Leonard frowned, eyeing the proffered hand disdainfully. He could, with an effort of will, make himself solid to the touch, but why expend the effort? “The proper address would be ‘Lord Rathingar’, if you please.” Why did the woman have to be so blasted cheerful? Still, he supposed it would be good for Leanna. His daughter had had too much tragedy in her life, and perhaps this woman could bring joy back to Leanna’s eyes. He frowned and straightened his coat, before sighing. “I am quite sure, given the references I received, you will do an impeccable job. Being the best governess I’ve ever seen here, however, is not a particularly difficult task, as you will be the first one at Elmsly Manor since I was a small child.”

He paused searching the woman’s irritatingly cheerful face. “There are two iron clad rules that you will obey if you wish to remain in your position. First, as I do not approve of corporeal punishment, do not dare to lay an unkind hand on my daughter. Second, I reserve the west wing for my own use. Do not enter it under any condition.” He nodded to himself. “If we are lucky, we will see little of each other outside of the two hours after dinner I spend with my daughter each night, although I will expect a weekly report on Leanna’s progress with her studies and her general well being.”

Leonard snapped his fingers, and Mrs. Browne, who had been watching from the entrance hall, came out. He ignored the disapproving look she gave him. He knew he was being insufferably rude, but it wouldn’t do to give an impressionable young woman the impression that he was a warm and friendly man, or give her ideas above her station. “This is Mrs. Browne, my housekeeper. She will introduce you to the rest of the staff, and take you to your rooms. My daughter’s rooms are connected to yours, please take care not to wake her before morning.”