Three days later, after church, Jo arrived at Lord Knighton’s home. Her home now. Nervousness tripped through her along with a dollop of excitement. Nora, Titus, and Becky had come along to deliver her.

The footman opened the door of the coach, and Nora inclined her head toward Jo with an encouraging smile. “You go first. We’ll follow in a moment.”

Jo stepped out into the gently falling rain and looked up at the stone façade. It was one of the larger townhomes she’d been in, with nearly as many rooms as the Kendals’. Or so she thought. She supposed she’d have a full tour shortly.

She made her way up the small flight of steps, and the door came open. A footman, garbed in smart livery, stood with his hand on the latch. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Shaw.”

“Good afternoon.” She wished she knew the man’s name but vowed to learn it, along with everyone else’s. She swept her gaze around the hall and saw that the earl and Evie were standing next to each other, clearly awaiting her arrival.

“Welcome,” Lord Knighton said.

Evie dipped a very nice curtsey. “We’re glad you’re here.” She looked and sounded as if she’d rehearsed that. The Evie that Jo had come to know would’ve bounded over to her the minute she walked through the door.

Jo crooked her finger at Evie and dropped down to look the girl in the eye.

Evie moved to stand in front of her. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Not at all. I only wanted to tell you that even though I’ll be your governess, I’m still Jo. We needn’t become formal.” Jo winked at her, and Evie grinned.

She wrapped her arms around Jo’s neck, surprising her with a fierce hug. “I’m ever so glad you’re here. Things are much better since Foster and Kerr and the cook left. Except for the toast. The toast has been quite burned.”

Jo straightened and looked over at the earl. He turned his neck, and she thought his cravat must be irritating him. “I need to hire a replacement,” he said. “The assistant left with her, so one of the scullery maids is attempting to prepare meals.” He frowned. “I’m sorry you’re arriving in the midst of a bit of upheaval.”

“As it happens, I know how to make toast without burning it.”

“That’s true,” Nora said from the open doorway behind her. “I taught her myself.”

Jo turned as the footman welcomed Nora and her family inside.

Evie ran over to Becky. “Let’s go upstairs. Mrs. Poole helped me set up a table to draw. I have pencils and paper and books with pictures we can copy.”

The girls dashed up the stairs while Nora called after them, “Not too long, girls. We’re only staying a short while.”

Lord Knighton turned to the duke. “Kendal, how would you like to sample some of my private stock of rum? This is different from what I sent you, a smaller batch.”

Titus rubbed his hands together. “You’ve been holding out.”

“I only serve it to people brave enough to visit me.” He gestured for Titus to follow him toward his office.

“Can we talk for a few minutes?” Nora asked, looking about.

The footman inclined his head to a doorway off the right side of the hall. “The sitting room is just through there.”

Nora and Jo turned and went inside. The chamber was bright and cheerful, decorated in hues of yellow and pale green. The furniture was relatively new and in seemingly splendid condition. Jo recalled Knighton asking her about refurbishment and deduced that he couldn’t have meant this room.

Nora walked to a large painting situated in the center of the wall opposite the windows. “Is this his mother?”

Jo joined her and studied the image. The woman was young with dark eyes that looked very much like Knighton’s. With her towering, powdered hair and ivory complexion, she looked regal and serene. “She looks like a female Untouchable.”

Nora let out a gasp. “I was going to say the same thing!”

They grinned at each other and laughed, reminding Jo of days gone by. “I’m going to miss seeing you every day. That was nice after so many years apart.”

Nora sidled closer until their arms touched as they continued to look at the portrait. “Yes, it was. I’m still not entirely happy with your decision.” She turned toward Jo. “But it’s your decision, not mine.”

They’d discussed this at length over the past few days. Nora had repeatedly assured her that she could return to them at any time, no matter where they were. All their homes were open to Jo, under any circumstances. Jo loved her sister so much. She just wanted Nora to be happy for her.

Jo pivoted to face her sister. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow in a way I haven’t in a very long time.”

Nora clasped Jo’s hand. “That is all I could hope for.”

A short time later, Nora and her family took their leave. Knighton joined Jo in the sitting room. She stood near the window watching the coach pull away, then turned to face him where he stood just over the threshold.

“Would you like to see your bedchamber?” he asked.

She nodded, glad that whatever awkwardness that may have lingered between them after their encounter in the garden at the ball had finally dissipated. “This is a lovely room.”

He glanced around, his brow drawn. “You think so? I’ve always loathed it. It’s my mother’s favorite room.”

Jo gestured toward the portrait. “Is that her?”

“Yes, she sat for that when I was five. I remember it distinctly because I interrupted one of her appointments, and she was furious.” He spoke of her in a cool, dispassionate tone.

She was curious about his apparent dislike of his mother but didn’t wish to query him about it. Not today. Instead, she focused on the room. “What don’t you like about this chamber? It’s very bright. The colors remind me of a summer day. I’d think it might remind you of the tropics.”

Knighton moved farther into the room. “I could see where you might come to that conclusion; however, it reminds me of my mother, not Barbados.”

“Is this at the top of your list of things requiring refurbishment?”

“No, that would be my bedroom. It’s dark and depressing. I want bright and…sunny.” He looked at her with interest, his head tipped to the side. “Like Barbados.”

“I see.” For some reason, the mention of his bedroom summoned that odd sensation. She realized it wasn’t awkwardness but expectation. As if something were about to happen, or could happen if things were different.

Which they weren’t.

“Speaking of my mother, she’s coming for a visit tomorrow to meet Evie.”

Jo was surprised they hadn’t met yet. He and Evie had been in England for several weeks. “You haven’t seen her at all?”

He shook his head. “No, she’s been in Durham with her sister. I admit I didn’t immediately write to tell her I’d arrived.” There was no regret in his statement.

“I’m sorry you don’t care for her.” Jo hadn’t meant to say anything, but apparently couldn’t help herself. “My apologies. It really isn’t any of my concern.”

“You’re part of the household now. I think it is your concern. I hope you realize that I don’t see you as a typical governess. I should very much like your input on a variety of things, starting with helping me to find a cook. Can you really make toast?”

She smiled at the eagerness in his question. “Yes, I really can.”

His gaze darted up for a brief moment. “Thank God. That’s the only thing Evie will eat for breakfast, and our temporary cook burns it beyond recognition. Evie won’t touch it. She doesn’t like food that’s black in any way.”

Jo recalled his comment that she was particular about food. The instance with the biscuits and whether they were plain flashed in Jo’s mind. Evie had been anxious about tasting one and had only done so cautiously.

“Well, I shall be delighted to make her toast in the morning. Shall we take the tour?”

“Indeed.” He pivoted and started to put out his arm before letting it rest at his side, perhaps realizing she was the governess, not someone who should take his arm.

She walked to his side, and he led her from the room. Over the next half hour, he showed her every chamber. There was something about each that he disdained, and she quickly came to understand how much he disliked his family. It was heartbreaking, really, and she longed to know the particulars, but wouldn’t ask.

When they arrived at the nursery, Mrs. Poole and Evie were playing with her dolls. Evie showed Jo around the room with great enthusiasm, including the corner where they would do lessons. Jo knew that Evie was already a good reader, and was eager to see what else she could do.

Evie pulled a map from a shelf and unfolded it, laying the parchment flat across the table in the corner. “I thought we could use this for our lessons.”

Jo peered at the well-worn paper featuring the world. Judging from the tattered edges and deep creases from the folds, it was evident that Evie looked at this often. “I’m certain we can.”

Glancing at her father, Evie said, “Papa gave it to me so that I could see where he was from. It seemed so far away, like another world.” She pointed to a small island. “This is Barbados, where I’m from. Now it’s very far away.” Her voice turned sad.

“On the map, yes, but it’s in your heart, isn’t it? And that’s very close. In fact, that’s part of you.”

Evie placed her hand on her chest and looked up at Jo. “Yes.” She smiled. “Are we going to start lessons today?”

Knighton cleared his throat. “No, we’re going to give Mrs. Shaw some time to acclimate. Tomorrow will be soon enough. I need to show her to her chamber now.”

“Will I see you at dinner?” Evie asked Jo.

Jo wasn’t certain if a governess ate dinner with the family but suspected not.

“Of course,” Knighton answered. He looked over at Jo and gave an infinitesimal nod. It seemed she wouldn’t be a typical governess at all.

“I hope it’s something edible,” Evie said with a grumble as she returned to her dolls.

“Yes, me too,” Knighton murmured. “I’ll find us a cook this week, Evie.”

They departed then, and the earl led Jo downstairs to where the bedchambers were located. “Evie doesn’t sleep in the nursery,” he said. “When we arrived, she didn’t want to be far away from me, so her chamber is just down from mine.” He pointed to the right. “This way”—he turned left—“is my chamber and yours.”

Her chamber was near his? Oh dear, that seemed…problematic. But why should it? They’d agreed they were friends and that what had happened at the ball was in the past. She had no reason to believe anything similar would happen, even if her stomach fluttered when he was close. As he was now.

“That is my chamber.” He indicated a door across the corridor. She wanted to peek inside, to see if it was as dark as he said. She had no reason to doubt him but merely wanted to see for herself. Perhaps she could offer suggestions on how to brighten it up.

Oh, that was nonsense! She couldn’t refurbish his bedchamber, even if she was an atypical governess. Surely that was beyond the realm of propriety. His future countess would help him with that. Her stomach knotted at the thought of a future countess. How would it be to live here with them? Would she still be an atypical governess then?

“And here is your chamber.” He went to the door opposite his and opened it.

Jo stepped inside and wondered what he’d dislike about this chamber. A four-poster bed stood against one wall, and there was a hearth with a chair angled in front of it, a desk in front of the windows that overlooked the street below, and a tall armoire in one corner.

“I just realized that you may perhaps require a maid,” he said.

She turned. “You really don’t understand the role of a governess, do you?”

He looked utterly nonplussed. “I understand very little about any of this earl business. Please enlighten me.” He folded his arms over his chest.

“To start—and you know this much—my room should likely be upstairs near the nursery.”

“But it’s not going to be. I refuse to change my mind on that. What else?” His dark gaze seemed to dare her to find something.

“I probably ought not take meals with you, and definitely not when you have company—such as your mother tomorrow.”

A look of horror flashed in his gaze. “Oh, she won’t be staying for any meals. And I want you to eat with us. So does Evie. I’m not altering that either. What else?”

“I don’t need a maid.” She hadn’t had a personal maid at the vicarage. They’d had a housekeeper and one maid who’d served as a ladies’ maid whenever Jo needed one.

“Ever?”

“Not dedicated to me. When you hire a replacement for Foster”—he’d told her about the open positions in his staff during their tour— “you could retain someone who could act as an occasional ladies’ maid.” Wait, she was a governess. They didn’t have ladies’ maids! “Never mind. Governesses don’t have maids.”

“Nevertheless, you shall have one. Or rather, access to one.”

She wanted to protest but somehow realized it would be ignored.

“What about this chamber? Is everything to your satisfaction?”

Jo went to the armoire and opened it. Her clothes were already inside. She closed the door and went to the desk. It was supplied with parchment, quill, and ink. “Yes, thank you.” She looked over at him, the bed separating them. “What about you? What is the thing you don’t like about this room?”

He unfolded his arms. “Nothing. I’ve scarcely been in this room—it was used for guests.” He glanced around. “In fact, this may be my favorite room in the house.”

“I have an idea. I presume you brought some things with you from Barbados? Things that were maybe in your house there?”

“Yes, they’re still packed in crates.”

“Unpack them as soon as possible and place at least one thing from Barbados in each room. That way, you’ll have something everywhere to remind you of home.”

His gaze softened when she’d said “home.” He was homesick, she realized. And Evie likely was too. Jo would work on finding a way to try to make England feel like home to them.

He walked around the bed to stand in front of her. Close enough that her belly fluttered with awareness again. “That’s an excellent idea,” he said. “Thank you.” He eyed her for a moment. “I’m very glad you agreed to become our governess. And I say ‘our’ because I think you’ll be teaching me as much as you’ll be instructing Evie. I’ve much to learn about my new role, and for the first time, I don’t feel completely overwhelmed by it.”

The flutters in her belly grew and spread, sending a pleasant heat to the far reaches of her body and all points in between. “I’m glad.”

His lip ticked up into a half smile. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He turned and walked toward the door.

“My lord?” she called, halting him in his tracks.

He pivoted. “If I can’t convince you to call me Bran, you could at least refer to me as Knighton.”

She inclined her head. “I wanted to thank you for this opportunity. As well as remind you that this is a trial. If for any reason either of us—or Evie, for that matter—feels as though it isn’t working out, we must terminate the arrangement at the earliest possible opportunity.”

His brow furrowed, and for a moment, she feared he might argue. “All right. However, I feel comfortable in assuring you that neither Evie nor I will feel that way.”

He said that now, but expectations were a tenuous thing. Jo nodded, and he left, closing the door behind him.

Her shoulders sagged as if the energy had exited the room along with him. No, she wasn’t going to be a typical governess at all.