The Cinderella Governess

by Georgie Lee

  ‘Maybe it’s not even her I’m jealous of, but her position. It gave her opportunity.’ A flock of crows took off out of the trees. The wind supporting their flight whipped past Joanna and Luke, making the bonnet ribbons beneath her pert chin flutter over her neck and chest. The satin slid across her fine skin as he longed to do with his fingers while his lips smoothed the small furrow between her brows. ‘Here, there isn’t even a chance for me to take in order to change things.’

  ‘There will be.’

  ‘When?’ She turned to him, the demand for an answer sharp in the cool depths of her eyes.

  Chance. It was here in front of him, eclipsing everything he might lose with what he stood to gain. He should walk away, stay true to his vow to resist the allure of her rich curls beneath her plain bonnet and dismiss the faint scent of lavender distracting him. He should ignore her wit and intelligence and the craving for her understanding that tugged at him, but he couldn’t. She held something more precious and necessary to him than money, status or even security. It was peace. ‘Now.’

  He took her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers.

  * * *

  Joanna fell into his comforting embrace and the temptation in his kiss. Her heart pounded with the risk and the thrill of his body as solid as the temple against hers. She rested her hands on his chest and his strong pulse beneath her fingertips reminded her she was young and alive and all her dreams might still come true. A shiver coursed through her as he traced her lips with his tongue, his breath one with hers as he held her close. He tasted like the drink of strong port she’d sneaked once at a soirée for the school patrons, rich, sharp and forbidden. She savoured him as she had the liquor, each illicit taste making her crave more.

  She slid her hands up over the sturdy curve of his chest, past the white cravat and collar surrounding his neck. With small circles she traced the smoothness of the skin before raising her fingers to slide them into his hair. His grip tightened around her and his arms crossed behind her back as he rested his hands on her hips and enveloped her in his embrace. In the circle of his arms was a belonging she’d never experienced before, not even at Madame Dubois’s. Despite being hidden away and ignored, he’d seen her for who she was and he wanted her. It almost made every risk she was taking with him worth it.

  A faint darkness crept in beneath her bliss, like a mist along the ground at dusk. He had little to lose with this liaison while she might sacrifice everything for a fleeting bit of happiness. She clung to it like she did his biceps, his muscles hard beneath her grip, trying to forget reality, duty and consequences. Beyond the strength of his kiss, the tightness of his fingers against her back, nothing else had changed, not his situation or hers.

  She withdrew her fingers from his hair and broke from his lips, but not his embrace. He eased his arms from around her waist, but left his hands to linger on the narrowness of it. Every argument against their being together nearly died on her tongue as she held his fierce gaze. The dreams of being with him that she’d entertained in the middle of the night felt more real than anything she’d experienced at Huntford Place. Her heart urged her to embrace whatever was happening between them and perhaps gain everything she’d ever desired.

  ‘Miss Radcliff, are you out here?’ Mrs Winston’s voice carried over the temple, piercing Joanna’s bliss. ‘I need your help.’

  The twins yelled like devils as they tore through the garden, silencing the birds twittering overhead.

  Joanna stared up at Luke, reluctant to let him go and step back into the awfulness of her life, but she had to. She wasn’t ready to lose what little she had over a single kiss no matter how marvellous.

  ‘Miss Radcliff?’ Mrs Winston’s voice grew closer and needier.

  Major Preston opened his arms. Joanna slowly backed away and eased around the curve of the temple, reluctant to look away from him until she was forced to turn and face the house. Mrs Winston waddled up the rise, through the high grass, her round face red with the exertion of her walk and having to deal with the Ava and Anne.

  ‘Here I am.’ Joanna rushed down the stone steps to meet her.

  ‘Oh, thank heavens.’ Mrs Winston sighed, laying a hand on her generous bosom. ‘I can’t control the twins and you have such a way with them.’

  Joanna struggled not to roll her eyes at the unconvincing flattery. The nurse was as useless as the rest of the Huntford servants and Joanna was sure Mrs Winston wanted to gossip with the other maids instead of minding the hellish imps, but she held her tongue. She was afraid to speak too much and reveal in her wavering words the fear settling over her. She’d nearly been caught in an intimate situation with Major Preston and her secret was still in danger of being discovered.

  Joanna glanced back at the temple as she wrested a stick from Anne before she could pummel Ava. There was no sign of Luke and she was confident he would remain hidden until it was safe for him to leave. It didn’t meant she should dawdle here and risk the twins racing up to the temple and finding him. She took Mrs Winston by the arm and led her back towards the house while urging the twins to come along. Thankfully, the promise of a sweet if they listened resulted in the girls following her and the nurse like obedient ducklings.

  With the shadows of Huntford Place coming over her, she was more confused now than when she’d left it to read Isabel’s letter. It wasn’t her friend’s rashness which stunned and concerned her, but her own. She’d taken a chance. Time would tell what it would gain her.

  * * *

  Luke stayed at the temple until the sun touched the top of the trees. He watched it drop behind the forest and listened as the songs of the birds gave way to quiet. In the distance, the windows of Huntford Place lit up, but still he didn’t return. Inside, ladies who considered the house party the highlight of autumn would be wondering where he was. They would sit down to supper, puzzled the prized catch hadn’t joined them. He couldn’t, because Miss Radcliff wouldn’t be with them and he could no longer pretend it didn’t matter.

  An owl screeched, and a chill wind whipped across the stone. Luke drew his coat tighter about his neck as he rose at last and left the circle of the temple dome. If he stayed out here much longer, Gruger might be roused to arrange a search party and Luke didn’t want the whole house out looking for him. If he found a way to pursue Miss Radcliff, it would cause enough of a stir, especially among his family.

  He rounded the curve and descended the steps, thinking of Miss Radcliff as he parted the long grass with each stride. To have her at last in his arms, her curves easy and sweet against his hard planes, proved more tempting than seizing a poorly guarded outpost. Yet the tenderness of her lips, the eagerness with which she’d folded in to him, didn’t erase the obstacles facing them.

  Luke crossed the garden and entered the house through the music room at the back. He slipped past the sitting room unnoticed, the draw of charades distracting everyone. Inside, Mr Chilton danced around like an Italian opera performer as he tried to mimic who knew what. Luke should announce his presence, but he couldn’t, not to these empty-headed twits.

  He climbed the stairs to the first floor and instead of making for the bachelor rooms, he turned left and went to his mother’s room. Light flickered beneath her door and he knocked. ‘It’s Luke.’

  Her apple-cheeked lady’s maid pulled open the door and his mother heaved a sigh of relief from where she sat by the fire. ‘Oh, thank heavens. Miss Chilton said she saw you ride back to the house and the groom said Duke was in the stable, but it’s been hours. Where have you been?’

  ‘Out walking.’ He hugged his mother, wondering how she’d react if he told here where and with whom he’d really been. ‘I’m sorry I worried you.’

  ‘Don’t do it again.’ She swatted his arm, then motioned for the maid to leave them. ‘I know your father has given up on you finding a wife here, but I had a chance to speak with Miss Winbo
rn at dinner. She’s a very charming lady with a three-thousand-pound dowry, and is quite overlooked by everyone. It must be the red hair, such an unfortunate family trait. I believe she’s worth another look.’

  He ground his teeth at the frank mention of the lady’s true value. ‘What if I choose a lady of greater character than Miss Winborn, but with no money?’

  His mother fingered the tassels at the end of her shawl. ‘Luke, you know the situation we’re in and how much a wife with a healthy dowry will help us.’

  ‘And what about my happiness? Does it mean nothing to you?’

  ‘Of course, but marriage is difficult enough without the added burden of bills.’ She jerked the shawl across her shoulders, making it clear there were indeed limits for her to his happiness.

  ‘If I resolve the issue with Lord Helmsworth, I wouldn’t need a wife with a dowry.’

  ‘It’s a very uncertain outcome to base all our futures on.’ She laid one finger on her chin. ‘Who are you considering? Is it Miss Bell? I understand her family’s means are as strained as ours. Imagine Edward’s reaction if you chose her. That alone should put you off her.’

  ‘I have no interest in Miss Bell.’

  ‘Then who are you speaking of?’

  ‘No one. It’s simply a hypothetical question.’

  He wasn’t about to reveal the truth because he had yet to determine exactly what it was. Joanna cared for him as much as he did for her, but nothing was settled between them. Until it was, and they could stand proudly together before everyone, there was no point in risking her reputation—no matter how much he wanted to be with her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Joanna hurried down the path in the woods. In the distance, through a break in the trees, she noticed the large grey clouds gathering on the horizon. The faint scent of rain hung in the air. For the moment, the afternoon was warm and the echoes of guns sounded over the trees as the men took advantage of the fine weather to hunt. The ladies were once again rehearsing the play, while the twins were with their nurse and Catherine with her music teacher. It gave Joanna time to visit Vicar Carlson, to escape the house and the agitation of being confined with every possibility of encountering Major Preston.

  After yesterday, and a restless night of trying not to think about him, she wasn’t ready to face him or the lingering questions left by his kiss. If Rachel, Grace or Isabel were here, she could chat endlessly about Major Preston the way Grace used to gush about her young man, until the enthusiasm had died and her real troubles had begun. Joanna didn’t need Grace’s kind of problems.

  She stopped on the bank of the brook and opened and closed her hands. The press of his fingers against hers was as immediate as the water flowing by. He wanted her, not in Mr Selton’s licentious way, but as something more, but what she couldn’t say. Caring for him meant defying everyone, including Madame’s expectations, and it wasn’t like her to flaunt convention for a fling.

  But is it more than a fling? She didn’t know, and with only one way to find out she wasn’t about to try. He was distracting her from her duties enough already. All morning, she’d barely been able to concentrate and her lax supervision had made her charges even more wild than usual. If she didn’t focus on her position, and not on a fantasy, she’d soon find herself returned to Salisbury and separated from Major Preston for good. Would he follow her if she left? She wasn’t sure and the uncertainty troubled her as much as the memory of his kiss.

  She reached the brook and, holding out her arms to better balance herself, hopped across the rocks. She stepped over the loose one, for there was no Major Preston here to catch her if she stumbled, then finished her crossing and walked up the opposite bank. Isabel might rush headlong into a relationship and Grace might lose her head on a whim, but not Joanna. She was too sensible and practical, or so she’d believed until yesterday afternoon.

  At last the vicarage came into view and she hurried towards it. She needed someone to talk to who could distract her, even if the one subject she most wanted to discuss couldn’t be broached. Vicar Carlson might understand her situation at Huntford Place, but she imagined he wouldn’t approve of a governess dallying with a gentlemen. Few people did.

  The gate at the end of the walk hung open and she slowed as she passed it. The tangy scent of chimney smoke didn’t greet her, nor did the gentle neigh of the vicar’s horse. Her excitement waned at the sight of the front door standing slightly ajar. She pushed it open and her heart dropped. There was nothing in the room except a suite of old furniture in front of a cold fireplace and a few papers scattered across the dusty floor.

  ‘Vicar Carlson,’ Joanna called out as she stepped inside, hoping the absence of clutter was he or his maid having cleaned. She moved deeper into the house, past the faded chintz of the armchair and a matching chaise to where the bookshelf stood empty except for the dust outlining where the books used to be. She clasped her arms across her chest and rubbed them to warm herself. ‘Where did he go?’

  ‘To London.’ A male voice sounded from behind her. ‘He received a more lucrative living there.’

  Joanna whirled around to find Major Preston in the doorway. He wore his tweed hunting clothes and the faint acrid scent of gunpowder clung to him. During every moment when the twins had focused on their work and allowed her to dream, she’d pictured him in the Greek temple, the low afternoon light softening the angle of his chin and the slight scar along his hairline. The memories of his curved and strong lips beneath a regally arching nose were nothing compared to him in person. She glanced at a round water stain on the table beside the chair, already missing the kind old man, especially with Luke standing mere feet away. If he were here, she wouldn’t be so worried about being weak with Major Preston. ‘He said nothing to me about leaving when he invited me to come see him.’

  ‘You must have made quite an impression on him. He wasn’t an inviting vicar. Must be why the Marquis liked him so much.’ Major Preston laughed and the low sound moved through her like the tide in Sandhills had. He stepped deeper into the room and set his hat on the bench beside the door.

  ‘I seem to have made an impression on a number of gentlemen here, wouldn’t you say, Major Preston?’ She didn’t have time to be coy or the stomach for sneaking around. She needed to know where they stood, what he hoped might come of yesterday, assuming it was anything at all.

  ‘Yes, you have,’ he admitted without hesitation, driving more pressing questions from her mind. ‘And, please, call me Luke.’

  She should resist this informality, especially after their prior breech of etiquette, but she couldn’t. Even without the books and personal items, with Luke here the vicarage was more inviting than the cosiest room in Huntford Place. ‘And you may call me Joanna, in private of course.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, eager to pull back from the craving for intimacy drawing her deeper into this forbidden friendship.

  ‘I was on my way to Helmsworth Manor when I saw you come in here.’

  He followed me.

  All night she’d imagined him taking her in his arms and claiming her once again. In the sunlight, the dream faded and reality took its place. Major Preston came here to find a rich wife with a nobler lineage than hers. If she didn’t end things between them, they might do something they’d regret. Joanna already mourned the many things she wouldn’t have in life. She didn’t want to make it worse by losing her heart to a man she couldn’t have.

  ‘You shouldn’t have followed me. It isn’t right for us to be alone together.’

  She tried to pass him but he caught her hand.

  ‘Don’t leave. Not yet.’

  She whirled to face him, and didn’t pull away as his fingers tightened around hers.

  ‘I can no longer ignore my feelings or my concern for you. I admire you, and care for you more
deeply than I should.’

  Her heart began to race with both fear and excitement as he made small circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. She knew she should go, but the tenderness in his eyes was making her insides burn and it wouldn’t allow her to leave. Instead, she shifted closer and tilted her face up to his, craving what he offered despite the risks. It went against every rational thought she’d ever possessed about right and wrong, possible and impossible, but his chest against hers and his heavy arms drawing her close were the only things that mattered.

  Then their lips met and the fluttering rising in the pit of her stomach filled her entire being. She could think of nothing but his mouth on hers, his hand on the small of her back. She rose up on her toes, eager for his hand to slide lower as she pressed further into his kiss. Against her stomach she felt the intensity of his need and it made her wobble on her toes before his firm embrace steadied her. His breathing matched hers as he at last gripped her buttocks and bent her deeper into the curve of his body. The gentle flick of his tongue against her lips drew hers out to caress his and the salty taste of him made her forget all of her misgivings.

  The bliss was broken by the distant peal of the village church bells. They rang out over the forest while the church beside the vicarage remained silent. The sound ended the kiss which had held them together for so many glorious moments. There was no wresting apart, but a slow coming down as she settled onto her heels. She ran her fingers along his temples and across the planes of his cheeks to rest on his shoulders.

  Then the clop of a horse’s hooves and the low ‘whoa’ from a rider outside made her stiffen in his arms.

  ‘Who’s here?’ an angry voice called out from the front gate.

  ‘It’s Lord Helmsworth.’ Luke pulled her to an open door of a large, empty cupboard and waited for her to climb inside. ‘Stay here. He can’t see you.’

  He closed the door. Light fell through a crack in the top, but there was no way for her to see through the wood. The stomp of boots on the vicarage floor announced Lord Helmsworth’s ill-timed arrival. She cringed away from the door and struggled to keep her breathing even and quiet, afraid of being detected and ruined.