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

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A Governess for the Brooding Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 14

by Bridget Barton


  However, even as she walked through the beautiful woodland at the far north end of the estate, Georgette found she could hardly keep her mind quiet at all. She tried instead to focus her mind on the wonderful scents of the woodland. With the sun still so warm, there came with it a beautiful richness of aroma as it warmed the leaves and the earth, the summer flowers and the long grass. Each of the scents seemed to wrap itself around the others, creating the general scent of summer. Georgette rather thought it was like many individual notes making up a piece of music, and she stood still for a moment, closed her eyes, and breathed it in.

  Feeling a little more settled, Georgette began to walk slowly, keeping to the well-trodden pathway. The woodland was really rather large and, although not quite large enough for her to become lost for very long, still she decided to keep exploration for a later date. And as much as she had wanted the afternoon to be about rest and relaxation, Georgette knew very well that it would simply be overrun with everything she had to think about. Perhaps, in the end, she ought not to fight it.

  With that in mind, Georgette began to search for a suitable place to sit for a while. There was all manner of fallen tree trunks in the woodland, each of them picked clean of their thicker branches by servants in search of firewood. It was simply a matter of choosing the one she cared to sit on.

  Finally, finding a rather smooth looking tree trunk sitting at just the right height, Georgette made her way over. It was only a few feet back from the path, and she thought it a perfect place; not too isolated and not too open.

  Georgette took the light shawl she had carried over her arm and gently spread it out over the bark. She was wearing a pale ivory gown, the one she had worn to church, and did not want to make it dirty.

  It was one of her favourite gowns for summer, and she was pleased that it was quite appropriate enough for a governess to be seen out in on a Sunday. The light cotton had a delicate print of small green flowers upon it, giving the ivory gown much interest. The sash at the empire line of her gown was in a pale green satin, and it matched the pale green velvet bonnet she wore.

  As Georgette took her seat, she began to untie the ribbons of her bonnet. The day was warm, and she wanted to feel a little of the breeze in her hair. She laid the velvet bonnet down beside her and smoothed out her skirts, careful to check that they were still clean and staying out of harm’s way.

  In truth, she knew she ought really to have changed her gown when she came back from church. However, Georgette had found herself missing her old life; the time when she did not have to think about keeping certain gowns for best so that they might last year upon year. Walking out towards the woodland in such a pretty gown felt like a small act of defiance against a life she could not control.

  And yet, she could not help thinking that if her own life had not taken so devastating a turn, there might be nobody to fight for Eleri and Ffion. Of course, she knew she could not possibly know that for certain. Another governess might have come along of even greater strength of will than her own; someone who might already have managed to get through to the Duke in some way, even make him see a little something of his faults.

  Georgette let out a snort of laughter so uncommonly unladylike for her that she was pleased to be entirely alone. And yet the feeling of amusement had assailed her quite suddenly, and she found she rather enjoyed her solitary mocking of the man she thought would be unlikely to ever, ever change.

  Still, her conversation with Lady Cynthia Lyndon had given her food for thought without a doubt. Despite the fact that Lady Cynthia had argued so dreadfully with her nephew, it had been clear to Georgette that she still loved him a great deal and that the differences between them were really rather breaking that good woman’s heart.

  Perhaps there was something more to know about him, something good in his character which had simply become lost under everything else which would seek to make him so unappealing.

  Ever since their conversation of just days before, Georgette had been quite unable to think of anything else. Her mind was full of curiosity, and she wondered at the heartbreak, anger, and misunderstanding which Lady Cynthia had mentioned in brief. Even more, she wondered what the dreadful choices which should never have presented themselves might have been, and if she would ever find them out.

  Still, Lady Cynthia had promised to tell her all of it, piecemeal if she must. However, that was a promise which had been made in the heat of emotion when the woman was most dreadfully upset, and Georgette, comforting her in the schoolroom, had become her protector and confidant. But surely the woman might think better of her closeness to a woman who was, to all intents and purposes, nothing more than a slightly elevated servant.

  Suddenly, Georgette heard the crunch of a footstep and looked up sharply. She had been quite in a world of her own and had simply not heard anybody approaching at all. And her silence and stillness had clearly done much to camouflage her because when the Duke regarded her also, it seemed that he too was surprised not to be alone.

  “Forgive me, Miss Darrington. I had not meant to startle you.”

  “Not at all, Your Grace,” she said nervously, trying to rise to her feet.

  “No, please do not make yourself uncomfortable. And there is no need to rise, Miss Darrington,” he said, holding a hand out in front of him as if to wave her back down into comfort.

  The suddenness of his appearance had left Georgette at something of a loss for words. Try as she might, she could hardly think of a thing to say to him.

  “It is a very fine day for walking, is it not?” he said, and Georgette almost laughed.

  It became suddenly very clear to her that he felt as awkward as she, and he too had wondered and searched for something to say.

  “Yes, a very fine day, Your Grace,” she said, finding her response a little easier now that he had taken steps to start some sort of conversation between them. “If a little warm,” she added, casting her eyes to her abandoned bonnet.

  “Indeed, too warm for a bonnet, I think.” He smiled at her, and she suddenly felt a little sorry for him again.

  Despite her anger of the last days, there was still something in his manner which seemed to affect her heart just a little. It was sadness and a great discomfort as if he were not quite settled correctly in his own body somehow. And for all his confidence and self-assurance, Georgette could not escape the feeling that he also suffered great moments of awkwardness, and that this was very likely one of them.

  “This is the first time I have walked here, Your Grace. I have rather wasted my Sunday afternoons if I am honest, and so I have come out here today to avoid doing such a thing again.” She was suddenly keen to at least say something which might put him a little at his ease.

  At that moment, she could hardly believe that the man standing quiet and uncertain before her was the very same man who had regarded her rather coolly from behind his desk and dismissed her claims of the poor behaviour of his staff outright. She could hardly believe that he was the same man who, on their first visit to the church, had annoyed her so greatly that she had fought an urge to stamp on his foot. No, the man before her now seemed very different; somewhat out of place and not a little lost.

  “It is a very fine place to walk, Miss Darrington. I count myself very fortunate to have such a place at my disposal and yet, at the same time, I realize that I have not been here myself for many weeks. Of course, the moment I step foot upon the path which leads me through the trees, I am reminded of the peace that is to be found here and find I must chastise myself for taking such a thing for granted.”

  “I daresay, Your Grace, that you are not uncommon in that. I think we are each of us guilty of taking for granted the things we have around us in the life we lead.”

  “Until we lose those things,” he said, and Georgette felt her throat tighten a little.

  She could hardly tell if he was referring to her circumstances or his own. However, whatever he had meant, he really had meant it. He had spoken with feeling, an
d Georgette had not expected it for a moment.

  “Yes, I suppose that is the extreme. But of course, we have moments of grace where we find something again, take notice of something that we have not taken notice of for some time, and feel pleased that we still have it. Perhaps it is that which saves us, Your Grace.” Georgette smiled at him in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

  She could not help wondering at the losses of which he spoke and yet knew that she could not possibly ask him. As much as they were finding their conversation just a little easier as it progressed, she wondered if it would ever be so easy that she could speak freely to him.

  “I daresay that is only if we have the sense to look,” he said sadly.

  “I think we are all guilty of that also, Your Grace,” she said and suddenly thought of her home.

  Quite unexpectedly, she thought of her wonderful bedroom in London; the drapes around the bed and the feeling of space. She thought of her days of leisure and all the amusements she had taken for granted; afternoons of bridge and dances at the assembly rooms. If only he had not said what he had said, for she had been a little freer of the thoughts and comparisons those last few days, finding that giving her mind over to the children, and Lady Lyndon, and even the Duke himself, had given her the peace of distraction.

  “Forgive me, Miss Darrington,” he said, his tone suddenly a little less wistful. “I have upset you.” He took a step forward and then seemed to stop and stand awkwardly.

  With her sitting and him standing, there seemed to be a great disparity which would undoubtedly have an effect upon the conversation.

  She was suddenly drawn to thinking of standing in front of his desk as he sat and how uncomfortable it had made her. Perhaps the Duke himself felt uncomfortable in such a situation, and yet she knew that she could not possibly ask him to join her in sitting on the tree trunk. There simply was not room enough for them to sit with a suitably comfortable gap between them. And yet he had allowed her to sit when the situation had been quite the reverse.

  “No, Your Grace. You have done no such thing. Perhaps sometimes one upsets oneself with one’s own notions and memories. But it is not of your doing, and you must not concern yourself with it.” Georgette rose to her feet, realizing that was the only solution to their curious positioning.

  “Miss Darrington, I do not mean to turn you out of this place. I should not be encroaching on your afternoon of rest.”

  “You are not turning me out, Your Grace. I am simply ready to resume my walk.”

  “Oh,” he said and seemed not to know what he ought to do next. “Well, perhaps you would care for a little company?” Once again, he seemed so terribly awkward that she felt almost as if she ought to rescue him.

  “How very kind, Your Grace,” she said and smiled at him as warmly as she could manage. “I should like that very much.”

  They walked side-by-side in silence for some moments as if the sudden motion had put them back a little and they were once again searching for the ease of manner which had begun to develop. Georgette could not help thinking of the small and somewhat tantalizing snippets of information with which Lady Lyndon parted in the schoolroom. And yet she wished she could stop, feeling somehow that it was a great disrespect to the man at her side. Knowing more about him than he would ever have imagined made her suddenly feel as guilty as she had felt on her two uncharacteristic episodes of eavesdropping. It rather felt like the same thing.

  “You must miss your home very much, Miss Darrington,” he said, and she was pleased he had spoken and drawn her out of her terrible thoughts.

  “In truth, Your Grace, I miss it terribly.”

  “If you should like the chance to visit your home, I should be more than pleased to allow you the time,” he offered, and she felt warmed and devastated all at once.

  “Your Grace, the home I miss is no longer there,” she said sadly. “Rather the building still stands, Your Grace, but it is not my home any longer. I am not free to enter and exit as once I was.” She shrugged and found she could not look at him.

  “And so I am in the position to ask you once more to forgive me, Miss Darrington. Had I known that, I should never have spoken as such. I find I am quite ruining your afternoon, am I not?” Georgette could feel him looking at her, and she knew she must turn to meet his eye or risk offending him.

  “You could not have known, Your Grace,” she answered and held his gaze briefly before turning away again.

  “Although, perhaps I ought to have put a little more thought into it. After all, with your position here, well, I suppose I ought …” He finished with a great sigh and tipped his head back to look up at the blue sky as it appeared here and there through the great swathes of overlapping branches and leaves.

  Georgette rather thought he was silently appealing to the heavens to be blessed with a little more tact or even a way to politely finish the conversation and make his excuses. Suddenly, she was overcome with an urge to laugh and, since it had come upon her so unexpectedly, she did just that.

  The moment the noise had escaped her, she raised a hand to her mouth in an attempt to cover it. However, the whole afternoon had taken such a curious turn, and her emotions had been pulled this way and that, it was as if her mind had decided that there was nothing left to do but laugh, and that was that.

  “Oh, forgive me, Your Grace,” Georgette said, feeling her cheeks reddening and a panic sweep over her at the thought that she might not be able to stop laughing at all. “Really, I should not have laughed. I do not know what came over me.” Georgette tried to control her breathing and could feel her shoulders giving her away.

  “No, Miss Darrington. It is I who must ask for forgiveness. And it is I who must give thanks for your forbearance of my blundering.” He stopped suddenly and turned to face her.

  Georgette stopped and turned likewise, knowing that she must. Suddenly, her laughter died in her throat, and she felt very much calmer. The Duke regarded her for some moments without speaking, his face softening into an easy countenance she could never have suspected him of possessing. He seemed younger somehow, a certain calm or relief in his handsome features.

  “And before I say something else which gives me cause for regret, Miss Darrington, I must take my leave of you and allow you to return to the peace of the Sunday afternoon you had planned.” Suddenly he bowed rather deeply, not taking his eyes from hers for a moment. And then, he was gone. He had turned fully around and was striding away from her, leaving Georgette simply staring after him, a little open-mouthed.

  Chapter 18

  Georgette sat on the bed in her room, turning the little volume over and over in her hands before placing it back down on the bed beside her and picking up the letter from Henrietta once more.

  She had already read the thing several times and yet could not help reading it again. Henrietta wrote in such a light and breezy way, and Georgette could not help imagining her dear friend speaking the words in person, her bright eyes and pretty face aglow with the excitement of life. In truth, in reading the letter, she could quite imagine that dear Henrietta was there with her at that moment.

  She had quite expected that any news and gossip from home would have only sought to make her feel more isolated, set apart from the world she used to inhabit. And yet, it had not. Henrietta had made her feel as if she were part of a conversation; still a part of the life they had once shared, almost as if there had never been a break in communication whatsoever.

  Georgette thought back to her own rather wise words; the words she had given to the Duke himself in the woodland. We are all guilty of taking what we have for granted. As she stared at her dear friend’s beautifully written script, Georgette realized that there was more to be taken for granted in this world than simple possessions. It was not just homes and status in society which one missed when deprived of them, but true friends also.

  She could not help wondering if she had taken her friendship with Henrietta for granted over the years. Not in any evil way
, but rather the assumption that such a friendship, once given, would remain forever.

  But of course, the friendship still existed. It was simply physical presence which had ceased. Surely the miles between them could not stop a friendship built so well and over so many years. Georgette smiled and looked wistfully out of the window. Of course, it could not. After all, Henrietta had gone to great pains to find a little book of Welsh translations. Surely that had not been an easy thing to find in London since Georgette knew well that it was unlikely there was a great call for such things. As was their custom, the English undoubtedly assumed that it was far better, if they were to communicate, that the Welsh learn how to speak English and not the other way around.

  Something about that idea made her feel rather annoyed. Worse still, it reminded her of the Duke’s insistence that she must do what she could to anglicize Eleri and Ffion’s speech and language. And that particular memory was not a welcome one to her since she had been thinking rather better of the Duke of Draycott since their curious encounter in the woodland.

 

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