way out the door and down the two sets of dim stairs.
    Minutes later she entered the great dining room. Certainly the Parthemers believed in doing things with style. The table was set with silver plate and bone china and a huge bowl of fresh flowers, obviously conservatory grown, dominated the table. By the graceful French doors, strangely out of place in this great Gothic hall, stood a slender, shapely young man. Jennifer had a chance to observe his features. He was, she judged, some five or so years older than herself and he affected to be a member of the haut ton.
      In London, Jennifer well knew, he would be judged a little too foppishly turned out. One’s cravat need not actually threaten one with decapitation from its excessively high, excessively starched folds.
    And then the beau turned and gazed at her through his quizzing glass. Jennifer’s life had so far included far too many exquisitely clad gentlemen who mistook mere friendliness for something quite different. And so she merely gave the gentleman a slight stiff nod.
    There, let him make something of that, she thought with a touch of anger that rather surprised her. The experience with the Earl had been quite unnerving. She would need to keep a firm rein on her emotions. There was no place in this world for governesses with tempers.
    The gentleman continued to ogle her in a way that he undoubtedly thought very fashionable, but that Jennifer found highly annoying. Fortunately, while she was contemplating what recourse lay open to her, Mrs. Parthemer entered the dining room. The invalid moved slowly, leaning heavily on the arm of a sour-faced, grim, older woman. “That will do, Gibbons,” said Mrs. Parthemer plaintively. “You may go.”
      Gibbons, with a glance at Jennifer that was full of malice, left the dining room. For a moment she did not understand, but then Jennifer realized that Gibbons envied her her place at the family table. Gibbons must be Mrs. Parthemer’s dresser. It was certainly a position that Jennifer did not envy her. In her experience, pseudo-invalids were apt to have rather querulous natures. Even the most serenely tempered people could find them trying. And obvi-ously. Gibbons was not serenely tempered.
    Mrs. Parthemer surveyed the room with pale blue eyes. “I hope you have settled in, Miss Whitcomb.”
    “Yes, thank you. I am quite settled and have met the