Read Online Etiquette With The Devil by Rebecca Paula - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rebecca Paula
Ads: Link
abandoned furniture stacked this way and that.
Lovely.
This was as good a time as any to scold the children, but she held her tongue and waited for the biggest child of all to confess to his crimes.
Mr. Barnes advanced toward her, swinging the sword, before stopping a few inches short of her face. “We felt we needed a challenge, Miss Dawson. Do you not agree that hanging off a two-story balcony with a deadly weapon is an excellent start?” He smiled at her again when she did not back away, then pivoted quickly and stabbed Mr. Ravensdale in the stomach with another chuckle. Mr. Barnes bowed and exited, escaping Clara’s deepening scowl.
“Your language is too crude, Mr. Ravensdale,” she said.
“Oh, we’ve heard him say much worse,” piped in James from over the railing.
She held no doubt on that fact. Clara glared up at the two children, who quickly receded back into the hallway’s shadows.
“I do not want to hear that language from anyone, especially when around the children.” She rested her hands on her hips and glared down with an arctic stare at Mr. Ravensdale. He opened his eyes, glazed over from his fall, and flashed a mischievous grin.
“Yes, Dawson,” he answered like an apologizing schoolchild. “I will mind myself from now on, ma’am .”
She raised an eyebrow at his mocking tone.
Grace toddled over and mimicked Clara before pouncing on Mr. Ravensdale’s stomach. “Oomph,” he uttered with a groan. Clara smiled smugly.
“I am disappointed, Mr. Ravensdale.”
“As am I,” he said, springing up to his feet. He tossed a giggling Grace high into the air. “I didn’t win because of you.”
Mr. Ravensdale handed Grace back to Clara with a blank face. He leaned closer, pulling the forgotten daisy tucked behind her ear and twirled it in his hands, looking at her with a raised brow. Her breath quickened as he leaned forward, matching her stare. “And I always win, Dawson.”
He spun the daisy over Grace’s nose, until she grabbed it and he turned on his heels. “Follow me, Mrs. Gibbs,” he called over his shoulder. “I suppose you’re going to lecture me too.”
*
“You needn’t be minding yourself with the laundry, Miss Dawson,” Mrs. Gibbs said, hefting another overflowing basket into the kitchen. She deposited it onto the table with a “humph.”
“Hmm,” Clara mumbled, staring outside into the courtyard through the kitchen’s leaded windows. A group of men messed about in the ivy that had grown thick and wild over the house’s stone facade opposite in the courtyard. For all the commotion, there was a surprising lack of progress. She focused back on dishes she was washing, elbow deep in cold, sudsy water, and smiled.
“Dear?”
Clara turned, wiping her hands over her apron.
“You have the afternoon off and the children are with Molly. Go enjoy the sun and a moment of silence while you can.”
As tempting as spending time outside alone sounded, she’d been troubled with horrible nightmares about Mr. Shaw these past two weeks. She preferred staying close to Burton Hall and the safety it led her to believe she possessed, however foolishly. “There is so much to be done, Mrs. Gibbs.”
The older woman ambled over to the doors leading to the outside courtyard, throwing them open in one big push. “If you’re offering, I won’t turn you down.” She walked to the stove and put on the kettle. “But you can take a break from the washing. Your beautiful hands will prune up and everyone knows you can’t play the piano with hands like that.”
Clara blinked back her surprise. She thought she had been quiet that morning as she’d played the old, hidden-away piano in the old music room.
“You’ve a lovely way with those keys. I imagine its part of your fancy schooling.”
“I learned to play a little,” Clara admitted. “What else may I help with, Mrs. Gibbs?”
“La, child! You must call me Tilly. No need for formalities. Especially when the governess is
Lovely.
This was as good a time as any to scold the children, but she held her tongue and waited for the biggest child of all to confess to his crimes.
Mr. Barnes advanced toward her, swinging the sword, before stopping a few inches short of her face. “We felt we needed a challenge, Miss Dawson. Do you not agree that hanging off a two-story balcony with a deadly weapon is an excellent start?” He smiled at her again when she did not back away, then pivoted quickly and stabbed Mr. Ravensdale in the stomach with another chuckle. Mr. Barnes bowed and exited, escaping Clara’s deepening scowl.
“Your language is too crude, Mr. Ravensdale,” she said.
“Oh, we’ve heard him say much worse,” piped in James from over the railing.
She held no doubt on that fact. Clara glared up at the two children, who quickly receded back into the hallway’s shadows.
“I do not want to hear that language from anyone, especially when around the children.” She rested her hands on her hips and glared down with an arctic stare at Mr. Ravensdale. He opened his eyes, glazed over from his fall, and flashed a mischievous grin.
“Yes, Dawson,” he answered like an apologizing schoolchild. “I will mind myself from now on, ma’am .”
She raised an eyebrow at his mocking tone.
Grace toddled over and mimicked Clara before pouncing on Mr. Ravensdale’s stomach. “Oomph,” he uttered with a groan. Clara smiled smugly.
“I am disappointed, Mr. Ravensdale.”
“As am I,” he said, springing up to his feet. He tossed a giggling Grace high into the air. “I didn’t win because of you.”
Mr. Ravensdale handed Grace back to Clara with a blank face. He leaned closer, pulling the forgotten daisy tucked behind her ear and twirled it in his hands, looking at her with a raised brow. Her breath quickened as he leaned forward, matching her stare. “And I always win, Dawson.”
He spun the daisy over Grace’s nose, until she grabbed it and he turned on his heels. “Follow me, Mrs. Gibbs,” he called over his shoulder. “I suppose you’re going to lecture me too.”
*
“You needn’t be minding yourself with the laundry, Miss Dawson,” Mrs. Gibbs said, hefting another overflowing basket into the kitchen. She deposited it onto the table with a “humph.”
“Hmm,” Clara mumbled, staring outside into the courtyard through the kitchen’s leaded windows. A group of men messed about in the ivy that had grown thick and wild over the house’s stone facade opposite in the courtyard. For all the commotion, there was a surprising lack of progress. She focused back on dishes she was washing, elbow deep in cold, sudsy water, and smiled.
“Dear?”
Clara turned, wiping her hands over her apron.
“You have the afternoon off and the children are with Molly. Go enjoy the sun and a moment of silence while you can.”
As tempting as spending time outside alone sounded, she’d been troubled with horrible nightmares about Mr. Shaw these past two weeks. She preferred staying close to Burton Hall and the safety it led her to believe she possessed, however foolishly. “There is so much to be done, Mrs. Gibbs.”
The older woman ambled over to the doors leading to the outside courtyard, throwing them open in one big push. “If you’re offering, I won’t turn you down.” She walked to the stove and put on the kettle. “But you can take a break from the washing. Your beautiful hands will prune up and everyone knows you can’t play the piano with hands like that.”
Clara blinked back her surprise. She thought she had been quiet that morning as she’d played the old, hidden-away piano in the old music room.
“You’ve a lovely way with those keys. I imagine its part of your fancy schooling.”
“I learned to play a little,” Clara admitted. “What else may I help with, Mrs. Gibbs?”
“La, child! You must call me Tilly. No need for formalities. Especially when the governess is
Similar Books
