The Unconventional Governess

by Jessica Nelson

“My lord, how are you feeling?” The man gazed down at him, his expression openly curious. “Perhaps some water.” A cup was tilted to his lips. He drank, coughing and sputtering when too much entered at once.

  “Terrible,” he finally croaked. “What happened?”

  “When your carriage tipped over, you were thrown. A concussion, contusions to the scalp and bruised ribs. A fractured arm.”

  “Why am I strapped down?”

  The physician’s eyelids flickered, but Dominic did not offer any information. He wanted to ascertain if they knew of his epilepsy. By the hesitation, and the tethering, he gathered they did.

  “You had convulsions, my lord, perhaps due to the trauma? You frothed and a concerned viscount ordered that you be sent here for observation. For the safety of others,” he added.

  “Yes, of course,” he murmured.

  His worst fears at his door. No doubt his sister would take Louise and care for her while he was confined to an asylum for the remainder of his years. Henrietta was probably on her way to Italy by now. He wasn’t sure what day it was, and he did not care to ask.

  At the moment, he felt a failure in every way. It was though a dagger had gouged a hole in his chest, hollowing him out, making him emptier than the day he’d discovered he’d have to live with a dreadful disease alienating him from society, keeping him from a normal life.

  He did not wish to succumb to pity, to solitude, but perhaps this was the culmination of all he’d avoided. Best to face it head-on. Alone. As he would always be.

  “Unhand me, you fools.” A strident, familiar voice echoed throughout the corridor. “I demand to see him at once.” And then strong, sure footsteps.

  Suddenly the hollow space inside filled. Longing, hope, amusement. Dare he smile at the annoying tone that he’d chastised her for using with his apothecary, and yet here she was, using it on physicians older and stronger than herself.

  But not smarter.

  “Do you know who I am?” she asked in an impatient tone that almost made him wince with its haughtiness. She was getting closer, her voice louder. Several lower tones responded with varying degrees of authority and confusion.

  “Fiddle faddle, I’ll not have it. I demand you send word to Mr. William Gordon. Surely you have heard of his work in Edinburgh? Imbeciles.” The last was said scathingly.

  And then she was at his side, the aroma of roses embracing him.

  “My dear Dominic,” she said in a tone he had never heard from her before. A choked, raw voice lilting with feminine pain that caused him to reach for her. He couldn’t, though. The leather straps kept his arm from its intended journey.

  He opened his eyes, and there she was, her dark chocolate eyes brimming with moisture, red-rimmed. Her lips the perfect color of a dusky, aged rose.

  “They shall not keep you here,” she said in a fierce whisper. Her breath brushed his cheek in a warm caress before she straightened.

  “Your patient will be leaving with me,” she announced.

  He let his eyes close again, but this time when he fell back to sleep, he dreamed of lavender fields, of a picnic in the sun with Louise and Henrietta. Smiles snatched a biscuit, and Louise ran after him, her giggles a bright, sparkling trill in the afternoon.

  The gentle gurgle of a baby’s laughter lulled him into sweet darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  One month later

  Henrietta felt quite conventional as she stared at her reflection. The coral-colored silk dress pinkened her cheeks and somehow made her dark eyes look utterly exotic against the paleness of her skin.

  She had never really felt pretty, and had never cared overly much to, but tonight she wished to look and be her best.

  Tonight she would see Dominic for the first time since he’d been released from that terrible place called a hospital. Truly, London hospitals were a blight to England. She had seen many grievous places in her travels, but for a city of this size, with so much wealth available, there was no excuse.

  She had already investigated several avenues of hospital reform and intended to be a part of changing the English methods of medicine. They were utterly archaic. It was as though no one had bothered to read the works of Hippocrates, or at least involve themselves with the Royal Society of Medicine, which published interesting although sometimes flawed articles.

  In her opinion.

  Which, she noted with an inner smile, was usually right.

  She took one last look in the mirror, and then turned to go downstairs. Louise found her halfway there. She slipped her hand into Henrietta’s.

  “Do you think Dominic will be happy to see me?” she asked quietly as they moved down the stairs.

  “Thrilled,” Henrietta said.

  “I have missed him so.”

  “As have I.”

  “Smiles missed him, too. He has already run ahead of me. I do not understand why we could not visit.”

  “Your uncle had multiple injuries. A quiet, uninterrupted regimen of good diet and exercise was necessary to help him recover.” That, and other extenuating circumstances. In order to get him released into her care, Henrietta had to call in a favor from Mr. Moore.

  Thankfully he had still been in London and negotiated Dominic’s release. However, he’d asked to take Dominic to Edinburgh to recover. While there, they could study his epilepsy together, weighing their observations against recent articles published by French scientists involved in epileptology.

  Henrietta would have accompanied them, but because Louise’s governess unexpectedly quit due to a sudden marital engagement, she determined that it would be best to stay with Louise. To continue teaching her and to give her a home.

  Seeing Dominic on that bed, strapped down and helpless...she could never forget the feeling. All due to an accident. One could not predict such a thing. And now he was back.

  They reached the bottom of the stairs, greeted by quiet laughter coming from the parlor.

  Louise raced ahead, but Henrietta found herself slowing as she neared the open door. What would she say? What if he had reconsidered all that he said he might feel? She wet her lips, stepping into the doorway.

  Louise was laughing and hugging Dominic. No one noticed Henrietta at first.

  When they did, both Uncle William and Dominic stood. In the candlelight, Dominic looked as startlingly attractive as he ever had. His eyes flashed a brilliant green, his eyebrows thick, black slashes over them. Perhaps he was a bit thinner, but that only chiseled his cheekbones into something more than handsome. When he smiled, his dimple curved like a second smile.

  Meant just for her.

  Her stomach fluttered, and she pressed her palm against the silk dress, embracing the feeling.

  “Dominic,” she said in a strange, breathy voice that might have once embarrassed her. “How well you look.”

  “And you,” he said, his voice husky as he came forward, holding out his hands.

  “Oh, I must check on something.” Lady Brandewyne pushed to her feet.

  “But we just got here,” said Louise.

  “Come, come,” the dowager countess said, poking Uncle William in his shoulder. “You, too.”

  He started to protest, but one look at Henrietta and he left with the others. She knew, of course, why they were leaving her alone with Dominic, but she was far too nervous to summon amusement. Indeed, the way Dominic stared at her was strangely fascinating, as though he was a dehydrated man who’d found a fresh spring.

  “You have grown more beautiful.” He moved closer to her, his fingers reaching out to touch her bottom lip.

  The words touched her deeply, for he had no reason to say such things other than that they were the truth.

  “Before you say anything, I must tell you something,” she said, dipping her head.

  “A confession?”

  “O
f sorts. Louise and I were at your estate for several weeks. I confronted the apothecary, and he decided to retire.”

  “Miss Gordon, I’m appalled. Tell the truth. You scared him off.”

  “You should not laugh. I told him you would never pay him another farthing. That he could take his threats and stuff them. He decided to go live with his daughter.” She shrugged.

  “And you are telling me this because?”

  “Well, I have been thinking a great deal.”

  “As you are often wont to do.”

  “You know me well.” The taut worry that had been perching on her shoulders eased. It was true. Dominic knew her and understood her, even when he did not agree with her. How very comforting that suddenly felt. “I came to the conclusion that I never want to be apart from you and Louise. Since the apothecary’s shop is sitting empty, perhaps you might be interested in hiring a female doctor?”

  He broke into a wide grin, and she had a moment of fear that he was laughing at her.

  “What a completely practical suggestion.”

  “I thought so,” she said somewhat stiffly.

  “What if I were to tell you,” he said, eyes crinkling, “that I have also been thinking?”

  He stepped toward her. She did not step back.

  “I would say that I am quite relieved that your brain has not atrophied after all. I would like to hear of your thoughts.”

  “Will you be making a list on how to improve them?”

  “My lord, I would not do such a thing.”

  “Oh, but you would, my dear Henrietta.” And now he was quite close, his arm encircling her waist, and she was not stopping him. “It is one of those impossibly annoying parts of your nature that I enjoy. In fact, one might say, I rather adore all the parts of your nature. The annoying bits, too.”

  This was not going where she’d expected, but rather where she’d hoped. “Might?” she ventured carefully.

  “Ah, that pesky word. I do believe it’s caused me more trouble than I anticipated.” He was holding her now, his arms warm, no evidence of a break in the circumference. He still smelled the same.

  She touched his left arm while trying to inhale is scent without him noticing. “There is no pain?”

  “An occasional twinge.”

  “And your ribs?” She did not wish to return his embrace and cause pain.

  “Still sore, but I do believe if you hug me back, it shall ease the ache in my heart.”

  “Hearts do not ache unless they’re diseased,” she said, but she returned his hug. Her head rested against his chest, where the sound of that particular organ thumped rapidly against her ear. “No disease that I can tell, though your heart rate is slightly elevated.”

  She leaned back to examine his face. “Skin tone appears normal. A slight flush to your cheeks.”

  “All that thinking has obviously ill-affected me.” His dimple appeared, which made her smile in return. He had such a lovely mouth. It occurred to her how close they were, and that perhaps he might kiss her again.

  And perhaps she might kiss him back.

  “What were you thinking? I simply must know. You have teased me too much, my lord.” She tugged at a strand of his hair, relishing the thick silkiness of it, the fact that he was here, he was alive.

  He bent his head. “I was thinking,” he murmured against her ear, “that it is madness to ask a woman for the fourth time to stay.”

  “That would be madness,” she replied. “But as the woman has already made plans to stay, it is not necessary.”

  “I was thinking that our village could use an experienced doctor. One who often attends symposiums and panels paid for by Lord St. Raven.”

  “I quite agree.”

  “I was also thinking—” and now his lips were closer to her cheek, almost touching her “—that it would be most practical to marry the one you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

  “Most practical,” she whispered, her cheeks burning, her pulse racing beneath her skin.

  “I was also thinking that using the word might with love is most unwise. Either one loves, or one does not.”

  His cheek rasped against hers.

  “Miss Gordon, I was thinking that I love you very much, and I dearly hope you love me in return.”

  Now his lips hovered near hers. Waiting, she supposed.

  “Those are many thoughts to be thinking,” she said softly. “But I must answer truthfully—I love you painfully so.”

  “Ahem.”

  The moment intruded upon, their heads snapped toward the doorway, where Louise stood with her arms folded and her foot tapping impatiently.

  “I was thinking,” she said, “that if you two do not get married, I may as well take up hoydenning for life.”

  “That is not a word,” said Henrietta promptly.

  “Keep it in mind.” Louise winked at them, and then pranced off.

  Laughing, Henrietta looked at Dominic.

  “Yes,” she said at the moment he did.

  “I think our life will be slightly unconventional with that one around.”

  “Enough thinking.” She pulled his head down until her lips touched his. “I am not interested in convention, my love.”

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this book look for

  THE MATCHMAKER’S MATCH and

  A HASTY BETROTHAL by Jessica Nelson.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE RANCHER INHERITS A FAMILY by Cheryl St.John.

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  Dear Reader,

  Henrietta, like many of my other characters, showed up fully formed. I knew she was stubborn, tenacious, and about to be confronted with a man who could calm her fears and give her a reason to love. Enter Dominic. *swoon* I really liked him myself, despite his flaws. He wants to be redeemed. He wants to change. And that is such an admirable quality in a human being. I felt he’d be perfect for Henrietta, a lady who has her entire life mapped out and who is resistant to change.

  Enter a headstrong charge (Louise), and I knew I had a beautiful story worth telling. What I did not expect, however, was to be unexpectedly sharing the same circumstances as Dominic, caring for precious little family members who have lost both parents.

  It makes this story especially poignant for me. I hope you enjoy it and, as always, I adore hearing from readers. Please forgive any mistakes I’ve made in facts and details. My imagination far outweighs my research skills.

  You can find me by visiting my website, www.jessicanelson.net.

  Happy reading and may God bless you in every way,

  Jessica Nelson

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  The Rancher Inherits a Family

  by Cheryl St.John

  Chapter One

  Cowboy Creek

  April 1869

  Seth Halloway heaved a burlap sack of dry beans over his shoulder and carried it to the back of the wagon, where he vaulted into the bed and stacked the bag beside kegs and crates. He yanked a faded bandana from his back pocket and wiped his face and neck. The sun was warm for April. Good for the early hay.

  “Hadn’t you better clean yerseff up and git over to the station?” Old Horace, shuffling from the interior of Booker & Son general store, slowly drew a cheroot beneath his nostrils and inhaled. He paused at the nearest porch beam and struck a match. The loamy dark scent of tobacco drifted upward. “Bride train’s arrivin’ any time now.”

  Seth tucked away the bandana. “Too much work waiting to go gawk at women keen on a husband,” Seth answered. “There’ll be plenty of eager grooms crowding the rails.”

  “Might be you’d take a shine to one of those young fillies,” Gus Russell said from the bench where the two old men sat a healthy portion of the day when they weren’t playing horseshoes behind the church.

  “A wife is pretty far down my list,” Seth told the two men, who knew all the comings and goings in town. Last fall, he’d sold his land in Missouri to start a ranch here in Kansas, and getting the White Rock stocked and operational took all his time and energy.

  “You need sons to help you run that ranch,” Old Horace advised, peering up through a trail of smoke. He punctuated his statement by pointing his pipe stem at Seth.

  Seth thought the same thing. He’d learned ranching from his father, and he wanted to pass down land and know-how to his own children, but the war and some unfortunate turns had put a kink in any plans he may have had. “Plenty of time for that.”

  Shouts reached them, and the clanging bell across the intersection at the corner of The Cattleman hotel echoed along Eden Street. Seth’s immediate thought was a fire, and a jolt of unease rippled through his chest. He jumped to the ground.