The Key to the Governess's Heart: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

  Beatrice’s heart sunk and she was suddenly frightened.

  “Oh…do you really think that is such a good idea? Would your mother not prefer to be with you and Lord Hawthorn? It is only the appropriate thing,” Beatrice said.

  “She was planning to go to Aunt Mildred’s with Mary and Cecile before I grew ill and had to reschedule. She trusts you a great deal, Beatrice. I have no doubt that it would be acceptable to her for you to be our chaperone so that she may keep to her original plans,” Isla said.

  Her eagerness was quite sad for Beatrice. Isla must surely be feeling lonely and uncomfortable if she was so desperate to have a friend there rather than her mother.

  “Do you think it would be appropriate enough for Lord Hawthorn? Would he not be more comfortable with your mother present?” Beatrice asked.

  “It hardly matters. All we need is a female chaperone. You will do as well as any other,” Isla said.

  Beatrice had nothing more to say to that. Young women went to balls and dinners all the time with not much more than a chaperone. Why should it be any different in their own home?

  “If you truly believe it would be all right…I suppose I consent,” Beatrice said.

  “Excellent! I shall go and speak with Mother at once,” Isla said, rushing out of the door before Beatrice could say another word.

  It left Beatrice to sit, wondering what exactly had just taken place. This was not going to be simple.

  In fact, it would be painful.

  How was she supposed to sit there—or stand, possibly—while Isla and Lord Hawthorn tried to court one another? How could she watch it happen when she was so badly wishing that it was herself who was being spoken to by him in Isla’s place?

  Beatrice wished that she had already written to her mother, that she had already accepted the offer to find a husband.

  Perhaps, if the afternoon was painful enough, she would do just that.

  Chapter 16

  Peter adjusted himself in the seat in the parlour and smiled up at Lady Seton as he put the tea to his lips. Miss Cloud was sitting in the back corner, her back straight, her hands laced in her lap, her face a mask hiding all thought and emotion.

  “You are feeling better today, Lady Seton?” he asked.

  “Yes, indeed, thank you. I was terribly sorry to have to cancel our afternoon yesterday. And even more sorry that you came all the way here. I fear that our message did not reach you in time,” Lady Seton said.

  “Oh, please, do not fret. I am only sorry that you were feeling unwell,” Peter said.

  “It was nothing. Too much of the cold,” Lady Seton said, clearing her throat as if to confirm this.

  “This is England,” Peter said, chuckling.

  “True, My Lord. Little things like a cold or flu are nothing, but it is a disappointment when they take us away from the plans that we have made,” Lady Seton said.

  “Exactly,” Peter replied, realising that the conversation was already beginning to fizzle out.

  Lady Seton took a sip of her tea and cleared her throat again, as elegantly as she was able to do. His eyes caught Miss Cloud’s for only the briefest hint of a moment before she glanced down to the floor.

  He wished that he could get her to look at him again.

  And then he wished that he would hold to his integrity more strongly than that. He was at the estate in order to woo Lady Seton. Nothing else.

  “Lord Hawthorn, are you fond of music?” Lady Seton asked.

  He looked at her as quickly as he could, hoping that she had not seen him staring at Miss Cloud.

  “Most assuredly, Lady Seton. I am a great fan of it,” he said.

  “May I play something for you?” she offered, gesturing to the pianoforte.

  Peter had already been expecting this. After all, what else was there for a young woman to do but to prove her skill? Although he had never courted anyone before, he knew that Andrew’s sister had her routine practised. In order to impress a gentleman, she would have to walk elegantly, play music flawlessly, and speak with eloquence.

  “I should like that very much,” Peter said, knowing well that it was the only acceptable answer.

  Lady Seton got up from her seat and went to the pianoforte, sitting on the bench and smoothing her dress before she rested her fingers on the keys. She paused for a moment, as if trying to decide what she was going to play.

  And then, she began.

  It was a lovely melody. Simple, yet beautiful. She played it to perfection and he was glad that he would be able to give her honesty when he commented after the fact. Moreover, Peter was grateful that Lady Seton did not belabour her playing. She simply played the song, brought it to a conclusion, and turned to face him.

  “That was exquisite,” he said, clapping gently. Miss Cloud did the same.

  “Thank you, My Lord,” she replied, not meeting his gaze out of modesty.

  “Truly, you are an extremely accomplished player. And you chose a beautiful tune, as well. You must have excellent taste in music,” Peter said, trying to lavish her with his praise.

  “You are too kind,” she replied.

  “Hardly. It was brilliant,” he said, firmly and kindly.

  “I am glad that you thought so, My Lord. However, it is always uncomfortable to play in front of Miss Cloud,” Lady Seton said.

  Peter didn’t understand what she meant by that.

  “Oh? How so?” he asked.

  “I am not half as talented as she is,” Lady Seton replied.

  “Really?” he asked, taken aback. It was hardly common for a governess to be skilled in music. In fact, Peter had never heard of such a thing at all.

  “Indeed. She is the most skilled pianist I have ever known,” Lady Seton said.

  Peter turned to Miss Cloud who was looking at her friend with horror on her face.

  “Well then, Miss Cloud, I do believe you must now grace us with your skill,” Peter said.

  Miss Cloud turned to him and her mouth was open, but unspeaking. Peter was relieved that Lady Seton hardly seemed bothered or jealous in any way that he was giving Miss Cloud attention. He really did want to hear her play and it was Lady Seton who had suggested it, so there would have been no blame on him either way.

  “I beg you, Lord Hawthorn, please do not feel that you must indulge me. Honestly, Lady Seton is a lovely player and I have no more skill than she does,” Miss Cloud said.

  Lady Seton made a tsking sound to refute the statement and shook her head.

  “It would appear that Lady Seton disagrees. Are you not aware that she must be listened to on this matter? Come, I should like to hear you play,” he said, teasingly.

  Miss Cloud moved from her position and, stiffly, made her way to the piano. She was rather shy, but at least she was willing to play for him.

  From the strike of the first note, the music that filled the room was more beautiful than anything Peter could remember having heard. It sounded as though there was a great deal of emotion in it, as though Miss Cloud was not simply playing the pianoforte but telling a deep, mournful story.

  There was a passion in the chords that he had scarcely heard before and, somehow, it left Peter feeling as though he was listening to a tale of desperate affection or painful loss, of yearning love or of a tragic end.

  He could hardly say which it was.

  Peter closed his eyes, allowing the sound to surround him. He had never heard music like this.

  And as the final dissonance ended the tune, he had to take a deep breath.

  Miss Cloud stood from the piano and walked back to her seat in the corner without another word.

  Lady Seton was grinning, staring at Peter and trying not to laugh.

  “I can see that you have been put under the spell. The same spell that always falls upon anyone who listens to Miss Cloud play,” Lady Seton said.

  “Oh? It is not unusual to be lost in wonder after such an outstanding display?” Peter asked.

  “Not in the least. Everyone knows that
Miss Cloud is the best pianist to be found outside of the masters,” Lady Seton said.

  Miss Cloud scoffed and Lady Seton turned to her.

  “Stop it, my dear. Perhaps that was an exaggeration, but I hardly think so. I have never met anyone who plays like you do,” Lady Seton said.

  “Nor have I, to be sure,” Peter added.

  At that, Miss Cloud looked at him with wide eyes. She had clearly not expected that compliment.

  “I thank you both, but I do believe that you are being too kind,” Miss Cloud said.

  “I must ask how it is that you came to be so proficient,” Peter said.

  Miss Cloud shrugged before answering.

  “I confess that I spent many hours as a child playing and perfecting the skill. I had a little instruction from my aunt. She married well and had a pianoforte. We went to her home often and I would always spend my time practising,” she said.

  “Truly? That is incredible. You had no formal training?” he asked.

  “None. My aunt taught me a few basic skills as she had begun to learn as soon as she married and her husband bought her the piano. But she and my father always enjoyed making music as children when they could. My father is an excellent musician as well, although I do not know that he plays much anymore,” Miss Cloud said.

  “He plays the pianoforte as well?” Peter asked.

  “No, not the pianoforte. But the violoncello. His own father had inherited one and he practised for many years, eventually teaching me,” she said.

  “I am astounded. How amazing it is that you are so accomplished in this. Pianoforte and the violoncello,” Peter said.

  “And the harp,” Lady Seton added.

  “The harp as well?” he asked.

  “No, no, I do not play the harp,” she refuted.

  “You do indeed. Stop trying to be modest,” Lady Seton said.

  “Someone must explain this to me because I would truly like to know if you can play the harp or not,” Peter said.

  “Lord Seton used to have a harp here, at his wife’s behest. It was decorative more than anything. Anyway, I rather enjoyed figuring it out. The notes are easily played once you know the pianoforte, only it is a different skill for the fingers,” she said.

  “And what happened to this harp?” Peter asked.

  Lady Seton burst out laughing.

  “Forgive me. I did not mean to be so rude. It is only that…” she trailed off and he saw Miss Cloud grinning and trying not to laugh as well.

  “I am all ears, my ladies,” Peter said.

  “Cecile. She was a very naughty young child. One day, my mother called her an angel. The next thing we knew, Cecile—at just seven years of age, mind you—was dragging the harp down the hall on the second floor until she reached the stairs. The poor wooden beast fell all the way down and splintered into pieces,” Lady Seton said.

  “That sounds awful,” Peter said.

  “It was. But when my mother and father asked her what she was doing, she said it was because angels play the harp and she wanted to perform for my mother,” Lady Seton said, laughing again.

  “Oh dear, that sounds perfectly awful,” Peter said, amused.

  “Well, I have not played since then. So, whatever skill I attempted to develop, there is nothing much left of it,” Miss Cloud added.

  “Nevertheless, it is impressive that you are able to play three instruments,” Peter said.

  He eyed Miss Cloud for a moment, considering how impressive she was. She had a way about her, something so unique that he had never seen before. It was not just her sweetness or her humility or her musical talent. It was something more. Just being around her made him feel…better.

  But he wasn’t here for that.

  Peter turned back to Lady Seton, remembering that she was the one on whom he must focus. She was the one who mattered the most right now.

  He was going to marry her and he had to be intentional about paying close attention to her whenever she was nearby.

  “And, Lady Seton, how nice it must be for someone such as yourself to have a musician in the home. You are able to dance as she plays, no doubt,” Peter said.

  “As often as I am able,” she confirmed. “Now and then, I ask Miss Cloud to play for me so that I might remember the movements to a dance before going to a ball.”

  “I could certainly use the opportunity to practice like that. Then again, you already know that. You have had the misfortune of dancing with me,” Peter said, laughing.

  “It was not as bad as that! Honestly, you are too hard on yourself. You are a fine dancer,” Lady Seton said.

  “Thank you, but I can hardly compare to you, Lady Seton,” Peter said.

  “I think you do well enough. Anyway, I am glad that you were able to hear Miss Cloud play. And I am glad that you had the opportunity to come today. May I call for the maid to freshen up your tea?” she offered.

  Peter accepted and continued his conversation with Lady Seton, trying to ignore the urge to look at Miss Cloud.

  He was not doing himself any favours by watching her so intently. Nevertheless, he had put himself in this situation and would not easily get out of it. He liked her. That was all there was to it.

  Maybe one day, he would manage to overcome it and love the woman that he was with.

  Chapter 17

  “Miss Cloud, now that we have finished our lesson will you please tell us a story?” Cecile asked.

  “Yes, please! A story!” Mary piped up excitedly.

  Beatrice sighed, thinking it would be best if the girls were to get some fresh air, but there was no reason that she couldn’t take them outside whilst telling them the story.

  “All right. First, go and get your boots. We shall go for a walk around the grounds and, as we do, I shall tell you a story,” Beatrice replied.

  She could see that Mary was about to pout, not wanting to go out for a walk, but Beatrice raised a stern eyebrow at her and she immediately nodded in obedience.

  Once they were all ready, they made their way outside and began to walk.

  “All right. A story, is it? Hmm…let me tell you the tale of two sisters. They were good girls, these two. And one day, they decided to go for a walk in the forest,” Beatrice began, making it up as she went along.

  “Now, once they reached the forest, the two sisters began to grow very tired. But they had continued walking until they were so deep into the trees that they could not remember the path they took. Alas, they were lost!” she exclaimed.

  Cecile gasped and Mary giggled, being the one who enjoyed suspense and intrigue.

  “And then what happened, Miss Cloud?” Cecile asked with desperation.

  “Well, they sat down at the base of a tree and they fell into a deep sleep. But suddenly, as they were drifting into their dreams, they woke up to the horrible sensation of falling!” Beatrice exclaimed in a dramatic tone.