My Brown-Eyed Earl by Anna Bennett Page B

twins in the nursery or planning their lessons in her room.
    He could hardly be cross about that—it’s what he was paying her for, after all.
    But he couldn’t help wondering if she was avoiding him. If she regretted the whole evening. After all, she’d soundly rejected him once. Her infamous refusal of his proposal may have been eight years ago, but in his experience, people didn’t change much, not at their center. And she’d obviously found him abhorrent then.
    Regardless of whether her opinion of him had changed, the real problem was him . He’d crossed a line with the kiss. Granted, for that evening they’d shrugged off their roles as employer and governess. But as much as he’d enjoyed their interlude, he knew in his gut that they had no choice but to return to their assigned roles.
    Meg had gone back to being Miss Lacey, dedicated teacher of unruly twins and steadfast wearer of ugly dresses. Will had gone back to being the Earl of Castleton, carefree bachelor of considerable means and consistent shunner of weighty responsibility.
    He should be used to the playing the part. Hell, it wasn’t even a part, it was simply him .
    And if the role wasn’t as satisfying as it once had been, if it left him feeling vaguely empty and lost, maybe it was a sign that, God help him, his mother was right.
    Being an earl—at least a good one—meant doing his duty. He wouldn’t repeat the mistakes his father had made—taking both his title and fortune for granted.
    When his father died, Will had inherited more than an earldom; he’d inherited a mess of the first order. The entire estate was in a shambles, and the family’s coffers were depleted. Every outstanding debt, ill-considered contract, and excessive expenditure had landed squarely in his lap.
    Once he’d recovered from the shock, Will had rolled up his shirtsleeves. He’d dedicated the last five years of his life to restoring order where he could, making his land profitable, and generally cleaning up the remnants of his father’s carelessness.
    To be fair, he’d only worked twelve hours a day, which left plenty of hours to indulge in the sorts of activities bachelors normally enjoyed. Such as a highly pleasurable dalliance with one’s fetching governess.
    But when it came to being a truly fine earl, business acumen and hard work were only half of the equation. The other half was being honorable and, damn it all … doing one’s duty.
    It was time for him to stop keeping mistresses and seducing governesses and move on with his life.
    It was time for him to find himself a proper countess.
    *   *   *
    â€œWe have time for one more.” Meg wrote 8-3 = ? on a small slate and showed it to Diana. “Try this.”
    She closed her eyes, moved her lips, and took a deep breath. “Six?”
    â€œClose,” said Valerie.
    â€œSeven?” Diana guessed.
    â€œNot quite.” Meg patted Diana’s knee. “But don’t be discouraged.”
    â€œYou almost had it,” said Valerie.
    Diana clenched her fists and let out an impressive growl. “It doesn’t make sense . I started with eight and counted back three times. Eight, seven, six. The answer should be six .”
    â€œAh, I think I understand the problem,” said Meg. “You’re starting with eight, when you should start with seven.”
    â€œNo,” said Diana, pointing her stubby finger to the problem on the slate. “We’re starting with eight. It says so right here.”
    Heavens, it was rather confusing. Meg looked around the neat but sparsely furnished nursery for small objects she could use to demonstrate. “Have you any marbles?”
    Diana rolled her eyes. “We did, but Gibson took them away. He said that, in our hands, they were a hazard.”
    â€œHe’s probably right about that.” Meg tapped her chin. “I know. Tomorrow