Nina Coombs Pykare by The Dazzled Heart

presence. “Here is my nephew, Thomas Ingleton.”
    The Frenchman inclined his head grave-ly. “Perhaps there is something with which I can help Monsieur.”
    How strange, thought Jennifer, that Ingleton’s face should pale at such an ordinary remark. But there was no predicting how the man would react; he seemed to be a bundle of frayed nerves.
    “And this is our governess, Miss Whitcomb,” continued Mrs. Parthemer.
    “Enchanté, I am sure,” purred Monsieur Dupin, those black eyes boring into hers. Jennifer felt herself sinking into their depths. Abruptly she wrenched her eyes away and looked at the monkey in her arms.
    The Frenchman merely bowed. “Made-moiselle has not always been a governess,” he remarked pleasantly under his breath. Jennifer’s heart leaped. How could he know that?
    Monsieur Dupin turned back to his hostess. “And where is the Mr. Par-themer?”
    Mrs. Parthemer looked a little flustered, but finally appeared to decide on the truth. “I’m afraid Mr. Parthemer is not a spiritual sort of man,” she remarked sadly. “But he is quite willing to have you here - for my sake. And I have invited some house-guests. I know you will find them very extraordinary people.”
      Particularly the heiress, thought Jennifer. How very unkind of Mrs. Parthemer to expose these people to the machinations of such a man. She cast about in her mind for a way to warn them, but no way presented itself. She had no evidence with which to back up her convictions. And Mrs. Parthemer was obviously enamored of the whole wonderful science of animal magnetism. Words of sound advice direct-ed to her would fall on deaf ears.Or, even worse, might earn Jennifer her employer’s dislike, a situation devoutly to be avoided.
    And so she kept her peace and watched as the handsome Monsieur Dupin flattered and cajoled the fluttering Mrs. Parthemer, who was behaving, thought Jennifer, with a bitterness quite unlike her usual self, like a schoolroom miss who had just been admitted to society. The whole display struck her as rather nauseating, but since her presence had been requested she dared not withdraw.
    She seated herself quietly, the monkey still in her arms, to wait for an opportunity to seek instructions from Mrs. Parthemer. As she did so she cast a curious glance at Ingleton. He was regarding the stranger as though he might at any moment grow horns and a tail and breathe fire and brimstone. That was odd, thought Jennifer, but then Ingleton was an odd man. Still, it was strange that he should be so upset. Had he perhaps had a bad experience with mesmerism, she wonder-ed. Yet at the dinner table he had not been at all disturbed by the news of Monsieur Dupin’s coming. No, it must be something about the Frenchman himself.
      Certainly his was a person not to be for-gotten. His entirely black outfit, even to his cravat, gave him a dark sinister look. But, Jennifer was well aware, such a look was very attractive to certain women. Witness the inane way that Mrs. Parthemer was behaving, simpering and fluttering like a girl newly out. It was quite obvious that what-ever Monsieur Dupin asked for, Mrs. Parthemer was going to provide.
    Jennifer let her thoughts meander to the coming houseguests. Lady Carolyn would probably cut her as someone quite beneath her notice.Mrs. Parsons, apparently an old tabitha, would surely have bushels of gossip to pour into any available ears. Lord Proctor, who sounded like an elegant exquisite, might in other situations have given Jennifer cause for concern, but with Lady Carolyn in the house and Ingleton vying for her hand, Proctor would be far too busy to go chasing after the governess.
    She comforted herself with this thought through the subsequent delineation of Mrs. Parthemer’s myriad symptoms. At best she should have some peace, she thought hopefully. She could very easily enjoy a pleasant country life: mornings given over to lessons in the schoolroom and afternoons spent riding or walking in