The Forbidden Passion of a Governess: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Lucy Langton

  “Oh, I’m just thinking of the ball, and what fun you shall have,” Emilia replied. Her bonnet expertly shielded her eyes from the insistent sun, and she leaned back in repose, feeling the warm grass on her fingers.

  “You will have fun as well,” Deirdre replied.

  “Yes, of course. I’ll have fun watching you have fun.”

  “No, you will have fun of your own. You’ll dance, and gossip, and dine, just as I shall do.”

  “Lady Deirdre, I need to explain something to you,” Emilia said, leaning forward. “You know that I’m in a different class than yourself. It’s not my position to do all those things you just said.”

  “But I think it is!” Deirdre replied, indignant. “You’re no different than I, just a bit older.”

  “I fear that your brother shielding you at Glastonbrook for so long has made things a little unclear. I will attend as your chaperone and no more. The rest of the guests will be able to tell by my apparel that I’m different.”

  “I’ll make you a dress,” Deirdre said with great enthusiasm.

  “Oh, you’re making me laugh,” Emilia replied.

  “It’s true, I’ll make it with my own two hands. No one will know the difference.”

  “And what will you make it out of? Glastonbrook’s curtains?”

  “Indeed, I’ll use the curtains,” Deirdre said, herself laughing as well.

  “Well, I have a feeling that Winnifred and Hugh would be none too pleased if you began making me dresses from the home’s furnishings.”

  “They’re such old curtains. They need new ones anyhow.”

  “Lady Deirdre, I find your notions endearing, but let us save the dress for our play-acting, and not for our ventures into society. If I were all dressed up to the nines, I fear I’d be rather embarrassed,” Emilia mused, looking off in the distance at the horizon. The fields seemed endless and green that morning, and the sky overhead a shocking blue. Emilia couldn’t remember the last time that Castle Comb looked so beautiful.

  “And why the embarrassment?” Deirdre asked, again puzzled.

  “I don’t know,” Emilia said, looking up towards the sky. “I’ve never worn finery before. I’m used to simple apparel, and a simple life, really. I don’t know what it feels like to command that sort of attention, nor do I think I’d like it one bit.”

  “You never know,” Deirdre mused. “What if you took to it quickly? What if you enjoyed it?”

  “I think that impossible,” Emilia replied. In fact, she was filled with discomfort just thinking about it. She decided to change the subject immediately. “You haven’t opened the picnic basket yet. You must be starving, Lady Deirdre.”

  “Yes, I have taken nothing since breakfast, and that was only an orange blossom scone with butter and honey.”

  “Here, let’s see what Winnifred prepared for us,” Emilia said, opening the wicker basket and looking inside.

  “Winnifred always does pack a great picnic.”

  The food was taken out of the basket with expert care and placed upon a wooden board. Silverware was added to it, and Deirdre, by her own bidding, arranged all the food with care.

  “I do believe that I could live off bread and cheese,” Deirdre said, popping a dainty piece into her mouth.

  Emilia did not wish to admit to the fact, but there was a time when she had to live off bread and cheese. When her father had reached his low point, and stood on the brink of oblivion, Emilia found that it was quite difficult to find anything to eat in the Stewart home. She’d attain stale bread from the local baker, and there was a cheesemonger in Painswick who was kind enough to give her a hard block of cheese once a week. She did not mind that simple repast, but once she was in the Hutchinson home and being fed like a princess, her taste buds had never been the same. She understood what it was like to indulge the palate.

  “And what of the tale of brave Ulysses?” Emilia asked, referring to the book in Deirdre’s lap.

  “Quite interesting,” she replied, putting down her crust of bread. “I like the passage about mermaids, and the sirens.”

  “Yes, the sirens are very manipulative, you know. The sailors can’t help but be pulled in by their cry.”

  “I should like to be a mermaid, and lap about in the water with not a care in the world,” Deirdre said dreamily, picking up a salmon sandwich.

  “I rather think you’d miss having your feet,” Emilia said humorously, and both girls laughed.

  “Can we swim one day soon? In the river?” Deirdre asked.

  “That would be fun. But we really mustn’t.”

  “Why is that?”

  “The earl would not approve of such things, I’m afraid,” Emilia replied. She took a grape from the board and held it up to the light. It was like a perfect purple jewel, and she popped it in her mouth, delighting in the sweetness.

  “Yes, brother approves of nothing. That’s why we’ll have to be sneaky,” Deirdre replied.

  “Yes, we will have to be sneaky.”

  “It will never be sneaky enough,” a man’s voice said, and both girls turned with a start. The earl towered over them, his horse tied to a nearby tree. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

  “No, of course not, M’Lord,” Emilia said, springing to her feet.

  “Please, Miss Stewart, remain seated,” the earl said coldly, and Emilia wondered if the very fact that she and Deirdre were out in the field put him into a sour mood. How was it that the sun could be shining so, and the earl still looked as though he were standing in a rain storm.

  “Is something the matter, brother?” Deirdre asked.

  “No, but I do require a moment alone with Miss Stewart,” the earl said.

  “Can I not even finish my tea?” Deirdre asked with a frown.

  “Winnifred is here to accompany you for a while,” the earl said, and Emilia looked back in the direction of the house to find Winnifred, heaving and panting her way towards where they sat.

  “Very well,” Deirdre said with a sigh.

  “Come, Miss Stewart,” the earl said.

  “But you just told me that I could remain seated,” Emilia teased. Apparently her humour went upon deaf ears, for the earl didn’t even attempt to crack a smile. “Very well.”

  The earl put out his hand to help Emilia to her feet, and feeling that warmth of his large hand, and the strength of it, sent a familiar wave of warmth down her spine.

  “I do not wish to finish my tea with Winnifred. I fear that she will eat the rest of it,” Deirdre said under her breath.

  “Behave yourself,” the earl replied, walking off towards the river.

  Emilia followed, noting that it was very much in the earl’s nature to walk ahead with no heed towards the person trying to catch up behind him.

  “Everything is all right, I trust?” Emilia asked.

  “How is Lady Deirdre?” the earl asked, both hands clasped behind his back.

  “She is in good spirits. Quite excited for the ball,” Emilia said with a smile.

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “I know that it took a great deal of contemplation to come to your decision, but I think that you have chosen wisely. This is going to be so good for her,” Emilia went on.

  “I can’t wholeheartedly agree, but we’ll discover with time.”

  It wasn’t long before their brisk walk found them at the river, the very one that Deirdre wished to swim in. There were large green willows all along the banks, leaning into the water as though wishing to take a drink.

  “Let us be seated upon these rocks,” the earl said, motioning towards a collection of large rocks overlooking the gentle water.

  “On days like this, it’s so delightful to take exercise outdoors. It does something for the mind and the spirit,” Emilia said warmly.

  “Indeed,” the earl replied.

  “May I ask what this is in regard to?” Emilia asked, ever so curious as to why he had led her so far from her charge.

  “I wanted to inform you that
you won’t be chaperoning Lady Deirdre to the ball.”

  “Oh?” Emilia asked, her heart sinking.

  “I will.”

  The earl looked off towards the water, once again depriving Emilia of the chance to see his remarkable, mysterious gaze.

  “That is . . . wonderful,” Emilia replied, not wishing to share the disappointment within her breast.

  “I think it’s the only proper way of doing things and protecting Lady Deirdre in the way that she needs to be protected.”

  “Of course,” Emilia replied, looking down towards the ground.

  “But there is one other thing.”

  “And what is that?” Emilia asked, thinking that the situation could not possibly be more bleak.

  “You will accompany me, as my guest.”

  Silence followed as Emilia wondered whether or not the earl might be joking with her, teasing her. If was impossible for her to be his guest, and it would never be accepted under any circumstances.

  “But . . . I fear that’s rather improper,” Emilia replied.

  “You will attend under a false name, of course. Your presence helps me in a number of ways.”

  “Such as?” Emilia asked.

  “You shall act as a buffer. I distrust this community far greater than I distrust the French and the Irish combined. With you by my side, I can simultaneously ensure Deirdre’s safety whilst also relieving myself of the need to socialise.”

  “But, M’Lord . . . ” Emilia protested.

  “You shall do as I say, have we not already established that?” the earl asked sternly.

  “Of course, but . . . the Hutchinsons know me. They know who I am. Surely they’d inform the other guests of the ruse.”

  “Not in the slightest. The Hutchinsons and I have a rapport. They are devoted to me for various familial reasons that go back generations. I’ll inform the marquess of the arrangement, and the rest of the guests will never suspect. There is no one else in proper society that knows of you.”

  “That is true,” Emilia replied, thinking how anonymous she truly was in the world. She was sheltered in the Hutchinson home, and now sheltered at Glastonbrook. No one would possibly suspect.

  “So the plan is set, then.”

  “M’Lord, if I may bring to light one more problem,” Emilia went on, trying to wrap her head around it all.

  “You and your problems,” the earl replied.

  “I fear that I have never stepped into proper society dressed as a lady. Should I wear the modest apparel that you require of me then I’ll be quite found out immediately.”

  “That is no trouble. I’ll secure you a gown and other finery.”

  “But . . . ” Emilia protested, thinking of the conversation she had had with Deirdre that very afternoon

  “Yes?” the earl asked, finally turning to her, his gaze soft and curious.

  “What if I do not know how to comport myself? How to properly behave?”

  “You know instinctively,” the earl went on. “I can see it in the way you carry yourself. Your bearing. Miss Stewart, had I not known any better when I first met you I would think that you were a lady of exceptional breeding.”

  Emilia felt a warm flush of embarrassment come to her cheek. The earl’s words were tender, even admiring. Was that truly the impression that he had of her when they first met? She thought it astounding, considering that everything his expressions and gestures communicated to her was that he did not like her in the least.

  “I’m flattered that you say so,” Emilia replied, looking down to the ground yet again lest he see her bashfulness.

  “I do not seek to flatter you, I only speak the truth.”

  “Do you think Lady Deirdre will approve, of the ruse?” Emilia asked.

  “Approve? She’ll be delighted, I suspect. She is fond of you as though you were her own blood,” the earl replied.

  Emilia felt a lump in her throat. Not only had the earl remarked upon the closeness between her and her charge, but he actually sounded rather pleased about it. His words were warm and tender, affectionate, albeit a little strained. Yes, the earl was pleased, but Emilia could tell that he was holding back from saying more.

  “I shall be delighted as well,” the earl added under his breath, looking back towards the water.

  “As will I,” Emilia replied with hushed tones.

  In the silence that followed, Emilia could hear the sound of wind through the oak trees, and distant birdsong. Her heart began to race again, and she considered if it would ever remain still in the earl’s presence. If he continuously made her head spin and her heart race, her skin flush, then how might she feel when she was by his side, dressed like a lady? Would it all be too much, or might it be the happiest day of her life? Only time would tell.

  “Do you want to know the only aspect of your person that gives you away?” the earl asked.

  “Gives me away?”

  “As not being a lady.”

  “No, what?” Emilia wondered.

  “It is this,” the earl replied, reaching out in no uncertain terms and taking her hand in his own. That time, it was not to help her up, to restrain her, nor to scold her. But rather, the earl took her hand gently and inspected it with care. Emilia’s breath caught in her chest, and she wondered whether she should pull away, but she could not will herself to do so because the sensation was too delicious for words.

  “Yes?” Emilia asked.

  “Your hands. These are the hands of a governess.”

  “Is that so?” Emilia asked, unsure whether to laugh or feel indignant.

  “Rough from turning pages, grasping quill pens, bereft of gloves.”

  “Oh, I see,” Emilia replied, feeling all at once ashamed of her hands.

  “They are . . . beautiful, of course. Just not the hands of a lady,” the earl replied, knitting his brow and setting his jaw. He set her hand free as though releasing a bird and turned his gaze from her yet again.

  Emilia feared that she might dissolve into a dew. It was the first time that the Earl of Cunningham had said the word beautiful in her presence.

  Chapter 12

  With just days before the ball, the earl seemed in better spirits overall. When Emilia passed him in the hall, she would lower her eyes, as she was accustomed to doing, but on those occasions, she found that Lord Forest would initiate the gentlest of smiles. It warmed Emilia’s heart to see. In fact, it warmed her entire body. The effect the earl had on her was not diminishing. In fact, with each passing day Emilia felt more and more captivated.

  One particular morning, Emilia went down to the kitchen in order to enjoy her breakfast, as she was accustomed to doing, but before she could sit down Hugh informed her that the earl had requested her presence in the dining room. It was the second time she had dined with the earl and his sister, and Emilia felt almost more nervous than the first. Was the earl getting closer to Emilia, inch by inch, step by step?

  When she sat down at the table, the earl gave her a disapproving glance. Upon looking down at her gown, she could intimate what the problem might be. It was a dress she had worn in the Hutchinson home, and clearly it was too risqué for the earl. It had a lower cut in the bodice, which perhaps showed too much of Emilia’s chest, and she quickly tried to adjust the gown so that nothing was revealed. Seeing the adjustment, the earl looked away and took out whatever aggression he might have on Winnifred.

  “Breakfast is late,” he snapped.

  “I’m sorry, M’Lord, but the delivery of eggs was not on schedule this morning,” Winnifred explained, red in the face.

  “Take pains that it does not happen again,” the earl added, taking a sip from his tea.

  “Yes, M’Lord,” Winnifred replied, scurrying off back into the kitchen.

  “Miss Stewart, you’re probably wondering why I called you here,” the earl went on.

  “I am, M’Lord.”

  “We need to discuss the upcoming event that we’re all attending.”

  “Naturally.”


  “I’m so excited,” Deirdre said with glee, dreamily twirling her spoon in her tea. “Oh, Emilia, wait till you see my gown!”

  “Deirdre, take pains to call your governess by her surname,” the earl said sternly.

  “But . . . ”

  “I don’t want to hear your protests. You do as I bid thee,” the earl went on.