as if she’d been sucking her thumb for comfort.
How odd to see her so peaceful when supper in the schoolroom had been a near-disaster. The girl had bounced up and down in her chair, spilled milk over the table, and kept the maids scurrying. Tessa had diligently corrected each lapse. The last straw had been when Sophy used her fingers to snatch morsels of tender beef off Tessa’s plate. Though the meal was only half eaten, the roast and carrots delicious compared with Tessa’s usual fare of bread and cheese, she’d ordered both their trays removed to the kitchen.
Bath time had been equally hectic. Sophy had made a game of running naked around the tub while Lolly chased in pursuit. Tessa had stepped in to catch the girl and deposit her into the copper tub. She’d felt not a jot of sympathy when Sophy wiggled and yelped. If not for the consternation of the maids, who believed bathing a child to be beneath the dignity of a governess, Tessa would have done the washing just to show the girl who was in charge.
It irked her that Sophy didn’t appreciate the tub of steaming water, for Tessa was used to cold sponge baths from a bucket filled at the street well. The girl had no gratitude for her lavish life here, with toys and books galore, warm clothing and ample food, and servants to see to her every need. Meanwhile, not much more than a mile away in the stews of London, ragged children were forced to labor in workhouses. Or they huddled in doorways, begging for a crust of bread to ease the hollow cramp of hunger. Reflecting on that injustice, Tessa had been sorely tempted to resign her post in disgust.
But now the girl’s deviltry had gone dormant, leaving a tiny angel in bed.
Beset by a sudden tenderness, Tessa leaned down to stroke a lock of silky hair from that small cheek. Sophy stirred against the pillow. Without opening her eyes, she gave a whimpering sigh. “Moo-moo. Want moo-moo.”
That sad little voice broke Tessa’s heart. Moo-moo? Did it mean something significant, or was it merely the nonsensical product of a dream?
Whatever the case, she felt certain that what she’d told the duke was true, that Lady Sophy was an unhappy girl lashing out at the world. Tessa knew she couldn’t use the position of governess simply as a means to achieve her own ends. She also wanted to help the girl.
Lud, she must not fail Sophy as others had done.
Quietly closing the door, Tessa returned to her own chamber. A candle on a table illuminated the battered old trunk situated against a wall. Since there had been no sly look from the duke’s groom when her possessions had been delivered, Orrin must have heeded her note asking him not to drop any hint about her past.
As she sank onto the bed, exhaustion pervaded every bit of her body. She had arisen before dawn to go to the millinery shop, had made a sudden stressful change in her life, then had spent hours caring for a wayward child.
And the day was far from over. Although a yawn stretched her lungs, she still needed to forge that letter of recommendation from the fictitious Mr. Blanchet. An earlier search of the desk in her room had turned up nothing more than scraps of cheap notepaper. Likewise, the schoolroom had yielded only ruled pages in copybooks. A request to Lolly had sent the maidservant trotting below stairs to return with a sheet of elegant stationery. Alas, Tessa could hardly give Carlin a letter that was embossed with his own gold crest.
Somewhere in this vast mansion there had to be a plain piece of paper. She would conduct a search once everyone was asleep—especially the duke.
Longing for the comfort of her old flannel nightdress, Tessa lay down fully clothed on the bed and drew up the covers against the chill in the air. It seemed foolishly extravagant to leave the candle burning, but she would need the light in a little while. To pass the time, she gazed out the open draperies at the crescent moon floating in an inky sea of stars. Her old room had looked out on a brick wall. Such a rare treat it was to have a view of the night sky!
Yet the sight also had the tranquilizing effect of a sleeping draught. Perhaps if she planned activities to pique Sophy’s interest, it would help her to stay awake.