A Governess's Guide to Passion and Peril

Book 4: Ladies Most Scandalous

by Manda Collins

Genres: Female Sleuths; Victorian Romance; Romantic Comedy

Synopsis

Two friends reunite—and discover hidden feelings—while investigating a murder in this sensual, witty historical romance perfect for fans of Evie Dunmore and Netflix's Bridgerton!

Jane Halliwell once dreamed of a home of her own—but those dreams (and her dowry) died with her father. Now, she works as a governess, preparing her charge for a future no longer within her reach. When her employer is murdered during a house party, however, Jane is forced back into the world of the ton. But stepping in as hostess will require working with the same lord who once broke her girlish heart.

Lord Adrian Fielding was too consumed with his job at the Foreign Office to pay young Jane much heed, but he always considered her a friend. Which is why he’s confounded by her icy demeanor now. More troubling still is his desire to melt the tensions between them. But his mentor’s murder means he must first find the culprit—and ensure Jane’s safety as she manages a house full of foreign dignitaries.

Only Jane insists on joining the investigation, and Adrian, despite all his diplomatic skills, finds himself seduced by her sharp wit and sparkling eyes. But with a vicious killer circling ever closer, will it soon be too late for their chance at forever?

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 368

Sample

London, May 1869

Margaret, do stop staring out the window and pay attention to your geography lessons, please.”

Miss Jane Halliwell, governess to the only daughter of Viscount and Lady Gilford, was fond enough of her sixteen-year-old charge, but she was all but convinced that the girl’s talents lay in something other than book learning. Jane had been with the family for only six months but in that time she’d grown to like the girl, who was lively and good-natured and would make a splash on the marriage mart when she debuted a few years from now. But she was simply not interested in her studies.

Even so, Jane had been hired to educate her, and she would try her best to do that.

“But how am I meant to pay attention to boring old geography when there is so much going on out there?” sighed Meg, not even bothering to turn away from the schoolroom window. “Come and see for yourself.”

Jane hadn’t yet succumbed to the temptation to peer out at the statesmen and dignitaries, who, along with their wives, were arriving at the Gilford townhouse in Belgrave Square for a week-long symposium on advances in horticulture around the world. In addition to his illustrious career first as a diplomat, then as an administrator in the Foreign Office, Lord Gilford was also noted for his rose garden and had seen this as an opportunity to bring nations that were frequently at odds together through their love of plants. As the only child of a diplomat herself, Jane was familiar with all sorts of costumes and customs that would no doubt fascinate Margaret. But having traveled with her parents to many different countries before her father’s untimely death five years ago, Jane was not quite so eager to watch the arrivals as her pupil was. Indeed, she would much rather finish their lesson so she could check to see if the post had arrived.

Only yesterday she’d received another rejection for the detective novel she hoped to have published. Since she and her mother had been left penniless when her father died, the money she’d earn as a writer would allow her to leave governessing and make an independent life for herself. But that could only happen if a publisher decided to take a chance on her book.

“You’ve only to finish writing a page about the most profitable agricultural region of Portugal, Margaret, and you’ll be free to gaze upon your father’s guests to your heart’s content,” she coaxed, guiding her own focus back to their lessons.

On days like today, Jane wished she felt a true calling for the teaching profession. But as grateful as she was to Lord Gilford for offering her a job when she needed one most, she wasn’t particularly enamored of the occupation when her pupil was a reluctant one.

“But Miss Halliwell, there are probably Portuguese people arriving on our very doorstep this moment!” the girl said with a pout. “Why can’t I observe them? Isn’t that how scientists work?”

There were far too many ways to object to Margaret’s suggestion that she examine her father’s guests as if they were animals at the zoo for Jane to possibly find a place to start. So instead, she chose to compromise. “If I come and look out the window with you for a few minutes, will you promise to work on your essay?”

The girl looked mulish for a moment but, perhaps realizing this was the best she was likely to get, she nodded.

Moving over to stand behind the girl, Jane leaned forward a little to gaze down at the parade of carriages pulling into the mews of Gilford House.

“That man there,” Meg said, nodding toward a rather short man in a bowler hat who was gesticulating with some great emotion, “has been tearing a strip off of Mr. Griggs for these past ten minutes. I’m not sure what it is he’s objecting to, but poor Griggs has had no luck at all in soothing his ruffled feathers.”

Jane knew from her own interactions with the man that Josiah Griggs, the underbutler, was slow to anger and did not seem fond of conflict. He was no doubt miserable when faced with such a volatile situation. She was about to say as much when her eye caught another man standing near the gate leading into the back garden.

She could not say just what it was about him that brought him to her attention. Perhaps it was the excellent tailoring of his suit, which marked him as a gentleman in a crowd of servants. Or maybe it was something about the way he clasped his hands behind his back, as if purposely trying to keep from fidgeting. Though in truth, she suspected it was the way the afternoon sun glinted off the gold highlights that threaded through his close-cropped light brown hair. She gasped as recognition rang through her.

She might have known Lord Adrian Fielding—whom she was well acquainted with from his time working alongside her father in Rome—would turn up sooner or later. He was Lord Gilford’s protégé, after all.

“What is it?” Meg asked, turning to Jane with a start.

“I thought I saw Lord Adrian Fielding,” Jane said with a frown. “But surely I was mistaken. I cannot imagine he has any interest in gardening.”

The hobby seemed far too tame an activity for a man of Lord Adrian’s vigor.

“You may be right about his opinion of gardening,” Meg agreed, “but Lord Adrian is a good friend of Father’s. I daresay he’ll be here for the whole of the symposium. He’s quite good-looking, don’t you think?”

“I can hardly tell from this distance,” Jane said primly. “And you’d better not let your mama hear you speaking thusly. Well-behaved young ladies do not comment on the looks of gentlemen. No matter how handsome they might be.”

She saw Meg open her mouth to object to the reproval, but Jane interrupted whatever the girl was about to say. “Even so, why attend a symposium on a subject of little interest to him?” Of course, it had been half a decade since she’d spent any substantial amount of time in his company. For all she knew he’d spent the intervening years elbow deep in freshly tilled soil.

“Oh, he always comes to these gatherings,” Meg said with a shrug. “ It’s too bad he’s so old, otherwise I’d set my cap at him.”

Jane bit back a laugh at the girl’s assessment. At Meg’s age, Jane, too, had suffered a severe case of calf love for her father’s young colleague. Adrian had been everything her young heart could have conjured in a perfect beau. He had been friendly, but he’d clearly considered her a child. And then after the disaster that befell her family upon her father’s death, he’d disappeared from her life completely, which had put paid to any of her romantic notions about him. All these years later, despite what she’d said to Meg about not being able to tell from their window vantage point, he was still devastatingly handsome.

At least she needn’t worry about having to cross paths with him this week. Lady Gilford had already made it clear that she and Meg were to keep themselves scarce while the symposium was in session. As governess, Jane hadn’t been expected to be invited to mill about with the esteemed guests, and yet, the directive had still stung.

Jane reminded herself that the banishment worked in her favor today, and that she could hardly be surprised by Lady Gilford’s chilly treatment. The woman had made it clear upon Jane’s arrival that she was against adding Jane to her household, an attitude that could doubtless be attributed to the unflattering portrait Jane’s previous employer—Lady Carlyle—had painted of her. The woman had accused Jane of casting out lures to the master of the house and had no doubt told her good friend Lady Gilford all about her suspicions. Since Jane found Lord Carlyle unappealing at best, the claim couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Nevertheless, Jane had been dismissed without a reference and if it hadn’t been for Lord Gilford, her father’s longtime friend and colleague, she’d have been destitute. Lord Gilford had even suggested she stay with the family as a guest rather than as Meg’s governess but knowing that Lady Gilford was close to Lady Carlyle and would therefore make staying as a guest unbearable, Jane had insisted on working for her keep.

And thinking about the parcel containing her manuscript hidden away in her bedchamber, Jane sent up a little prayer that the next editor whose desk it crossed would make an offer for it. That was the only way she was going to make enough money to live on her own, with no fear of importuning employers or false accusations.

“We’ve done enough gawking at your father’s guests, now, Meg,” she said aloud. “Let us get back to—”

She was interrupted by a sniff from the doorway. Turning, she saw Lady Gilford scowling at them, and for a moment Jane felt as guilty for her gawking out the window as if she were Meg’s age instead of three and twenty.

“I might have expected such behavior from a schoolgirl like Margaret, Miss Halliwell,” said Lady Gilford, her mouth twisted in disgust, “but you are meant to be setting an example for her rather than enacting ill behavior by her side. And I will remind you that her name is Margaret. Meg or any other shortened form of her name is beneath her as a viscount’s daughter.”

“You mustn’t scold, Mama,” Meg said with an answering frown. “Miss Halliwell was only—”

Touched by the girl’s defense of her, though knowing it was inappropriate, Jane placed a staying hand on her arm. “You are correct, Lady Gilford. My apologies.” She offered a deep curtsy, the kind Lady Gilford expected from Jane in an acknowledgment of her lowered station.

Meg looked as if she’d like to argue but held her tongue.

“See that it doesn’t happen again,” Lady Gilford said, seeming only slightly mollified. “Now, though it goes against the grain to offer you a reward after such lax performance of your role, it can’t be helped.”

And like catching the scent of rain on the air before a storm, Jane felt a prickle of warning on the back of her neck, and she knew suddenly what the “reward” her mistress spoke of would be before she spoke.

Oh, Fate, haven’t you played enough havoc with my life already?

“One of the ladies we were expecting for dinner this evening is indisposed and has sent her regrets,” Lady Gilford said, sounding as if she viewed it as a personal failing on the unnamed lady’s part that she’d succumbed to whatever ailment had assailed her. “You’ll need to come down to dinner to make up the numbers.”

Then without waiting for a response—and really, what response could there be but “Yes, my lady”?—she continued, “Make sure to wear one of your more flattering gowns. However far you may have come down in the world, I do not wish you to make it seem as if we are stingy with your wages, nor do I want you to embarrass me at table.”

Jane did not point out that the more flattering gowns dated from her time as a wealthy gentleman’s daughter and could never have been purchased on a governess’s wages.

Instead, she gave another curtsy, grateful she had learned to keep her face from revealing her thoughts. It was a skill she’d needed to hastily acquire while working for the Carlyles and had served her well in the Gilford household as well.

“The gong will announce when to come to the drawing room,” Lady Gilford said as she walked to the door. “Don’t be late.”



Has all been made ready?” Viscount Gilford asked from his position near an arched arbor in the rose garden.

Since most of Lord Gilford’s guests were either still traveling or busy settling into their rooms, Lord Adrian Fielding had chosen this brief interval, when he and his mentor could speak uninterrupted, to finalize their plans.

Adrian had spent the majority of his time in the Foreign Office reporting to Gilford, and even after the man had permanently returned to England while Adrian remained abroad, they’d kept in touch. Now that he was back in England to stay, it had been unthinkable to imagine he’d work for anyone else. Even if it meant pretending a fascination for roses this week that he didn’t feel.

Now, in response to the viscount’s question, he nodded. “Everything is in place,” he said, gesturing to a branch of cabbage roses drooping under the weight of its heavy blooms so that anyone watching might assume they were discussing the garden. “Payne and Henning are prepared to distract the guests after dinner so that Prince Maxim and the foreign secretary can slip out to the library for the meeting.”

Though the world at large believed this house party to be a symposium on the cultivation of roses, it was in fact a highly orchestrated diplomatic meeting between the British foreign secretary and the crown prince of the kingdom of Roskovia, a tiny country in Eastern Europe that was an important trading partner for Great Britain. More importantly, Prince Maxim was the inventor of an electronic, long-distance talking machine, a piece of technology that nations all over the world were in competition to win from the small kingdom.

“Excellent,” Gilford said with an approving nod. “I knew you were the right man for the job, Adrian. I have little doubt that once this is over, you will have no trouble making a case for yourself as the right man to succeed Ramswool when he leaves his position at the end of the year.”

“Thank you, sir.” Adrian hoped the other man was right. Sir Lionel Ramswool, who headed up his own specialized and little-known division of the Home Office that investigated politically sensitive crimes on British soil, was set to retire soon. Having conducted investigations for the Foreign Office abroad for some years now, Adrian hoped to succeed Ramswool. He had enjoyed his work abroad, but he no longer wished to be so far away from his family for years at a time. “I hope you’re right.”

“Of course I’ll put in a good word for you,” the viscount said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Though I expect your brother’s recommendation will go far and above my own to ensure your success.”

Gilford said it as if it were a foregone conclusion that Adrian would ask for the duke’s help. It had been this way his entire life. As the son—as well as the younger brother—of a duke, it was assumed by most people that he relied on his brother the Duke of Langham’s favor to garner him whatever he might want in the world.

It was one of the reasons he’d gone to work in the Foreign Office against Langham’s wishes, he supposed. He’d spent his entire life under the shadow of the dukedom. For once he’d wanted to do something that was entirely separate from the family name.

The rift between the brothers that had come about as a result of Adrian’s defiance had only in the last year or so, since Langham’s marriage, been smoothed over. He had little doubt now that if he were to ask, Langham would recommend him for the Home Office position, but for now, Adrian was doing what he could to bolster his record so his brother’s assistance would not be necessary. The planning and background operations for this meeting between the foreign secretary, Lord Ralston, and Prince Maxim was a means to that end.

“If there’s nothing else, sir,” he said to Lord Gilford, “I’d better go make one last check of the meeting room while there’s still time.”

To his surprise, rather than waving him off as Adrian had expected, Lord Gilford looked pained. “Before you go, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Adrian felt a frisson of alarm run through him. Had something gone wrong with the arrangements for Prince Maxim’s travel from Claridge’s to Gilford House?

“Nothing to do with the operation,” the viscount assured him, as if reading Adrian’s mind. “It’s of a more personal nature.”

Puzzled, Adrian frowned. “You have in me a captive audience.”

Gilford looked uncomfortable. “You will perhaps be angry that I’ve kept it from you—especially since you explicitly asked me if I knew of her whereabouts—but it’s not to be helped.”

And suddenly, Adrian knew exactly who his mentor was speaking of. He set his jaw, knowing that whatever Gilford had to say about Jane Halliwell, it would not be anything Adrian would be happy to hear.

“Miss Halliwell is in residence here and is acting as governess to Margaret.” Gilford clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “I know you were looking for her, but she asked me not to put it about that she was here. After what she went through with the Carlyles I didn’t have the heart to defy her. Even for you, my trusted friend.”

Adrian was, indeed, annoyed with Gilford’s revelation. Not so much that Jane was safely residing here in the viscount’s household. He’d known Gilford had helped Jane find a position once she and her mother had returned to England. In point of fact it had been through Gilford’s assistance she’d become governess to Adrian’s cousins, the Carlyles. Though from what Adrian knew of Carlyle and his wife, and from what he could discern after seeing Jane at Langham Abbey almost two years ago, the position hadn’t been a pleasant one.

That Jane had been forced to take a position as a governess at all still made him furious both at himself and on her behalf. In the aftermath of her father’s suicide, which he knew the Foreign Office had worked to keep quiet, he’d been required by his own position to leave for Madrid almost immediately. And by the time he was back in England he’d realized the diplomatic community had shamefully turned its back on Charles Halliwell’s wife and daughter.

It seemed the rumor that the man had taken his own life out of guilt over losing his fortune at the gaming tables had been stronger than any cover story about a heart seizure the foreign secretary had put about. Both Jane and her mother had been shunned, and Adrian hadn’t learned of it until it was too late to do anything about it.

“I can understand why she’d go to you for help,” Adrian said now. “After all, you were close to her father and among the only ones in diplomatic circles who didn’t turn your back on Jane and her mother. But why as a governess and not as a guest? I wouldn’t have thought you to be so—” Then understanding dawned on him. “Of course, what was I thinking? She would remain here no other way, I take it?”

“Of course she wouldn’t,” Gilford said with a shake of his head. “Stubborn chit was turned off without notice by Lady Carlyle but still informed me that the only way she would accept a room in this house was as Meg’s governess. And so she has been acting in the role for the past six months.”

Knowing Lady Gilford, who was bosom bows with Lady Carlyle, Adrian suspected that in the schoolroom with Meg was a far more pleasant place for Jane to spend her days than in the drawing room with her hostess.

Thrusting a hand through his hair, Adrian sighed. “I don’t understand why she was so determined to hide herself from me after our chance meeting at Langham Abbey. It isn’t as if she has any reason to fear me, for God’s sake. I simply wished to en. . .