When the guests began arriving a week later, Julia still hadn’t received a reply from the school.
The children ran to the window as the third carriage arrived. Julia sighed. The children weren’t listening to a word she was saying, and the older ones had done almost none of the work she had given them. The arithmetic lesson she had prepared would only be an exercise in frustration. But she had an idea.
“Children, since it is such a fine day, why don’t we all put on our hats and bonnets and go out into the garden for a botany lesson?”
They turned brightened expressions toward her and cheered.
“But you mustn’t run off. You must all stay with me, and we shall collect specimens to bring back with us so we can have a scientific study of the most interesting plants and insects.”
“If I catch a lizard, can we study that?” young Timothy asked. He was one of the sweetest of the children. She only hoped his father and mother’s indifference, coupled with extravagant indulgences, wouldn’t make him as bitter and heartless as some of his older brothers and sisters.
“I don’t think you’ll find any lizards now that the weather is cooler, but if you do, yes, you may catch it and we will study it. We shall come back to the room and look for him in one of our many books.” The Athertons had spared no expense in providing the children with books on both plants and animals, full of drawings and descriptions of creatures from England and around the world.
The children rushed to find their outerwear, and Julia helped the little ones with their light jackets and bonnets. She did her best to keep them quiet as they all trooped down the servants’ back staircase to avoid the front of the house where the guests were arriving.
As they reached the ground floor and the children began running outside, a familiar voice, coming from the direction of the front door, caused Julia to pause midstep.
“Thank you, it is good to see you again as well.”
The deep, masculine voice sent a shiver across her shoulders.
Someone exclaimed, “Nicholas Langdon!” and Julia’s fears—or were they hopes?—were confirmed.
Her heart pounding, she followed the children outside, realizing the voice that had said Mr. Langdon’s name in such delighted tones was his former fiancée, Mrs. Tromburg.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Nicholas hurried up to his room where his valet, Smith, was putting away his things. He watched where Smith put the portfolio, and he picked it up and looked through it, making sure its contents were still in order. Satisfied that nothing was damaged or missing, he laid it across the desk by the window, which overlooked the gardens.
Movement outside caught his eye.
His heart skipped a beat at the sight of Miss Grey amongst a group of children in the garden behind the house. She was bending over a little boy’s outstretched hand, as though carefully examining something he was showing her.
His gaze followed her as she straightened and herded the children in front of her, and they all moved farther away, around the tall hedges and out of sight.
He grabbed his hat.
“Just a moment, sir.” Smith came over and adjusted Nicholas’s neckcloth. Nicholas was still wearing his coat, and he dashed out and took the back stairs two at a time. He walked out into the garden, putting on his hat as he went.
Even as Julia tried to listen to the children, keep an eye on all of them, and encourage them to find interesting leaves, flora, and fauna, her thoughts were racing. Nicholas Langdon is here. Certainly he couldn’t be here to see her, even though he had said he would visit. Most gentlemen wouldn’t want to speak to her now that she was a governess.
She would be expected to keep out of the way. Would he even see her? Julia had heard what Mrs. Atherton had said about wanting her out of sight, and in spite of Mrs. Tromburg saying she wanted Julia to attend the ball, she had no intention of actually attending. The woman would surely find a way to humiliate her.
“Miss Grey, look at this!” It was Timothy again. He held up his hand, and lying across his palm was a long-dead dragonfly, its wings mostly intact.
“That is a beauty, Timothy. If you like, you can put him in my bag here”—Julia held out her canvas bag—“and we will take him inside and look for him in our books.”
Timothy was still staring at the insect in his hand. After a moment he said, “May I look at him a bit longer?”
“Of course.”
Timothy was about the same age as little Henry back in London. Julia didn’t suppose she would ever see Henry or his sister again.
Hearing the rustling of dead leaves behind her, Julia turned to see which of the children was approaching her. But it wasn’t a child at all.
“Mr. Langdon.”
“Miss Grey.”
Julia felt the heat rise to her cheeks, driving away any chill from the autumn wind. Oh God, I don’t know what to say to him. His beautiful eyes and sun-browned skin . . . she couldn’t help remembering how close he had held her when he’d carried her to the Bartholdys’. Had that only been a few weeks ago?