The Governess and the scandalous Duke (Clean Regency Historical Romance)

by Regina Darcy

  “May I ask who the lady is?” she enquired.

  The Duke let out a long sigh. “Miss Abigail Martins, and you shall meet her come Monday.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, I am afraid so,” he continued, with a rueful grin. “We are to be besieged, Miss Lakeheart. My mother is throwing the most extravagant ball in Bath, on Friday, and Miss Abigail Martins will be in attendance. In fact, she and my mother are going to be staying here for a few days, and our engagement announcement will be made during the ball.”

  Beatrice tried to give her congratulations yet again, but her throat closed up, and she was unable to speak. The Duke was clearly less than delighted with the match, but, for whatever reason, was going ahead with it regardless.

  “So, you see, I am in dire need of company,” the Duke continued. “I am aware that it is quite unorthodox, Miss Lakeheart, but perhaps you might grace me with your company after dinner until my mother and my–” he winced “fiancée arrive?”

  His gaze locked with hers.

  Her heart skipped a beat. In that moment she would have agreed to anything.

  “Of course,” Beatrice found herself saying. “I should be delighted.”

  FIVE

  In the final few days before the ball, Jonathan found himself looking forward more and more to his evenings with Miss Lakeheart. She was proving herself a delightful companion and certainly possessed an array of accomplishments, including a fascinating intellect.

  They talked about a great many things, although he had needed to reassure Miss Lakeheart on more than one occasion that he enjoyed hearing her opinions. Once she had realised that he was in earnest, she had spoken openly with him.

  Jonathan smiled to himself as he remembered her animated expression, and how her cheeks turned pink with colour from the heat of the roaring fire. He was noticing little things about her that endeared her to him all the more - the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, or how a few tendrils of hair would escape from her tight bun and frame her face. Despite his determination not to be caught up by her, he would often find himself thinking about how she might look were she not his governess, and instead his guest. Would he dance with her at the ball, were she here at his invitation?

  Knowing that, had Miss Lakeheart’s father had a little more mettle, she would not be in these reduced circumstances made him more than a little irate. Then again, he reasoned, had that been the case, he would never have met her.

  Thumping his fist on the desk, he realised that it made little difference whether he had met her or not. He was betrothed to Abigail, was he not? Gritting his teeth against the wave of regret that threatened to flood him, he thumped the desk again for good measure.

  “Your Grace,” the butler interrupted, walking in through the open study door, “I believe there are some carriages arriving.”

  Heading outside, Jonathan cursed under his breath. His mother had arrived at precisely the same time as his fiancée, one carriage after another. He pasted a smile on his face to greet them both, but his mother ignored him completely, walking over to Abigail’s carriage. Clasping both of Abigail’s hands in her own, she practically squealed in delight on seeing her.

  Jonathan rolled his eyes, making his way towards them both. Abigail was calm and collected, as always. His mother, on the other hand, was already chattering away, pausing only to allow Jonathan to press a kiss to her cool cheek.

  “Good day, Miss Martins,” he murmured, despite his mother’s continuous flow of words. “I trust your journey was not too arduous.”

  Abigail’s eyes lingered on his for a moment. She showed no sign of happiness on seeing him, not even a brief smile touching her lips. It was nothing less than what he’d expected, given that Abigail was marrying him only for his title and his wealth.

  “I should like a bath, I think,” Abigail directed. “I shall join you for dinner, of course. I assume we are keeping country hours?”

  “I am at your disposal, of course,” Jonathan murmured. Abigail walked ahead of him into the house and disappeared up the stairs almost at once. The butler would take care of her, he was sure. He sighed heavily. This was not going to be an easy few days.

  Just before dinner, Jonathan brought both Miss Lakeheart and Angelica to the drawing room, knowing he needed to introduce the governess and reacquaint his daughter with his guests.

  “Angelica,” he began. “You remember Miss Martins?”

  Angelica said nothing, but managed a quick curtsy. It was better than any greeting Jonathan had seen from her before, and he was more than sure it was due to Miss Lakeheart’s influence. Warmth filled him, and he smiled down at his daughter.

  “Angelica, is it?” Abigail replied, despite having met the little girl on two previous occasions. “I do hope you won’t make a nuisance of yourself over the next few days, child. We have a very important ball to prepare for.”

  Jonathan heard Miss Lakeheart’s swift intake of breath at the same moment as anger mounted within him. His fiancée clearly cared not a jot for his daughter. He knew that Abigail was certainly a self-absorbed young woman, but he had not expected her to be this self-centred!

  “Angelica will be with me,” he heard Miss Lakeheart say, her voice crisp. “Given that she has the most impeccable behaviour, I can assure you that she has never been - and never will be - a nuisance.”

  Three pairs of eyes turned to face the governess, but Beatrice stood tall. She would not allow this lady, despite her connection to the Duke, to speak so disdainfully to Angelica.

  “And who is this, Jonathan?” his mother asked, as a disapproving grimace spread across her face.

  “This is Miss Lakeheart,” he replied, throwing a reassuring glance at the governess. “She is Angelica’s governess.” He gave Beatrice an encouraging smile.

  His mother sniffed derisively. “A little too forthright, if you ask me, Jonathan. You need someone who will teach Angelica how to truly be a lady.”

  “And Miss Lakeheart is doing just that,” Jonathan interrupted, quelling his mother with a fierce stare. “This is my household, Mother. Do not forget that.”

  “Soon to be our household,” Abigail murmured, her eyes on Miss Lakeheart.

  Jonathan said nothing, watching his fiancée carefully. She was apparently suggesting that, once they were married, she would have some kind of say over the governess. Or, perhaps she thought she would influence him over his household staff in some way. He held back a snort. Abigail was exactly like his mother in so many respects, and he had already had his fill of controlling women.

  “Indeed,” he stated, firmly. “But Miss Lakeheart is here to stay. I will not have Angelica’s schooling interrupted.” Holding up a hand to ward off his mother’s next words, he turned back to the governess with a smile.

  “Thank you, Miss Lakeheart. You may take Angelica back now.”

  Crouching down, he took Angelica’s hand, fully aware that showing affection and consideration for his daughter while in company was not something his mother approved of. He did not care. He smiled into Angelica’s eyes, patting her hand. “I shall come and see you later, my dear girl. You did very well.”

  Her smile was music to his soul. “Thank you, Papa,” she whispered, leaning forwards to kiss his cheek. Looking up at Miss Lakeheart, Jonathan saw her eyes shine with appreciation for his behaviour towards his daughter, and his heart swelled even more. Kissing Angelica’s cheek in return, he straightened and kept his eyes on her as she left the room with Miss Lakeheart. Never had he been more certain of his decision to keep the governess in her position. Her defence of his daughter had been swift. Miss Lakeheart cared for Angelica, and that made him appreciate her all the more.

  “Let us discuss the ball,” his mother began, turning his attention away from Miss Lakeheart and back to his fiancée. “When do you intend to make your announcement?”

  His mind whirled. “I - I had not thought,” he stammered. Abigail let out a slight huff of frustration, which, unfortunately, he echoed,
but for very different reasons.

  “I will take care of it all,” his mother replied, delightedly. “Just ensure that you are ready with your speech.”

  “I am to make a speech?” Jonathan asked, growing more irritated by the minute.

  Abigail blinked twice. “Of course you do! We are betrothed and due to be married very soon!” She turned her head to one side, now blinking furiously against tears. “One might think that you are not in the least bit excited, Your Grace!”

  Jonathan sighed, turning away from both his fiancée and his mother, who was now attempting to cajole Abigail. He was quite sure that her tears were simply for show, and he was not fooled by them in the least.

  “Jonathan,” his mother hissed, “aren’t you going to say something?”

  Fortunately for him, the dinner gong sounded. “Ah,” he said, cheerfully. “Shall we go to eat? I must admit I am quite famished.” Offering his arm - albeit with a little reluctance - to Abigail, he watched as her tears vanished at once, and she stood up with a small smile. His own smile was forced as he led her in to dinner. He was becoming increasingly aware of how stark a difference there was between his cold, calculating fiancée and his warm, caring governess.

  Even during dinner, Jonathan found he could not get Miss Lakeheart from his mind. With everything Abigail said or did, he would find himself comparing her behaviour to Miss Lakeheart’s. In addition, his concern for his daughter grew. While he had no intention of letting Miss Lakeheart leave his employ, the realisation that his daughter would have an extremely emotionless new mother left him feeling nauseous. Pushing his food away from the table, he rose quickly and excused himself, ignoring his mother’s gasp of shock.

  “I am afraid I am not feeling well,” he said, bowing. “Please forgive me. I shall see you both in the morning.”

  SIX

  Beatrice was not quite sure whether or not the Duke expected to see her in the library after dinner, given that he had guests, but she knew they would be in the drawing room either way. Pushing open the door just a crack, she scanned the room for occupants, but found none. With a sigh of relief, she walked in and closed the door firmly behind her. Sagging against it for just a moment, she allowed herself to think on the Duke. He had seemed pleased by her conduct this afternoon, although, when she looked back on it, she herself was quite embarrassed.

  The way the Duke’s betrothed had spoken to – and about – Angelica had made her ears burn, as a hot anger had risen in her chest. It had taken everything she had to keep her words civil, yet to-the-point. She would not allow Angelica to be put down in such a manner.

  Fortunately, the child had noticed very little, and had been chattering quite happily as they’d returned to the schoolroom. The Duke had excused his daughter from even making an appearance at the ball, for which Beatrice was profoundly thankful. The girl would be quite terrified should she be asked to greet a great number of guests. Obviously, her father was aware of this, and, since he evidently loved his daughter a great deal, it had not even been a discussion.

  Thinking of how much the Duke cared for his daughter always brought a smile to her face. Walking towards the roaring fire in the grate, Beatrice picked up her most recent reading book from where she had left it the previous night and settled into a chair. She did not open it, however, but instead focused on the bright flames. They were vibrant and warm, as if full of life.

  Her thoughts would not stop lingering on her employer.

  Why he had engaged himself to a cold, banal creature such as Miss Martins was quite beyond Beatrice’s understanding. Wealth and title, she reminded herself. A sigh escaped her lips. At least she would never marry for such a thing. If she ever married at all.

  The door opened suddenly, and the Duke’s warm voice filled the room. “Ah, Miss Lakeheart – thank goodness!” Sitting down opposite her, he let out a huff. “Such insipid chatter drains me.”

  She did not quite know what to say, and gave him a slight smile instead.

  “Dinner was becoming quite tedious,” he continued, looking away from her. “I hid in my study until I was sure they had both retired.”

  “And, have they?”

  He grinned at her, and Beatrice’s stomach flipped over.

  “Yes, they have,” he replied, stretching out his long legs in front of him. “And I am glad of it.”

  The door opened again, to admit the maid with Beatrice’s usual tea tray. The Duke had ensured she had one every evening, whilst he kept himself contented with a glass of whatever tipple he fancied. Once she had departed, the Duke regarded Beatrice before speaking.

  “What do you think of my betrothed, then?”

  Beatrice blushed furiously, slightly appalled by his question. It was not her place to give either her thoughts or her opinion on the soon-to-be Duchess of Carrington.

  “You think it is not your place,” the Duke continued. His lips twitched and his eyes twinkled. “But, Miss Lakeheart, do you not realise that it is precisely because of your unusual station that I seek your opinion?”

  “What do you mean?” Beatrice asked.

  He shrugged. “You are from a good family, and, should you choose it, could return to your station as a daughter of an earl. Your knowledge and understanding of all things regarding behaviour and propriety should put in you in good stead when it comes to discerning whether Miss Martins is a good match for me – and would be a decent mother for my daughter.”

  Beatrice wrinkled her nose as he finished, before throwing a horrified glance in the Duke’s direction. She had not intended to make her dislike of Miss Martins so apparent.

  Fortunately for her, the Duke let out a loud laugh, the sound echoing around the room. “I can see you do not care for her, then, Miss Lakeheart.”

  “I would never dare say such a thing!” Beatrice protested, weakly. “It is simply that I was a little taken aback by what she said to Angelica.”

  “And you came to her defence, of course,” the Duke murmured, thoughtfully. He tilted his glass this way and that, watching the amber liquid run from side to side.

  Beatrice gave a soft smile, as her initial panic over what she had said to the Duke began to fade.

  “How could I not?” she asked, honestly. “I did not want Angelica upset over what was said, since she is such a delightful and well-mannered girl.”

  The Duke took in a long breath, giving a slight shake of his head as he let it out. “Whatever am I going to do, Miss Lakeheart?”

  Knowing that it was best to remain silent, Beatrice kept her mouth closed, allowing her gaze to linger on the Duke. There was an air of melancholy about him this evening, which she had never seen before. Had the arrival of his betrothed truly had such a profound effect on the man? Her heart clenched with sympathy, while, at the same time, it prompted her to speak the truth to him about her own growing feelings. Biting her tongue, Beatrice forced her gaze away from him. He was already too much in her heart, and it seemed he would never leave.

  “Perhaps I should retire,” she mumbled, getting to her feet and setting her book aside. “I believe there will be more guests arriving tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” the Duke answered, heavily. “What with the ball in the evening.”

  Beatrice let out a quiet laugh. “It might be to your benefit to appear a little more excited about it, my lord.”

  The Duke laughed in response, rising from his chair and taking her hand in a gesture that surprised her greatly. The smile left her face as she looked down at their joined hands, her heart skipped a beat. Lifting her eyes to his, Beatrice felt her breath hitch as he pressed his lips to the back of her hand.

  In that moment, she was no longer the governess; she was a lady, and he a gentleman. There were no longer any boundaries between them. Heat shot up her arm as he lifted his head, looking deeply into her eyes.

  “You are an extraordinary woman,” the Duke murmured. “I shall miss the next few evenings with you.”

  “And I, as well,” Beatrice whispered, feeli
ng suddenly more alive than ever before. “Goodnight, my lord.”

  “Goodnight, Miss Lakeheart…Beatrice,” he replied, using her given name for the first time.

  She left the room, feeling as though she were walking on air.

  SEVEN

  The ball was in full swing, and Beatrice and Angelica were watching from a hidden corner of the balcony above. The girl’s eyes were shining, although she had made it more than clear to Beatrice that she wanted to remain out of sight. Beatrice had been more than happy to oblige, given that she found the large number of guests almost overwhelming. It had been a relief to be able to keep to the schoolroom or her own rooms, although she knew she would miss the Duke’s company and conversation over the next few days.

  “And who might you be?”

  Startled, Beatrice jumped in fright, before getting to her feet and attempting a brief smile in the direction of the gentleman who had approached them. This was not a place that guests were permitted. The Duke had promised her that no-one would bother her or Angelica if they wanted to stay and watch the proceedings for a short time, so what was he doing here?

  “I am Miss Lakeheart, governess to the Duke’s daughter.” She stepped a little to her side, hiding Angelica from view. The man had clearly drunk a little too much, and Beatrice did not want Angelica exposed to such a disgraceful sight.

  “Pretty little thing,” the man mumbled, stepping closer. He ran his hand down Beatrice’s arm, making her stiffen immediately.

  “Excuse me, sir,” she exclaimed, making to step to his left.

  “Now, now,” the man continued, his hand now grasping her arm. “No need to disappear so quickly, my dear.” His smile became a leer, and Beatrice began to panic. She needed to protect Angelica, as well as somehow remove herself from this leech of a man.