Lord Preston's Secret Governess

Chapter 2: The Devil of the Black Fleet

Now that she thought about it, a rigid atmosphere had pervaded the mansion from the moment she stepped inside. The maids she encountered were expressionless, and every object was placed with meticulous precision. The curtains were stiff, as if freshly ironed, and the carpets aligned perfectly with the walls.
It was breathtakingly perfect, almost suffocating. Jacqueline, suspecting this reflected the master of the house, offered a slightly strained smile.
After a curtsy, she offered a sociable greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Preston. I’m Jacqueline Somerset. My friends call me Jackie.”

She stopped short of saying, “You can call me Jackie, too,” but the implication was clear. She looked at him with a friendly gaze.
“Miss Somerset will suffice.”
“…Yes.”

Windsor’s gaze swept over her from head to toe, as if appraising an object. Involuntarily, Jacqueline straightened her posture. His impassive eyes seemed cold, yet strangely, she wasn’t offended. Accustomed to the curious stares directed at the “Penniless Lady,” she found his indifference almost comforting.
Her first impression of Windsor Preston wasn’t as negative as the rumors suggested, and he was more polite than she’d anticipated. That aside, she had a feeling he wouldn’t be an easy employer.
Finally, his gaze lifted. He gave an almost imperceptible nod. She realized a moment later that this signified her acceptance.

“I understand you are the daughter of Lord Somerset.”
“Yes.”
They were strangers. Though noble circles were surprisingly small, and they could have crossed paths before, they hadn’t. Windsor’s late entry into society coincided with Jacqueline’s withdrawal.

She tensed, anticipating the inevitable conversation about her father’s accident. Experience had taught her the predictable script that followed the mention of “Lord Somerset.” It always began with “I’m so sorry for your loss,” and ended with, “I heard you’re bankrupt from paying off his debts. Are you truly penniless?”
“I was told you attended the Bristol Boarding School for Young Ladies. Is that correct?”
“…” Taken aback by the unexpected question, Jacqueline missed her cue to respond. Her second misstep already.

Under his unwavering gaze, she quickly nodded. His blue-gray eyes seemed thoughtful, yet cold as a winter sky.
Swallowing nervously, she replied, forcing a casual tone. “That is correct, Lord Preston.”
“Continental History would have been a required course. How were your grades?”

Jacqueline grew increasingly bewildered. But under his sculpted gaze, she couldn’t remain silent. Windsor Preston had no interest in Jacqueline Somerset, or the “Penniless Lady” as she was now known. He was more interested in her qualifications.
“I passed the final exam on my first attempt, so I believe they were quite good.”
“How many instruments can you play?”
“I’m proficient in piano and violin, and I can also play the flute and cello, though not as well.”

“Are you skilled in horse riding or shooting?”
“I’ve never learned to shoot, but I’m an excellent rider. I’ve been riding since I was ten.”
At that, Windsor’s eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly. Jacqueline noticed the subtle shift, a flicker of tension in her own eyes.

“Quite good, proficient, excellent. I prefer precise terms to vague descriptions, Miss Somerset.”
“…Yes, I’ll keep that in mind.” Jacqueline forced a polite smile, lest her face crumple into a grimace.
Windsor nodded curtly and continued his interrogation. “Are you sufficiently cultivated in the arts?”

“Of course, Lord Preston. I have a particularly deep appreciation for… for art.”
“Do you speak any foreign languages?”
“I speak Slen and Norti.”

“Excellent. The previous governess was teaching Benjamin Norti. It’s best to learn the language of our allies.”
With that, Windsor rose from his chair. His imposing height was even more pronounced when he stood. His broad shoulders and crisp movements placed him somewhere between aristocrat and soldier. Suddenly, his nickname came to mind: The Devil of the Black Fleet.
Forgetting her manners, Jacqueline stared. She recalled reading somewhere that the devil was more beautiful than angels, needing to instantly captivate the human heart.

In that sense, Windsor Preston was definitely a devil.
Windsor pulled a pocket watch from his waistcoat. The lid clicked open. “Benjamin should be reading in his room at this hour. Follow me.”
“…Yes.” Momentarily stunned by his commanding presence, Jacqueline instinctively extended her hand. Windsor, about to pass her, hesitated.

His eyes flickered down to her hand, then back to her face.
“Ah.” Realizing her blunder, Jacqueline flinched and quickly withdrew her hand. This wasn’t a ballroom; Windsor was her employer.
“Let’s go.” As if nothing had happened, Jacqueline walked briskly ahead. Only when Windsor was behind her did her expression crumble. A silent groan echoed in her mind.

“Which way, Lord Preston?” Reaching the corridor, she turned gracefully, feigning composure.
“Left.”
Windsor strode past her with his precise gait. Suppressing another sigh, Jacqueline followed.

Good heavens, why did I make such a mistake…! Behind Windsor’s back, her face contorted in a silent grimace.

* * *
 
There was no wasted movement in Windsor’s stride. Following him, Jacqueline straightened her back, feeling a sudden pressure to be flawless. Like the stiff curtains and perfectly aligned carpets, she felt compelled to embody perfection.
Windsor stopped at one of the identical doors lining the hallway. He knocked lightly and opened it. Jacqueline peered over his shoulder, taking in the room at a glance.

Clean ivory wallpaper, heavy wooden furniture, and meticulously arranged objects. It looked more like the room of a stern old man than a child’s.
A young boy, alone and reading, slowly looked up. Benjamin Preston.
Seeing Windsor, the boy scrambled to his feet, his expression tense. The book he’d been holding slipped from his grasp and tumbled to the floor.

“!” His wide eyes widened further, then clouded with dejection. He bit his lip, retrieved the book, and placed it back on the table.
Six years old, wasn’t he? Dressed in shorts, white stockings, and suspenders, Benjamin seemed far more mature than his age. He addressed Windsor politely.
“Good afternoon, Uncle. I was reading.”

“This is Miss Jacqueline Somerset, whom I mentioned this morning. She will be your new governess. Greet her.”
Benjamin’s gaze shifted. Jacqueline, finally inside the room, met his eyes and instinctively smiled.
Benjamin looked like he’d stepped straight out of a fairytale, even more adorable than Colin, her cherished teddy bear. His curly hair resembled a red cotton candy cloud, and his brown eyes shone like polished beads. His cheeks were round and full, and a smattering of faint freckles dusted his nose.

Benjamin snapped his right foot next to his left, his hands glued to his thighs.
As Jacqueline’s eyes widened, the boy spoke. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Benjamin Preston. I look forward to your guidance, Miss Somerset.”
“…” His greeting was impeccable, a testament to the effort Jeffrey or Windsor Preston had put into his upbringing. Yet, Jacqueline couldn’t help but look bewildered.

Her gaze flitted between the boy’s emotionless face, tense posture, and guarded eyes, before settling on Windsor.
“Is something the matter, Miss Somerset?” His voice was flat, devoid of inflection. He seemed genuinely unaware of the problem.
“Nothing, Lord Preston.” Shaking her head, Jacqueline stepped forward, past Windsor, and directly towards Benjamin. She felt Windsor’s gaze on her back, but she didn’t turn. Kneeling before Benjamin, she whispered gently, “Hello, Benjamin. I’m Jacqueline Somerset. You can call me Jackie. That’s what my friends call me.”

“He is the future Marquess of Preston. It would be best to maintain proper decorum, Miss Somerset.” Windsor’s sharp voice cut through the air. Jacqueline and Benjamin exchanged glances.
At the mention of his future title, Benjamin puffed out his chest, lifting his chin and setting his jaw. He looked like a tiny soldier.
Out of Windsor’s sight, Jacqueline grimaced, a comical expression like someone biting into a sour lemon. But Benjamin didn’t laugh.

That’s odd. When she made this face, her classmates would forget their ladylike composure and burst into laughter. Even the notoriously strict headmistress of her boarding school would soften, letting her off with a warning.
Blinking, Jacqueline rose gracefully. “I’ll keep that in mind, Lord Preston.”
“I understand this is your first position as a governess. Please prepare a month-long curriculum and present it to me before dinner.”

“This evening…?” Jacqueline stared at him, wide-eyed.
“Is that a problem?” Windsor asked dryly.
She glanced at Benjamin, her expression full of pity, like an innocent lamb facing a fierce lion. But Benjamin still didn’t laugh. Jacqueline turned back to Windsor, a sheepish smile on her face.

“No, it’s not a problem. I’ll have the curriculum prepared and presented to you before dinner.”
Windsor simply nodded and left the room. Only after the rhythmic thud of his footsteps on the carpet faded did Jacqueline’s tense shoulders relax.