Falling for the Governess: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abby Ayles

  For an instant, Lord Bellfourd flashed his crystal eyes in Isabella’s direction, but she didn’t look back. He was satisfied with the little rose coloring that brushed against her cheeks at the mention of the late night.

  “Yes, I had a lot of work to get through, Mother.”

  “Well, I hope the worst of it is done. I have just received very exciting news in the morning post. It seems that Lady Cunningham, as well as her daughter Lady Lydia, have accepted my invitation. They will be joining us here no later than the end of this week.”

  “That’s wonderful for you, Mother. I am glad to hear that you will get some time to visit with such a dear friend of yours.”

  “Well, it is not just good news for me, but for you as well,” Lady Wintercrest encouraged.

  “Oh yes, dear brother,” Lady Abigail giggled, in teasing fashion. “This is your opportunity to secure a most desirable match.”

  Lord Bellfourd gave his sister a pointed look that showed he didn’t like her joke. “I don’t think Lady Lydia will find Wintercrest to her liking,” he said, obviously referring to himself and not to the estate.

  “Well, of course, she would. Why shouldn’t she? Wintercrest is a wonderful place that any young lady would be honored to call home,” the Duchess replied, clearly understanding the undertone message her son was getting across. “That said, I do expect you to be at your very best,” Her Grace added as an afterthought.

  “Of course, Mother. I had told the cook to roast a whole animal in front of the house, as the natives in the West Indies do, but since I am to be on my best behavior I will cancel the meal,” Lord Bellfourd retorted with a tease.

  Chapter 21

  Though the morning was just as grey as the day before, by the afternoon there were short breaks in the thin clouds, allowing for moments of sunshine. Isabella determined that the weather was safe enough to go outside and collect their science project.

  For the second time in two days, they walked along the wooden path to their favorite meadow. Only this time, both girls promised not to go chasing any white rabbits.

  Isabella brought an old quilt with her and laid it down on the long, soft grass, heavy with the end of summer. She sat contentedly while Jackie went about the meadow recollecting autumn treasures to add to Isabella’s basket.

  “I found one,” Jackie called out to Isabella.

  Isabella got up from her seated place with the jar in hand and made her way over to Jackie.

  “Oh, look at that one,” Isabella exclaimed, leaning down to get a better look at the plump green caterpillar munching away happily on a cloudberry bush.

  “Do you think he will spin me some silk?” Jackie asked her teacher.

  “I’m afraid not,” Isabella said getting her jar ready for its new inhabitant.

  “But he is so fat, he must have extra he can spin for me,” Jackie said with a sad tone.

  “I am sorry to tell you that it isn’t the size of the caterpillar that determines if it spins silk but the variety. Only silk worms spin silk cocoons.”

  “May we catch one of those too, then?” she asked in innocence.

  “Unfortunately, they do not live freely in this part of the world. If you would like, however, I will tell you a story my father told me. It is about the time he sailed on a boat full of silkworms as a lad.”

  After scooping her plump new friend into his home, Jackie followed her teacher over to the blanket to hear the tale.

  “You remember I told you how silkworms escaped China,” Isabella said in a dramatic tone.

  Jackie nodded her head in excitement, “Two monks when to China and hid them in their walking stick to take back to their home.”

  “Do you remember where their home was?”

  “Byzantine Empire,” she replied smartly.

  “Very good, Jackie,” Isabella praised.

  “Well, of course, that was hundreds of years ago. So, by the time my father was a lad, the silkworm had traveled all the way to France, and even to a few producers here in England.

  “This was the cause of my father’s voyage. He was assigned to a small merchant ship that was to sail to India to aquire the best silkworms possible for an aspiring nobleman.

  “He said that when they got to India, he saw colors his eyes had never beheld. Women were draped in silks of bright green and orange, with gold bangles tinkling as they walked. He smelled spices that had never reached his nose before. He was very reluctant to leave when the time came to set sail again. He was just fifteen years old, entranced by the beauty of the exotic land, and felt no holds to return to his homeland.”

  “What of his family?” Jackie asked.

  “Well, my father’s parents both died when he was a very small boy. He was raised by an older brother. He had to get a job and provide for himself at a very young age which is why he took to the sea.

  “So, very reluctantly, he had to go back to his ship because he had contracted with the captain to stay aboard for four more years.

  “But as he walked the lower decks of the ship he was amazed to see what lay before him.”

  “Were there just little worms crawling everywhere?” Jackie asked with a giggle.

  “He expected as much, but it was not so. You see, he told me that silkworms were very particular creatures and liked things just so. The only way one could move them was while they were still in their eggs.”

  “So, when he came down to the storage deck of the ship, expecting creepy crawling worms,” she said tickling Jackie with a piece of long grass, “instead he saw boxes and boxes lined with small shelves with little white eggs safely nuzzled in straight little rows.

  “Along with the worms were large mulberry bushes. You see, not only are silkworms very particular about the temperature they live in but they only have a taste for one type of plant.”

  “They are awfully picky little things,” Jackie proclaimed, scrunching her button nose. “Just like Grandpère.”

  “Oh, I know your grandfather can be very severe at times,” Isabella said, comforting the child, “but he does what, in his mind, is best.”

  “Also,” Isabella said, as a side thought, “think of His Grace like the silkworms. Yes, they are very particular creatures but, because of it, something beautiful results. His family is the beautiful result of your grandfather’s life work. You are part of that family,” Isabella encouraged. “You are the great beauty that came from one particular silkworm’s life of toil.”

  Jaqueline seemed to think over her governess' story. “Nursie said your father was Baron Leinister. How could that be if he was a poor sailor?”

  “He inherited the title from his older brother who died very young. He had received it, in his turn, from an uncle that had no children of his own. My father was a much older man by that time and had already started his own business of merchant ships.”

  Jaqueline seemed to think this over in her mind. Isabella was sure that the peerage was a hard concept for a young child to grasp, but necessary for her circumstance, none the less.

  “Does that make you a lady, then?” she finally asked, thoughtfully.

  “No,” Isabella said with a soft laugh. “It did, however, provide me with an exquisite education, for which I am most grateful. Without it, I don’t believe I would have been permitted to be your instructor. That would have been a terrible turn of events.”

  “I’m glad to have you, too,” Jackie said, wrapping her short arms around Isabella’s waist.

  Isabella happily held the hand of her little pupil as they skipped their way back into the house. They walked the gravel path that led to the main entrance of the house and the most comfortable access that led back to the school room.

  Upon entering the house, Isabella was surprised to see that they were not alone in the foyer. Standing before her was the newly arrived Lady Cunningham and her daughter, Lydia.

  “Pardon me,” Isabella said, intruding on the greeting.

  “Oh please, come in, Miss Watts,” Her Grace called
happily. “Please present my granddaughter to my dear friend.”

  Isabella walked Jaqueline up to the new guest and she curtsied politely.

  “Lady Cunningham, may I present Miss Jaqueline De’belmount and her governess, the honorable Miss Watts,” Lord Bellfourd politely announced.

  “And this is Lady Lydia Prescott.”

  “We have met before.” Lady Lydia did not return the girls' curtsies.

  Lord Bellfourd looked to Isabella with a questioning brow.

  “Yes, it’s true,” Isabella answered his unasked question. “Lady Lydia and I attended the same school in our youth.”

  “Did you really?” Lady Cunningham said. “What a wonderful happenstance. And you are the child's governess?”

  “Yes, Lady Cunningham.”

  “Well, you are fortunate, indeed, to have her, then,” Lady Cunningham said turning to Her Grace. “Mrs. Mason’s School for Exceptional Young Ladies is the finest in all of London.”

  “Oh my!” Lady Lydia exclaimed suddenly, taking a step back. “I believe something in your basket just moved!”

  Jaqueline reached into the basket and pulled out the jar. Holding it up for all to see, she happily declared, “His name is Henry. We were out for our afternoon walk and collected some beautiful autumn leaves to decorate the school room and Henry, for a nature study.”

  “My dear Miss Watts,” Lady Lydia said with a demeaning tone, “Did you not learn that nature is meant for outdoors? I fear we may all be crawling in insects soon by the look of that basket,” she added to the rest of the party with a laugh.

  “I’m fairly certain that education in the natural world is important for all children,” Lady Abigail retorted, clearly not liking what Lady Lydia had said. “What better way than to bring it in out of the cold and study it?”

  “I do have to say,” Her Grace added, attempting to smooth over the conversation, “that little Jaqueline has blossomed with the help of her governess. We have been very fortunate to have her with us.

  “In fact, Miss Watts,” she continued coming to an idea, “would you please bring Jaqueline down to the drawing room after dinner. I would love for Lady Cunningham to see her piano accomplishments.”

  “I would be happy to, Your Grace,”

  As Isabella curtsied and turned to take Jackie upstairs, she could still hear Lady Lydia’s voice as they walked to the drawing room.

  “I am certainly glad I am not a governess. I couldn’t imagine spending my days outside, digging around in the dirt, all in the name of education. What a cumbersome life that must be.”

  Chapter 22

  Isabella readied herself for the evening as best she could. She chose, instead of changing into one of her evening gowns, to wear a simple brown skirt with a white button top and matching brown spencer jacket.

  She could only assume, had she gone down in her usual evening attire, as all the other women would, she would be chastened by Lady Lydia for going above her station.

  Honestly, she knew Lydia would go out of her way to make her life miserable no matter what course she took.

  Isabella was deeply concerned over Lydia’s presence. Of course, Lady Abigail had been right to jest that the visitation was for matchmaking purposes. Had Lady Wintercrest picked anyone in the world besides Lady Lydia, Isabella would have grinned and born it.

  Even with her growing attachment to Lord Bellfourd, she would have been willing to stifle her feelings if she knew that he would be happy with a proper lady. Lady Lydia, on the other hand, was nothing but a pompous brat who spent her childhood vexing Isabella, and many others, every chance she could.

  Isabella took a calming breath, smoothing her skirt one final time, before leaving her room to pick up her ward. She was surprised to find Mrs. Peterson present in the room.

  “Mrs. Peterson? Is there something I can do for you? I was just about to take Miss Jaqueline down to the family.”

  “I am well aware of your purpose here tonight,” Mrs. Peterson said tartly. She had been especially short with Isabella since trying to have her removed. “I am here to escort you both to the drawing room.”

  “We are perfectly capable of finding it on our own,” Isabella retorted, motioning for Jackie to come to her side. “I thank you for your kind offer, but we are quite able on our own.”

  Jackie gave a quick hug to her nurse. Mrs. Murray was perched in her regular chair next to the nursery’s small stove fire, knitting.

  “I am well aware of your familiarities with the drawing room,” Mrs. Peterson said with an obvious undertone of disapproval. “It is proper, however, for me to see you in and make sure Her Grace is ready to receive you with a footman’s introduction before you go barging in.”

  Isabella did her best not to stick out her tongue at this horrible woman. Sadly, politeness got the best of her, and she merely nodded her head in acceptance.

  They walked down the stairwell in silence, Jackie’s little hand inside Isabella’s.

  “Why is this horrible lady coming with us?” Jaqueline asked just above a whisper, in French.

  “It is not polite to call someone horrible,” Isabella said out of the corner of her small mouth.

  “She cannot understand me,” Jackie retorted in pure innocence. Her big blue eyes were looking up at Isabella, unable to comprehend why a change was coming from their usual routine.

  “It matters not if the person in question can understand, it is still not polite,” Isabella replied with a gentle smile to her pupil.

  “Is Grandpère better, then?” Jackie continued.

  Isabella could see that, below the gold ringlets, Jackie’s mind was turning to create an answer to her own question.

  “I am sorry to say that he is still not recovered. If you remember, Her Grace had guests arrive today. I suspect we must be on our best behavior due to this fact, even the housekeeper.”

  “Miss Watts,” Mrs. Peterson said in an irritated tone as they came to stand before the drawing room doors. “I would remind you that you are not to encourage the child to speak French.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Peterson,” Isabella said, doing her best not to grit her teeth.

  “Please wait here while I make sure they are available for your intrusion. Quietly, please!” she added before walking into the room, herself.

  Intrusion? Isabella was doing her best to control her temper and the words that seemed to fly out of her mouth at such instances.

  “Villain,” Jackie said under her breath when Mrs. Peterson had gone.

  “Oui,” Isabella agreed.

  Both girls couldn’t help but giggle. It was at that moment, when both the tender Jackie and her governess were thus engaged with hands over mouths to stop their girlish laughter, that Lord Bellfourd came up behind them.

  “And what mischief might you two be up to tonight?” he asked as he strolled up, hands in the pockets of his evening jacket.

  Isabella turned, flushing red with embarrassment. Her flushed cheeks soon calmed when she came to meet the look of playful delight in the marquess’s blue eyes.

  “I told Miss Watts that…”

  Isabella shushed the girl before she could continue. She got down to Jackie's level, “Some things must be left between just us girls,” she explained.

  Lord Bellfourd raised a rusty brow in question to Isabella’s action. “Are you encouraging my niece to keep secrets from me,” he asked in a teasing tone.

  “Absolutely,” Isabella retorted with her own playful gleam in her green eyes.

  “All girls must have some secrets. It is often how we make our lasting friendships.”

  “Well, I suppose I cannot deny you that,” he said in agreement.

  He took a step closer, bowing his head, as he so often did when he came into proximity to someone so much shorter than himself.

  “I must ask you to share one small secret with me, however,” he said in a confident tone. “Why are you standing outside the drawing room?”

  “One could ask the same of y
ou?” Isabella said, jutting out her small chin just slightly.

  “Well, I had no intentions to skulk in the hallway. I am just on my way from my father's side and off to hear the wonderful playing of my little Jackie.” He swiped at Jackie’s cheek with a playful pinch.

  “How is His Grace doing?” Isabella asked with genuine concern in her voice. She had not seen him for the last few weeks, so ill was his constitution.

  “I’m afraid no better and he seems only to get worse. The doctor was by yesterday and fears that the damage done to his lungs, either from sickness or the fall, is irreversible.”

  “I pray for him every night,” Isabella said, instinctually raising her hand up and resting it on his arm in comfort.

  “I know that Jackie does, as well, with Mrs. Murray. We all pray that he will return to health.”

  Lord Bellfourd removed his hand from his pocket and took Isabella’s with a thankful squeeze.

  “I appreciate that very much, Isabella.”

  Isabella hesitated to remove her hand from his touch. Though his hands were rougher than that of a typical gentleman, no doubt due to his life at sea, it was warm and comforting.

  Lord Bellfourd smiled softly, just a twitch at the side of his mouth really, before opening it to speak. However, before the words escaped, the drawing room doors were flung open.

  Much to the surprise of all the eyes in the drawing room, there stood Isabella and Lord Bellfourd hand in hand, with the cherubim child smiling up at both of them.

  Instead of letting go quickly like Isabella wanted to do, Lord Bellfourd instead moved Isabella’s hand into the crook of his other arm. He leaned down and offered his, now free, hand to the service of escorting Jackie as well.

  Jackie giggled, hopped to her uncle's side, and stood tall as she walked in like a real lady.

  “I was just coming from my father’s side when I happened upon these two fine ladies,” Lord Bellfourd said smoothly.

  He certainly had the charm to play off any potentially embarrassing situation, Isabella thought.

  “Come here, Jaqueline,” Lady Wintercrest called, noticing the entrance of her granddaughter.