A Mysterious Governess for the Reluctant Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Ayles, Abby

  “Please, stop Mr. Poole. I will scream,” Hannah said, mustering all the courage that she had.

  He paid her no mind and successfully removed the garment, exposing the top of her full chest.

  “Why Miss Jacobson, you were hiding something magnificent under all that fabric. What will I see when I remove your cap next? Perhaps beautiful blonde hair? Or rich dark brown? Or shall I be surprised by a red head. You certainly have the milky white skin to go with fairer hair.”

  He ran one finger along the edge of her gown. It seemed he either didn’t believe she would scream or didn’t care.

  “Mr. Poole, you will remove your hand from me this instant, or I shall go straight to the earl about your unseemly behavior.”

  “Oh I don’t think you will,” Mr. Poole said, smiling with satisfaction at her defiant glare.

  “I am all too aware that the earl has forbidden you from having any interaction with the opposite sex. You tell him and I will simply counter that you came on to me. Who do you think Lord Grimshaw will believe more? A long-time employee or the new governess?”

  Hannah opened and closed her mouth a few times in panic. Mr. Poole was absolutely right. If the lord confronted them both, who was to say that he would believe her.

  Mr. Poole smiled in satisfaction knowing that he was right in his line of thought.

  “Now, take off that cap for me, so that I may finally learn the color of that hair. I believe that will be a good place to start anyway.”

  Tears welled in Hannah’s eyes. She would not give him the satisfaction of obeying but was also terrified that she would have no way out of this situation.

  “Mr. Poole, have you finished with the silverware yet?” a man’s voice called from down the hall.

  Whether the man could see that Mr. Poole had her pinned up against the wall she was unsure, but she didn’t wait to find out. As soon as Mr. Poole turned in the direction of the voice she swatted his hand and ran as fast as her skirts would allow, leaving her fichu behind.

  She paused just before turning to the stairs that led up to the main house and her own room. Mr. Poole had picked up the lost garment. He held it to his nose and took a deep breath before opening his eyes again directly on her.

  She felt a fearful shiver run down her spine at his glare. She may have escaped him, but it was clear he wasn’t going to give up.

  With hot tears streaming down her face she ran the length to her room and locked the door behind her. Throwing herself onto the bed, she melted into a hysterical cry.

  Again she was to be tormented by a man. All the images of the baron came back to her. All the times he cornered her, made excuses to get her alone in his office, and even made advances on her in front of his son.

  In the end word had traveled to his wife and the baron had insinuated that Hannah was the cause all along. He claimed she had tempted him with her beauty and promiscuous ways.

  It was no more Hannah’s fault that she had looked the pretty miss than a plain one. Yet the baroness had believed her husband and Hannah was dismissed with a stained reputation and no hope of another situation.

  She was sure that with her new plan to completely cover every inch of her body, there would have been no question to her virtue or any infringement on it. She had been so wrong.

  It seemed that no matter where she found herself she would be helpless to stop rakes and their desire to take from her flesh.

  Chapter Seven

  “Hannah,” Baron Edgley’s voice echoed in the darkness.

  She wasn’t sure exactly where she was, only that she had been wondering in the dark for some time now. At the sound of his voice her own caught in her throat.

  Hannah ran the space of the darkness looking for some way out as his taunting seemed to grow closer and closer.

  Finally, she could make out a dim light in the distance and she ran for it. The closer she got the more she realized it was the crack of a door and the light of freedom and safety just beyond.

  “Hannah, my pet. There is no reason to play so coy with me.”

  The voice was getting ever closer from behind as Hannah, heaving against her stays, did her best to run for the door.

  Finally she gripped the handle and used it to pull herself into the room. She fell in exhausting only to realize that it wasn’t the ground that had caught her.

  She looked up, her eyes following the hands, up the arms, to the shoulders, and then the face.

  “Why Miss Jacobson,” Mr Poole said with that sickly smile planted on his narrow face. “No need to throw yourself at me.”

  Hannah struggled to get up and away but the arms that had caught her now tightened their grip till she squealed out in pain.

  Holding her tight he lifted her to her feet and pinned her hard against the wall.

  “Help!” she screamed with all her might.

  “Shout all you want,” he said, pushing his body against her own. “There is no one to hear you here.”

  He licked his lips as his eyes fell down the length of her body. With one swift movement of his hand, he grabbed the top of her dress and ripped it, exposing her undergarments and bare shoulder.

  He kissed her neck and shoulder and she screamed again. His head lifted this time showing the face of Baron Edgley.

  “Leave me alone!” she screamed as she beat against the man to no avail.

  He ravaged her again along her neck and collarbone. This time when he rose he was yet again Mr. Poole.

  Grabbing both shoulders with his painful grip he lifted her off her feet and threw her across the room onto a lounge.

  Hannah fell with a hard thud against the cushions and screamed with all her might as he walked slowly towards her, a horrid smile ever present on his thin lips.

  Hannah bolted upright in her bed. The sound of her own screams had woken her and in the darkness she wasn’t sure if she was truly awake or if the nightmare only continued.

  She struggled to catch her breath when heavy quick steps ended with her bedroom door bursting open.

  Hannah screamed again instinctively and jumped from the bed.

  “What? What is it?” a deep hoarse voice demanded.

  She scarcely saw the figure of the earl by the candle he held but the image didn’t register. Instead she reached for the first object she could, a book on the table next to her bed, and chucked it at him.

  “I won’t let you near me!” Hannah screamed.

  Lord Grimshaw instinctively blocked the book that was thrown at him, completely baffled by her actions. Was she mad?

  He reached forward and grabbing one elbow he shook her good and hard.

  “Miss Jacobson, what’s the matter with you?”

  She seemed to snap out of it with the shake. She looked around the room, startled and bewildered. One hand cupped her mouth and large tears spilled from her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry,” she muffled, finally waking up.

  Grimshaw set the candlestick on the table that had once held the book and ever so gently took a step closer to her.

  “I heard screams. I thought something might be…was it a dream?” he asked, still trying to piece together all that had just happened.

  All she could do was nod her head while she still held her mouth. She was shaking uncontrollably and Grimshaw was sure that at any moment she would crumple into a heap on the ground.

  Instincts kicked in and he pulled her to his chest. She didn’t fight the action, instead she fell against him and let her sobs out full force.

  “Hush now, Miss Jacobson. It is all right,” he cooed with his chin resting against the top of her head. “It was just a dream, nothing more.”

  As Grimshaw held her he allowed one massive hand to rub up and down her back to soothe her. His eyes were caught by the long gold braid that shimmered in the little candlelight that went the length of her back.

  He absentmindedly wondered how she fit such a long golden lock under such a small cap.

  “Do you want to tell me about it?” Gri
mshaw said against her hair as she finally started to calm down.

  It was as if the words woke her for a second time. She took a step back and out of his arms. Though he let her go without a fight he immediately felt an empty cold where she had been against him.

  “I’m sorry, forgive me, Lord Grimshaw,” she stammered.

  She wrapped her arms around herself, no doubt to hide the state of undress though he was sure he had never seen a plainer and more modest dressing gown.

  “There is nothing to forgive,” Grimshaw said in a soft voice much like when one of the girls was upset.

  “Yes, I woke you up in the middle of the night. I can’t imagine the disturbance I’ve caused. Please forgive me. It won’t happen again, I promise,” Miss Jacobson murmured, her blue eyes more full of fear than tears now.

  “Come, it is alright,” Grimshaw said, taking another step forward.

  She took a fearful step back, however, and that stopped him in his tracks. Grimshaw was used to being feared because of his overpowering features, but for some reason it pained him tonight to see her terror.

  “If you are sure you are alright, I will leave you then,” he said, letting his hands fall to his sides. “I will send someone up with a cup of tea to calm your nerves.”

  It was a statement, not a question, and for once Hannah was okay with his demanding nature. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to fall back asleep ever again after that dream, but the warm drink would be a welcome comfort.

  “Would you like me to also leave the candle?” he asked, his big brown eyes seemingly full of compassion.

  She should have said no. She had candles already in the room, but this one was already lit and that brought her comfort too.

  “Yes, please,” Hannah said softly.

  Lord Grimshaw nodded in understanding. He turned to leave but turned back around, “If you ever need to talk about,” he hesitated, “anything…I am here to listen.”

  Hannah took in the weight of his words. It was very kind of him, but at the moment she couldn’t bear to say the words to anyone. Certainly not to him. Lord Grimshaw would take her words to Poole and then the accusation would turn onto her.

  All she could do was nod before watching him leave the room with a soft click of the door behind her.

  Grimshaw was feeling rather ridiculous with himself as he fixed his knot after his valet had done it. Nothing seemed to be sitting right this Sunday morning.

  Try as he might to tell himself that it had nothing to do with Miss Jacobson joining them in their pew today at church, or the fact that since his sudden encounter with Miss Jacobson last night in her room he hadn’t been able to shake the memory of her from his mind.

  Something in him had changed or perhaps opened again when he held her in his arms while she cried. He shook off the notion however. No doubt it was just manly desires. After all, without all those frocks to cover her up, Miss Jacobson was actually quite pleasant to look at.

  He didn’t care a wit for her beauty however. The day his wife died he swore there would be no other for him. Of course Lady Grimshaw had only encouraged him to find a mother for their children on her death bed. He would hear none of it.

  She had smiled at him in that knowing way and weakly passed a letter off to him.

  “Just in case you change your mind,” she had said in her weak voice before giving way to coughs again.

  Grimshaw had looked at the letter in his hand, and were it not for his wife’s presence he would have immediately thrown it into the fire. It was titled ‘To Lord Grimshaw’s Future Wife’.

  He had shoved the note into the top drawer of the dresser in his wife’s room and had not thought of it again until this moment. His mind mentally saw the sealed letter again and wondered over the words inscribed on top.

  He reassured himself again, there would never be a future wife for him. He had had his happiness and though it was fleeting he had two beautiful girls to show for it. That was enough for him.

  Miss Hannah Jacobson stood before her own mirror in her room much the worse for wear. She did her best to stuff her hair in the cap before setting a hat on top of that. It was her Sunday hat with a bright yellow ribbon bow tied around its wicker brim.

  She didn’t feel bright at all like the hat on her head or the matching corn blue dress with its yellow flower pattern. In fact, if she could crawl back into her bed and never come out that would have suited her just fine.

  Of course the girls would be waiting for her. She was to pick them up at the nursery and escort them down to meet their father in the carriage. Together they would ride into town and attend the weekly services.

  Hannah would have said that she was rather settling into her live at Brighton Abby up until yesterday.

  Now she had been accosted, had the weight of Mr. Poole possibly lurking around every corner, and worse had made a fool of herself during the night.

  How much of what she shouted had been screams and how much had been words? What she feared more than ever was that she may have said something pertaining to Baron Edgley.

  If that were the case, Lord Grimshaw would certainly look into her past employment wondering why she would call his name at night.

  It would only be a matter of time then before the baroness would spread her lies even to this far-flung country house.

  Hannah was sure by week’s end she would be unjustly ruined again and have exhausted all opportunities for employment.

  What was she to do then? She certainly couldn’t return to Hendrick’s Preparatory School. They had of course offered her a place there since she was one of the most accomplished students.

  She could bear living on the streets better than returning to that place. Yes, life would be better for her as a teacher than pupil. No longer would she have cold drafty dormitories, forced washing in water that must have the ice broken first, or improper clothing against the winter cold.

  She could never treat those girls the way she was treated nor bear to watch another do so and keep her mouth silent. She had been beaten, shamed, and starved enough in one childhood to ever stand by and watch it happen to another.

  No, she would never be a good fit for Hendrick’s and she doubted that the baroness hadn’t already written to them as well. No welcome was to be found there.

  As nervous as she was to see Lord Grimshaw this morning after such a personal and embarrassing encounter last night, it was a necessity. Only then could she gauge his own mind, and perhaps decipher how much she had said through her screams.

  She didn’t feel up to the task after such a fitful night of sleep but there was nothing to be done for it. After all, if Hendrick’s was good for one thing, it was to teach young ladies to withstand almost any amount of starvation or sleeplessness and still perform up to snuff.

  She placed her pin in her hat, covered both her hands in laced gloves, and left her room to collect her two wards.

  Chapter Eight

  Grimshaw had convinced himself by the time he left his room and made his way downstairs that all feelings and nervousness was nothing more than imagined.

  Still he couldn’t help but stare as he watched Miss Jacobson descend the stairs with his two daughters in hand.

  Of course both girls had been dressed in their finest by dutiful Abigail. Caroline was wearing a grey silk dress with a burgundy rose pattern running down in stripes with matching burgundy velvet bows in her dark brown hair.

  Rebecca looked ever the baby in her pink silk dress with its matching pink petticoats sticking out of the bottom. It had been a gift from his last trip into London and he was happy to see her in it.

  Rebecca loved everything girly still and Grimshaw wanted to savor that in his youngest daughter as long as possible.

  But not even the beauty of his little girls could keep his eyes off of Miss Jacobson. As she slowly made her way down with a child in each hand she rather looked like a golden angel from the large window reflecting light behind her.

  The large yellow ribb
on in her hat reminded him so much of the hair he had rested his head against only the night before.

  He was surprised to see too that for the first time Miss Jacobson was not wearing the large spectacles that had hid most of her face since he first met her.

  He couldn’t help but notice her perfectly clear blue eyes that matched her dress perfectly, as well as the soft indent of dimples on either cheek. Perhaps if she smiled they became more pronounced.

  He suddenly felt an unnatural desire to say something funny only to experiment with the truth of his hypothesis.

  “Have you forgotten your spectacles?” Grimshaw asked as soon as the ladies finished their descent and came to stand before him.

  He wanted to say how refreshing he found seeing her perfectly porcelain skin without their hindrance but knew that would be far too forward.

  “Yes,” Miss Jacobson said, releasing Caroline’s hand and pinching the bridge of her tiny nose. “I only need them for reading.”

  “Will you not need to read the hymn book? We have time to wait if you need to go and retrieve them,” Grimshaw added rather reluctantly.

  He was hoping to see more of Miss Jacobson without the constant shield her glasses caused from seeing truly into her eyes.

  “No, I will be fine. It is only for excessive amounts of reading, like school work,” she continued in her fabrication of a story.

  In all honesty, Hannah had reluctantly gone without the eyewear only because the crying the night before had given her such a headache. She couldn’t bear the pinching sensation the spectacles gave behind the ears and at the bridge of her nose in such a state.

  She had rather hoped it wouldn’t make that much difference, but the earl had commented on it.

  He was also looking down at her in a way that was quite frightening at the moment. She hated to sound vain, even in her own head, but she was sure that her beauty was nothing more than a curse set upon her.

  Luckily no more words were said on the matter and Hannah followed behind the earl, who happily took Caroline’s free hand, as they left Brighton Abby.