A Governess for the Brooding Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “I am just as you saw me a few days ago.” He smiled at her. “Nothing has changed.”

  “Well, I am glad that you are keeping well,” Lady Cynthia said, her eyebrows lowering a little as she clearly thought of her next question.

  Hamilton almost laughed. When she was set upon a course of action and so very determined to see it through regardless, she always reminded him of his own dear mother. Both ladies had been most adept at inserting themselves into the lives of others and doing what they could to change things and arrange the outcomes in a way which they always deemed to be better.

  Again, Hamilton thought his own behaviour a little shabby and looked upon his aunt warmly once more. With her pale hair and incredibly inquisitive face which was still pretty, despite the years, Lady Cynthia Lyndon was a very well turned out woman. Despite being a little rotund, she always looked neat and impressive, and he had always very much liked that about her. Whilst she appeared a little soft at times, Hamilton knew well that she had a will of iron which ran side-by-side with her gentle kindness.

  “And I thank you for your kindness,” Hamilton said, knowing full well that he was teasing her just a little.

  “Shall I see you in church on Sunday, Hamilton?” Lady Cynthia’s little blue eyes widened, and she seemed pleased to have come up with a new plan of attack.

  “As you always see me, my dear aunt.” Hamilton smiled again and found himself rather liking his aunt’s company at last. He was toying with her, albeit kindly, and found he was enjoying the amusement.

  “And of course, I shall be meeting the new governess, shall I not?” Instantly, Hamilton could discern the path she had chosen most clearly.

  She had undoubtedly decided to ask some questions regarding the new governess as a means of bringing up the one subject he did not care to talk about—the children.

  “Yes, I have no doubt. She is coming to the church to attend the children, as is proper. No doubt the young woman was a keen attendee of Sunday services wherever it was she came from.”

  “Wherever it was she came from?” Lady Cynthia, who had been about to take a sip of her sherry, halted with her glass mid-air and sat forward in her seat in order to peer closely at her nephew. “Surely you know where the young lady hails from, Nephew?”

  “Not entirely. I daresay it is somewhere in London, for that is where the servants’ registry is.”

  “Tell me, why do you choose a registry in London? Are there not plenty in Oxfordshire?”

  “Indeed, there are, Aunt Cynthia,” he said and smiled at how easily his aunt had distracted herself. “The registry in London is not far from my house in St James’s, and I rather think there are many more young women registered there than there are in and around all of Oxfordshire. After all, I can quite imagine that London produces far more well-bred young ladies for the role of governess than Oxfordshire does. More people per square inch.” He smiled at her.

  “Fortuitous, I daresay since you seem to be in need of rather a constant stream of well-bred young governesses.” So, Lady Cynthia had by no means distracted herself from her main aim. She had simply found a rather smart way of going about things.

  “Well, I daresay the role is not for everybody,” Hamilton said in an attempt to brush off her remarks.

  “That is hardly pertinent, Hamilton. After all, well-bred young ladies do not choose to work as governesses; they are forced into the role by financial penury, are they not?” The blue eyes had now narrowed and were fixed upon him, almost as if she were a bird of prey ready to swoop down from the clear blue skies, dig her talons into his flesh, and fly off with him. “Perhaps it is not the role that does not suit them, Hamilton, but rather the atmosphere.”

  “You obviously have something to say, Aunt, and I think it would be quicker and quieter if you simply got on with the thing. You shall not goad me into tripping into some sort of admission or whatever else it is you seem to be seeking from me at this moment. Just say what you have to say and have done with it.” Once again, Hamilton could feel his patience evaporating.

  “Hamilton, I mean no insult by it. I just wonder if there is not more that could be done to ensure that this current governess stays. My concern is only for the children. It cannot be good for them to form attachments to these young ladies only to watch them disappear just weeks later. Truly, it is not fair.”

  “Then perhaps you ought to be having this discussion with the governess herself. Perhaps it is a discussion that I ought to have had with the previous three. Is it not clear to you that each one of those young ladies has simply walked away from this house without a backward glance nor a single thought for the children you are so dreadfully concerned about?”

  “What I cannot believe, Hamilton, is that you yourself are not concerned for them. They are your flesh and blood, and yet you act as if they are interlopers in this house. You act as if they have no right to be here, and I often think that you cannot bear to set eyes upon them. It breaks my heart to see it, truly it does.”

  “Then all I can suggest, Aunt Cynthia, is that you stop looking. Why do you not simply turn your attention to some other little question and think along some other little avenues for a while? You seem quite obsessed with the thing, and I rather fear that you are upsetting yourself quite unnecessarily.”

  “For goodness sake, Hamilton!” Lady Cynthia finally let her annoyance and frustration show. “How can you have hardened your heart so to them? Did you hate her so much that you are allowing your hatred to wash over two innocent little girls? Have they not lost enough in this world?”

  “I am going to insist that you keep your opinions on the matter to yourself from this point forward. I have no intention of making myself accountable to you in anything, least of all the raising of two children sent here under the terms of their mother’s will. I took them in, just as she requested. Let that be enough to satisfy you. I did not refuse, as I had every right under law to do, nor did I waste any time whatsoever in opening the doors of Draycott Hall to them. I have done everything that she asked of me, have I not?” Hamilton wanted the conversation to be over.

  He wanted to hurt his aunt enough that she would choose to leave the room of her own volition, and yet he did not want to hurt her so much that she would never return to Draycott Hall. Hamilton knew that his feelings for her were great; she was so like his own dear mother. And yet, she carried all of that good woman’s traits, including not knowing when to let something alone.

  “Hamilton, you have done all that she asked in her will. I daresay she did not think that she would need to make loving the little girls and truly caring for them a stipulation in writing. She no doubt thought back through the years and assumed that such things would go without saying.” Lady Cynthia put her still-full sherry glass back down on the table and made to rise.

  As she got to her feet, Hamilton found himself curiously concentrating on the rustling of her skirts. His aunt, like so many of her age, seemed to wear a multitude of petticoats. The current vogue for simplicity of dress was clearly not something that Lady Cynthia Lyndon intended to conform to.

  “Of course, she did not know what you had become, my dear nephew. Although she knew you cared nothing for her anymore, still she knew you to be a man with a great capacity for love. But she was wrong, was she not?”

  “I shall not speak upon the matter any further,” Hamilton said defiantly, despite the fact that he had a sudden feeling of abandonment as he watched his aunt gather up her small drawstring purse and straighten her skirts ready to leave him.

  “Then neither shall I, Hamilton.” And that was it.

  His aunt said nothing more, not even to bid him farewell. She simply looked at him sadly before turning and demurely making her way from the room without a backward glance.

  Unable to stop himself, Hamilton rose to his feet and silently followed her. When he reached the great entrance hall, he was just in time to see his aunt letting herself out of the enormous wooden door; she had not waited for, nor even s
ummoned, assistance of any kind.

  Hamilton fought an urge to go after her. He wanted to assure her of his great affection for her. He wanted to at least help her into her carriage, although her driver would, undoubtedly, perform the task.

  Still, Hamilton had a great sense of not wanting to leave things in such a way. He felt unsettled by it, despite not wanting, or intending, to apologize for his provision of care for the little girls.

  After all, he had made provisions for them. They had a home, a nurse, a burgeoning education. What other orphans could expect so much?

  But he knew that these were not the things to which his aunt referred. And yet, how could he find a way to look upon them when they looked so very much like their mother but spoke with their father’s voice?

  Chapter 10

  Georgette had awoken at the rising of the sun on Sunday morning with disconcerting feelings of dread sitting heavily in her empty stomach. She knew, of course, that it was simply nerves. It was to be her first visit to the little church on the edge of the village of Marsden. Whilst she looked forward to the Sunday service greatly, she could hardly think of it without imagining her nerves in the ride over from Draycott Hall. She had been dwelling on the thing for several days, imagining herself and the Duke of Draycott simply sitting in a most painfully awkward silence for an interminably long journey.

  Of course, the journey would not, after all, be interminably long. She had made some inquiries with Daisy, her one and only ally amongst the servants, and had been reliably informed that the carriage ride would be no more than ten minutes. However, ten minutes was an awfully long time when one felt terribly uncomfortable. Not to mention the fact that she wondered quite how Eleri and Ffion would manage the whole thing. Whilst they were little more than four years of age, still, they were sentient little beings who undoubtedly could feel an atmosphere even if they did not understand its origins or quite how they ought to cope with it.

  As Georgette sat up straight in the bed and finally swung her legs over the edge, she realized that she had never seen the Duke in the company of the children yet. Perhaps there was still cause to hope after all. Perhaps, once he was in their company, things would be a little different. After all, who could not adore two such wonderful little children? But of course, their nurse did not adore them. The housekeeper did not adore them. Georgette realized that she would have to stop imagining that all the world could be relied upon to feel just as she did. The innocence of children did not affect everybody in the same way. Not everybody was moved to care and protect.

  Georgette sat on the edge of the bed for some time, wondering what she ought to wear for church that day and if she should prepare anything at all to say in conversation with the Duke on the journey.

  After a while, Georgette heard the hurried footsteps approaching her door and the gentle clank of the jug and bowl being placed upon the table outside. Hurrying to her feet, she raced for the door in the hope that it would be Daisy she encountered.

  “Good morning, Miss Darrington,” Daisy said with a smile.

  “Good morning, Daisy. I hope you are well this morning,” Georgette said, her keenness to engage the young woman in conversation for just a few moments a very distinct indication of the loneliness she was beginning to feel.

  “I am very well, Miss Darrington. And I was able to sneak just a little hot water into your jug this morning, Miss.” Daisy smiled at her with an apologetic wince.

  “Oh, how very kind of you, Daisy,” Georgette said and reached out to lightly touch Daisy’s upper arm. She knew it was a curious move and yet had been compelled to do so. “But you must be sure not to get yourself into any trouble over the thing. After all, I am growing rather accustomed to my chilly ablutions.” Georgette grinned and was pleased to see Daisy laugh in a somewhat more relaxed manner.

  “I still do not like such poor behaviour, Miss Darrington. You must not think that all the servants are the same. It is just that nobody would like to lose their position here, and so they do exactly as Mrs Griffin and Mr Pearson say. You see, if either one of them suggests to His Grace that somebody be dismissed, he simply falls in agreement with them. I do not know if His Grace particularly agrees with their opinions or if he simply does not have the time or inclination to look at things any closer.”

  “And that is why you must not be caught putting hot water into my jug, Daisy. I could not bear it if I did not see your happy face every morning. In truth, you rather keep me going.” Georgette felt her throat tighten a little with emotion and, despite knowing that she ought not to be so very open with one of the servants, still, she could not help herself.

  “Please, do not upset yourself, Miss Darrington,” Daisy said and, somewhat cautiously, touched Georgette’s arm in exactly the same way as Georgette had touched hers. “And I promise, I shall not get myself into any trouble with Mrs Griffin. I shall be very careful.”

  “Thank you kindly, Daisy,” Georgette said and was relieved to find that she had successfully blinked back the little tears which had threatened to make themselves known. “I must say, I think I am feeling rather nervous about my trip to church this morning.”

  “Just busy yourself with the children, Miss. Let His Grace simply see to himself. If you keep your attention on the little ones, you will not have any attention left to worry about the Duke.” Daisy smiled, and Georgette felt suddenly lighter. “Now then, I really must return below stairs, Miss Darrington.”

  “Of course, Daisy.” Georgette smiled at her, already mourning the loss of the young woman’s company. “And thank you again.”

  Daisy smiled at Georgette before turning and hurrying back down along the attic corridor to the stairs which would take her back into the servants’ area.

  Georgette had washed and dressed in higher spirits than she had initially woken with. Young Daisy really had done much to improve her mood and settle her nerves and, by the time she was ready to make her way downstairs, Georgette felt more than equal to the task ahead of her.

  She had, once again, chosen to wear a dark blue gown. She had begun to think that the colour suited her very well, and she had an exceptionally well-made blue velvet bonnet which matched the gown perfectly. It had very thick ribbons to it and, once tied, they set the bonnet off beautifully.

  Her gown was a very deep and rich blue in lightweight cotton. The fabric had tiny flowers of matching thread embroidered upon it which gave the light and summery gown a certain depth. Over the top, she wore a short spencer jacket which had been purchased with the bonnet and was made in the same blue velvet. It had three buttons over the bust, and its hem reached just beyond the empire line of her gown. It was an outfit she had worn many times, and one in which she always felt rather confident about her appearance.

  With her hair neatly coiled and fastened at the back of her head, the rags which she had worn tied in the front of her hair overnight had produced some very small and neat ringlets with which to frame her face once the bonnet was in place.

  Taking a final look in the small glass she had brought with her from home, Georgette was satisfied with her appearance. She paused briefly to look out of the window into the bright blue sky of the morning and, taking a deep breath, finally turned and strode out of the room.

  Once downstairs, Georgette walked into the schoolroom where she had arranged to collect the children.

  “And remember, girls, children are not expected to speak in church. And you might do well to say nothing whatsoever when you are in the carriage with His Grace. After all, he does not like to hear anybody speak as you do.” Georgette could hear the strident and somewhat uncultured voice of Mrs Wells drifting through the partially open door of the schoolroom.

  Wasting no time, Georgette strode in, glaring at the nurse as she made her way across the room. In truth, she had wanted to tell Mrs Wells that she had no right to say such things to the children but, at the same time, did not want to create any sort of scene in front of the little girls.

  Sooner or later,
something would have to be done about the dreadful, bullying nature of the woman who was supposed to care for them as a mother might. And yet, for all the world, Georgette could not imagine how such a thing could be achieved. Whatever happened, Mrs Griffin and Mr Pearson would come down on the side of Mrs Wells and, if what Daisy said was correct, Georgette herself would come out the worse for it. She would be dismissed from Draycott Hall.

  Of course, she knew that such a thing would not be good for either her or the girls. For one thing, she would have to leave the employment without a character reference or, worse still, with a very determined bad character reference. That would mean that she would struggle most dreadfully to find a suitable position in another household, especially if the reference in question was written by the Duke himself.

  But worse still, Eleri and Ffion would have to suffer the upheaval and uncertainty of yet another governess walking away from them and that, above all things, Georgette could not imagine without upsetting herself.