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

by Lucy Langton

  “Yes, sir,” Deirdre replied in defeat. “Miss Stewart,” she went on, the name sounding foreign on her tongue, “I have procured the most wonderful gown. It’s pale blue, and my brother has approved of it.”

  “We went into town to see the dressmaker,” the earl explained. “It was tastefully done, if I do say so myself.”

  “That is marvellous, Lady Deirdre. I’m sure that you’re going to look beautiful beyond compare.”

  “It’s unimportant that she look beautiful. What is important is that she look graceful and stately,” the earl said, looking up to see that the food was finally being brought in from the kitchen.”

  “Stately is such a dreadful word,” Deirdre replied, crumpling her nose.

  “At last,” the earl said, placing his napkin upon his lap. “Rarely do we ever wait this long, and I’m quite sure we’ll never wait this long again,” he said, giving Winnifred a steely glare.

  “Of course, M’Lord,” Winnifred replied, her eyes lowered. “I’ve added the roast mushrooms this morning. They were hand-picked.”

  “I can see that,” the earl replied, not seeming too impressed.

  “Miss Stewart, can I show you my gown after studies today?” Deirdre asked with enthusiasm.

  “Of course you can,” Emilia replied with a smile.

  “You can help me to select my accessories.”

  “There will be no accessories,” the earl said, using his cutlery to slice into his charred tomatoes, then gracefully stacking them upon his eggs.

  “Brother!” Deirdre protested.

  “This isn’t some sort of pageant. I don’t want your first ball to be an event where you’re being put on display. Your appearance will be tasteful, as will Miss Stewarts.”

  “M’Lord . . . ” Emilia began to say, then decided to hold her tongue.

  “Yes, Miss Stewart?” the earl asked, frustration still written on his face from the lateness of the breakfast.

  “Nothing.”

  What she wished to say was that she had nothing to wear for the ball. She figured that if the earl was going to supply her with a proper dress, then he would have done so when he took his sister to get fitted. Since Emilia was not invited along, her assumption was that she would have to fend for herself in some way. Perhaps she could write to the Hutchinson girls and ask if they had an old gown that was in disuse. But then again, Emilia’s form was much fuller and more womanly than Anne and Sophie, and therefore she had no idea how it was that she was going to solve the problem. In the end, maybe Deirdre would have to make her a gown from the curtains.

  “I have informed the Hutchinsons of my plan,” the earl went on, seemingly more relaxed after having a few bites of egg and meat. Emilia could understand why the man might lose his temper when he was hungry. The earl had such a large frame that he must need generous portions of food in order to maintain his physique.

  “Were they amenable to it?” Emilia asked nervously.

  “Indeed. They’re amendable to anything I ask of them. We have an understanding, as I have explained.”

  “Yes,” Emilia replied, buttering a piece of toast. Although the breakfast was late, she had to admit that it was sumptuous. Winnifred truly did know what she was doing in the kitchen.

  “They have also informed me that they are excited to see you,” the earl went on, his voice still cold. Although he was being steely and commanding that morning, news of the Hutchinsons anticipation for seeing her brought a smile to Emilia’s face.

  “And I them,” Emilia replied.

  “The three of us are to remain together at all times. Should Deirdre wish to dance, I will need to have knowledge of the partner beforehand,” the earl said, planning the whole event out as a general plans a battle. “And of course, Miss Stewart will not be dancing.”

  “Naturally,” Emilia replied. Not only was it a relief to know that she would not be dancing, it was also a necessity. If she were the earl’s guest, he would be the only one that she could dance with, and to dance with Lord Forest would be far too much for Emilia to bear.

  “There will be light refreshments at the ball, and so we will enjoy a simple supper before we depart.”

  “Yes, nothing too heavy,” Deirdre said, “lest I not be able to fit into my gown.”

  “The supper will not be in the sake of vanity, sister. It will be for the nourishment of the body,” the earl went on.

  Such seriousness. Emilia was in utter awe of how the earl needed to be in control of everything at all times. What would it be like were he in a situation where he could not have his grasp upon everything at all times? Lord Forest would be a very different man indeed if he managed to lose control. Such the opposite of Emilia’s own perspective on life. She felt as though there was absolutely nothing she could control. And she wasn’t entirely unhappy about that.

  “In terms of the lesson plan today,” the earl said, taking another sip of tea, “I’d like Miss Stewart to go over general etiquette. How you must comport yourself at the ball.”

  “I know all about etiquette,” Deirdre protested.

  “Then you shall re-acquaint yourself with the topic. There is a book of etiquette in the library, and I trust that Miss Stewart will be able to find it after breakfast.”

  “Yes, M’Lord,” Emilia replied.

  “That is all that I wished to impart to you,” the earl said, finally meeting Emilia’s eyes with his own. “I trust that it will be an advantageous day.”

  “As do I,” Emilia replied.

  The earl held her gaze and then looked away, through the window where the sun was shining, and the fields were green.

  “May I be excused?” Deirdre asked. “I’m eager to try on my dress for Miss Stewart.”

  “After the lesson. And yes, you may be excused.”

  Deirdre got up from the table and made a hasty exit, whilst Emilia sat for a moment longer, finishing her buttered toast with marmalade.

  The earl lingered as well, finishing his tea and still gazing out of the window. There was silence between them, and Emilia considered whether or not she should ask that question which had been stuck in her throat. What was she to wear?

  “Miss Stewart, when you’re done with your breakfast you must go to your room,” the earl said, picking up the newspaper from the table and opening it.

  “I beg your pardon?” Emilia asked, feeling as though she were a child being scolded.

  “Must I always repeat myself?” the earl asked.

  “No, M’Lord,” Emilia replied.

  “Very well then. Do as you are told.”

  “Yes, M’Lord.”

  Although she was entirely ready to excuse herself, considering the earl’s command, Emilia felt as though she must leave at once.

  “You have not finished your breakfast,” the earl said sternly, folding back the paper to inspect her plate.

  “Well . . . ” . Emilia said, flustered.

  “Come back and finish,” the earl said.

  Emilia did again as she was bid. But upon re-seating herself at the table, she could have sworn that there was a smug smile of satisfaction on the earl’s lips. Was he toying with her? Indignation filled her breast.

  She finished her toast and the remaining bites of egg, then looked to the earl to see if he was satisfied. Yet still he was behind his paper, disregarding her entirely.

  “I’m ready to excuse myself, now,” Emilia said.

  Again, the earl folded the paper over to look at her plate, and then up to her face.

  “You may go,” he said.

  “And how long am I to stay in my room?” Emilia asked.

  “Until I come up to fetch you,” the earl said, unfolding his paper again.

  Butterflies filled Emilia’s stomach. Was he to come into her room again? Were they to be alone together? The time before when he had done so, they were sheathed in the protection of darkness. But was it really going to happen in the clear light of day?

  Emilia walked through the kitchen on the way to
the servants’ stairs, and she was greeted by Winnifred vigorously cleaning the stove with a brush. There was sweat coming from her brow, and Winnifred wiped it with the back of her hand.

  “He’s in a real state this morning,” Winnifred said, out of breath.

  “Perhaps he was hungry,” Emilia replied.

  “And him inviting you to breakfast . . . There’s something curious in his behaviour, there is,” Winnifred went on.

  “He wished to discuss the Hutchinson ball, and how we’re all to behave.”

  “The earl is a controlling man and has been for some time. But I fear it just gets worse and worse. And ever since you came here . . . ”

  “Yes?” Emilia asked, unsure as to what Winnifred was implying.

  “I can’t quite put my finger on it,” Winnifred said, stopping her vigorous scrubbing. “It’s like he is getting more controlling. The earl is a walking iron fist, if you ask me.”

  Emilia stifled a giggle from that last statement. It was true that Lord Forest was a bit of a walking iron fist. The next time that he intimidated her, she would think of that in order to lessen her anxiety.

  “I must go to my room now,” Emilia said, making her way to the stairs.

  “Don’t you have a lesson about this time?” Winnifred asked.

  “Yes, but the earl just instructed me to go to my room.”

  “You see, now that’s exactly what I mean. Soon he’ll be instructing you to shine his shoes. Or to sleep in his bed.”

  Emilia was struck dumb and she stopped at the base of the stairs. Had she just heard Winnifred correctly? Was that some kind of joke, or was she being serious? The statement made Emilia feel lightheaded and disoriented. So strange for Winnifred to say something like that.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Emilia replied, unsure what else to say.

  She hurried up the stairs, down the hall, and into her room, closing the door behind her. Her heart was racing, and she was filled with confusion. Was Winnifred angry at her for some reason, and did that prompt her to say such a thing?

  Emilia decided to let it go, and spend a few moments peacefully lying on her bed. But when she took her first step into the room, her breath caught in her chest.

  Upon the bed there was a dress. It was pale pink, with lace embellishments around the neck and sleeve. It was a stunning dress, simple and elegant, just as the earl preferred. Emilia picked it up gently, as though clasping it too hard would turn it into vapour. She held it up to her body and was quite convinced that it might be just her size. It felt smooth and silky in her hands. Emilia felt a rush of happiness surge through her. Did the earl have Hugh place the gown on her bed whilst she was at breakfast? Did Winnifred know what was going on, and was that why she made her lewd comment? No matter how the dress got there or what it signified, Emilia felt joyful, and excited.

  “It’s the right colour for you,” she heard the earl’s voice say.

  Emilia turned and found that, being so lost in the beauty of the gown, she had not heard the door to her room being opened. For there the earl stood, leaning against the door frame and observing her.

  “It’s . . . extraordinary.”

  “It will fit you, I am sure of it.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you, M’Lord,” Emilia said, tears threatening to fill her eyes. No one had ever given her anything so beautiful in all her life.

  “Don’t thank me. Try it on and come down to my study. I have work to attend to,” the earl said, turning dismissively.

  “Try it on now?” Emilia asked.

  “Miss Stewart, you’re not allowed to make me repeat myself one more time, do you understand?”

  “Yes, M’Lord,” Emilia replied, watching as the earl made a hasty departure and closed the door behind him.

  Emilia tried on the gown at once, and found that, as she suspected, it fit her form perfectly. Whilst looking in the mirror, she could even recognise herself.

  Apprehension filled her as she walked down the hall and to the staircase. What if Deirdre spotted her? What might the girl think? Clearly, that should have been the last thing on Emilia’s mind, for Deirdre would see her in the gown eventually. She decided to put her cares and fears aside and do as the earl instructed her to do: meet him in his study at once.

  Just paces away from the study, Emilia’s worst fear came true.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Hugh asked, shock and disgust on his face.

  “It was what the earl instructed me to do. This gown is for the ball,” Emilia explained. The guilt that Hugh’s gaze filled her with was akin to if she’d been caught stealing.

  “Utter nonsense. It can’t possibly be true,” Hugh said, circling around Emilia to get a good look at the gown from all angles.

  “I swear to you. You may ask him if you like,” Emilia explained, her heart racing.

  “The master would never let you wear this, Miss Stewart,” Hugh said with indignation.

  “The master has indeed let her wear the gown,” the earl said, appearing in the hall. “It was his sincerest wish that she might do so.”

  Just then the earl stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw slightly dropped at the vision of Emilia in the pink gown standing before him. He cleared his throat, then clasped his hands behind his back to return his sense of composure.

  The look that Emilia saw in his eyes was new to her. His eyes were wide, and she could see that he did not know what else to say.

  “But M’Lord,” Hugh said, also noting the look of wonder in the earl’s eyes. “Surely she can’t wear this gown.”

  “She can and she will. Everyone in this house does as I say.”

  “Yes, but . . . M’Lord, this is the gown of the late Countess of Cunningham.”

  “Do you think I’m not aware of that?” the earl said.

  “It’s just . . . ”

  “I do not wish to hear another word on this matter. Am I making myself clear?” the earl said, his eyes going from wide to narrow, his jaw set. There was no doubt in that moment who had the upper hand. Emilia felt incredibly intimidated by the earl’s demeanour.

  “Very well, M’Lord,” Hugh replied, backing down. He bowed his head in deference and quickly made his departure. But not before catching Emilia’s gaze, deeply scolding her with his eyes.

  “Are you pleased with the gown?” the earl asked once they were finally alone in the hall.

  “I’m at a loss for words.”

  “Very well. Words are unnecessary. Now go back and change and take pains to be diligent with the etiquette lessons today.”

  “Yes, M’Lord,” Emilia replied.

  “And practice the lessons yourself. You’re going to need to rely upon them heavily.”

  Although it was common knowledge that she’d need to rely upon the lessons for the upcoming ball, there was something weightier in the earl’s comment that suggested another thing. Would she need the etiquette for more than the ball?

  Chapter 13

  The Hutchinson ball was fast upon them, and throughout the carriage ride to the estate, Deirdre was beside herself with excitement. She clutched Emilia’s hand tightly in her own, giggling and chatting the entire way.

  The earl was far less talkative and sat with his back facing the front of the coach, sullen as always. Emilia didn’t know what had put him in such a dreadful mood. She was accustomed to him being moody by this time, but his quiet brooding that night verged on anger, and she did not know whether to question him about it or not. She decided it may be best to just let it lie.

  *

  And her decision was sound, for there was no expressing the deep dread that was within the earl’s breast. Not only was his sweet sister being thrust into society, but Miss Stewart was as well, and that pained him almost as much. He did not wish to have others admire her as he did. Might other gentleman see her dressed as a lady and make advances? The earl would have the eye of a hawk the entire evening, making sure that it would not be so.

  “Do you think someone wil
l ask me to dance?” Deirdre said.

  “Why of course. Several gentlemen will want to dance with you,” Emilia said.

  The earl gave no response to that, but rather huffed a bit and looked out the window.

  *

  Emilia felt as light as air. Her pink dress was delicate and soft upon her skin, and she did her hair in a much more lavish style than she was accustomed to doing. Upon occasion, she would catch the earl glancing at her in the carriage, and when she saw this, he’d look away. Was he admiring her beauty? Certainly, Lady Emilia felt beautiful at that moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt that way.