Chapter 3
Jacqueline noticed the child across from her, whose shoulders had finally dropped with the same sense of relief she felt. Benjamin, who had been settled over an open book, sensed her attention and looked up.
A soft smile played on Jacqueline’s lips as she spoke in a gentle, inviting tone.
“If you wouldn’t mind, Master Benjamin, perhaps you could show me around the estate?”
The boy wavered. The request clearly caught him off guard, and he remained rooted in a long, contemplative silence before finding his voice.
Fearing a rejection, Jacqueline adopted an expression of playful helplessness.
“I’ve only just arrived at Preston Manor and I don’t know a soul yet. Won’t you help me, Benjamin?”
Finally, the boy gave a slow, solemn nod. He snapped his book shut, stood, and began to lead the way.
Jacqueline followed at his side, a small smile lighting her face. From their first interaction, she had taken a liking to the boy; she had always held a soft spot for those whose kindness outweighed their hesitation.
Time, however, was slipping away. She had already spent a significant portion of the afternoon on their tour of the house.
Though a sudden spark of anxiety flickered in her chest, she forced herself to remain composed. She knew all too well that haste was the quickest way to unravel a well-laid plan.
Knock, knock.
“Enter.”
“I have the writing materials you requested, Miss.”
A maid stepped toward the desk, depositing a tray laden with ink and fresh parchment. Jacqueline offered her a warm look.
“Many thanks. And you are…?”
“Betty,” the girl replied. Her posture was so stiff it seemed measured by a plumb line, leaving no room for Jacqueline’s attempted rapport to take root.
“Very well, Betty. I shall need a few things for tomorrow’s studies. To whom should I direct my requests?”
“If you provide me with a list, I will relay it to Madam Ritz.”
“Thank you, Betty.”
“It is my duty, Miss Somerset. Nothing more.”
With a curt, expressionless bow, Betty retreated from the room. Jacqueline sighed; it seemed the icy atmosphere of the manor would take longer to thaw than she had anticipated.
Letting out a weary breath, she turned her focus to the desk. Her to-do list was long, but the most pressing matter was the formal curriculum.
She dipped her nib into the inkwell and began to write with practiced fluidness. Since she had already mapped out the details in her mind, her hand flew across the page with unerring precision.
“Hmm… yes… that should do. Perfect.”
After a series of quiet mumbles—alternating between deep thought and self-approval—Jacqueline finally stood. She gave the document a final scan before marching toward the door with a confident stride.
There was a visible spring in her step, and the slight twitch of her lips betrayed her satisfaction.
She paused for a heartbeat outside the study to steady her breathing, then rapped sharply on the door where she had first encountered Windsor Preston.
“It is Jacqueline Somerset, Lord Preston.”
“Come in.”
At his command, she lifted her chin and entered with the graceful poise of a student walking under the watchful eye of a headmistress. It was frustrating; no matter how she steeled herself, she always felt a prickle of nerves in the Marquess’s presence.
Masking her racing heart, she walked straight to his desk. Windsor set aside his pen and looked up.
“I have completed the curriculum for the coming month, Lord Preston.”
Windsor reached for his pocket watch, clicking the lid open to check the hour. Dinner was set for seven; it was currently 6:46.
“You’ve finished with very little time to spare.”
His voice was level, merely stating the time, yet he had a singular talent for making a simple observation sound like a sharp critique.
Jacqueline squared her shoulders and stood tall, sliding the parchment across the desk. She hadn’t felt this much pressure even during her final examinations, yet she maintained a mask of calm, professional confidence.
Windsor picked up the sheet. His expression remained a blank slate as his eyes traveled slowly down the page.
In the lamplight, he looked less like a soldier and more like a tragic lead in a play. His beauty was distracting—the kind of striking appearance that could steal one’s focus if they weren’t careful.
It was only when his brow began to knit together that Jacqueline snapped back to attention. She tightened her expression, waiting.
Windsor set the paper down and fixed his slate-gray eyes on her. The crease between his brows had deepened into a stark line. Even in his irritation, the man was dangerously handsome—bewitching, even.
“Miss Somerset.”
“Yes, Lord Preston?”
“I believe my instructions were to prepare an educational curriculum for Benjamin. Was there some part of our discussion you failed to grasp?”
“Not at all. I understood perfectly.”
“Then you are asserting that this is a proper schedule for the month?”
“I am, Lord Preston.”
Windsor’s gaze drifted back to the list, his brows twitching. Jacqueline met his heavy stare without flinching. When he spoke again, his tone was polite but utterly devoid of warmth.
“Let me be clear. You are suggesting that ‘introductions,’ ‘building a secret hideout,’ ‘bonding over a picnic,’ ‘identifying favorite subjects,’ ‘exchanging family histories,’ and ‘discussing future dreams’ constitute a month of education?”
His voice didn’t rise, but the weight of it was oppressive. Jacqueline merely offered a faint, steady smile.
“Indeed, Lord Preston. At this stage, establishing a foundation of mutual trust and rapport is far more vital than forcing him through another chapter of a textbook…”
“Do not make me regret hiring you, Miss Somerset.”
Windsor’s eyes turned as cold as a winter frost. The sheer intensity of his gaze was enough to silence her mid-sentence. Even when radiating displeasure, his presence was overwhelming.
He wasn’t shouting or hurling accusations; he was simply laying out his judgment with chilling composure. Despite her resolve, Jacqueline felt herself shrinking back under the force of his authority.
“Benjamin is due to enter the Yorkshire Boarding School next year. There is a vast amount of material he must master before then.”
“He will be buried in history and linguistics once he arrives there, as they are mandatory,” she countered softly.
“Do not lose sight of his position, Miss Somerset. Benjamin is the heir to the Marquess of Preston. He cannot wait until he is enrolled to begin. He must be superior to his peers from the moment he arrives.”
Jacqueline realized they were at an impasse of philosophy. Their views on education were worlds apart—and in this house, the employer’s word was law.
“Given that this is your first day, I shall overlook this. However, I cannot sanction such a plan. If you are not prepared for the rigors of this position—”
Before he could finish, she produced a second sheet of paper and placed it firmly on the desk. Windsor stopped, his gaze flickering with curiosity.
“I suspected this might not meet your approval, so I drafted an alternative. Would you care to review this one, Lord Preston?”
His eyes scanned the new document. It was a rigorous, back-to-back schedule of lessons spanning from dawn until dusk. He gave a sharp nod.
“This is significantly more appropriate.”
Having narrowly avoided disaster, Jacqueline allowed herself a small, secret smile of triumph. Her foresight had saved her.
“I will treat the first draft as a lapse in judgment. You are to begin the lessons according to this second plan tomorrow morning.”
“As you wish, Lord Preston.”
Noticing a slight softening in his expression, Jacqueline’s smile brightened. Windsor immediately returned to his work, his pen scratching across the documents on his desk.
“You are dismissed, Miss Somerset.”
“If I may, Lord Preston… one question?”
He paused again, signaling for her to continue with a silent look.
“Why did the previous governesses leave? It would be beneficial for me to know what pitfalls to avoid—for everyone’s sake.”
The question seemed to catch him off guard. He studied her with a long, unreadable look—one that felt as though he were re-evaluating her entire character. Finally, he looked back down at his work.
“You will discover the reason soon enough, whether you want to or not.”
Jacqueline blinked, puzzled by the cryptic answer, but it was clear he would say no more. Accepting the end of the conversation, she offered a graceful, practiced curtsy.
“Then I shall bid you good evening.”
She made her way out, her steps muffled by the thick carpet. As she reached for the handle, the door swung inward.
William, the butler, was standing there with his hand raised to knock. He lowered it as she appeared.
“Ah, Miss Somerset.”
“I’ve just finished my meeting. Please, go right in.”
She gave a polite nod and stepped aside. William thanked her and disappeared into the study.
As the door began to swing shut, Jacqueline caught the tail end of their exchange:
“The Earl of Easthill has sent word regarding his formal dinner party.”
“Tell him I will not be attending.”
“Sir, this is the third time. Might it be prudent to make an appearance? The Earl’s messenger suggested his master is becoming quite offended by these snubs.”
“Tell him I am occupied with urgent business. Or tell him I am unwell. It matters not.”
Click.
The door sealed shut. Jacqueline finally let out the breath she had been holding, her tense muscles finally relaxing. She looked back at the heavy mahogany door, her green eyes clouded with thought.
“Well,” she whispered to herself. “A curriculum is only a piece of paper, after all.”
Plans often changed once classes actually began. With a lighter heart, she turned and headed down the hall.
“Miss Somerset.”
Betty was waiting outside her room and gave a small, stiff bow.
“Dinner is served.”
“Thank you, Betty. I’m on my way.”
Jacqueline headed for the dining room, where she found Benjamin already waiting at the table.
