Falling for the Governess: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abby Ayles

  “I knew, the moment I walked with you down the lane in the dark that first night, that you were like no other. Your kindness, your love for my family, your ability to think and act in consideration of others, these are all things that I love about you,” the duke said, full of sincerity, as he gently stroked her cheek.

  “I care not for titles or what others may think of us. You are the one that I have chosen. I want to be by your side, and have you by mine, through the rest of my life. That is, if you will have me?” The duke raised a brow at Isabella. She knew that he was teasing her.

  “Yes,” she said as a single tear escaped down her cheek. “I will have you.”

  The duke leaned in, lifting her chin slightly, and paused right before her lips.

  “I am hoping that means you will allow me to kiss you now,” he breathed against her lips.

  Isabella smiled at him and tilted her head up just a bit to encourage him to finish the movement. He smiled brightly before allowing a soft tender kiss to pass between them.

  The duke kept one hand cupped at her face as he slipped the other around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Looking down at her, he kissed her again and again. Finally, she leaned her head on his chest, breathless.

  “How do you feel about going to Gretna Green tonight?” he asked with a wicked grin as his chin rested on the top of her dark locks.

  Isabella gave his tease a tisk. “I suspect we have quite enough gossip generated by us already this day.”

  “Well, then I suppose I must wait for a proper wedding. Oh,” he said leaning back from her and reached into his jacket pocket, “I almost forgot.”

  Isabella watched as he shuffled around in several pockets before finding what he was looking for. He pulled out his fisted hand. Taking Isabella’s, he laid inside a cold metal object. As he removed his hand, Isabella saw that it was her locket.

  “How did you ever? I was certain that Mr. Smith would have sold it the moment he got his hands on it.”

  “Turns out, he fancied to keep it as a trophy.”

  Isabella noticed that there was an added object on the chain hidden behind the locket. She flipped it over to expose a dedicated gold ring with a simple green emerald placed in the center.

  “Oh, it's beautiful.”

  “It was my mothers. She gave it to me this morning before I left.”

  “And she knew who you intended it for?” Isabella said, a little unsure if she should have it.

  “Of course she did,” the duke said with a deep chuckle. “Both Mother and Abigail are waiting very expectantly for me to return home with you on my arm.”

  “They are?” Isabella said, again surprised.

  “And Jackie,” he added.

  Isabella’s face lit up and she stood in an instant.

  “Let us go now,” she said hurriedly as she tugged at the duke’s hand. “I would like to see Jackie right away.”

  The duke chuckled before getting out of his seat. He wrapped his arms around Isabella and kissed her softly on the lips again.

  “I suppose my breakfast must wait, then. I have been bewitched by your siren song and am liable to follow you anywhere you lead. To my family’s home or rocky shoals, I care not. As long as I am with you.”

  Epilogue

  Isabella fidgeted with the folds of her dark blue silk dress. She was riding in the carriage along with the Gilcrest family to the Wintercrest ball. It had been the talk of the whole season and, with what Isabella knew of the preparations, it was set to be talked of for many months after.

  The dress she wore, the duke had insisted she have made for this night. It was a silken navy blue with an iridescent sheen to the fabric. The hem was trimmed in the finest white lace that Isabella had ever seen and was finished with a thick white ribbon at her waist and in her dark hair.

  “You look wonderful, Izzy,” Lady Louisa said, sensing her friend's concern. “You will enter the ball this night a princess.”

  “Mm, I don’t know if you would quite do for a princess,” Lord Dunthorpe teased from across the carriage, “but I suppose you will do for a future duchess.”

  Isabella wrinkled her nose playfully at the Viscount as their carriage came to a stop. She took another steadying breath before allowing the Viscount to help her out.

  The Earl and Lady Gilcrest arrived in their own carriage just ahead of them and together with the two siblings, they filed in to be introduced into the lavish townhouse.

  Isabella couldn’t help but notice that behind them came the Earl and Lady Cunningham with Lady Lydia. Her stomach did a flop inside her. She worried that they might make a scene. Instead, Lady Cunningham called out to her as they all filed into the front gate of the exquisite home.

  “Oh, Miss Watts, I am so happy to see you here tonight,” Lady Cunningham said graciously. “I was so concerned about your well-being when I heard the awful news. I hope I did not harm you by writing to Lady Wintercrest about it.”

  “It was startling, at first,” Isabella said kindly, “to hear such horrible things spoken of me. But it also gave me the chance to correct them, so I think, in the end, you did some good.”

  “Oh, I am glad to hear it,” Lady Cunningham said with a sigh. “I have been ever so worried that you might hate me over it.”

  Isabella could tell that the woman had meant no harm in her doing. It had caused some of the most considerable heartaches that Isabella had ever experienced. Maybe, at the time, she could not say so, but now she knew she could truthfully say she forgave Lady Cunningham all that had transpired.

  Lady Lydia, who was standing just behind her mother, looked thoroughly disgusted by Isabella. Although the official announcement of their engagement wouldn’t be until tonight, Isabella suspected that, with the close friendship of the two mothers, Lady Lydia already knew of their arrangement.

  “That dress is divinely beautiful on you tonight,” Lady Cunningham complimented Isabella, now feeling sure there was no animosity harbored.

  Isabella thanked the lady graciously and went to join her own party as they made their way into the home.

  The London home that the duke had inherited was not of the normal variety in London. It was vastly more extravagant and even boasted its very own grand hall for dancing.

  Isabella filed in behind the Gilcrests as they were all introduced down the line of the hosting family. Isabella’s eyes fell immediately on her betrothed.

  He was looking even more dashingly handsome than usual. He wore a similar navy blue velvet jacket with black pantaloons and high boots. His knot was tied in a crisp Windsor and his hair shined a radiant red against his matching navy ribbon that held it back.

  As Isabella stood before him and curtsied, he lifted her white-gloved hand to his lips. He watched her with his crystal eyes as he bent over her hand, wicked smile ever-present on his lips.

  “And how are you this evening, my love?” he asked just loud enough for the Cunninghams, standing just behind, to hear.

  Isabella suspected that the shocked look on Lady Lydia’s face was the whole reason for his extravagantly romantic salutation. His eyes fell to the locket that was replaced as a permanent fixture around Isabella's neck. Next to the pendant was still the beautiful emerald ring that the duke gave her.

  “Are you ready for tonight,” he asked. Though he lowered her hand, he still held tightly to it.

  “I hope so,” Isabella said nervously. “Do I look alright?”

  “You look as perfect as you did the day I met you. But if you are nervous, it is not too late to make our way for an elopement.”

  “Nice try, Your Grace, but you cannot get out of a ball that easily.”

  “Too right,” his mother said beside him. “You have a great many more guests to welcome. Stop embarrassing your poor bride and hand her over to me so that I may welcome my future daughter-in-law.”

  The duke gave a final wink at Isabella, lighting her cheeks with a rosy blush, much to his delight, before finally releasing her to his mother.


  The evening continued with great success. All of Lady Wintercrest’s hard work over the months was apparent in the lavish decorations and delicious meal provided. When the time came for dancing, the duke first stood upon the little stage before the crowd to make his announcement.

  Isabella feared still that, with all that surrounded her these past few months, the reaction to their engagement would be disgust or at the very least quiet whispering. She was pleasantly surprised that, instead, the entirety of the house burst into uproarious cheers.

  She spent the remainder of the evening at the duke’s side as person after person came before them to congratulate them.

  “I think it might be time to get some fresh air,” the duke said, after a very long congratulation from the Earl and Lady Cunningham.

  “Would you join me outside?” he asked of his future bride.

  “I suspect you have a very wicked intent in mind,” Isabella said, while wrapping her arm in the crook of his.

  “I am very sure I do, as well,” he said with a soft chuckle.

  They made their way through the rooms full of guests and around the group of dancers in the great hall to the large doors that opened up to gardens behind the house. Unlike the property of most London houses, this one boasted a large lot with a long veranda that stretched the entire length of the ballroom.

  The duke walked with her on his arm all the way to the far end of the veranda in the seclusion of very little light from the windows.

  “You always seem to find ways to get me outside, alone, and in the dark,” Isabella said in her own teasing fashion.

  “Well,” the duke said, wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing her close to him, “how else am I to steal a kiss but in these circumstances?”

  “I suppose you are right,” Isabella said, looking up at his face glowing in the dim light from inside. “Though, I cannot say it is stealing when I seem to give them so freely to you. Perhaps I should try harder to resist your charm.”

  He paused for a moment and seemed to think her offer over. “Oh no,” he finally said, dipping his head down toward her, “I don’t think I like that idea at all.”

  He stifled her giggles with a soft kiss.

  The End?

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  The Extended Epilogue

  Falling for the Governess

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  A Broken Heart’s Redemption

  Chapter 1

  Lucy peered through the slightly open doorway and rolled her eyes. The young man was probably around her age, wearing very expensive clothes that neither fit nor flattered him properly. He stood with his right shoulder slouched and fiddled with a bookmark.

  She continued to hesitate, watching his actions, wondering whether she even should bother with this one, or whether it would spare everyone’s emotions if she were to just walk away. Well, at least his emotions. It was not as though she intended to marry anyone at all, let alone someone as young and green as him.

  She did not understand why her parents insisted on putting her through... this. Setting her up with the young sons of any and every man of some status in the area. Of course, all of them were of age. But they were all still naïve, coddled, ill-suited to courting a woman. They did not know how to dress themselves, where their family income came from, or what they would do when they were the man of the house.

  She may as well have been dating schoolboys. They were that much less educated, less experienced, and less inquisitive than her. Some were even a few years younger than she was. At the very least her parents could have chosen her suitors she did not feel compelled to look down on.

  Walking into the room she smiled as politely as she could manage. She would have to make something of an impression, after all. She had taken her time to dress up and make herself presentable and it would be a real shame if all that effort went unnoticed.

  The young man grinned nervously and had the presence of mind to stand and bow as she curtsied. Some had not even managed this much. But then he was stuck. Still standing before his chair, he had forgotten what to do next. She waited a few more seconds for at the very least a handshake or a verbal greeting, but when none was forthcoming she quietly made her way to her seat and sat down.

  Seeing her sit back down he seemed to realize that he could, fell backwards into his seat, and laughed nervously.

  He was yet another buffoon. Back when she still had hopes for ideal love she found these behaviours to be a sort of endearing clumsiness, a little like seeing a kitten fall over its own paws. But now she knew what men could really be like, she found his awkwardness repulsive. How could he be so innocently clumsy and yet at once be of the same sex as the man who had broken her heart?

  The young man introduced himself as “Terrence” and asked her to call him by his first name, not his last one. Which was just as well considering that she could not remember the last name her mother had hurriedly told her the night before.

  “My family owns a lot of land, so you would be well provided for,” he said with a smile.

  “Farmers also own a lot of land,” Lucy retorted. She could not believe how blatantly some of these men tried to win her over with power and money.

  He laughed nervously. “But I am not a farmer. I have a good name, I am strong and healthy, I have four private tutors...”

  Lucy nodded and smiled. “I suppose you are a lion tamer also?” she asked. She could see that she was already beginning to get on his nerves. It would not take much more pressure to cause him to throw a fit and leave, vowing never to return. “Or, let me guess, a Saint?”

  “I have never met a woman as rude as you,” he said, his expression somewhere between indignation and the verge of tears.

  “Then you have never met an honest one.” Lucy raised her chin.

  Her mind was telling her not to be so cruel. In many ways, it went against her core self, the way she had been her entire life. But her heart…nothing else protected her heart like pushing these men away. If she continued to be mean, perhaps it would chase all men away.

  For good.

  She had a multi-stage attack for breaking down the focus of any suitor who outlasted her cold shoulder. First, she would seek out his insecurities by picking on his flaws, to make him hate her. Then, she would mock his way of speaking, or his interest in her, to make him feel he was beneath her.

  And if none of that worked she would turn to pure rudeness.

  She had sped up the process a little bit for this young man. She wanted him gone, and fast. There was no chance at all and he needed to know that. She tried to tell herself that in the long run it would help him. Perhaps she would put him off trying to marry some other poor, naïve girl. But deep down she knew it helped only herself.

  Terrence stood up and glared at her. “I do not know why I bother. All women my age are just stuck up brats. I ought to wait until I am older and time has made you nicer.”

  And with that, he stormed out the room.

  Lucy liked to pretend that their words never hurt her. The truth was, they always did. She was not stuck up, or prude. She was not just looking for money. She was not spoilt. She was simply disillusioned and afraid of ever trusting a man. She had learned that the hard way.

  But if she said that she might endear herself to them, and they might try harder. If they believed she was a spoilt brat then they would likely not return. It was for the best. Wiping a single tear from her cheek, she stood up and left the room also.


  Her mother, Baroness Fitzgerald, was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, a look of exhausted frustration on her face. “I cannot believe you, Lucy.”

  Lucy shrugged. “I did nothing. I dressed well, I did my makeup, I went to see him and talked to him just as you asked. I did not speak out of turn, I answered all his questions—”

  “And if you did so like this, it is no wonder he left,” Lady Fitzgerald said, rubbing her temples. “How did you ever become so rude?”

  Lucy bowed her head in slight shame.

  “What did you say to him?” her mother asked.

  “Nothing. I just answered his questions,” Lucy insisted.

  “A man does not leave the house like that when 'nothing' happens... I have half a mind to chaperone your dates again myself,” she said.

  “I suppose he isn't suited to me either,” Lucy remarked.

  “No man is suited to a petulant child that answers back,” Lady Fitzgerald said with a stern glare.

  Lucy shrugged. “I did my best. If they will not love me for who I am...”

  “But this is not who you are,” her mother replied. “This is not the girl I knew, or the girl that came back from school. You are different. I can only hope it is a phase.”

  “And if it is not?” Lucy asked.

  Her mother shook her head. “Very well, just... leave.”

  Lucy knew better than to reply when her mother asked her to leave. It would invariably result in being banished to her room for a day or more. She just nodded, curtsied, and went off to have a nice, quiet walk in the gardens.

  She did not care if her mother sat in on her meetings with her suitors. Lady Fitzgerald had done this before and even then, it only took one or two dates for them to become disinterested. Lucy had her little ways of getting under their skin so that her mother would not notice she was doing so on purpose. She could be under the watch of an entire room of chaperones and still find a way to put her suitors off her.