Teaching His Ward

Chapter 1

From the back he looked tall and commanding. Dark hair and a well sculpted head, tapering down to broad, powerful shoulders.

But this was the only glimpse that Jemima had ever caught of her guardian, the Earl of Southwell.

When her parents had died five years ago, the Earl had arranged for Jemima to be sent to the house of a widowed aunt, and then he had returned abroad for several years. Jemima could not blame him for showing little interest in an orphaned girl. After all, she should have been his father's responsibility. But the old Earl had died suddenly and his son had effectively inherited his ward, along with the rest of the estate.

Formidable and distant. This was how Jemima thought of Marcus Harlington. Certainly not someone from whom she could seek a favour.

But this was exactly what her best friend Kitty was urging her to do.

"Only write to him, dearest, and ask that he grants permission for you to make your debut in society. I simply couldn't bear to face my first season without you! I am sure he cannot refuse. Have you not said yourself that he will be only too glad to have you out of his hands?"

Catherine Elstone had been the one consolation in Jemima's life. Mourning her parents, Jemima had been torn from her beloved home in Ireland and sent to England, a foreign land. Her Aunt Harlington was a dutiful woman but the kindest thing one could say about her was that she had little time for sentiment. Her demeanour towards her nephew's ward held very little warmth.

For the orphaned girl, it had been a cold and lonely welcome. She missed her parents and her former home with its kindly servants, so much less formal than Aunt Harlington's brisk and silent staff. Most sorely, Jemima missed the horses in her father's stables. She had a natural affinity with animals but her aunt did not consider riding to be a necessary pursuit for young ladies.

And then Jemima had met Kitty. One year older and also motherless, Kitty Elstone lived on the neighbouring estate. The two girls were immediately inseparable. They visited one another's homes nearly daily and had even managed to persuade Aunt Harlington and Lord Elstone to allow them to share art and music lessons.

Both girls showed some promise at sketching. Their enjoyment of these lessons made up for the disappointment that their tutor was a respectable elderly gentleman, rather than the wildly romantic young artist they had hoped for. The only other males they encountered were the shy and not terribly attractive young curate, and odious Sir Hubert Frobisher who owned the neighbouring estate to Lord Elstone.

Art was certainly a welcome diversion for Jemima, endlessly steeped in Latin and Greek according to her guardian's instructions. The Earl of Southwell apparently knew little about how a girl should be raised. He had simply ordered his aunt to arrange the same lessons he had been schooled in as a boy.

Jemima feared his ignorance of feminine needs would extend to her present request.

"What if he does refuse, Kitty? It will be unbearable to be left here while you go off to London."

"I am sure he cannot. Let me help you with the letter."

Over the years, Jemima had dutifully written to her guardian on her birthday and at Christmas. She had never received a reply. In her first year there she had tried to write him an honest letter of how she felt about her situation. "I cannot imagine anyone ever enjoyed Greek grammar. It is an absolute torture. I suppose if you managed to endure it as a boy, then I must suffer it too, out of gratitude. But really I would much rather have dancing lessons or learn archery."

Aunt Harlington had taken one outraged look at this missive, ripped it in two and tossed it into the fire. "I realise you may have run wild in Ireland, Jemima. But now you are in my care I will see to it that you learn how to compose appropriately respectful correspondence to your guardian."