In novels, applicants never seemed to inquire what had become of their predecessors, and I’d always sworn I wouldn’t make the same mistake. I doubted that the last governess had been killed or driven mad by a specter, but one never knew, and there had to be a reason a family this noble would consider someone as inexperienced as I was, so I squared my shoulders and asked, “If you don’t mind telling me, why is the position now vacant?” I thought that sounded properly professional.

She gave another one of those little secret smiles. “There have been four governesses in the past year,” she admitted.

“What became of them?”

“Two of them were dismissed and two left of their own accord.”

“Do you know why?”

She glanced around, then leaned forward and whispered, “Lord Henry fancies himself a scientist. He has Ideas.” I could hear the capital letter in her voice, and I could tell from the way she wrinkled her nose that she didn’t approve of said Ideas. I thought that might explain why she didn’t consider the fact that Lord Henry approved of my application a mark in my favor.

“Ideas?” I asked nervously.

“About education and what is valuable for a young lady or gentleman to know. Two of the governesses proved not to live up to his standards.”

“And the others?”

“He’s quite the amateur naturalist, with his primary interest in insects. And Lord Rollo is a boy.” She watched my face carefully as she said this, as though she wanted to see my reaction. Was she trying to scare me into rejecting the position?

“So the governesses found bugs in their bed and fled,” I concluded, making sure I didn’t sound at all alarmed by this prospect. “I assure you, I shall do no such thing.” My suspicion that Mrs. Talbot was trying to dissuade me grew stronger when her lips puckered in distaste at my response.

A young man then entered the room. He didn’t seem nearly old enough to be the master of this house—I didn’t think he could be too far beyond his teens. He wore tweed sporting attire, carried a butterfly net under one arm, held a sketchbook in his hand, and had a pair of binoculars slung around his neck. His sandy brown hair was wavy and unruly, falling across his forehead, and his small, wire-framed spectacles gave him a scholarly appearance. There was a distracted manner about him, as though he’d been lost in thought and wandered in off the street without realizing he was in the wrong house.