by Deborah Hale
Grace Ellerby flinched—but whether it was from his angry outburst or from the pain of her conscience, he could not tell for certain. “I realize now that you are a gentleman of honor but I had no way of knowing it at first. I have been acquainted with too many of the other kind.”
“What do you mean?” Rupert muttered, though he could guess her answer after what he had witnessed between her and that sultan brute at the ball.
Her hands were clasped in front of her. Now they began to fidget. Her delicate features reflected the struggle within her—not wanting to speak of painful events from the past but knowing she had no choice.
“It began during my very first position when I was only nineteen—fresh out of school and hopelessly naive. The brother of my mistress paid me a great deal of attention, flattered me, claimed he loved me and persuaded me to fancy I was in love with him. I assumed he meant to marry me, only to discover that gentlemen like him do not want a penniless, orphaned governess as a wife. When he offered to buy me a house and set me up as his mistress, I ran away.”
“The gall of the brazen whelp!” Rupert cried before he could restrain himself. “I’d have thrashed any brother-in-law of mine who dared to conduct himself in such an infamous manner under my roof!”
It was more than righteous indignation that roused his anger. He envied the young fool who had won Grace Ellerby’s heart when it was soft and trusting.
She raised her gaze to meet his, clearly determined to make a full confession. “It was as much my fault as his. I was completely unguarded. I encouraged his attentions.”
Hard as he tried, Rupert could not let that go unchallenged. “But you said yourself, you were scarcely more than a child! How were you to know his intentions were so thoroughly dishonorable?”
“I was employed in his sister’s home,” she insisted. “I should not have permitted any familiarity between us. The experience taught me a painful lesson but a useful one I never intended to forget. At my next post, I tried to be more careful. I concentrated on my duties and went out of my way to discourage any attention from visiting gentlemen.
“That worked well enough for a while. But then a friend of the master’s took a fancy to me. For some reason, he seemed to consider my reserved manner a challenge. He set about to win my favors and the more I resisted the more determined he became.”
“Why did you not complain to your employers?” Rupert demanded in a sharp tone. His stomach seethed with indignant anger. He wished he had both the cads who had imposed upon Grace Ellerby in front of him so he could knock their vile heads together!
“I tried,” she insisted in a defensive tone as if she assumed his anger was directed at her. “I spoke to the mistress about my fears, but she refused to believe me even though the man had tried to flirt with me in her presence. She said it was not my place to criticize a guest in her home. I was left with no choice but to seek a position elsewhere.”
Rage rose in Rupert’s throat like thick black bile. The number of people he longed to confront and punish kept growing while Grace Ellerby fell lower and lower on the list. “I suppose it was the same at the next place?”
“Worse.” Her gaze faltered and her hands moved more restlessly than ever. “Not only did I cultivate a more guarded manner, I also dressed as modestly as possible and wore my hair in a severe style. That kept me safe until last fall when Mr. Hesketh’s uncle returned from the Indies to live with the family.”
She went on to describe how the lecher had pursued her and her increasingly desperate efforts to avoid him until the night he had entered her bedchamber and lain in wait. By the time she finished her account, Rupert’s throat was so constricted he could scarcely speak.
“I knew after that,” she concluded, “I could not afford to keep moving from one post to another or I would never be able to save for my old age. I decided I must employ more drastic measures to discourage gentlemen from taking an interest in me.”
“But I am not like those other men!” Rupert forced the words out of his constricted throat. “I would never behave toward any woman as they did!”
As strenuously as he insisted it, his conscience could not deny his immediate attraction to Grace at the masquerade. Nor his present urge to take her in his arms and vow to protect her from anyone who might do her harm.
Was he really any better than those other men? And did he frighten her as they had?
The way her gaze skittered from his made him suspect he might.
“I know that now. But how could I at first? Especially when I learned...”
“That I was widowed,” Rupert finished her sentence. He recalled her intense reaction to that discovery and how it had puzzled him at the time. Now it became clear.
She nodded. “None of the men who pursued me were married. If I had known you were not, I would never have applied for the position. By the time I realized you were a gentleman of honor, I guessed you only hired me because you believed I was plain and unmarriageable. I feared if you discovered otherwise, you would send me away from Nethercross and I would never see your daughters again.”
Grace Ellerby was the picture of abject remorse, and Rupert found his vexation with her melting away like snow on a mild spring day. How could he blame her for doing whatever she must to remain at Nethercross with his girls? In her place, what might he have been willing to do? What rules of proper behavior might he bend? How far would he allow honor to lapse?
“I wanted to tell you the truth.” Her words trembled with that longing. “The more time passed, the more I wanted to, but the harder it became. I was certain you would not understand and now I know I was right.”
She wasn’t right at all, Rupert yearned to reassure her. There were parts of what she had done that he understood far too well. But other parts still bewildered him.
“My daughters knew, didn’t they?”
Their governess gave a brief guilty nod, as if that was one facet of her prolonged deception that troubled her most.
“When did they find out?” It made him feel a greater fool than ever to have been blind to something his children had long since realized.
Was it their innocence, their lack of concern with appearance that had allowed his children to see through her dowdy disguise? He, however, had looked Grace Ellerby over only long enough to decide that she was unattractive and thus no threat to the stability of his household. After that, he had never bothered to observe her more closely.
“Several months ago.” She went on to tell him how Sophie had coaxed her to don the beautiful old gown and how she’d been discovered by Charlotte.
“They kept your secret all this time.” Rupert could not decide whether he felt betrayed by his daughters or admired the lengths to which they had gone to protect their governess.
“I should never have asked them to take part in my deception,” Grace murmured. “I am not proud of any of my actions, but that is the one I regret most.”
Determined to get to the bottom of this whole business, Rupert asked, “Whose idea was it for you to attend the masquerade?”
When Grace Ellerby hesitated to reply, it occurred to him that she was as determined to protect his daughters as they were her. Clearly she had not intended to engage his affections last night for her own sake, as part of him longed to believe. Instead, seeing how much he fancied her, she had led him on in an effort to prevent the marriage she feared would make his daughters miserable.
“The girls made you go, didn’t they?”
“They did not make me do anything,” she protested. “My friend, Lady Benedict, offered me an invitation. Your daughters only urged me to accept and provided me with a costume. I pretended to let them persuade me, but the truth is I wanted to go. What happened last night was not their fault.”
In spite of everything, he could not be angry or sorry she had gone, even if their moonlit encounter had brought him to the troublesome realization that his heart was not entirely ready to give up on love.
“I know you hav
e no reason to believe me,” Grace’s gaze flitted from the floor to his face and back again. “I was going to tell you the truth last night. But at the last moment I lost my nerve and ran away. It’s what I have always done when things go wrong.”
She put Rupert in mind of a wild doe, ears alert for the slightest noise, nose sniffing the breeze for any whiff of danger, muscles coiled to sprint away at the first sign of peril. She needed a safe haven and a strong protector. She deserved them.
“You didn’t run this time,” he reminded her, aware how difficult that must have been. “You could just as easily have slipped away and left me a note explaining all this.”
“I almost wish I had,” she admitted with a rueful grimace. “But your daughters deserve better than that from me. So do you after what I’ve done. The result will be the same though, won’t it? I shall have to leave. I cannot blame you for not trusting me to raise your daughters after the lack of character I’ve shown.”
Leave? The prospect of losing her from his home jarred Rupert. He had not thought beyond this confrontation to its consequences. Reason warned him that dismissing her was the only prudent course. She had already gained too perilous a foothold in his affections. By her own admission, she was the sort of woman who posed his heart the greatest danger—one who was apt to take flight and abandon him.
But how could he do that to his daughters when it was clear how much they had come to care for their new governess?
“I cannot pretend I approve of your actions.” He could scarcely force the words out—so torn was he about what course of action to take. “But I understand why you felt compelled to hide your beauty in the beginning.”
His tongue tripped over the word beauty, for it reminded him anew how much her looks attracted him.
Rupert cleared his throat and continued. “I acknowledge the part I played in making you feel you must continue the ruse or lose your position. But I am gravely disappointed that once we became better acquainted you continued to doubt I would understand.”
For the first time that evening he thought he glimpsed the faint shimmer of tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“I believe you are.” He resisted the intense urge to stride toward her and offer her the comfort of his embrace. She would assume he was no better than those other men who had tried to take advantage of her innocence and prey upon her beauty. Recalling how he had ignored his growing fondness for plain Miss Ellerby only to indulge his instant fancy for the masked lady, Rupert could not be altogether certain he was any better. “And I hope you will try to make it up to my family by staying on at Nethercross as my daughters’ governess.”
He held his breath as he waited for her answer. For his daughters’ sake he knew he could not dismiss her. But for himself he could not decide if he was more alarmed at the prospect of Grace leaving... or staying?
Chapter Fifteen
“STAY?” GRACE COULD not believe her ears. After all she had told him, she’d been certain his lordship would pack her off to Reading without delay.
He nodded. “Please. It is clear my girls care a great deal about you and you about them. I promise you will never have anything to fear under my roof like you suffered in your past positions. In turn I hope that from now on you will always be truthful with me.”
“I will, sir, most gladly.” Grace did not need any such inducements from him. She had learned how treacherous the slippery slope of secrecy could be. “Thank you, sir. This is greater forbearance than I deserve.”
Grateful and relieved as she was, Grace could not stifle the feeling that she had escaped the just punishment due her. “If you will excuse me, then, sir, I should return to the nursery in case any of the girls are still awake.”
He replied with a wordless nod.
Grace was halfway through the door when curiosity got the better of her. “Please, sir, if the children ask, what should I tell them about you and Mrs. Cadmore?”
Was she already straining the promise she’d just made to his lordship about being truthful? It was quite as much for her own sake that she needed to know as for her pupils. “I ask, sir, because I fear the lady might not approve of me once she sees my true appearance. I would not want my presence in the house to place a strain on your marriage.”
Lord Steadwell turned to gaze out the window.
“Now that I perceive the depth of my daughters’ opposition to that match, I believe I must abandon any thought of it.” His words trailed off in a sigh.
Had she been wrong about his feelings for Mrs. Cadmore? Did they run deeper than she’d wanted to believe? Or had his lordship acknowledged the likelihood that his daughters would never accept any other woman in their mother’s place?
If that were true, it would be a great pity for him, Grace reflected as she closed the study door softly behind her and returned to the nursery. Now that he was beginning to cast off the cruel bonds of grief, must he remain alone until his daughters were all married before he dared take a wife? How many more years must he endure the loneliness of which he had spoken at the masquerade?
The masquerade—Grace thought back upon the evening as if it had taken place weeks ago rather than just yesterday. Recalling the things Rupert had confided in her and the tender touch of his hand, she had been so certain he felt something for her. But once he discovered the identity of the lady behind the mask, there had been no mention of anything that passed between them. Instead, he’d been vexed with her for deceiving him and pretending to be the sort of lady he might have cared for as an equal.
For the sake of his children he was willing to let her keep her position. But his promise that she would not be exposed to any romantic attentions while under his roof made it clear he would not permit himself to have feelings for someone in her position.
Viscount Benedict had been willing to accept an impoverished bride of noble birth. But Lord Steadwell clearly shared Captain Townsend’s belief that a gentleman should not take a wife so far beneath him.
When Grace slipped back into the nursery, Charlotte stirred and called out in a whisper, “What did Papa say, Miss Ella? Are you to be dismissed? We won’t let him do it, you know. We’ll go and tell him the masquerade was our idea and you did not want to go.”
“Shh.” Grace made her way to the child’s bed and perched on the edge of it. “We don’t want to wake your sisters. I appreciate your willingness to intercede for me with your father, but it will not be necessary. After listening to my explanation, he was kind enough to say I may remain at Nethercross.”
Charlotte shot upright and flung her arms around Grace’s neck. “That’s wonderful, Miss Ella! The girls will be so happy! Now we can all continue on as we have been.”
“Unless...” She pulled back from her eager embrace. “What about Mrs. Cadmore? Does Papa still plan to marry her?”
Torn between relief and guilt, Grace shook her head. “He understands now that you cannot abide having a stepmother. So he has given up the idea of remarrying for the present.”
Charlotte renewed her embrace tighter than ever. “It’s all turned out well then. Happily ever after as Sophie would say!”
A fortnight after his interview with Grace Ellerby, Rupert could still recall with perfect clarity her look of rapturous relief when he’d begged her to remain at Nethercross and promised he would not trouble her with his unwelcome attentions. Clearly their encounter at the masquerade had meant something quite different to her than it had to him. Had she only permitted him to draw close to her so he would realize he could not settle for a loveless marriage?
Recalling his former marriage plans reminded Rupert that he owed Mrs. Cadmore an explanation and an apology. Not wanting to put it off any longer, he called for his horse to be saddled and rode at once to Dungrove.
The lady received him with frosty civility. “Lord Steadwell, to what do I owe this unexpected honor? I am surprised you can tear yourself away from home these days—the nursery, in particular.”
Rupert refused to inq
uire what she meant by that remark. “I know I should have come to speak to you sooner. I must beg your pardon for that and for a great deal more. I have imposed upon you of late in a most shameful fashion.”
“Indeed you have, sir.” She fluttered her fan to stir the sultry August air, though her manner betrayed not the slightest degree of warmth. “I confess I am at a loss to know why. I thought you and I had an understanding that an alliance between our families would be of mutual benefit.”
“I used to think so too.” Rupert toyed self-consciously with the brim of his hat. “I assure you it was never my intention to lead you on. I planned to make you an offer of marriage, but when the time came I found I could not.”
Mrs. Cadmore arched one raven eyebrow and fixed him with an icy glare. “And why was that, pray?”
“For the same reason you should have refused me if I had proposed.” Much as he regretted aspects of his conduct, Rupert no longer doubted he had done the right thing. “Because I do not love you, nor do I believe you have any tender feelings for me. I persuaded myself that did not matter to me only to discover... it does.”
The lady’s fan snapped shut. “Sentimental nonsense! I took you for a rational, practical man of property, Lord Steadwell, not some calf-eyed schoolboy. I find you a most attractive gentleman and excellent company. I have no doubt we could have grown quite fond of one another in time.”
Rupert gave a decisive shake of his head. “You may always rely upon me as a friend and neighbor, but I now realize it would have been a grave mistake for us to marry without love.”
Mrs. Cadmore sniffed. “It’s that governess, isn’t it? I saw her in church last week and scarcely recognized her without that hideous cap and spectacles. I suppose she made herself look plain and respectable to gain a footing in your household, then threw off the disguise to catch your fancy.”
“That is not true!” Rupert protested, shaken to discover the intensity of outrage an insult to Grace provoked in him. “Miss Ellerby is an excellent governess to my daughters, whatever her appearance. But she is nothing more to me than that.”