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

by Abigail Agar

  “Are you ready? What do you think this night will be like? Will it be the night that you and Lady Seton end your engagement?” Andrew asked, each question leading into the next.

  Peter took a nervous breath and gave a wan smile.

  “I wish I could tell you what this night will be, but I simply do not know. I should like nothing more than to tell you that I am ending my engagement; that I am moving forward in pursuit of the marriage that I truly want. But I cannot say what this night will be, Andrew,” Peter confessed.

  Andrew nodded, although he looked quite sad.

  “Please, do not be dour. There is still hope. I did not say that I am not going to end it, or that I intend to continue this charade of a betrothal. I believe it is quite clear that Lady Seton and myself do not love one another. She loves you. Why would I keep the two of you from one another? And in my own selfish interest, why would I keep myself from marrying whom I wish?” he asked, trying to make it clear to Andrew.

  “Yes, of course. I am simply anxious,” Andrew said.

  “I can hardly blame you for that. I, too, am anxious. None of this will come easily,” Peter said.

  “You have to face Lord Seton’s wrath and I understand that will be miserable for you. But I am the man who has to approach him after he has been put in that terrible mood,” Andrew said, reminding Peter how difficult his own role was going to be.

  “Yes, I suppose that is true,” he said.

  “I just wish that I could see Lady Seton right away. I wish to dance with her before my nerves give out,” Andrew said.

  As if by magic, he saw Lady Seton enter the hall.

  “Here is your chance,” Peter said, gesturing for Andrew to look to the entrance where Lady Seton entered, wearing a deep blue gown with cabbage roses along the hem of the skirt and sleeves that puffed at the shoulders and tapered down along her arms. The gown on the whole accentuated her slender form and she looked absolutely stunning.

  Peter grinned at Andrew, who was clearly unable to look away.

  “You must go to her,” Peter said.

  But before Andrew could make a move, Lady Seton spotted them and came toward them instead.

  “Good evening, My Lords,” she said, curtseying. “Lord Hawthorn, your hall looks incredible. Such amazing work you have done to make it like this.”

  “I wished for it to be magnificent. I cannot say whether or not I have succeeded, only that I am hopeful that it does the job,” Peter said.

  “You have done more than simply succeed in your efforts. The room has been transformed into something out of a grand story,” Lady Seton said.

  “I thank you for your kindness. In truth, it was the woman that I hired for the job who should be praised,” he said.

  “And you may be praised for your excellent taste, do you not agree, Lord Beckridge?” she asked.

  “Indeed, Lady Seton. But it is hardly the most beautiful thing in all the room,” Andrew replied.

  For a moment Peter froze, hoping that Lady Seton would not be upset that Andrew had so openly complimented her before her betrothed.

  But he could see that she was unbothered by the borderline impropriety, having quite a keen understanding of the situation in her own right.

  “Well, anyway, the room is lovely. I especially like the scarves. It reminds me of a sheik’s tent,” Lady Seton said.

  “That was precisely what I was hoping for. Do you think it has a nice effect?” Peter asked.

  “It is stunning. I feel as though I am on a voyage through the desert,” she said.

  “Yes, indeed, it does feel that way,” Andrew added.

  Peter was thankful for the observations, but he truly wanted to know more about what lay ahead. He had other questions, questions that must be answered if he was to make his predictions as to how the evening would go and whether or not they could manage to fulfill their plans.

  “Lady Seton, is Miss Cloud able to join you this evening?” Peter asked, deciding that he may as well be somewhat open.

  “Indeed she is, Lord Hawthorn. However, my father was not as eager for her attendance as I was. He would not allow her to leave our home until all of her duties were finished. I believe my sisters should be leaving her very soon now, at which point she shall have to get ready. But she will be here as soon as she is able,” Lady Seton said.

  “Oh, I understand. Your father knows what he expects of the household staff, that is certain,” Peter said.

  “Indeed, My Lord, he does. Perhaps, at times, he expects more of them than he ought, but that is his way. I only wish that he had not made it quite so difficult for Miss Cloud. Initially he objected to allowing her to go into town to have the gown made, but I managed to assist in that,” Lady Seton said.

  The look that she gave accompanying this statement was not one of admiration for her father, but rather one that expressed her reserve about his actions.

  Peter nodded, concerned.

  “That was kind of you to do,” he said.

  “Yes, well, I have had enough gown fittings that I know precisely what measurements need to be taken. I was able to write them all down from home and take them to the dressmaker. I did feel somewhat sad, as I was the one to choose the appearance of her gown and, well, any woman should like to be the designer of her own,” Lady Seton said.

  Although Peter knew nothing at all of gowns or women’s fashion, he could assume that, for Miss Cloud who was not normally permitted to attend the balls of nobility, it would be very important that she have a say in her gown.

  It was admirable to him that Lady Seton had been so helpful, that she had made every effort to ensure that Miss Cloud was able to be outfitted for the night. Although he had not yet seen her, he knew from Lady Seton’s style that Miss Cloud was likely to be rather grandly outfitted.

  “Anyway, she seemed pleased and I think she looks beautiful in it,” Lady Seton said. “My father has not seen her in it. Tonight shall be the first time. I hope that he is not angry that she looks so…royal.”

  Lady Seton looked down and then glanced to where her father was standing with a few of his gentlemen friends.

  It broke Peter’s heart. He was sad that Lord Seton had made things so difficult. It was hardly fair that he wanted to prevent Miss Cloud from attending simply because of her station. Of course, that was perfectly normal by society’s standards, but he had made a very specific request for her to attend.

  “I trust that you assisted her with more than simply the measurements?” Andrew then asked, searchingly.

  Lady Seton did not readily answer. Peter was thankful for that. Andrew should not have asked, hinting that Lady Seton had helped with the financial aspect of getting the gown. It was hardly Miss Cloud’s fault that she did not have the means to purchase something grand on her own.

  "I am quite pleased to assist my friends with whatever means I have at my disposal," she said.

  "Quite right, quite right," Andrew said.

  They eyed one another for a moment and Peter observed the connection before he looked away, not wishing to intrude on the moment.

  He had a very strong feeling that much of the night would go this way and that he would be constantly observing the two of them as he waited for Miss Cloud to arrive, so that he could actually be with the young lady who had captured his own attention.

  But when would he have a chance to speak with Lady Seton? That was important. He wondered if he ought to pursue that sooner rather than later.

  “Lord Hawthorn?” Andrew began.

  “Hmm?” he replied.

  “Might I request a dance with your betrothed?” Andrew asked.

  “Certainly. I trust that is agreeable to you, Lady Seton?” Peter asked.

  She simply smiled in reply and Peter understood that they would likely spend the rest of the evening trying to find chances to be near one another.

  As Lady Seton and Andrew went off to dance, Peter continued watching and waiting. As the woman he was waiting for was soon to come, he t
ried to remind himself to be patient. However, he was surprised when he saw his mother enter the hall so early in the evening.

  As a dowager duchess, his mother was among the most esteemed of London. Whenever she came to the city, she was in high demand for tea and for walks in Hyde Park. However, she was also a notoriously tardy woman.

  For her to have arrived so early in the evening, he wondered if there was something else afoot.

  “Mother! Goodness, it is lovely to see you,” Peter said.

  “Yes, thank you, my son,” she replied, kissing him on the cheek.

  “You are here so early,” he said.

  “Well, this is the night that I am to meet the young woman you are bound to marry, is it not? I trust that she is here?” she asked.

  Peter hushed her, stopping her from looking around the room.

  “Mother, I must tell you some news, as it happens,” he said.

  “News? Oh, dear, I do not like when things take a turn,” she said.

  “Yes, I understand that, but it has not been a great change. That is, I still intend to marry and I do trust that the young lady will be here tonight,” he said. “It is only that the young lady I intend to marry is not the one which popular society believes that I am marrying.”

  Her face was shrouded in surprise and discomfort.

  “Please, hear me out, Mother. I have not spoken with the young lady’s father yet, but my betrothed does not wish to marry me any more than I wish to marry her. She is lovely and we will make good friends one day, I expect. But she loves my dear friend and I love a friend of hers,” Peter said.

  “I still do not understand,” she said.

  “Yes, Mother, I know. I cannot tell you more than this, but I would like you to meet her first. Once you know her, I shall divulge the rest,” he said.

  “Spoken like a man with something to hide,” she said.

  His mother was clearly dubious about the fact that he was not going to be marrying the woman that popular society believed him to be. He understood that, thinking it a reasonable worry. That, in addition to the fact that he would not speak to the nature of the woman he loved, meant that his mother had every reason to be nervous.

  But Peter was getting nervous. He did not know if his mother would approve of Miss Cloud, considering her position. And, if she did not, what would he do then?

  Peter felt that his only course of action was to try and hide as much as he could until his mother had met and fallen in love with the idea of Miss Cloud as her daughter-in-law.

  “Please, try to trust me. I shall not disappoint you,” Peter said.

  “I am simply confused, my son. You are already betrothed. And now, you are telling me that you have not even ended that before you are determined to move on to a new betrothed?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch.

  Peter winced. She was right. He had been making so many assumptions. It was hardly a question that Lady Seton would rather be married to Andrew, but Peter had not given her the respect of formally concluding their engagement before speaking to his mother about his future plans.

  “Mother, I assure you that it all will come together. But I wanted to make you aware as tonight you will have the opportunity to meet the young woman to whom I wish to be married,” Peter said.

  Rather than replying, his mother gave him a look of cynicism and moved on from him, making her way into the throngs of people and looking for those with whom she wished to spend her time that evening.

  Peter sighed as she walked away, wondering what it was going to be like once she finally did meet Miss Cloud.

  Nearly an hour passed, but finally, the moment arrived. Peter saw her from across the hall, the woman who had stolen his heart.

  She was wearing a gown that would have been appropriate for a princess as equally as it was for the woman he wished to marry. It was bold silver, the colour of armour, beaded across the bodice. With tulle netting and lace to accent the skirt, Miss Cloud appeared as much an angel as a warrior.

  She was truly a sight to behold.

  Peter wondered how Lord Seton had consented to this. According to his daughter, it had been difficult to convince him that Miss Cloud was deserving of a gown.

  And yet, here she was. She looked absolutely stunning in the dress.

  Her hair, likewise, was a display in itself. The brown curls that had been so artfully arranged were twisted and tied until he could not see where they ended.

  Indeed, she was a vision. Peter thought, in that moment, that he had fallen even more in love with her than he had ever thought possible. As beautiful as she had always been, she was now something new.

  “Miss Cloud…” he said to her.

  “Lord Hawthorn. Good evening,” she said.

  “You look like a goddess,” he said, laughing.

  She chuckled, embarrassed by the comparison.

  “Thank you, My Lord. I fear that I could never live up to your estimation of me,” she said.

  “I disagree. But, as it happens, I would like to ask you for a dance,” Peter said.

  “A dance? I should like that very much,” she replied.

  Although he wanted nothing to distract himself from the present moment, Peter spotted Lord Seton across the hall. It appeared that he had not yet noticed Peter in the room, and Peter wished to keep it that way.

  He was still trying to figure everything out, but he was quite determined in that moment. He was determined that this would be the evening in which everything would come to an end.

  This would be the night when he would end his engagement and finally move forward with the love that he truly had inside.

  It was a great deal of pressure, but it was important.

  In fact, it was the only hope he had left.

  Chapter 3

  Beatrice held out her hand.

  The whole evening was a dream and it had only just begun. And yet, she felt as though she had always been in a dance with the Lord Hawthorn. Had they not spent their entire acquaintanceship and friendship engaged in the acceptable motions of society?

  But this was different. On this night, Beatrice was not simply a governess. She was a guest. She was a guest of a duke and one of the most renowned men in London society.

  More importantly, she was the guest of the man that she had come to love.

  “How are you this evening?” he asked her, bowing when the time came.

  She came up from her curtsy to reply.

  “I am very well, My Lord. You have done a magnificent job in your decorations. The hall is truly marvelous,” Beatrice said.

  “Thank you, but I fear that it hardly compares to how lovely you look,” he said.

  They moved across the dance floor and each step felt light and airy.

  No, neither of them were excellent dancers, but it hardly mattered. She knew all the steps and that was what was most important. They would not be noticed for their exceptional skills, but they would not be noticed as the worst dancers either.

  “And what do you think of the dance?” Lord Hawthorn asked.

  “It is precisely what I expected, My Lord,” she said.