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A Most Unusual Governess. Published first published January 1st More Details Original Title. Other Editions 9. Friend Reviews. To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. To ask other readers questions about A Most Unusual Governess , please sign up. Be the first to ask a question about A Most Unusual Governess. Lists with This Book. Community Reviews. Showing Rating details. More filters. Sort order. May 17, Jenny rated it liked it.

None of it is particularly memorable. Although, it was enjoyable enough and a pretty quick read I was actually underwhelmed with this one, not sure how I pushed myself through it. The plot was okay and I did want to like it. I got a little tired of the POV changes so frequently and without any smooth transitions. I also felt like there were too many explanations, like James and Sarah would be having a conversation and then the conversation would b I was actually underwhelmed with this one, not sure how I pushed myself through it.

I also felt like there were too many explanations, like James and Sarah would be having a conversation and then the conversation would be explained. It was just an okay read, but forgettable. Sarah Davenport is looking for a job as a companion to an older woman but is assigned the job of governess to Lucy a six year old instead. Sarah has always been one to speak her mind, will it get her into trouble this time? Aug 23, Kathryn rated it liked it Shelves: regency-romance , kindle-loan. Amanda Grange has come a long way as an author since she wrote this book.

It was still a fun, enjoyable read. Sep 24, Katherine rated it liked it. I loved the storyline but thought the conversations and events were too rushed, making them slightly unrealistic. I would have enjoyed reading both of our main characters struggle over their feelings and any suspense when adventure and danger came was too quickly resolved.

Much potential exists but not written with enough depth to satisfy the plot. I felt like was reading a shorter version of Jane Eyre - so many similarities win the plot. It was a quick read and I enjoyed it but not a novel to g I loved the storyline but thought the conversations and events were too rushed, making them slightly unrealistic.

It was a quick read and I enjoyed it but not a novel to go over countless times. Marsh, seated behind her desk, and waited for her invitation to approach. As one of the administrators of the Foundling Hospital, Mrs.

A Most Unusual Governess por Amanda Grange

Marsh could often be quite harsh in her discipline. Yet, once Lucretia grew old enough to help with the care and education with the other orphans, she and Mrs. Marsh got along quite well. Marsh said, at last looking up from her papers. As she often did when inside Mrs. The matron kept an extensive collection, and willingly loaned them to Lucretia, always with the admonition to return it quickly and without damage. If any of her precious books came back not in the same condition, the lending of books ceased immediately. Lucretia smiled before taking one of the chairs in front of the desk.

Marsh gazed at her with sorrow in her pale blue eyes. She folded her hands atop her desk, her full lips thinned, tense. Lucretia felt a chill creep down her spine.

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Something was wrong. While a summons to visit the matron in her office was quite ordinary, Mrs. Marsh nearly always greeted Lucretia with a warm smile, and sometimes with a cup of tea. If she had erred in some way, she had no idea what that could be. Marsh said, picking up a piece of parchment. Lucretia felt her heart stop. Resting in her lap, her fingers twisted together in anxiety. Swallowing hard, she stared, unseeing, downward. While most young men and women her age left the Hospital with the education necessary to begin a trade outside, she expected to spend her life here, caring for the children.

She wanted nothing else — not even marriage and her own offspring. Glancing up, she forced herself to meet Mrs. Marsh had asked her here for her opinion only. Yet, deep down, she knew better. Marsh said, her tone quiet, kind. A sudden flare of anger overrode her fear. She straightened her back.

Marsh gazed at her, her brows lowering. Your time with us has ended. You must venture out into the world. However, I will not tolerate this insubordination from you. Marsh went on. Marsh replied.

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You will have your room and board, clothing, plus a nice salary. In time, perhaps the Duke will arrange a suitable marriage for you. The workhouse is a harsh place, and I would not see you go there unless you leave me no other option. Child, this Hospital is a temporary home only. Workhouses are terrible places, but how can I leave everything I have ever known behind? Surely Mrs. Marsh will have pity on me.

Marsh nodded. The other orphans are respectful and well-mannered, and during your tenure here many have gone to have good lives because of you. Believe me, you will be missed. Drawing a deep breath, Lucretia forced calm into her frazzled nerves, released her anger. Marsh glanced at the letter.

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  7. Folding her hands once more, the matron gazed at her earnestly, a faint smile crossing her stern features. You have been here since you were an infant, after your parents died in that dreadful accident. You have been training for this moment all your life. I know you will make me proud. Studying her hands, Lucretia stifled her sudden urge to plead, to beg to be allowed to remain, even without pay.

    Such would not help her. Orphans at the Foundling Hospital all grew up to find trades, marry, have children of their own. She knew this moment would arrive one day, despite hoping and praying she could be the one exception — the one foundling who remained to live out her life there, assisting other orphaned children into the world outside. Standing, she curtsied, then walked with her spine stiff and her head high to the door.

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    Determined to not weep, Lucretia shut the office door behind her. Though she scarcely felt her legs under her, she maintained her youthful dignity as she traversed the corridor and down the stairs. However much she recognized it as unreasonable and unworthy, hatred for the Duke of Breckenridge filled her heart. How can I leave this place, my home? Workhouse or servitude to a Duke, how can I survive?

    A Most Unusual Governess

    Trotting his bay stallion down the road, Sampson Claridge, the Duke of Breckenridge, did not look forward to returning home. He had ridden out shortly after dawn with his two closest companions to inspect his lavish stud farm a few miles south of his home. Though he never said so aloud, his stud was one of the finest in the realm.

    Even the Prince Regent bought his horses, and asked his advice. Now, late in the afternoon, Sampson wished he had other work that might keep him away. Sampson offered a half-nod, half-shrug. Oliver Fortescue, the sixth Earl of Egerton, clicked his tongue in sympathy. I told her that. But she insists she has no need for a governess. Though he knew that would only make the situation with Henrietta worse, Sampson admitted he was right. He did tend to permit his ten-year-old sister to have her way more often than not, and now he paid the price. Yet, his intense love for her — the only family he had left — would not allow him to be strict with her.

    One glance into those hazel-green eyes and he eagerly granted Henrietta her every wish. She is as stubborn as you are. Sampson permitted himself a small smile. George Carter, the third Baron of Gillinghamshire, was his friend since childhood. Rather than breed fine bloodstock as Sampson, he preferred to raise cattle and sell them over the border in Wales.

    Sampson never quite understood this, as he governed his own small realm with his own hands. George scoffed. The week before, he slobbered all over the carpets in his madness. Despite his words, the two continued their friendly wrangling over what rumors might be close to the truth, leaving him to ponder his own inner troubles.

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    He planned a private word with her before supper, as he wanted no tantrums in front of his friends and guests. In the stable yard, dogs leaped round their horses, barking, as grooms emerged to take their mounts. Walking across the stone cobbles toward the house with his companions in tow, Sampson pondered his words to Henrietta. The wide oak doors opened as he approached, and his butler, Thomas, bowed low.

    Martin, his valet, bowed low as he entered his rooms, ready to assist him in washing and dressing in clothes that did not smell of horses and the road. Shortly after, now dressed in a white muslin shirt, pale blue waistcoat, and a white cravat, Sampson permitted Martin to help him with his Hessian boots, onto his feet and over his dark grey trousers. Thus dressed, he found Henrietta already in his study, examining the books on his shelves. Henrietta offered him a curtsey before wrapping her arms around his waist.

    Come, sit and talk with me before we must go downstairs for tea. Taking an armchair for himself, Sampson watched his young sibling seat herself in a less comfortable, hard chair opposite him. Henrietta wore a gown of soft mauve with ruffled sleeves, lace hinting at her throat and wrists. He thought the color looked good on her, with her pale blonde hair and hazel-green eyes. Small for her age, his little sister gazed at him with a cool aloofness that had not been there a few months ago. Sampson lit his pipe, puffing and squinting slightly through the smoke.

    The words he planned to say vanished from his head.

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    She looked so alone, forlorn, sitting there as though awaiting her execution. Affected by it more than Sampson, who worked hard maintaining his ducal estates, his stud farm, and his role at court, Henrietta withdrew into herself, speaking little and smiling seldom. Sampson tried to remember the last time he had seen her laugh. His words apparently caught her off guard, for Henrietta glanced away, nibbling her lower lip. At her fierce and desperate words, Sampson started up from his chair, his pipe forgotten.

    Turning her head so he would not see her tears, Henrietta nodded. I will not. Sampson leaned forward. She is to look after you, be your tutor, and I hope, your friend. I would ask this favor of you, Henrietta. It is all I am asking. If you give her time and patience, I am sure you will find it is not hard to have her here. He leaned back in his armchair, puffing on his pipe. Are we agreed? Henrietta nodded, not smiling but meeting his gaze with a calm levelness that he thought only to see on faces much older than hers.

    With all her possessions packed, which amounted to a single decent-sized box, Lucretia stood outside the Foundling Hospital. Willie and a few of the older boys stood with her, trying manfully not to cry. The older girls, whom she helped raise when they were young, had no such constraints and wept. She had said her farewells to the small children, all who bawled when she told them she was leaving. Rose, one of her favorites, begged to be allowed to go with her. But I promise, I will write you letters. And when you are older, you can read them for yourself.

    I will miss you. As Mrs. Marsh told her the Duke would send a carriage for her, she stood waiting for it, her fears and anxieties reined in so as not to upset the children. Yet, she wanted to weep as the girls did. The Foundling Hospital was her home. It frightened her to leave it, to go across England to the service of the Duke of Breckenridge. To see new places and things.

    She smiled, and cupped his chin in her hand. It will be an adventure. And soon, you will be old enough to go on them, too. As she spoke, a team of four with post boys riding the left-hand horses clattered around the bend and trotted toward them. As Willie and another boy struggled to stow her box aboard, she turned for one last lingering look at what once had been her home. Her face hidden by her bonnet, she permitted a single tear to track down her pale cheek.

    That was all. She wiped it away, and, lifting her skirts, climbed into the chaise. With the children clustered so close, she touched each of their hands as the riders prepared to signal the horses to move out. The post boys hesitated, their team shifting restlessly under them, as Mrs. Marsh hurried from the huge double doors of the Hospital.