by Abby Ayles
However, that is wherein the biggest of Emma’s problems lay.
When she first began serving as the Earl’s governess, she had expected that the pay would be something the likes of which she had never seen. However, her pay thus far had been easily twice what she had initially expected. She had even been able to pay Lydia a fortnight’s pay all at once, with what she had saved from her most recent wages.
Still, Emma had hoped to prove herself trustworthy enough to approach the Earl with the full weight of her situation, especially where Marcus was concerned, and to get his help in taking care of everything.
As things stood, however, she found that, despite how well her employment had gone thus far, and the kindness and overall hospitality of the Earl, she was still too proud to even mention her desperation regarding her finances, and brother’s situation.
In her heart, she knew the day would come where she would have to tell Francis, but she could not bring herself to admit to such dire straits, or the reasons behind them, just yet.
But for the time being, she could not bring herself to desire or seek the Earl’s pity. She felt that her parents would be ashamed of her if she were to do so.
Even if she could explain everything to him, and he were to take pity on her and agree to help her, it would cause a terrible scandal. Rumors would be born and spread like fire, and the reputations of both she and Lord Ashfield could be at risk.
A shuffling behind her brought her out of her thoughts and back into the reality of the moment. When she looked up from her daydream state, she noticed that Winston had moved from his reading chair to join Emma and Rowena on the floor.
She tried to recall whether Winston had asked her something that, in her reminiscing mind, she had missed, but she found that she could not.
She took a deep breath and smiled at both of the children.
“My dears,” Emma said, opening her arms, inviting the children to embrace her. “We have so much fun, and I feel blessed to have the honor of teaching you both—”
“We love you, Miss Baker,” Rowena interrupted. Emma had to swallow a lump that the little girl’s words instantly created in her throat.
“And I love you,” Emma whispered. “But I am just your governess. I am here to teach you and read to you. I am sure that your father will choose a new wife as soon as he is ready, and I have no doubt that she will be wonderful. But I am merely here as your governess, and nothing more.”
“We promise that we would behave,” Rowena said, her voice brilliant and cheerful.
Emma felt her heart squeeze. She knew that the children were too young to understand the ways of adults and marriage, but she wanted desperately to reassure them that everything would be alright and that she would not abandon them.
However, she also knew that, should the Earl choose to remarry, she could not guarantee the children that she would not leave, because her job security would depend on the wishes of Francis and his new wife.
She did her best to put on a brave smile.
“You are the best-behaved children I have ever met,” she said. “And I will be here to teach you both for as long as your family needs me.”
“But we will always need you,” Winston added. This caught Emma by surprise because Winston was the quieter of the two children. While she knew that he enjoyed her company, she had had no idea that he shared his sister’s sentiments.
“When your father remarries, it will be to another nice lady who treats you kindly and loves you just as much as I do,” she said. She tried to inject a pleasant, carefree tone into her voice, but she found that speaking the thought aloud wounded her heart as well as the children’s.
And even as she spoke the words, she prayed that she was speaking the truth. She could not bear the thought of Francis marrying someone else, especially someone who turned out to be cruel and unkind toward the children.
As though reading her thoughts, Rowena ripped herself from Emma’s embrace, jumped onto her bed and hugged her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“But I do not want Father to marry some other lady,” the little girl said through her sobs. “I want you to stay forever. I want you to be my new mommy.” Rowena buried her face into her upraised knees and began to cry louder.
“Oh, darling,” Emma said, reaching for the little girl.
Winston, too, stepped away from Emma and reached to comfort his sister.
“No one could read to us with voices like you can,” Winston said. When Emma dared to glance at the boy, he, too, had tears in his eyes.
She stared at the devastated children, at a complete loss for words. She wanted very much to say something to comfort the both of them, but the lump she had swallowed earlier in her own throat doubled in size, and she felt hot tears fill her eyes faster than she could control them.
“We will talk about this further, children, I promise,” Emma said, using all her strength to keep her voice steady. “I just need one moment to retrieve something from my room.”
Before the children could say anything more, she walked quickly from the room. She barely made it a few short steps outside of the children’s bedroom, and the tears against which she fought so hard began to fall in a wicked torrent.
She pressed her hand against her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sobs that now wrenched from her throat, fearing that she would further upset the children if they overheard her emotional outburst.
She forced herself to walk a few steps further away from the children’s doorway, until her knees grew weak, and she was forced to kneel on the floor. She gave in to her tears and buried her face in her hands.
Chapter 8
Francis folded the letter that the butler had just given him and tucked it into his coat. It seemed that Rosaline would be arriving shortly for an impromptu visit.
He was glad because the children loved visiting with her. However, he could not help but suspect that she was not just dropping by to see her niece and nephew.
He hoped that she arrived alone. The last thing he wished to do was have another conversation with his father-in-law about marrying Rosaline, especially with her present. He still had not reached a decision, and he did not want to be forced to tell his father-in-law face to face.
However, he felt that probably Grant would, in fact, be coming as well, so he had his kitchen staff make dinner arrangements accordingly.
Once he assigned the servants their tasks, he went upstairs to gather the children and get them ready for their aunt’s visit.
When he reached the top of the stairs, he could hear sobs coming from down the hallway. He walked toward the sound and saw Emma kneeling on the floor, crying. His mind went briefly to her secrecy regarding her brother, and he wondered if her tears had anything to do with that.
The sound of her tears was heartbreaking to him. He reached into his coat and pulled out a handkerchief, and slowly approached the emotional governess.
“Here, Miss Baker,” he said, extending the handkerchief toward her.
She started and rose to her feet quickly, obviously startled by his silent approach. She took the handkerchief and dabbed at her face, making a very apparent effort to quiet her sobs.
His heart squeezed, seeing her face tear-stained and red, and he briefly considered asking her to tell him what was wrong. But he feared that he had already embarrassed her enough by catching her crying, so he thought better of it.
“Forgive me, my lord,” she said. “You must think I look ridiculous.” She wiped at her face with her hands as if willing the tear streaks to suddenly vanish.
“Not at all,” he said, taking a cautious step toward her. “Everyone cries once in a while.”
She chuckled, dabbing her eyes once more with the handkerchief before offering it back to Francis. He shook his head gently, gesturing for Emma to keep it.
She nodded.
“Perhaps that is true,” she said. “But the last thing I want is for you to think less of me than you already do. After all, falling to
pieces within earshot of your children is hardly becoming of a lady.”
His heart ached again, and he took another step.
“Nonsense,” he said, his voice warm and soothing. “I hold you in very high regard, Miss Baker. And it would certainly take much more than a moment of human weakness to make me lose respect for you.”
She looked at him, her eyes studying him carefully. Then, she smiled.
“That means a great deal to me, my lord,” she said, at last beginning to visibly relax.
Francis smiled in return. Then he remembered the reason for his coming up the stairs.
“Take some time to freshen up and be sure to dress nicely for dinner tonight. We are having a guest,” he said.
Emma’s eyes grew curious, but she simply nodded.
“Yes, my lord,” she said.
Although her tears had ceased, there was still something haunting in her eyes, barely concealed by her resolve to regain her composure and comply with his request.
She looked so vulnerable and beautiful at that moment, and without thinking, Francis reached out and brushed a hand along Emma’s cheek, as though brushing away the last of her tears. In truth, however, he simply wanted a reason to touch her.
The governess looked up at him, her eyes now dry, and quite wide. He realized at once what he had done and cursed himself for making such a bold move.
She stared at him for several moments before she spoke.
“I should let the children know to expect company and then see to my appearance,” she said, smiling nervously.
Francis blinked, unsure if he should apologize or offer something in the way of an explanation for his action. He decided not to, however, because no words would come. Instead, he nodded.
As the governess moved past him to go into the children’s room, he called after her.
“Wait,” he said.
She turned to face him again, her eyes once again large and nervous.
“You go on ahead and get changed,” he said. “I will tell the children myself.”
Her nervous expression turned to one of surprised delight.
“As you wish, my lord,” she said. She stared at him a moment longer before at last moving down the other end of the hallway and vanishing into her room.
Just outside her doorway, she turned back and glanced quickly at Francis. Before he could ask her if there was anything else, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
He went into his children’s room and told them that their aunt would be arriving for dinner. As their faces lit up, he realized that he felt more pleasure from their enthusiastic expressions than sadness.
As he left their room to find the nanny and have her dress the children appropriately for dinner, he smiled.
Emma had infuriated him by continuing to pressure him to be around his children more. Now, he was beginning to find himself liking that she had continued to be so persistent.
Then, the image of her face, shocked and frightened by his caress, formed in his mind. He shook his head in disbelief at his own audacity.
He found the nanny quickly and gave her his orders, then made his way to his quarters to dress.
As he was selecting a fresh coat to complete his outfit, he heard the sound of his guests arriving. He could also hear the sound of Grant Brentwood’s voice floating up from the lower floor. He groaned to himself.
He took a final look at himself and, satisfied that he looked presentable, he rushed down the stairs.
He was still chiding himself for scaring Emma. Now, more than ever, Francis hoped to avoid the topic of marriage this evening.
“Good evening, Lord Townsend,” Francis said warmly, bowing to the older gentleman.
“Good evening,” Grant said, returning the bow. “Thank you for receiving us on such short notice.”
“It is a pleasure,” Francis said, unable to ignore the fact that it was anything but a pleasure.
Giving himself a mental shake, he turned to Rosaline.
“Good evening, Miss Brentwood,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it. “You look very lovely.” From the corner of his eye, he could see his father-in-law beaming happily, and he instantly regretted the gesture.
“Thank you,” Rosaline said, smiling.
Just then, Francis heard footsteps on the stairs. He looked up in time to see Emma walking down with the children at her sides. Upon seeing their aunt and grandfather, the children released Emma’s hands and rushed down to hug them.
Grant and Rosaline were laughing at the children’s excitement and talking with them about their lessons, but Francis barely heard them. He could not help but notice how beautiful Emma looked.
She was wearing a deep green dress, and she had skillfully twisted her hair up into a very elegant style. Her earlier tears had left only the faintest blush on her cheeks, which was very becoming.
He stepped away from his relatives to offer Emma his arm as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
“You look wonderful,” he said, trying to keep the awe out of his voice.
Emma gave a small smile, but she did not look him in the eyes.
“Thank you, my lord,” she whispered.
From behind him, Grant Brentwood cleared his throat. He gave himself another mental shake, then led Emma to his father-in-law and Rosaline.
“Lord Townsend, Miss Brentwood, this is Miss Emma Baker, our governess,” he said.
Emma stepped forward, smiling nervously. Francis’s heart skipped a beat.
“It is wonderful to meet you, Miss Baker,” Rosaline said. “I am Miss Rosaline Brentwood, the children’s aunt.”
Francis saw an expression on Emma’s face that he could not read. Then, almost as quickly as it dawned, it disappeared, and she smiled warmly at Rosaline.
“It is a pleasure, Miss Brentwood,” Emma said. “The children have told me so much about you.”
Rosaline smiled, looking down at her niece and nephew.
“The children were just telling my uncle and me all about their lessons,” she said. “It sounds as though you are a very good governess, indeed.”
Emma blushed.
“Only because I have such amazing students,” she said, gazing affectionately at the children.
Grant pulled gently away from the children’s excited chatter and toward Emma.
“It does, indeed, sound as though you are a very well-learned lady,” the elderly man said with a bow. “I am Lord Grant Brentwood, Earl of Townsend.”
His voice was warm, but Francis noticed that his father-in-law was studying Emma, his eyes not unfriendly, but wary. If Emma noticed, she did not react.
She curtseyed.
“It is nice to meet you, Lord Townsend,” she said.
“The pleasure is mine, Miss Baker,” he said, pausing to kiss her hand. For a reason Francis could not discern, the gesture made him uncomfortable. He cleared his throat.
“Dinner will be served momentarily. Shall we?” he asked, gesturing toward the dining area.
He waited for his guests to head for the dining area, with his laughing, skipping children leading the way. He held back and started to fall in step next to Emma, but she rushed ahead just behind Grant and Rosaline, without even looking at him.
Francis was beginning to feel that he had permanently damaged his relationship with Emma, and he decided that he would apologize for his careless error as soon as his guests left.
The children began arguing over who would sit next to their aunt, until Emma offered to change seats so that both children could sit on either side of Rosaline. That placed Emma sitting directly to Francis’s right.
Once everyone was seated where they wanted, the first course of dinner was served. As he ate and listened to the children continue to talk excitedly to their aunt and grandfather, his hand kept brushing against Emma’s.
He glanced down casually, not wishing to embarrass Emma, and realized something he had not noticed before. Their hands kept touching because Emma was left-handed.
Francis opened his mouth to ask Emma if he should shift his plate over a bit, to avoid the accidental contact, but then he caught sight of his father-in-law looking at him and decided against it.
Throughout most of the dinner, the conversation was light and pleasant. Rosaline and Emma were getting along famously, but Francis could not help but notice how strange Emma seemed.