The Nobleman's Governess Bride

by Deborah Hale

  For all that, she sensed they were coming to know one another on a different, deeper level through tonight’s conversation. Seeking to avoid subjects that might reveal too much about their identities, they spoke instead about the feelings common to every person regardless of outward appearance or rank. It was as if their masks and costumes allowed them to shed the facades they wore in daily life to reveal glimpses of their truest selves.

  “Tell me,” she asked him at last, “what is it you want from life and the future?”

  They were still standing beside one another on the ornamental stone bridge, the sides of their hands barely touching. Yet Grace found herself as intensely aware of that glancing contact as if it had been a full embrace.

  Rupert gave her question several moments of silent reflection, perhaps searching his heart for a nugget of precious truth to offer her. “I used to think I wanted to be the kind of hero you mentioned—doing my duty to those who relied upon me without seeking anything for myself. At least nothing beyond a bit of relief from the ache that has gnawed at my heart for so long.”

  “But that has changed?” Grace prompted him in a gentle murmur, as she would to one of the daughters who sought to unburden herself. “What is it you want now?”

  He shook his head slowly. “It is too soon to tell. I only know that... meeting you here tonight has made me question whether perhaps I am settling for too little. You have made me hope life may have something better in store for me yet.”

  She had done that for him? Grace’s eyes tingled. There was so much she wished she could do for him, so many things she would have liked to give him, but this one favor might satisfy her.

  “Am I a fool,” he asked, “to raise my hopes on the strength of a chance meeting and a few brief hours with you? Am I intolerably selfish to think of disregarding my duty to those I hold most dear?”

  “Never!” She pressed her hand harder against his, wishing she dared offer him greater reassurance. “Even on the strength of a chance meeting and a few hours, I know you are neither foolish nor selfish. You deserve far more from life than you were prepared to seek. I am certain those you care for would not want you to give up any hope of happiness on their account. If it were me, I could not bear that.”

  Her voice caught and she was obliged to pause to gather her composure. “I hope with all my heart you will find a way to do your duty without sacrificing the happiness you deserve.”

  “Perhaps I will.” He lifted his little finger and brought it to rest upon hers. “Perhaps I have.”

  Tonight might be an elusive fancy, with no more substance than moonshine, but the happiness it brought Grace was as genuine as any she’d ever felt.

  “What about you?” he asked in a murmur warm with concern yet shaded with doubt. “Do you want the things to which most women aspire—a brilliant marriage, children, a glittering social life?”

  What did she want? Grace had never truly considered that question until now. What had been the use in wanting things her circumstances made impossible? Now she searched her heart and struggled to articulate what she found there. “I would prefer a soft, steady glow to brilliance and glitter. I would rather have tender devotion, or even simple friendship, than the most advantageous marriage without love. As for children, I did not always have a hankering for them, but now I do.”

  She wanted children and thanks to him she had them—three girls, each so different in her way yet all so dear. They were hers to teach and raise and love.

  “There is one more thing I want.” She had not meant to speak of it but since she’d relaxed the guard on her tongue the words slipped out.

  He had asked and tonight Grace could not deny him. “I want to be valued for the person I am inside, not just my outward appearance.”

  Had she given herself away? The moment she spoke those words Grace feared he would recognize the sentiment Miss Ellerby had confessed to him. Did she want him to guess her identity, even if it risked the safe, satisfying life she had found at Nethercross?

  Rupert hesitated to reply. Instead he tilted his head slightly, as if straining to catch an elusive whisper. When he turned toward her, Grace could not resist the impulse to face him.

  “You cannot blame people for being attracted to such a lovely appearance.” He raised the hand that had so recently pressed against hers to graze her cheek with a stroke no heavier than the brush of a butterfly’s wing. “From what I can tell, you are every bit as beautiful inside as out.”

  Her lips parted slightly to release a quivering sigh. Perhaps he could care for her in a way no other man had—merging his respect and sympathy for Miss Ellerby with his attraction to the masked lady.

  “There is something I must tell you.” Grace wished she could see his eyes, to judge his reaction. But they were obscured by his mask in the moonlight.

  “Speak then.” His fingers glided over her cheek again. “You have my complete attention.”

  Grace gathered her breath and her courage.

  Then suddenly the night sky erupted in a thunderous explosion of light and color. Grace recoiled as she might from a nearby musket shot—and with just cause. The fireworks aroused all her fears to a shrieking pitch that was impossible to ignore.

  In a few moments Rupert would remove his mask to reveal his identity and he would expect her to do the same. Would he recognize her then? Or would the moonlight, the shadows and his refusal to think of his daughters’ governess in a romantic way all conspire to keep him blind? Grace could not bear that, for it would make a cruel mockery of his claim to admire her for more than her appearance. And it would destroy her belief that he was different from those other men who’d pursued her.

  And what if he did realize that the object of his fancy was the same woman who had lived under his roof and raised his daughters for the past several months? Would the revelation delight him as she’d hoped, or would he react with shock and suspicion? As the fireworks splashed across the night sky in all their violent splendor, Grace pictured Lord Steadwell demanding answers and questioning her motives for coming here tonight.

  Might he accuse her of spying on him? And if he did, could she truthfully deny it? Worse yet, he might suspect she had attended the ball with the deliberate intention of luring him away from the woman he’d planned to marry.

  The raging colors overhead bathed his white mask in lurid shades of red and orange. Grace could picture his dark brows hunched over blazing eyes, his upper lip curled in scorn. She recalled such looks all too well from other men when she had denied them what they wanted from her. Their reactions had made her fear for her safety and her virtue, yet they were nothing compared to the damage this man could wreak upon her heart if he chose. Her feelings for Rupert Kendrick armed him with a powerful weapon—one perhaps capable of destroying her.

  The sound of the fireworks drew many of the masquerade guests out to the garden. Before long a substantial crowd had gathered around the little bridge. While Rupert’s gaze was fixed upward at the spectacle unfolding above them, Grace seized her chance to protect her heart and the happiness she had found in her present position. She slipped between a pair of tall revelers then ducked behind the shrubbery. Once out of sight of Lord Steadwell, she plucked up the front of her skirts and fled the garden as fast as she could run.

  Only when she was quite certain he could not easily track her down did Grace pause to wonder how she would get home. Nethercross was only a few miles away from Winterhill, but it was not a distance to walk in such an elaborate old gown and a pair of borrowed slippers that were beginning to pinch. But neither did she dare accept the offer of a drive from anyone except Rebecca and her husband.

  Thinking of her friends gave Grace an idea, though she feared it might be in vain. On the unlikely chance that Lord and Lady Benedict were still at the party, she checked the spot where they had parked their carriage. If it was still there, she could take refuge inside until they were ready to leave.

  To her surprise, the carriage stood exactly wher
e they had left it. Not only that, their coachman lingered nearby rather than gathering with the others around a small fire some distance away.

  “Miss, it’s you!” he cried when she appeared. “I was beginning to worry. Her ladyship felt unwell and they couldn’t find any sign of you so they borrowed another carriage to take them back to the inn. His lordship said you’d likely come back here sooner or later and I should fetch you home.”

  “I looked for them too,” Grace announced in a breathless rush as he helped her into the carriage. “We must have missed one another in the crowd. I only wish I’d thought to check here sooner.”

  But then she might have missed out on her innocent tryst with Rupert, Grace reflected as the driver climbed onto his perch and the carriage rolled away. Though she dared not risk her future on what had passed between them this evening, she would remember it always.

  Bright fire soared across the sky, bursting into a shimmer of falling stars. At the same time, vivid emotions lit up Rupert’s heart with forgotten wonder.

  It was the sort of night when nursery tales might come true with their promises of love at first sight and happily ever after. Of course he did not love the woman he had only met that evening and whose name he still did not know. But he had been in love before and knew his feelings already went deeper than a superficial attraction to her looks alone. How much stronger those feelings would grow as he came to know her better, he could only guess.

  Breathtaking as the fireworks were, Rupert doubted they would hold a candle to his companion’s beauty once her face was unmasked. Then he would know for certain if they had a previous acquaintance.

  He glanced back down at her, intending to draw her close in case she felt threatened by the surge of other guests surrounding them. But when his gaze fell to the spot where she had been standing only a moment ago, the lady was no longer there.

  His first impulse was to call her name at the top of his lungs, but that was impossible since he did not know it. Instead he scanned the gardens, searching desperately for a glimpse of pink skirts or golden curls. In more than one direction his view was blocked by clusters of guests, staring skyward and exclaiming over each new burst of color. Rupert no longer cared about the fireworks. They were nothing but a loud, gaudy distraction from his search.

  He pushed his way through one knot of spectators, ignoring their indignant protests. He scarcely thought of them as people—neighbors, political allies, perhaps even relatives. To him they were only animated statues that got in the way of what he was trying to do. Surrounded by people he’d never felt more alone—just as his companion had observed.

  He latched onto someone’s arm. “Have you seen a lady in a pink gown? She was here just a moment ago.”

  The owner of the arm pushed him away roughly with a curse he probably deserved.

  “Please,” Rupert tried someone else, forcing himself to show better manners. He repeated his question.

  “She brushed past me,” came the reply, shouted to carry over the noise of the fireworks and the crowd. “Headed back toward the house, I think.”

  Rupert shouted his thanks and plunged off through the press of revelers craning his neck and hoping for a glimpse of the lady.

  With one final ear-splitting flare the fireworks display ended and guests began removing their masks. Rupert threw off his hat, whipped back his cowl and tore the white mask from his face.

  Where was the lady in pink and why had she disappeared so abruptly?

  He ran through the house, which was now nearly deserted. He peered into every room, but with no more success than he’d had out in the garden.

  She must be there somewhere. Rupert plowed his fingers through his hair. He must find her to make certain she was not in any difficulty and to demand an explanation for her sudden disappearance. Did she think he would not notice her absence or not care that she had abandoned him without a word? If so, she was wrong on both counts.

  He had noticed and he did care. He cared far more than he had expected—far more than he wanted to. Especially in light of the manner in which she’d disappeared. One moment she’d been there by his side with everything ahead of them. The next, she was gone without an explanation or even a proper goodbye.

  Was he thinking of his mysterious companion or his late wife? Rupert wondered as anger and a sense of abandonment warred within him. Though he knew Annabelle had never intended to desert him, he could not deny her death had affected him that way. Tonight’s events echoed it far too closely for his peace of mind.

  Determined to get some answers, he stationed himself outside the front entrance of Lord Maidenhead’s country house and kept watch for the lady. By the time the last stragglers departed in the early hours of the morning, it was clear to him that she had long since gone. If he had not been such a practical man, Rupert might have questioned whether he had imagined his whole encounter with the masked lady.

  Now he could only wonder what had made her take flight. The timing suggested she did not want him to discover her identity. What reason could she have for that unless there was something more than her face she wished to hide? Could she have been a married woman dallying with his affections for an evening’s amusement?

  In the midst of so many unanswered questions, there were two things he knew for certain. The first was that he’d been a fool to throw his accustomed caution to the winds and pursue a deceitful stranger. The other was that he had been right in seeking to choose a wife with his sensible head rather than his foolish heart. This incident renewed his intention to propose to Barbara Cadmore at the earliest opportunity.

  Chapter Thirteen

  GRACE STOOD IN a moon-dappled garden with Rupert Kendrick. He had removed his white mask, allowing her to look into his eyes. There she glimpsed a soft glow of admiration and a tantalizing glimmer of attraction. They echoed the very feelings that swelled in her heart for him. He raised his hand to caress her cheek... or so she expected. Instead his fingers clutched the corner of her mask and tore it from her face. Recognition dawned upon him, extinguishing all the light and warmth with which he had regarded her only a moment before. Cold disdain and suspicion glittered in their place.

  With a rough jolt, Grace woke from her distressing dream. Her eyes flew open and she gasped to find a pair of round blue eyes staring at her.

  “Good morning, Miss Ella,” Sophie chirped. “Did you have a nice time at the ball last night? I hope you didn’t lose a slipper.”

  For a moment Grace was too disoriented to make sense of what was clearly intended as a jest. Then she understood. “Like Cinderella, you mean? I am happy to report I returned home with both of the slippers Lady Benedict was kind enough to loan me.”

  She had fled the ball at midnight, but Grace did not intend to mention that to her imaginative young pupil.

  The sound of their conversation drew Charlotte and Phoebe from the nursery.

  “What happened last night, Miss Ella?” asked Charlotte. “Did Papa try to propose to Mrs. Cadmore? Were you able to stop him?”

  “I was not obliged to.” Grace sat up, stretched and yawned. “Mrs. Cadmore was not able to attend the masquerade after all.”

  The girls gave a cheer and clambered onto her bed. Though Grace knew it might be a mistake to encourage such familiarity, she could not bring herself to order them off. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Sophie’s shoulders and cast a smile at the older girls. It was good to see them all looking so relieved and happy.

  Grace could not decide how she felt about the events of the previous night. Though she feared she had taken a terrible risk for nothing, she could not bring herself to be sorry she had shared a moonlit evening of chaste intimacy with Rupert. It was an encounter she would remember and treasure always.

  “Did Papa go to the masquerade?” Phoebe’s nose wrinkled in a doubtful frown. “Perhaps he went to Dungrove instead and proposed to Mrs. Cadmore there.”

  Grace shook her head emphatically. “Your father was at the masquerade all even
ing. I spoke with him.”

  “And he didn’t know you?” asked Charlotte. “Or recognize your dress from the painting? I told you men never notice clothes.”

  “What did the two of you talk about?” Sophie demanded.

  “This and that.” Not eager to dwell on the subject, Grace scrambled out of bed. “He said I looked familiar, but he could not think who I might be. Now we all need to get dressed and you must help me put that pink gown back in its trunk before anyone else sees it. We don’t want your father to know I was there keeping watch on him.”

  Her words drove any further questions from the children’s minds. They bounded off her bed and away to get dressed.

  As Grace donned her ugliest dress and hid her hair beneath her most unflattering cap she recalled how pleasant it had been last evening to wear a becoming gown and to feel the breeze whisper through her curls. But after last night she would have to take special care to look as unattractive as possible so Rupert... Lord Steadwell would have no cause to suspect she might be the lady from the masquerade.

  Still all the risk and the need for added caution would be worthwhile if their encounter had persuaded him that his heart was not as dead to romantic feelings as he tried to pretend. Grace hoped their conversation might make him reconsider the wisdom of settling for a marriage of mutual convenience.

  She and the girls bolted a quick breakfast then set off to smuggle the pink gown back to its rightful resting place. Charlotte and Sophie went ahead to scout the route and warn their governess if anyone was coming. Phoebe was assigned to bring up the rear in case anyone approached from behind.

  It turned out their carefully laid plans were not necessary. They reached the State Apartment without meeting a single soul. As Grace wrapped the pink gown back in its swath of linen, she fancied it let out a rustling sigh of satisfaction that it had been brought out one last time to be worn and admired.