The Governess and the Earl. Ann Lethbridge

heaved a sigh. The time had passed quickly in her company. Too quickly. The rest of the night loomed long and empty.

      He got up and headed for his study. Hopefully his accounts would keep his mind off the lovely but untouchable Mrs Drake.

      Two rooms formed Sarah’s new domain as governess. The schoolroom, containing desks and shelves of books, and, adjacent to it, a small parlour where meals were served to student and teacher in the day. That room was also assigned as her private sitting room at lessons’ end. A typical arrangement in most noble households.

      When Sarah entered the parlour at seven the next morning, she discovered not only her charge, sitting on a pile of books at the breakfast table, but also his father with a blob of porridge on his cheek and a harried look on his face.

      An elderly gentleman hovered beside the sideboard.

      ‘Good morning,’ Sarah said. ‘Am I late?’

      Lord Ralston glanced up like a drowning man hoping for rescue. ‘Not at all. Jonathon is an early riser.’ He tousled the boy’s hair. ‘Isn’t he, Wister?’