Simply Perfect by Mary Balogh Page B

the opposite direction.
    â€œShe married a Bedwyn,” Claudia said.
    â€œShe has always struck me as being particularly amiable,” he said. “Her father was apparently a Welsh coal miner before making his fortune. She has a reputation for helping people less fortunate than herself. Two of her three children are adopted. Is it for them she needs a governess?”
    â€œFor the girl,” Claudia said, “and eventually for her younger daughter.”
    â€œAnd so you are to return to Bath with Miss Bains and Miss Wood,” he said. “Are they to be given any choice in the matter?”
    â€œI would not send them into servitude to be miserable,” she said.
    â€œPerhaps,” he suggested, “they might not see it that way, Miss Martin. Perhaps they would be excited at the prospect of being governesses in the houses of such distinguished families.”
    A young child with a harried-looking nurse in hot pursuit was bowling his hoop along the pavement. The marquess drew Claudia to one side until they were all past.
    â€œLittle whippersnapper,” he commented. “I would wager he promised most faithfully that he would carry the thing except when he was in the park with plenty of open space.”
    Claudia drew a slow breath.
    â€œAre you suggesting, Lord Attingsborough,” she said, “that I reacted overhastily and unreasonably at Mr. Hatchard’s office?”
    â€œNot at all,” he said. “Your anger is admirable as is your determination to burden yourself with the girls again by taking them back to Bath rather than placing them in employment that might bring them unhappiness.”
    She sighed.
    â€œYou are quite right,” she said. “I
did
react too hastily.”
    He grinned at her.
    â€œDid you give Hatchard a definite no?” he asked.
    â€œOh, I did,” she said, “but he insisted that he would do nothing until tomorrow. He wants the girls to attend interviews with their prospective employers.”
    â€œAh,” he said.
    â€œI suppose,” she said, “I ought to give them the choice, ought I not?”
    â€œIf you trust their judgment,” he said.
    She sighed again. “It is one thing we are at pains to teach,” she said. “Good judgment, reason, thinking for oneself, making one’s own decisions based upon sense as well as inclination. That is more than one thing. We try to teach our girls to be informed, thinking adults—especially the charity girls who will not simply marry as soon as they are out of the schoolroom and allow their husbands to do all the thinking for them for the rest of their lives.”
    â€œThat is not a very rosy picture of marriage,” he said.
    â€œBut a very accurate one,” she retorted.
    They were walking beneath an avenue of trees that lined the pavement. Briefly Claudia raised her face to the branches and leaves overhead and to the blue sky and sunshine above.
    â€œI will warn them,” she said. “I will explain that the Bedwyns, led by the Duke of Bewcastle, are a family that has enjoyed wealth and privilege for generations, that they are arrogant and contemptuous of all who are below them on the social scale—and that includes almost every other mortal in existence. I shall explain that Lady Hallmere is the worst of the lot. I shall advise them not even to attend an interview but to pack their bags and return to Bath with me. And then I shall allow them to decide for themselves what they wish to do.”
    She remembered suddenly that both girls had actually stayed at Lindsey Hall with the other charity girls last summer for the occasion of Susanna’s wedding. They had actually met the Duke and Duchess of Bewcastle.
    The Marquess of Attingsborough was laughing softly. Claudia looked sharply at him. And then she laughed too.
    â€œI am a tyrant only when I am wrathful,” she said. “Not simply annoyed, but
wrathful
. It does not