A Governess for the faithless Duke (Regency Romance) (Regency Tales Book 3) (3 page)

The next day being Saturday, she was pleased to share her good news with the housekeeper as they again sat down to tea. Mrs Thomson declared herself excited at the prospect of meeting a younger version of her guest, which made Charlotte smile shyly.

“No doubt you will find Amelia a far more interesting person than I am, Mrs Thomson,” she said. “And prettier, to be sure.”

The housekeeper chuckled merrily. It was a pleasing sound coming from the usually grave lady, who rarely smiled, even when she was feeling most at ease. The act transformed her face into the most pleasant lines.

“If she is prettier than you are, my dear, it is a good thing she does not work in Marbleton House! The poor young lads here would be quite unable to complete their tasks. Mr Milton would have to knock heads a little more often..”

Charlotte blushed, understanding the implication behind the words and appreciated the compliment, even if it had come in through the back door, so to speak. She wondered if Mrs Thomson had a husband, though she couldn’t imagine it to be possible, given her constant residence at Marbleton House. A quiet knock interrupted her thoughts, and at the housekeeper’s equally soft “Enter!” Mr Milton stepped into the room. It was clear from his expression that he was somewhat agitated.

“Please do pardon my intrusion, ladies,” he began. “I have just heard some rather disturbing news.”

Mrs Thomson, intuitive woman that she was, offered him a chair, and fetched a third cup so she could press some tea into his hands. Having thus fortified him, she proceeded to interrogate him.

“Now, what has got you in a dither, Mr Milton?” she inquired, sipping her own tea.

“It seems, Mrs Thomson, that our Duke has managed to enrage the families of one of the women he rejected. They are threatening legal action against him for breach of contract!”

“Oh my, that sounds dreadful!” Charlotte exclaimed.

“Well, he did leave the poor young woman at the altar,” Mrs Thomson said. “I’m sure her parents are only doing what they think is best.”

“It certainly can’t have been a pleasant experience for her to have been jilted,” Charlotte said, thinking of how his former fiancée must have been humiliated.

“As I understand it, the Duke had no particular affection for the lady in question,” Mr Milton said. “And though it is not the fashion among the aristocracy to marry for love, His Grace is not one to follow the fashions, except in his style of dress.”

“He certainly is independent,” Mrs Thomson agreed. “And that got him into a lot of trouble, too, when he was a boy.”

They chuckled, and Charlotte could see that they held their master in great affection. There must be something more to the man than the terrible things she had been hearing. The fact that he took in his orphaned nieces was certainly something in his favour, and he had not interfered in any way in their education since her arrival. She had seen him walking in the gardens with his houseguests in that first week and she had admired the manliness of his form, wondering what it would be like to be the woman on the receiving end of his attentions.

“I overheard a conversation about the Duke very recently,” she said, “and it seems that there is at least one other woman who would love to receive his attentions, despite his reputation.”

Both the butler and the housekeeper looked at her, before Mr Milton said, “I have no doubt you mean Lady Henrietta Aston.”

“She has set her cap at him, to be sure,” Mrs Thomson said. “But he has not shown his intentions toward her so far.”

“It is rumoured that the engagement to the young woman whose family is threatening legal action was an arrangement that was forced upon them both,” Mr Milton added.

Charlotte couldn’t imagine being forced to marry someone she didn’t love, and she was suddenly very glad that she was just a poor vicar’s daughter. Her dear papa would never try to make her marry for anything other than love. He and her mother were proof that love made even the humblest house a home.

The following day, she took herself off for a walk in the garden. It had been a rainy morning, so she kept to the stone pathways to avoid soiling the hem of her gown. The rain-washed air was fresh, and a delight to her senses. That morning she had once again spied the Duke as he took a turn about the grounds, accompanied by a woman she did not recognize. She wondered if that was the ambitious Lady Henrietta. She had watched them, the Duke gallantly giving the lady his arm, as they strolled through the garden talking and laughing. Charlotte felt a pang of envy for a life she knew she would never have. He was indeed a well-made man, beautifully turned out, handsome of face and form, and entirely out of her league. Why then did a small part of her heart ache because he had not noticed her?

As she wandered around, the feeling of desolation overtook her. She stopped by a stone bench and swept away the few drops of rain still clinging to its surface so she could sit and gather herself.

A sound in her ear brought her head up, and the object of her thoughts was standing a few feet away from her. His hands behind his back, her person his sole focus. Charlotte’s skin flushed with colour, but she straightened her spine and made as if to stand.

“Please, Miss Williams, do not trouble yourself. I did not mean to intrude upon your quiet time.”

His voice had a pleasing timbre, and his smile took her breath away. She returned it tentatively and sat with her hands clasped in her lap, wondering what to say. The weather was always a good, safe subject for idle conversation. She said the first thing that came into her head.

“Doesn’t the air smell delightful after the rain?”

She is delightful, Edmund thought, suppressing a smile as he regarded Charlotte. He had not seen his new governess for a few weeks, but the recall of his first sight of her had not left his memory. He had watched her when she first appeared, holding her skirts delicately above the ground as she strolled around his garden.

The sky blue gown she had worn was simple of cut, but figure-enhancing in all the places that would make a man notice the sumptuousness of her curves. It emphasised her femininity without being vulgar, and still somehow managed to emphasise her innocence. He had deliberately stayed away from her schoolroom, not only because he wanted her to assert her own authority over the girls, but also because he recognised her as a clear and present danger to his desire to remain aloof from entanglements with beautiful women. Her position as his governess was not an automatic deterrent to his interest, and so his physical absence was mandatory.

But today, he needed to breathe in the air as she did… where she did. After the morning he had had, with the tenacious Lady Henrietta Aston, he needed someone clean and pure, to wash away the memory of the other woman’s presence. Someone in fact, like his charming new governess, Charlotte Williams.

Edmund knew only too well what Henrietta Aston was after, and he was determined that she would never get him into her clutches. He would not allow himself to be manipulated again, neither by conniving parents or scheming daughters. She and her mama had been the last of his house party guests to arrive, and they had been the last to leave.

Edmund understood the tactic, and admired it, the way a general admires an enemy’s strategic battle plan. But he had been immensely grateful when their carriage had arrived to whisk them away from his home. He promised himself that he would not indulge in anything other than polite conversation with Miss Williams. He needed to set off for London to settle the vexed question of his breach of promise in the matter of his aborted marriage to Lady Emily Blount. A pleasant light-hearted exchange was welcome.

“The air does indeed smell delightful, Miss Williams,” he agreed, inhaling deeply. Then, looking at her searchingly, he added, “I hope that you are adjusting well to your work?”

She blushed, the pretty colour riding up her cheekbones, and he was enchanted. He had to force himself to focus on her words.

“I am, thank you, Your Grace.” 

He caught her hesitation. “I sense a ‘but’ in there, somewhere. Please be open with me, Miss Williams, about any concerns that have arisen since our first meeting.”  

“It will likely seem indelicate of me, Your Grace, and I would not otherwise have brought it up, except that Mrs Thomson has informed me of your wish that I appear at dinner when your great aunt arrives. I am in possession of very few gowns that would suit…”

Her voice trailed off, and for a second he wondered if she were asking him to purchase an evening gown for her. He dismissed the thought immediately...there was nothing in her current demeanour to suggest anything but deep embarrassment at the turn of the conversation. Then it hit him. He had not paid her for her services since her arrival, and if she were to make herself presentable, she needed the funds to provide for herself. It was his turn to change colour, his own embarrassment at his oversight mounting as he spoke.

“I beg your forbearance, Miss Williams, and pray you forgive me for failing to pay you what I owe you for services rendered to my nieces. The oversight will be corrected before I leave for London,” he promised.    

She averted her eyes as she murmured an embarrassed, “Thank you.” 

Edmund strove to find a new thread of conversation to take them away from personal matters and the weather.

“How have my nieces been doing?  I hope that they are more settled now.”    

It amused him how quickly she grabbed the end of the new thread. “Yes indeed, Your Grace. We are getting along nicely now, thank you.”

Her genuine smile was as charming as everything else about her, even the way she held herself on the bench. He wished that he could sit next to her and hold the creamy hand that she had clasped around its mate in her lap.

Squelching such thoughts, and reminding himself of his vow, he decided that it would be best if he took his leave of her before the innocence that had him enthralled managed to disrupt his good sense and his resolve.

“Well I shall leave you to your contemplation of Nature. I must away to London this evening, but I will leave your wage for these two weeks with Mrs Thomson before I depart.”

Turning sharply on his heel, he walked away. Charlotte watched him go with a quickening heartbeat. She had not been immune to the potency of his very presence, and she was grateful that he had taken himself off. She could not let his kindness mean more than that to her, and knew that she had to be careful to keep her distance from him, what with all his troubles of late, and his apparent interest in the Lady Henrietta. Hating the way that last thought made her feel, she rose and went in, withdrawing to her own rooms and keeping to them for the rest of the evening.   

She saw him leave from her window, and watched as the carriage conveying him to the city disappeared from view.

Amelia would arrive in six days, and she was looking forward to spending time with her sister and aunt, and enjoying the fun fair. She went to sleep with that thought on her mind, happy to have replaced her earlier gloom.    

The week passed quickly. Her thoughts ran to the Duke too many times for her comfort, but she valiantly dismissed them, concentrating instead on helping Eliza with the sums that were giving her a hard time, and working with Mary Anne through a specially difficult handwriting challenge. Her evenings were spent mostly alone, though she was invited to share her dinner with the servants one evening, a kind of precursor to their day out on Saturday. She knew she was not exactly of their rank, whether of the upper or lower house, but no one seemed to mind her presence, and she was even flattered by the none-too-subtle attentions that the young footmen seemed eager to pay her. The attention was a boost to her ego, and the following afternoon, at her usual tea with Mrs Thomson, she thanked her again for allowing her to have dinner with them.

“Thomas and William were more than happy that you joined us,” Mrs Thomson said, an indulgent smile on her face. “And now that you know the lads and lasses, you will feel far less out of place on Saturday at the fair.”

“I am looking forward to Saturday,” Charlotte enthused. “Amelia and Aunt Anne will be here as well. It will be quite the feast of entertainments for me.”

Mr Milton arrived to share their tea and bring news from above stairs.

“The Duke has returned,” he announced, “and it seems all is well.”

Mrs Thomson put down her cup. “Do tell, Mr Milton,” she begged him, handing him his cup, and a plate with a scone and two sandwiches.

The burly butler swallowed a whole sandwich, and half his tea before he said, “His Grace has averted disaster in the matter of the lawsuit, by offering the injured parties a large financial settlement to keep the matter out of the public eye. It seems that the Viscount Blount has fallen upon hard financial times, and was about to be publicly disgraced as a result of mounting gaming debts that he has found himself unable to repay.”

“So the Duke has agreed to pay off his debts?”  Charlotte was dumbfounded. What sort of man would do that for people he had no blood ties with?  Was this a sign of guilt, or of a kind-hearted man?  She decided that perhaps it was both, and that guilt was a good sign for a man who could walk through the world largely unscathed if he so chose.

“He has indeed, Miss Williams, and added a small additional sum as further incentive to end the matter peaceably.”

Charlotte did not dare ask how Mr Milton came by such detailed knowledge of the outcome, though she imagined if His Grace had any of his manservants with him when business was being conducted, there would be more than enough gossip to bring home.

That night in bed, she thought about all she had learned since her arrival regarding her employer, and wished she could explain why someone who to all appearances was more rake than nobleman should have so entwined her conscious mind, and stirred her heart. She was not a green girl, nor fanciful by nature, and yet she found herself unable to rid her heart and mind of the foolish dreams that had edged their way in. She would need to be more vigilant. Her sister’s visit would help with that. She would share what little she knew of him and hear what her aunt and her sister made of his character.

Saturday arrived and Charlotte rose to meet the dawn. The servants had the afternoon off to visit the fair, though a few would be attending the Duke as he made his rounds. They were busy preparing the picnic both for themselves and their master, and Charlotte would not see them till later. She had spoken briefly to the Duke, informing him of her aunt’s and sister’s visit, and he had given her permission to leave earlier to be with them for breakfast. He had even seen to her transport, and she made a mental note to thank him again for his unexpected generosity. However, she also determined that it would be best that she never be alone in his company. She was sure it would be possible to avoid him, once she made her introductions to her relations and said her thanks. Her aunt was a sharp-eyed woman, and the last thing she wanted was to have her aunt recognize the tenor of her thoughts where the Duke was concerned.

The gig stopped in front of the Bird and Bottle Inn, and the coachman helped her to dismount. She thanked him with a smile, and he nodded and drove off. Going in search of her aunt and sister, she found them just descending the stairs, and there were happy greetings all round, Charlotte found herself hugged and kissed as though she had been away for a lot longer than a few weeks. They went together into the large dining room of the inn, and sat down to a hearty breakfast, which her aunt had ordered the previous evening, upon their arrival. Over sausages and sweet breads, beans and toast, Charlotte caught up on all that she had been missing.

“And how have things been here with you, my dear?” her aunt asked, sipping the strong coffee that she preferred with her morning meal.

“It has been interesting, Aunt,” she said, “in more ways than one.”  She lowered her voice on the last few words, and her aunt raised a quizzical brow. “I will explain when we are out of earshot. I would not wish to be caught gossiping about my betters.”

Amelia giggled, and her aunt merely finished her coffee. They decided that they would return to the inn before she returned to Marbleton House so she could take the things they had brought for her back with her, and set off for the village green, where most of the activities were to transpire.   As they walked along, her aunt came back to the subject of her time so far.

“Well, apart from Eliza’s being a difficult child in the beginning — and heaven be thanked she has come round nicely —there has been a lot of bustle in the household over the Duke’s paramours.”

“Is he a scandalous man?” her aunt asked, brows raised. “We cannot have you living in the house of a reprobate.”

“Judge for yourselves,” Charlotte said, and proceeded to share with them all she had learned.

At the end of her telling, she asked, “So, what say you both?  Is he a reprobate, and should I be concerned for my own reputation?”

“Poor man!” Amelia said. “To be forced into marriage against his will.”

“Don’t be so quick to sympathize, Amelia,” their Aunt reprimanded her. “He is a man, and has the power of choice. What he did was wrong. However,” she added, “it seems he is a man of conscience, which is all to the good. And you say he has made no advances of any kind towards you?”

“None, Aunt.” Charlotte was happy to reassure her on that score. “In fact, we have only spoken three times since I have been here, and he has only been to the schoolroom once.”

“Does he care for his nieces?” she wanted to know. “You can usually tell a great deal about a man by the way he treats his dependents.”

“He is a generous and tolerant uncle as far as I can tell,” Charlotte said. “And the girls enjoy the times they get to spend with him, as much as they enjoy the privileges he has allowed them.”

Her aunt considered it for a moment, and then declared herself pleased that Charlotte had found an employer who could be trusted to provide for his family and treat his servants well, even if he was prone to making mistakes in his personal life. She did not ask how old he was, and as Charlotte did not know nor care, it was probably best all round. They spent the rest of the morning watching puppet shows and boxing matches, marvelling at the displays of strength, and at the exotic animals. By lunch time, they were hot and tired, and ready for a cool drink and a sit down. Charlotte led them over to the encampment which housed the Duke’s party, and her friends among the servants. Introductions were made, and the Duke himself came over to introduce himself to her aunt and sister.

Charlotte strove to keep her countenance even, and was grateful that everyone’s attention was on her family. The Duke cut a fine figure in his breeches and Hessian boots, his waistcoat finely cut and emphasizing his manly beauty. His hair was windblown, and even that was for her a lovely sight. She managed not to stare, though she did take surreptitious glances whenever it was safe to do so. She was glad she had chosen to dress up her grey gown with a deep blue scarf that she had brought with her to vary the nature of her attire, and draw attention away from the fact that she had so few gowns to begin with. The Duke took her aunt’s arm and led her over to his table where he invited her to sit with him for lunch, and Charlotte and Amelia sat with Mrs Thomson.