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corridor caught her attention. Rising to her feet, she placed a finger over her lips to warn Nicholas to be quiet. He watched, wide-eyed, as she went to the door to peek out.
    In the schoolroom, a plump woman set down a tray on the desk and then disappeared into the corridor that led to Annabelle’s bedchamber. Elowen was back and she’d gone to lay the fire.
    Annabelle returned to Nicholas. “The maid has brought my dinner. I’ll tell her that I’ve checked on you already, so there’s no need for her to disturb you.”
    The boy said nothing. He stood clutching his tiny cavalry horse, looking so withdrawn and guarded that she yearned to draw him close in a hug. But given his reserve, it was too soon for that.
    “I’ll come back in half an hour,” she said. “You may play for a bit longer, Your Grace, but I’ll expect you to pick up your army and be in bed when I return. I hope I can count on you to do so.”
    Nicholas continued to regard her warily. He made no rush to return to his game, as he would have if he trusted her. Like a cautious creature of the forest, he remained unmoving as she walked out of the bedchamber.

 
    Chapter 6
    The following morning, Annabelle started her first day as governess by committing a serious blunder. She overslept.
    Her eyelids fluttered open to the bright sunlight streaming through a crack in the curtains. For an instant, she didn’t recognize her surroundings: the stone walls, the single high window, the porcelain bowl on a washstand across from her narrow cot.
    Then she sat up straight as the events of the previous day washed over her. Lord Simon Westbury had half dragged her out of the violent rainstorm and into Castle Kevern. His rude, hostile treatment of her had come as a shock. It had taken considerable persuasion to convince him to hire her, albeit temporarily. Today she needed to give him no reason to regret his decision.
    How late was it?
    Throwing off the covers, Annabelle hopped out of bed. The stone floor chilled her bare feet. Heedless, she raced to the door, cracked it open, and peered out. A man’s muffled tone came from the schoolroom. It was not a voice she recognized.
    Nicholas’s tutor must be here already.
    Aghast at her own tardiness, she hurried through her ablutions. Since her trunk hadn’t been delivered yet, she’d had to sleep in a borrowed shift. Her soaked garments had been borne away by a maid. Annabelle had meant to arise at dawn and fetch them back, for surely they were dry by now. Instead, she’d have to don the same ill-fitting dress she’d worn the previous afternoon.
    Drat it all! Back at the academy, she’d always been awakened by the bonging of the casement clock outside her tiny chamber. But here, the thick stone walls had blocked out all household noise. The only sound was the lulling whisper of the sea against the rocky shore.
    Heaven help her, she simply must appear the capable, efficient governess. If Lord Simon learned of her tardiness, she might very well be dismissed on the spot.
    Bending down, she peered into the little mirror over the washstand while hastily pinning her hair. Then she jammed a white spinster’s cap over the slapdash bun. There was no time for breakfast. Longing for a hot cup of tea and a piece of toast, she hurried down the gloomy corridor to the schoolroom.
    In the doorway, she came to an abrupt halt.
    Nicholas sat at a pint-sized table directly in front of the teacher’s desk. Beside him towered a middle-aged man clad in the dark robes of a professor. The tutor’s back was turned, showing the wisps of graying brown hair that fringed his balding pate. In the next instant, she spied the ruler he lifted high in the air.
    “Your uncle will hear about this!” The man brought the stick down and whacked the boy’s knuckles.
    It happened so swiftly she had no time to react.
    Nicholas cowered in his chair. A small whimper escaped his pinched lips.
    As the tutor raised the ruler again, Annabelle sprang forward.