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

by Ayles, Abby

  Thank heavens it had been Lord Grimshaw and not Mr. Poole. She could have only imagined what would have happened if she had fainted in the presence of David Poole.

  She shuddered at the thought as she lay in her bed. She was so completely drained from it all. She had rather thought she would take a moment to compose herself in her room and then go to supper.

  She didn’t like the idea of Lord Grimshaw thinking of her as weak and faltering for some reason, but she couldn’t seem to make her legs move much.

  A soft knock came at the door and Mary let herself in.

  “Hannah, dear. How are you?” Mary cooed, coming into the room with a tray of warm broth and tea. “Lord Grimshaw informed Mrs. Brennon you had a spell. You poor thing.”

  She set the tray down and came to sit by Hannah on the bed.

  “I’m quite alright,” Hannah reassured her. “Nothing more than a silly girl. I am more embarrassed than anything else.”

  “Tell me what happened,” Mary encouraged.

  Hannah hesitated. She had already revealed her burden to Mrs. McCarthy and wasn’t sure she could do it again.

  “It was all just ridiculous. I didn’t know Lord Grimshaw was home. I was leaving the library and he frightened me and I fainted,” Hannah said with a quick retelling.

  She hoped that he would leave out the fact that she chucked a book at him if he was asked to retell the tale.

  “Are you sure that was all?” Mary asked.

  Hannah smiled weakly and took her hand. She was such a kind friend to her. She nodded and did her best to seem on the mend from the whole experience.

  “Well, if you are sure then I should be off to my work,” Mary said, coming to stand.

  “Yes, please. Don’t let me keep you.”

  “Well, you will send for me if you need anything, right?”

  “Yes, I will. I promise. I am just going to stay here in bed and read a bit,” she said, reaching for the book on her nightstand.

  Mary was still reluctant, but having tasks to complete before the day was over, she left Hannah in her room alone.

  She waited till Mary was fully gone before putting the book back in its place. She had already read it twice. That was the reason for going to the library and getting another.

  She considered going back and looking for her weapon, but decided against it. Instead she snuggled down in her bed and promptly went to sleep.

  She wasn’t sure how long she slept but when she awoke the room was cool and dark. She expected it was late into the night.

  She lifted herself out of bed stiffly, having fallen asleep fully dressed. She moved to remove her gown when she realized it was a sound that had awoken her.

  Pure fear ran down her spine when she saw the light and heard the footsteps coming towards her room.

  She jumped out of bed and ran to bolt the door before they reached her. The sound was loud enough in her mind to wake the whole house.

  Poole stood outside her door, candle in hand, clearly having heard the noise and knowing her to be awake.

  She took a couple of steps back to put space between herself and the attacker on the other side. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fist.

  Hannah may have been too frightened to open the door and face her attacker but she wouldn’t let him control her like this any longer.

  “The earl is home,” she hissed to the door.

  It may have not been very loud but in the silence of the night she was sure he heard her.

  “I am well aware,” Poole’s voice said, husky from the other side.

  “So go away! If Lord Grimshaw should find you lurking outside my door…”

  “I doubt Lord Grimshaw will be patrolling the halls at night. But if you are so worried all you have to do is unbolt the door.”

  “Never!” Hannah hissed back.

  “I assure you I will be quick and gentle,” he cooed back at her. “One time is all I ask and then I will be done with you.”

  “You are a disgusting vile fiend,” Hannah retorted, using every word in her vocabulary to describe the man.

  He chuckled low and deep in his throat.

  “I will have you, Hannah Jacobson. One way or another I will find a way in. It is best that you just let me have what I want. We could both get on with our lives that way.”

  She wanted to respond to say something to defy him but the weight of his words was heavy in the night air. He would not give up. Nothing was going to stop him.

  She covered her mouth to hide a sob. Hannah Jacobson may have been lacking in the bravery needed to fight off an assailant without fainting but she was not so lacking that she would give him the satisfaction of letting him hear her tears.

  Finally after a few moments of silence she heard the whoosh of his candle going out and in the darkness she heard his retreating footsteps.

  On the cold floor she crumpled into a heap and cried until she fell asleep again.

  Chapter Twenty

  The following morning Hannah did her best to forget everything and focus on the present. She dressed for church and went to collect the girls.

  Both were bubbling with excitement and Abigail struggled to keep their bowed hair tight as they bounced about the room.

  “Abigail said that Father came home last night,” Rebecca said in excitement.

  “Yes, did you not see him at supper?” Hannah asked the girls in surprise.

  “No, he didn’t take supper last night,” Rebecca responded rather regretfully.

  “I can’t wait to see him, though,” she added. “Caroline and I have our paintings all ready,” she ran over and showed Hannah the watercolor framed and at the ready.

  Hannah’s heart sank. In all the turmoil yesterday she had completely forgotten that the girls would want to show them to their father and by so doing give up their secret visits to Concordshire.

  “I was thinking,” Hannah said, coming to kneel before the girls, “since we are getting so close to Yuletide, wouldn’t it be lovely to gift them to your father on Christmas?”

  Rebecca liked this idea but Caroline seemed to ponder it a bit longer. She was going to be a harder sell.

  “I am sure by then your father will have most of the west wing done, then when you give them to him on Christmas he could put them right on the wall. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” Hannah encouraged a little more.

  “Oh, Caroline, that will be nice, won’t it?” Rebecca said to her sister.

  Caroline looked down at the framed watercolor in her hand. It was a vase with an arrangement of flowers in it. She had worked so hard and it was so beautiful she did want her father to be the absolute most proud of her when she gave it to him.

  “I suppose that would be alright,” Caroline finally said after a few moments of pondering.

  “Wonderful,” Hannah said, coming to stand filled with the mixed emotion of relief and guilt.

  She guided the girls downstairs and to their waiting father. Both girls were so happy to see him again after such an extended time that Hannah was sure the portraits were already forgotten.

  “Good morning, Miss Jacobson. I trust you are feeling better?” Lord Grimshaw greeted ever so politely.

  “Yes I am, thank you,” Hannah replied.

  She could feel the stiff awkwardness between them after such an intimate encounter the day before. She couldn’t help but remember the feeling of his hand brushing along her cheek, the warmth of his presence as he sat next to her on the couch.

  Her eyes met his brown ones and in their depths she saw he was recalling the same memory. She looked away blushing and Lord Grimshaw cleared his throat.

  “Shall we go,” he said to the three ladies as he motioned with one arm to the exit and held Rebecca’s hand in his other.

  There was nothing outwardly unusual about the carriage ride, the sermon at church, or the return ride home. By all accounts from an outsider looking in it was quite routine.

  There was something new in the air however. It began with the share
d look before departure and seemed to grow as every second ticked by.

  By the end of the trip there was an unspoken longing and desire seeping into every inch of Hannah’s being. She could scarcely look at Lord Grimshaw without her face turning crimson from it.

  The girls were naturally too young to see it and acted as they usually did on a Sunday. They spent the ride in the carriage asking their father one question after another about his time in London.

  He was all too happy to oblige them with tales of dinners and balls that he attended. Apparently, Hannah learned he made quite a social event of his business trip.

  She wasn’t sure why she felt such pangs of jealousy with every mention of a dance he had or a fine lady he met in his months away.

  She had never cared about the society of the ton before. She was never part of it and really had little connection to it besides what she saw in the baron’s house.

  Even then, during the height of the Season, when the baroness constantly had visitors and events to attend, Hannah had felt little desire for the Season.

  Hearing the words pour out of Lord Grimshaw’s mouth, however, the activities took on a whole other meaning to her.

  She was sure it was just the way he seemed to weave the words into such enchanting tales for the benefit of his daughters that made it all sound so enticing. If she was truly being honest with herself she was jealous of this life that Grimshaw spoke of that he had outside of Brighton Abby.

  When she questioned herself why she should care, again the memory of his touch on her cheek came flooding back. It was a silly thing that vexed her so.

  She was sure that Lord Grimshaw could feel the turmoil in the unspoken words as well and was equally disturbed by it.

  Sebastian Blackburn wasn’t sure if it was his housekeeper’s words or the fact that he just spent all day in Miss Jacobson’s presence pining after her, but either way he needed to shift his attention.

  He was growing increasingly aware that the feelings he had for the lady were far from an employer and employee type of relationship. It was also something that couldn’t be done for the sake of the girls.

  By Monday night he had reached one final conclusion, the only way to remove her image from his mind was to replace it. He sat down to his writing desk at that very moment and penned a letter.

  Of all the ladies he had met and had matrimonial inquisitions with there was only one that he knew he would never ever feel romantic feelings for. Lady Tara Marlow was similar to his late wife and nothing like her all at the same time.

  She would be the mother that his daughters needed, their sponsors to the ton when the time came. She would be all too happy to secure the title Countess if his guess was right. Every moment with that woman would remind him of his late wife. He was sure it was the penitence he deserved for loving another besides her.

  Lady Tara would remind him of all he had lost and why it was so precious. She would be the face that told him that no matter what Ann said, it was wrong to let anyone else into one’s heart.

  He wrote so quickly that he left two blots on the paper. It was uncouth but he cared little. He wanted to get it done as quickly as possible before he changed his mind.

  With the envelope sealed and set out to be taken in the morning mail he felt a great relief come over him. Then a thought crossed his mind.

  He only held it for a moment before walking up the stairs determinedly to his wife’s old room. He stood in the door frame for some minutes. It had been a while since he opened that door.

  Despite his absence the household servants had kept it clean and dust-free. He walked slowly around the room with nothing but the light from a full moon to guide him.

  He could have walked that room in the dark he had been in it so many times. He made his way over to the mirror where he could almost see her sitting and brushing her long black hair. He reached down and touched the silver polished comb and boar hair brush that sat on the vanity.

  It took all he had to keep back the wave of emotion that hit him hard. He missed her so much.

  Instead of letting it flow freely, however, he stuffed it back down and made his way to his intended target. Opening the top drawer of her dresser he found the stack of letters.

  Several of them were addressed to their girls. The day that they would have their coming out. The day that they would be married. The day they would have their first child. The last letter at the bottom, however, he knew had neither Rebecca’s or Caroline’s name on it.

  He pulled it forward and looked at it in the darkness. He couldn’t see his wife’s hand-written inscription on it but he knew already what it said, ‘To Mrs. Sebastian Blackburn, Countess of Grimshaw.’

  He considered lighting a fire. He would never let this fall into Lady Tara Marlow’s hands as she didn’t deserve such a thing.

  Instead he turned it over in his hand and felt the wax seal on the back. He always wondered what Ann could have possibly said to the woman that she thought would be his future wife. The envelope was thick enough that it must have been quite a lot.

  He hesitated for what seemed like moments but he later realized was much longer as he felt his hand over the seal her hand had pressed, the writing her hand had inscribed.

  He stuffed the letters back into the drawer and sat down on the bed in a crumpled mess. Holding his head between his hands he forced the tears back.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered to the spirits of the darkness.

  Grimshaw wasn’t sorry to be inviting Lady Tara to his house for the winter season. He wasn’t sorry that he was going to make his intentions clear that he wanted to marry her. He wasn’t even sorry that he would share the rest of his life with that woman for the sake of his daughters’ well-being.

  He was sorry for a more sinister act. One he was sure that Ann would never be able to forgive him for. One day he would stand at the golden gates of heaven where his Ann would meet him and still he would be filled with this guilt.

  It was the knowledge that he had made room in his heart to love another. He had thawed it out and let someone else in. It didn’t matter that Ann had said such was necessary. It still felt like a great betrayal in his eyes.

  As far as Grimshaw was concerned he had done worse than when he watched her slowly die in front of him with no help for it. He had actively let this pain happen. He had let himself fall in love and in so doing he was sure he had broken Ann’s heart.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Earl of Grimshaw took a steadying breath outside the school room door. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous to do this, but it would have to be done all the same.

  He knocked softly before letting himself in. Inside the room Grimshaw found Hannah seated in the chair by a warm fire to keep off the autumn chill. Sitting on the floor in front of her was Rebecca playing with her dolls. At the other side of the hearth was Caroline seated in a chair working on her sampler.

  Hannah looked up at Grimshaw and smiled at his entrance. She set the book aside that she was no doubt reading aloud.

  Grimshaw did his best to stuff down the flutterings that seized his heart when she smiled at him like that. It was those smiles when her dimples showed so deeply that did him in.

  “I wonder,” he said, standing a little awkwardly, “if I might have a moment to speak with the girls about something.”

  “Of course, Lord Grimshaw,” Hannah said, coming to her feet and setting the book open on the arm of the chair to keep its place.

  “I will be just in the other room visiting with Abigail if that is alright,” Hannah said, walking over to the door that joined the nursery to the school room.

  Abigail would pass her time in there occasionally darning as needed or perhaps knitting. Occasionally she would stay in the school room and listen while Hannah read, but that wasn’t the case on that particular day.

  “That would be fine, thank you, Miss Jacobson,” Grimshaw said, doing his best to hide his feelings for her.

  In reality he looked ve
ry stern but to his inward eye he feared that it was plain to see his affection for her.

  Grimshaw waited until Miss Jacobson left the room and shut the door softly behind her.

  “Girls,” he said, coming to stand before them.

  Rebecca kept playing with her dolls, though Caroline was happy to put aside her embroidery and place her attention elsewhere.

  “I have something I need to tell you. Well…I’m not sure how to put this,” he stammered and then started to pace in front of them.

  “What is the matter, Father? You’re acting strange,” Caroline observed.

  “I’m just a little nervous, is all.”

  “What for, Daddy?” Rebecca cooed in her angelic way.

  “I have some news to tell you. I want you to take it well.”

  “What is it then?” Caroline asked, old enough to know that she should be nervous at such a declaration.

  Certainly it couldn’t be good news for her father to act such a way. He was practically struggling to get the words out.

  “While I was in London I told you I attended many dinners, balls, events like that. Over the course of my stay I met someone. She is a very amiable woman as I think you girls will find.”

  “What are you saying?” Caroline sat up in her chair like a prickly porcupine.

  He gave a long sigh, “Her name is Lady Tara Marlow. She is the daughter of Lord and Lady Waldron. I have invited them to come stay with us over the holidays.”

  “Whatever for?” Caroline demanded, though she was sure she knew the answer.

  “I intend to marry her,” Grimshaw said, stilling his pace and looking down at his daughters.

  “How could you? How could you do that to Mother?” Caroline said in a sharp tone.

  “Calm down, Caroline. There is no need to be upset.”

  Grimshaw looked down to little Rebecca who had stopped her playing. She might not have quite understood it all but tears were brimming in her big eyes to see her father so nervous and her sister so furious.