by Diane Gaston
She laughed and cried as she savoured the feel of his arms, the sound of his voice, the scent of him.
‘I cannot believe it. Are you real?’ She touched his face.
He released her but grasped her hand and pulled her out of the tavern and into the momentarily empty hall of the inn. ‘I am real.’
She shook her head, still half in disbelief. ‘Why are you here?’
He slid his hands to her shoulders. ‘Merely to rest my horse and spend the night. I did not expect to find you here. I was riding to Ostend to find you. To tell you—’
She put her fingers on his lips. ‘No. Do not tell me. I am so weary of people telling me what to think, what I must do. I have something to tell you. I sent David on with the wonderful Marston—he is a treasure, by the way—I sent them on so I could return to you. I have decided that I do not want to return to Yarford. I do not want a life of wealth and ease. I want to be with you. If that means danger, I do not care. If it means hardship, I do not care. I want to be with you.’
Rhys laughed and hugged her again, before holding her at arm’s length once more. ‘My turn.’
Words so familiar, spoken often when they’d been children.
‘I came to tell you that I made a decision,’ he said. ‘I wonder I did not seriously consider it before. I will leave the army. I’ll find something to do, some way to earn money, if our funds run low—’
‘Leave the army?’ she cried. ‘Rhys, no! It means too much to you.’
‘Not more than you mean to me,’ he countered.
‘But I do not mind coming with you wherever the army sends you,’ she insisted. ‘You are next going to Paris—is that not an exciting place to be? I would love to explore Paris with you.’
His expression turned serious. ‘We do not know what it will be like for us in Paris.’
‘We do not know what life would be like for us even if we returned to Yarford.’ She threw up her hands. ‘It will be a grand adventure!’
* * *
A grand adventure. Rhys and Helene had spent their childhood chasing grand adventures together, even if then the adventure only meant climbing a tree or learning how to pick a lock. Why not this adventure?
She was correct. Paris would be an exciting place to explore, and there was no one Rhys would rather explore Paris with than Helene. If the city was too dangerous, they’d not have to stay. He could make the decision to leave the army at any time. He’d been trying to sort out the rest of their lives, but there was no need to do that. He merely had to figure out the next step.
He gave her a direct look and still held her firmly in his grasp. ‘Very well. I stay in the army and we go to Paris together. On one condition, though.’
She looked wary. ‘What condition?’
‘You must marry me.’ He smiled. ‘We stay together for ever. As husband and wife.’
Her expression turned indignant. ‘You are telling me what I must do?’
This reaction startled him. ‘I only meant—’
A grin grew on her face. ‘It is a good thing marrying you is precisely what I want to do.’
Rhys laughed aloud as he took her in his arms again and swung her around.
His first friend—his closest friend—his best friend—would now be his wife.
And no one would ever again make them part.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Brussels, Belgium—June 1816
Like several regiments of the British army, the 44th Regiment of Foot, the East Essex Regiment, disbanded its second battalion in January of 1816, placing its officers and soldiers on half-pay. With the Continent in peace and Napoleon far away on the island of St Helena, there was little need for an army. Commissions were few in the regiments that did not disband, but the places these regiments were sent were less than ideal. Places like fever-ridden West Indies. Or Ireland, where the task was to police what felt like one’s own countrymen. Or, at best, the isolated Mediterranean island of Malta.
Captain Rhys Landon and his wife, Lady Helene, had not sailed to Dover with the rest of the regiment. Instead they’d elected to take rooms in Brussels, where their funds were sufficient to live modestly and where they had friends.
They had another motive, as well. By January, Helene knew she was carrying a child. They worried that a rough passage over the Channel or further travel in England might not be safe for her. That and the uncertainty of how they would live in England.
Their decision to settle in Brussels delighted Mrs Jacobs. She and Louise Wilson called upon Helene almost every day. This day Wilson had joined them. Wilson had brought a wooden cradle he’d made. After he and Rhys carried it up to the bedchamber, they’d gone off to a nearby tavern, while Louise, Mrs Jacobs and Helene sat drinking tea in the small drawing room.
Louise had brought a dress she’d sewn for Helene. She held it up to show her.
‘I do not think you should have bothered with a new dress when I am due so soon,’ Helene told her. She was uncertain precisely when she was due, but it must be soon.
‘Your dresses are becoming too tight in the bodice,’ Louise explained. ‘Let us see if this one will fit better.’
The three women walked upstairs and had Helene try on this newest creation.
‘This takes me back,’ Mrs Jacobs exclaimed, as she handed pins to Louise. ‘Were we not similarly engaged a year ago?’
Helene smiled. ‘For my beautiful gold ball gown.’ So much had happened since then. ‘I must admit, I am able to breathe better in this dress.’
‘Now remember, Madame Helene—’ Madame Helene was the name Mrs Jacobs had settled on when mademoiselle would no longer suit ‘—Louise and I will come when it is your time, and I am prepared to be your baby nurse for as long as you wish it.’
Helene smiled at her. ‘How could I forget?’
After her friends left, Helene washed their tea dishes in the scullery. She occasionally hired a maid of all work to help with the cleaning, but mostly she did not mind these daily chores. This was not the life she’d been brought up to expect, but it was one she much preferred.
Especially because she was with Rhys.
Their months in Paris had been idyllic, strolling along the Seine, exploring the glorious Notre Dame cathedral, dining at outdoor cafes. Helene would not have missed those days for the world. Paris after Waterloo had not at all been the atmosphere Rhys feared. The French people, if not welcoming the British army, were at least tolerant. They’d been very tired of war. But Helene had no wish to stay in Paris as some English expatriates chose to do. She much preferred Brussels where, in her mind, love abounded.
Rhys returned home. He entered the kitchen and gave her a hug from behind while her arms were plunged in dishwater.
‘I collected the post,’ he murmured as he dropped kisses on the tender skin of her neck.
‘Mmm...’ was all she could say.
He released her and pulled out two envelopes. ‘A letter from Grant.’
‘How nice!’ she exclaimed.
‘A letter from your brother.’
‘Oh?’
David rarely wrote to her, although he was doing fairly well in Yarford. Marston stayed on as his valet and proved a steadying force for the young Earl. David was not yet old enough to take total control of his estates, but he seemed to have no difficulty asserting his will and having it accepted.
‘Open David’s first,’ she said. ‘My hands are wet.’
Rhys broke the seal and unfolded the page.
He paraphrased the letter. ‘It is quite civil.’ Sometimes David’s letters were a bit irate when he was worked up about something. ‘It is difficult to make out. He wishes your input on an estate matter. I can tell that. You should read it for yourself.’
She turned to look at him. ‘David wants my opinion?’
He glanced at the page again. ‘I a
m not certain. I think he wants you to agree with his opinion.’
She smiled. ‘That does sound more likely. I’ll read it later, when my hands and apron are dry and I have time to make out his hand.’ She wiped a plate clean in the soapy water and rinsed it in clear water. ‘And the letter from Grant?’
When the regiment disbanded, Grant returned to England. They’d not received a letter from him in a long time.
Rhys opened the letter and read to himself.
He gasped. ‘I don’t believe this!’
She turned around to face him. ‘What is it? He is not ill, is he?’
‘No. Not Grant. He is well.’ Rhys shook his head. ‘It is his brother.’
‘The Viscount?’
‘Yes.’ He looked up at her. ‘His brother was killed in a carriage accident. The Viscountess, too. They had no sons, so Grant is Viscount Grantwell now.’
‘Oh, my.’ She wiped her hands on her apron and came to his side.
He read further and looked over at her, all expression leaving his face. ‘There is more.’
‘What?’ she asked, alarmed.
‘Grant wants me to manage his estate for him. His brother left matters in disarray and the present estate manager seems to have been skimming funds.’
They stared at each other.
‘Do you want to do that?’ she asked finally.
Did she? she asked herself. Their lives had settled into this comfortable routine—at least Helene’s life had. Her days were busy with cooking, cleaning, shopping. Rhys was more at loose ends. Sometimes Helene wondered if he yearned to be back in the army, leading his men.
He perused the letter again as if to assure himself he’d read it correctly. ‘What do I know about managing an estate? I do not know if I am even capable.’
She put her arm around his waist. ‘Of course you are capable! Grant would not offer it to you if he thought otherwise.’
He turned to face her. ‘Would you like to do this?’
She was so happy here in Brussels. ‘I would miss Mrs Jacobs and Louise and Wilson.’
He nodded, but she thought the corners of his mouth turned down in disappointment.
On the other hand, they could always visit Brussels. ‘There is much I miss about being on an English country estate, too, though.’
His expression brightened. ‘You would consider it?’
She leaned her cheek against his arm. ‘Of course I would.’
He frowned. ‘I would not wish to disappoint Grant.’
She laughed. ‘I am not sure of your meaning. Disappoint Grant by refusing?’
‘By not doing the job well,’ he said.
She reached up to touch his cheek. ‘My love, you have led men in terrible circumstances. You found my brother in—’ She swallowed. ‘There is nothing you cannot do. And you will be with your friend.’
He still looked uncertain. ‘The daughter of an earl married to an estate manager? Would that not be difficult for you?’
A return to England would certainly put her back in the society where status and titles mattered. ‘Perhaps that will matter more to other people than to me. We will not know until we try. It will be another risk.’
The corners of his mouth turned up. ‘Another grand adventure, you mean?’
She grinned. ‘Another grand adventure!’
And nothing was set in stone. If this new life did not suit them, they could always embark on a different grand adventure.
She winced. A sudden pain took her mind in another direction entirely.
‘I will agree on one condition,’ she managed.
‘What condition?’ Rhys looked uncertain again.
She glanced down at her widening girth. ‘I wish to wait until after the baby is born.’ The pain recurred and she looked up at him in wonder and anxiety. ‘Which I think might be very soon!’
His brows rose. ‘Do you mean...?’
She nodded. The pain recurred.
He swept her into his arms and carried her to their stairs.
‘Rhys, I can walk!’ she protested.
He did not heed her. ‘Is there time for me to summon Mrs Jacobs?’
‘I think so.’ Her water had not broken. ‘And Louise.’
He lay her on their bed, but she immediately sat up. ‘Wait!’
He turned back.
She slid off the bed, reached up and tilted his face towards hers. Their lips touched. ‘I have a feeling this will be our grandest adventure of them all!’
He embraced her, holding her close as he had on other occasions of their parting. The morning after the Duchess of Richmond’s ball. At the stables before the battle. At the carriage here in Brussels.
‘I love you,’ he said. ‘I will be back soon with Mrs Jacobs.’
She climbed back in bed and he turned to go.
‘Rhys!’ She sat up and called him back again.
He stopped.
‘Come back to me soon.’
‘Always,’ he said, and rushed out through the door.
* * *
If you enjoyed this book, why not check out
these other great reads by Diane Gaston
The Lord’s Highland Temptation
And be sure to read her The Governess Swap duet
A Lady Becomes a Governess
Shipwrecked with the Captain
Keep reading for an excerpt from The Rags-to-Riches Governess by Janice Preston.
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The Rags-to-Riches Governess
by Janice Preston
Chapter One
Miss Leah Thame stepped down from the post-chaise sent to convey her from Dolphin Court on the Somerset coast into the centre of Bristol and peered up at the office of Henshaw and Dent. The letter she’d received two days ago had been most insistent she attend a meeting here today, hinting she would miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime if she ignored its summons. Leah did not entirely believe in the idea that good fortune might strike one out of the blue, but even she, with her practical nature, could not quite bring herself to ignore the possibility of good news.
She surveyed the building in front of her—no different from the neighbouring houses in this terrace, except for the brass wall plaque next to the door—and bit her lip. Henshaw and Dent, Solicitors. Her hand slipped inside her cloak and she traced the shape of Mama’s wedding ring, which she always wore suspended from a ribbon around her neck. Normally it remained hidden beneath the serviceable brown or grey gowns she wore day-to-day in her post as a governess at Dolphin Court, but today both ribbon and ring were on display, adding a touch of decoration to her old royal-blue carriage gown.
She rummaged in her reticule for Papa’s pocket watch and opened the cover. Twelve minutes still to noon, the time of her appointment. It had been fifteen years since Mama’s death and seven since Papa’s, but the ring and the watch still conjured their memories and left Leah feeling slightly less alone in this world. A sudden, craven impulse to flee was quashed. She had come this far and, besides, she must rely upon Mr Henshaw for her transport home to Dolphin Court, for she had little money of her own to squander upon luxuries such as the hire of a post-chaise-and-four.
The clip-clop of hooves and the rattle of a carriage down the street behind her shook her from her thoughts, and she shivered as the brisk chill of the air on this, the last day of January, fingered beneath her cloak. It was time to find out why she had been summoned; she set her jaw, straightened her shoulders and rapped on the door.
‘Miss Leah Thame,’ she said to the sallow-faced, stooped clerk who opened it. ‘I have been summoned to a mee
ting with Mr Arthur Henshaw at noon.’
‘Follow me, miss.’
Leah stepped past the clerk, who closed the door, plunging the hallway into gloom. The building smelled of damp and dust, and her throat itched as she followed the clerk up a steep flight of stairs to the first floor. He knocked on a door and waited. Not once did he look at her or catch her eye, and although she was not a nervous type of woman—governesses could not indulge themselves in a surfeit of sensibility—Leah nevertheless identified the subtle tightening of her stomach muscles as being caused by unease.
‘Enter.’
The clerk flung open the door and gestured for Leah to enter.
‘Miss Thame, sir.’ The door clicked shut behind her.
The office was lined with shelves crammed with books. A fire smouldered sullenly in the fireplace, emitting little warmth, and an ornate bracket clock sat on the mantel shelf above. Seated at the far side of a large mahogany desk was a middle-aged, bespectacled man with a receding hairline, who now rose to his feet and rounded the desk to bow.
‘Arthur Henshaw, at your service, Miss Thame. May I take your cloak?’
Leah removed it, and he hung it on a coat stand in the corner of the room.
‘Please, take a seat.’ He indicated a row of three wooden chairs facing the desk. ‘I am sure the others will arrive very soon.’
Leah frowned. ‘Others?’
‘All will soon be revealed.’
Henshaw returned to his chair at the far side of the desk, which was bare apart from a low stack of legal-looking documents, a silver and cut-glass inkstand and a silver wax jack, and immediately selected one of the documents and began to read, his high, narrow forehead furrowing. Leah chose the middle of the three chairs and sat down. The ticking of the clock was loud in the silence.
Her thoughts touched upon her employer, the Earl of Dolphinstone, and the news he was back in England after more than sixteen months away. He was expected back in Somerset soon—although he had not yet confirmed the date of his arrival—and Leah quailed as she imagined his reaction if he were to discover she had left his two young sons in the care of the local vicar’s daughter, even though this was the first time she had left them, despite being entitled to one day off per month.