by Hale Deborah
Before Phoebe could answer, Sophie waved and called out, “Look at me, Papa! I’m learning to ride just like the big girls.”
Rupert smiled and waved back. “Well done. And a fine seat you have.”
“We had a good week,” Phoebe continued with her interrupted reply as Charlotte rode gingerly over to join them at the fence. “Miss Ellerby is teaching us all about the Civil War. We looked all over the house for paintings from that time. I think James Kendrick was very brave and clever to float those supplies into Reading during the siege.”
“Welcome home, Papa.” Charlotte’s tone was not quite as enthusiastic as her sisters but warm enough to suggest she did not intend to sulk over his plans to remarry. “The weather has been lovely this week. We played pall mall one day and went for a punt on the river.”
“I am pleased to hear it.” Rupert glanced toward Grace Ellerby, who was leading Sophie’s pony toward them. “The fresh air and sunshine will do you good.”
Their activities must have provided a diversion for the girls. No doubt their governess had talked some sense into his daughters, making them understand the advantages of Nethercross having a mistress again. More than ever, he was grateful to Grace Ellerby and pleased with himself for having hired her. He looked forward to dining in the nursery then having a talk with her once his daughters were tucked in for the night.
After their first evening stroll by the river, those discussions had become a custom to which he looked forward. They provided an opportunity to hear from her about everything his girls had been learning and doing in his absence—especially things they might not remember to tell him over dinner. It was also a chance to hear whether she had any concerns about the girls’ health, spirits or behavior.
At first the governess seemed very guarded during their meetings—perhaps thinking he was judging her performance. Lately, however, she’d appeared more at ease.
After the girls returned their mounts to the stables, they joined their father and governess for a relaxed dinner in the nursery. His daughters were all in good spirits and no one said a word about marriage or Mrs. Cadmore.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Miss Ellerby after the girls were tucked up in bed. “Might I have a word with you if it would not be inconvenient?”
Her stiff stance and shifting gaze suggested that she expected him to refuse…perhaps even hoped he would.
“My dear Miss Ellerby, it is never an inconvenient time for you to speak with me.” Rupert strove to put her at ease. “I would be disappointed to miss one of our Friday evening chats. I noticed a few of the linden trees have kept their blossoms. Would you care to walk there with me again?”
The lady flinched at his suggestion, which troubled him more than it should have. “Thank you, sir, but I have been out of doors a great deal this week. Perhaps we could speak in your study instead?”
“Yes, of course, if that is what you wish.” He tried to ignore a foolish pang of disappointment.
Being in his study would emphasize the gulf between them as master of the house and employee, rather than two people who cared a great deal for his young daughters. Still, he tried to strike up a friendly conversation as they walked down to his study, talking about events in London and preparations under way to confront Napoleon. Miss Ellerby listened with polite interest but said very little in reply. Rupert wondered if something was bothering her. But what? The children all seemed well and happy.
Once they reached his study and were seated, Miss Ellerby did not keep him guessing what was on her mind. “I wished to speak with you, sir, about the matter you discussed with Charlotte last week.”
“My intention to court Mrs. Cadmore, you mean?” Suddenly Rupert guessed what might be weighing on Miss Ellerby’s mind. “If you are worried that my remarriage will affect your position at Nethercross, you may put your mind at ease. Mrs. Cadmore thinks quite as highly of you as I do. I am certain she will be only too happy to have you continue in charge of my daughters. There may even be more young Kendricks coming along for you to teach in future years. Given our agreement regarding your salary, you could end up quite handsomely paid for a year’s service—and worth every farthing, to my mind.”
His reassurance did not appear to have the effect he’d hoped for.
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate the confidence you place in me. It is not for myself that I am concerned but for your daughters. They are terribly upset at the prospect of you marrying Mrs. Cadmore and they begged me to speak with you on their behalf.”
“Terribly upset? Nonsense! Perhaps the news came as a bit of a shock last week. But today they are all in fine spirits. None of them said a peep about Mrs. Cadmore.”
The governess heaved an impatient sigh. “That is because you forbade them to mention the subject. And the only reason they seem happy is because they have faith in my ability to persuade you to reconsider your decision before it is too late.”
“Before it is too late?” Rupert sprang from his chair and circled behind it. He felt as if he had come under attack and needed to take up a strong defensive position. “You make it sound as if I intend to commit a crime when I am only seeking to do right by my daughters and my estate.”
“Forgive me, Lord Steadwell.” She looked sincerely grieved at having offended him. “I am certain you have excellent reasons for what you intend to do.”
“But you think I am wrong all the same. I suppose you share my daughters’ belief that you can bring me to my senses.” He infused those final words with bitter scorn.
Miss Ellerby shook her head. “I wish I could, but I fear your decision is irrevocable.”
Well, that was better. At least she recognized his resolve. “Then let us waste no more time in fruitless argument.”
“I wish I could oblige you.” Her mouth settled into a stubborn line. “But I promised the girls I would try and I must keep my promise.”
Hang it all! Mousy Miss Ellerby was nearly as stubborn as he. “Let us get it over with, then. What objections do my daughters have to my marrying Mrs. Cadmore?”
“First perhaps you could explain why you want to make the lady your wife.”
“I do not need to justify my decision to my daughters,” he snapped, “and certainly not to you, Miss Ellerby.”
She shrank back in her chair, making Rupert regret his harsh tone. She was only doing what his daughters had bidden her, after all. “I do not feel entitled to an explanation, sir. But surely your children deserve one. Perhaps if they understand your reasons, they might become reconciled to the idea in time.”
When she put the matter that way, it seemed unreasonable to refuse. “It is not a decision I made lightly. Nor have I considered only my own interests—but those of everyone involved.”
“I would never take you for a selfish man, sir.”
Somehow that meant a great deal to him. “If I had only myself to consider, I would be content to remain a widower to the end of my days.”
Miss Ellerby’s pale brows kit together. “Then why…?”
“Because my daughters need a mother, for one thing.”
When he saw the look of hurt that gripped her features, Rupert hastened to add, “You have done an excellent job with the girls—better than I ever hoped. But they will not remain this age forever. When the time comes for Charlotte to make her debut or Phoebe to give up her pony in favor of a young gentleman, those situations will require something more than even the best governess can provide.”
Miss Ellerby opened her mouth to contradict him, then seemed to acknowledge the truth of what he’d said by shutting it again.
Rupert took advantage of her silence to continue. “There is also the question of who would care for the girls if something were to happen to me before they come of age. They have godparents, of course, but that might make it necessary
to split them up.”
“And you think a stepmother would be any better?” The question burst from Miss Ellerby’s lips.
“I do,” he replied. “Otherwise I would not think of remarrying. Finally, there is the matter of Nethercross and what will become of it when I am gone. Unless I have a son to succeed me, the heir to my title and this estate would be a feckless cousin. I would not trust him with anything of value.”
“Oh.” That appeared to be the only reply Miss Ellerby was capable of making just then.
Had he shocked her speechless with his indelicate reference to expanding his family?
After an awkward silence, the governess recovered her voice. “Are those your only reasons for wanting to marry Mrs. Cadmore?”
“Are they not sufficient?” Rupert demanded. “What more do you want?”
“Only the most important reason of all—that you care for the lady and want to share your life with her. Your daughters do not believe you are in love with Mrs. Cadmore and I have seen nothing to suggest otherwise.”
In love with…? The very notion sent a cold trickle of fear slithering down his back. It provoked him to lash out.
“Are you so knowledgeable about being in love that you can recognize its absence? I would not have supposed you knew any more about the subject than my daughters. Have you ever been in love to speak from experience?”
It was not the sort of question a gentleman should ask a lady, but Rupert could not help himself. Besides, now that it was out, he found himself more than usually curious about her answer.
The red spots in Miss Ellerby’s cheeks expanded until her whole face looked badly sunburnt. She hung her head. “I am no expert in matters of the heart, sir. I did fancy myself in love once, but now I am not certain I truly was.”
Her reply surprised Rupert. It had not occurred to him that a woman like her had ever known the stirrings of love. Perhaps it had not occurred to the man she’d cared for, either. Which made them a pair of fools, Rupert acknowledged to his chagrin. Just because Grace Ellerby was no beauty did not mean her heart was incapable of beautiful feelings. He should know, for he had seen and heard the tenderness she lavished upon his children.
Was that the reason she behaved so guardedly—because her tender heart had been injured by a man who judged her too plain and poor to entertain feelings for him?
Before Rupert could summon the words to apologize for jumping to that same conclusion, Miss Ellerby raised her head to skewer him with a challenging glare. “Perhaps I was mistaken in my ignorance, Lord Steadwell. Are you in love with Mrs. Cadmore after all?”
* * *
Was Lord Steadwell in love with the woman he intended to court and marry? Grace wondered what had made her press him on such an intrusive question.
“My feelings toward Mrs. Cadmore are no business of yours or anyone else’s,” he replied at last. “But since you insist on knowing—no, I am not ‘in love’ with Barbara Cadmore.”
His brutal candor surprised Grace. Yet part of her greeted his response with a flicker of relief.
“However,” he continued, “I find the lady attractive and compatible, which is sufficient for me, as I believe it will be for her. We are not a pair of sentimental youngsters seeking the sort of endless romantic idyll in one of Sophie’s Mother Goose tales. We both have children and property and responsibilities to consider ahead of our feelings. I have known love and discovered the high toll it exacts when lost. Even if I believed it were possible for me to recapture that kind of feeling, I would not care to try. I have no desire to plumb that depth of grief again. I doubt Mrs. Cadmore does, either.”
A brief quiver of doubt in his eyes made Grace wonder what part of all that he did not truly believe. Much as it troubled her to hear him renounce love once and for all, she could understand his reasons. Had she not vowed to protect her heart from further injury after Captain Townsend had broken it?
Grace recalled the torment she’d suffered as if it were only yesterday. The engaging brother of her very first employer had spent one winter at his sister’s home recovering from a wound he’d received while fighting in Spain. Fresh out of school and desperately lonely, she had been flattered by the gallant captain’s admiration. Like a naive little fool, she had allowed herself to dream of a future with him—that endless romantic idyll at which Lord Steadwell had sneered.
Only when the captain tried to tempt her into a dishonorable connection had she understood that he did not share her feelings. He’d scarcely regarded her as a person at all, only a pretty bauble to amuse him until he wed a lady of sufficient fortune to keep him in comfort. After that, she had never felt anything but fear and loathing of the men who had pursued her.
Grace stirred from her painful musing to find Lord Steadwell staring at her in expectant silence. Did her face betray as much of her feelings as his had a few moments ago?
“Well?” he prompted her. “Do you not intend to argue me out of my decision?”
Of course she did, though she now realized it would be even more difficult than she’d first believed. She owed it to his daughters to do everything in her power to keep him from making a mistake for which they might all pay dearly.
“I beg your pardon, sir. But what you said reminded me of another man who wed a woman he did not love for similar reasons.”
“Who are you talking about?” his lordship demanded. “I assume his second marriage did not turn out well.”
Grace gave a rueful nod. “The man was my father. A few years after my mother died he married a lady of some fortune, the better to provide for me.”
She forced the words past a barrier of long-standing reluctance to speak about the events of her childhood. Having recently told Charlotte about some of her experiences at school, she found it easier to confide in his lordship that she had expected.
“I sympathize with your father’s motives.” Lord Steadwell’s tone seemed to question why Grace could not do the same.
“I know he meant well, as you do. Nevertheless, that marriage was a mistake. Our home was not a happy one. When I quarreled with my stepmother’s children, she and Papa each took the part of their own offspring. Papa tried to hide his unhappiness and pretend all was well. To make up for my stepmother’s coldness, he doted on me, which only vexed her and made the situation worse.”
Was the cautionary tale of her childhood giving his lordship second thoughts? If so, perhaps it would be worth the heartache that had crawled out of some dark cupboard to gnaw at her again. “I believe the strain of all that frustration and regret was what made him ill. When he died, I was left at the mercy of my stepmother.”
Her voice broke as stinging tears welled up in her eyes.
Old feelings trampled her heart in their fierce delight at being set free. She might have been able to subdue them if she’d believed her painful confession was having the desired result. Instead, she feared his lordship would not be swayed from his decision, no matter how much he pitied her past troubles. Futility threatened to overwhelm her.
Grace bowed her head and raised her hand to her brow. She was concentrating so hard to keep from breaking down that she scarcely noticed Lord Steadwell moving toward her. Suddenly he knelt beside her chair, pressing a handkerchief into her hand.
She started and shrank from him. But besides the usual flare of panic at having a man so dangerously near, Grace also experienced an unaccustomed yearning.
Chapter Ten
He could not bear to see Miss Ellerby so upset.
The sight of her hunched over, fighting back tears, tore at Rupert with an intense mixture of pity, helplessness and a jagged shard of guilt. It was his fault she had felt compelled to dredge up all those wrenching memories.
He ached to comfort her, but the nature of their connection made that improper, even if she
had not cowered from his sudden approach.
“Do not fret,” he pleaded, offering her a handkerchief. “I am sorry for all you suffered during your youth.”
“You need not pity me!” She snatched the handkerchief from him and tipped up her spectacles to press the cloth to her eyes. “Save your pity for your children if you go ahead with your plan to remarry.”
Deeply as her distress moved him, Rupert refused to believe Barbara Cadmore would behave toward his daughters as Grace Ellerby’s stepmother had toward her. Mrs. Cadmore was a devoted mother to her son as she surely would be to his girls and any future children. It was one of the qualities that had most recommended her to him. Besides, he had no intention of letting any harm come to him until his daughters were grown and he had sired a son to carry on at Nethercross.
Perhaps sensing his resistance, Miss Ellerby gathered her composure and continued. “My father was barely in his grave before my stepmother shipped me off to the Pendergast School. It is a wonder I did not die from grief and homesickness and the wretched conditions there.”
As she told him about the scarce, bad food; the cold and dampness; the harsh teachers and bullying older girls, Rupert’s jaw tensed and his face began to burn. He wished he could go back and whisk her away from that miserable institution. At the same time, he could not help admiring the strength with which she had carried on in the face of such unrelenting adversity. That must have been when she had developed her severe facade to protect the wounded child beneath. Yet everything she’d endured seemed only to have strengthened her character and faith.
“Did you never blame God for what happened to you?” he asked when she finished speaking and slumped in the chair, spent from the effort it had cost her. “Did you never feel He had abandoned you?”
It was an intrusive question, but he knew she might never be willing to confide in him so fully again. And he had an urgent need to hear her answer.
She thought for a moment, perhaps searching her heart for the feelings he had mentioned. Then Grace Ellerby shook her head. “Faith and friendship were all that sustained me during those dark days. I took great comfort from the certainty that our Heavenly Father does not judge by outward appearances, as others do, but can see past that to beauty of the spirit.”