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did you say to him?”
    Miss Billings's blue-gray eyes swept over the girl, and she smiled faintly. “I reminded him of his manners.”
    Warily Emma addressed the next question to her father. “Who is she?”
    “Your governess.”
    Emma's jaw dropped. “My what ? But Papa, you didn't tell me—”
    “I didn't know myself,” he said dryly.
    Tasia's gaze swept over Stokehurst's daughter. Emma was a skinny, awkward girl just crossing the threshold of adolescence. Her curly hair was a carroty-red that would draw attention wherever she went. Tasia guessed that Emma was the victim of merciless teasing from other children. The hair would have been temptation enough, but she was also very tall—it was possible she would eventually reach six feet. Her shoulders slumped forward in an effort to conceal her height. The skirts of her frock were too short, and her nails were dirty. She had her father's beautiful sapphire eyes, but her lashes were auburn instead of black, and her face was spattered with golden freckles.
    A tall, gray-haired woman approached them, her angular face wearing a no-nonsense expression. There was a huge ring of keys at her belt, the symbol of authority worn by every housekeeper.
    “Mrs. Knaggs,” Stokehurst said, “this is the new governess, Miss Billings.”
    The housekeeper's brows pinched together in a frown. “Indeed. A room must be prepared. I suppose the same as before?” Her tone implied that this latest governess would probably last no longer than the previous one.
    “Whatever you think best, Mrs. Knaggs.” Stokehurst strode to his daughter and kissed the top of her head. “I have work to do,” he murmured. “We'll talk at supper.”
    Emma nodded, her gaze fastened on Tasia while Stokehurst left them without another word.
    “Miss Billings,” the housekeeper said briskly, “I shall direct someone to prepare a room for you. In the meantime you might like to sit with a cup of tea.”
    A cup of tea had never sounded so inviting. It had been a long day, and Tasia hadn't yet recovered her strength since leaving Russia. She was exhausted. But she shook her head. At the moment it was more important to give her attention to Emma. “Actually I would rather tour the house. Would you take me around, Emma?”
    “Yes, Miss Billings,” the girl said dutifully. “What would you like to see? There are forty bedrooms, and nearly as many sitting rooms. There are galleries, courtyards, the chapel…It would take a full day to show you everything.”
    “For now, just show me what you think is important.”
    “Yes, Miss Billings.”
    As they wandered through the ground floor of the mansion, Tasia admired the beauty of the place. It was very different from the Ashbournes” fashionably cluttered Victiorian home with its heavy furniture. Southgate Hall was filled with clean white plasterwork and pale marble. Large glass windows and high ceilings made the rooms airy and bright. Most of the furniture was French, similar to what Tasia had been accustomed to in St. Petersburg.
    At first Emma said very little, stealing frequent glances at Tasia. However, after they toured the music room and strolled through a long gallery filled with artwork, Emma's curiosity asserted itself. “How did Papa find you?” she asked. “He said nothing about bringing a governess for me today.”
    Tasia paused to examine a pastoral scene by Boucher. It was one of many modern French works in the gallery, all of them chosen with a good eye for light and color. She dragged her attention from the painting as she replied. “I was staying with your friends, the Ashbournes. They kindly recommended me to your father.”
    “I didn't like the last governess. She was very strict. She never wanted to talk about interesting things. Only books, books, books.”
    “But books are very interesting.”
    “I don't think so.” They continued to walk along the gallery at a slow pace. Emma stared at her openly now, her blue eyes quizzical.