A Governess for the faithless Duke (Regency Romance) (Regency Tales Book 3)

by Regina Darcy

  Having never played for the Duke before, Charlotte found herself unaccountably anxious to make a good impression, and then had to remind herself sternly that this was for his aunt, and that what he thought was immaterial to her. She sat at the piano, choosing to play from memory her favourite piece by Chopin, and letting herself forget her audience as she gave herself over to the music. When the last notes died away, applause greeted her and she opened her eyes to find two pairs trained on her.

  “A skilled and accomplished young woman,” Lady Agnes exclaimed. “You play with passion, Miss Williams. Just what the girls need to learn to do.”

  Charlotte thanked the grande dame for her kind words of praise, and sipped the glass of sherry she had been offered earlier by Milton. Lady Agnes spoke at length with her nephew before addressing her again.

  “I expect you need to retire, Miss Williams, as your charges will be waiting for you bright and early on the morrow. Thank you for being so forthright and entertaining this evening.”

  Charlotte was torn between being amused and being annoyed at how summarily she was being dismissed. But she rose and put her wine glass down on the table before turning to curtsy to the old lady and her nephew. He also stood and escorted her to the door.

  “Thank you for being so patient with my aunt,” he said in a low voice. “I appreciate your restraint. Sleep well, Miss Williams.”

  His words were innocuous enough, but Charlotte felt as though he had spoken words of seduction in her ear. Her cheeks warmed, and she said “Thank you,” in a breathless whisper before darting away to the stairs, rushing up them without looking back. Her limbs were all atremble as she got ready for bed, and she prayed that she would not have to endure another evening with them for a long while, or at least long enough to get herself back in control.

  Edmund watched her dart away, and after his aunt took herself off to bed, he sat nursing a glass of whiskey. His thoughts were inevitably about, how his feelings for the shy governess were blossoming despite his efforts to remain aloof. She had made it difficult for him to see her, after her relatives had departed, and he knew why she had taken such a course of action. He respected her more than he could say for how she maintained a professional distance despite the mutual attraction that pulsed between them. Here was a woman worthy of a gentleman. And although he could not say he qualified as a gentle man, he knew that were he to be allowed to do so, he would make her a good husband, because he held her in such high regard. Even her avoidance was attractive to him, because it was so opposite to the actions of all the other women vying to become his duchess.

  His thoughts went to Henrietta Aston, and he shuddered. She was a predator in a woman’s body, and he wanted no part of her. But he would have to tread carefully in his rejection of her, especially after the scandalous debacle with Lady Emily Blount. He poured himself a second drink, and stood by the window looking out over the moonlit garden.

  Would Miss Charlotte Williams even consider him worthy of her affections? His reputation had taken a drumming.

  He wished he knew why he wanted the one he was not supposed to want, and how he was to handle his inappropriate desires where she was concerned. The more he got to know his governess, the more he liked her, and the more he wanted to know her. He sighed. Why could his life not be simple for once?

  Over the course of the next week, he found reason to visit her in the schoolroom. The first time he did so, she was so startled that she dropped the papers she had in her hands. He hurried to help her with them.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you, Miss Williams,” he said, handing her the sheaf of papers. “I merely wished to see how my nieces are progressing, and to ask if there is anything that you need.”

  “The girls are doing well, Your Grace. And there is nothing that I need, though I would ask that you permit them to play for your aunt one evening after dinner, so that she can hear how well they are doing in music. She seemed to think that it is an important skill for them to have.”

  Edmund noted how she skirted anything personal in her response, and he wanted almost desperately to shake that cool reserve, to breach her walls. But there was little he could do with the children there to witness it.

  Instead, he brought to her attention that he had appeared bearing gifts — apples for them all, picked fresh from the orchard.

  “I know that you like to give the girls treats,” he said, explaining his presence, “and I thought these would make a nice treat before lunch.”

  She thanked him prettily, but did not smile, and stayed a good distance from him as she helped the girls to tidy up. And when he offered to help, she told him he would be better served letting them plod along at their own pace, as the girls needed to learn responsibility, and if he did it for them, they would miss the lesson. He was tempted to point out the flaws in her argument, but he refrained when she pierced him with a sharp eye.

  He consoled himself with the fact that at least he had gotten to see her, this time wearing a bright yellow shawl with the grey gown. He thought of all the well-dressed women who wanted his attention and his title, and knew that this woman in her plain grey gown was more beautiful than any of them. He wanted to shower her with beautiful things, but all he could do was to ensure that she was paid for her services to his nieces.

  The dinner party at which she would appear, bringing the girls with her to entertain his guests, was two days away. He could not wait. He cautioned himself repeatedly, in the interim, even as he watched her, to let nothing show of his growing feelings for her.

  The evening of the party arrived. His aunt was in her element, being the gracious hostess for the local gentry, and welcoming Tom Talford, Edmund’s oldest friend, and his aged father, Sir Algernon Talford, to their home, and presiding over the dinner table regally. He enjoyed his aunt’s visits, even when she was at her most acerbic, as she gave a certain gentility, and dignified appeal to his parties. The other guests included the vicar and his wife, his cousin James and his wife, and his other aunt Lady Jane Trowers and her companion. The women outnumbered the men, but as this was typical of his house parties in recent times, he was not overly concerned, particularly since none of the women there had set her cap at him, and the one in whom he was discovering a growing interest was avoiding him like the plague.

  Edmund admired the pretty gown that Charlotte wore this evening. It was new, and fit her beautifully. It was a soft lavender with long sleeves, trimmed with lace, with a modestly cut neckline above a form-fitting bodice that showed her ample bosom to advantage. She wore no jewellery, and had piled her hair atop her head, leaving a few tendrils to slip away and feather down her neck. He tore his eyes away when she was announced, and avoided looking in her direction for most of dinner. After dinner, when he told Milton to have the girls brought down, she disappeared until they arrived, when she held their hands and led them into the drawing room, toward the grand piano he had there.

  She spoke quietly to them, and they turned and smiled at him, making his heart warm. He held out his arms and they ran to him while she fidgeted with music sheets at the piano.

  “Say good evening to your great aunt and our guests, Miss Eliza and Miss Mary Anne.”

  The little girls curtsied prettily, and went to be kissed by his aunt, who looked them over critically, and nodded, as though she were satisfied by her perusal.

  “Let us hear what you can do on the piano, then,” she said and the little girls went over to Charlotte where she stood by the piano.

  Each child played a piece, which he recognised as having heard before on his visits to the schoolroom. Then they sat together on the stool and played a simple beginner’s duet, which he had not known they were practicing. They played it flawlessly, and he felt again a sense of rightness about his choice of a governess.

  Charlotte had wrought no less than a miracle in his nieces in six weeks, not only in their behaviour but also in their accomplishments. He felt a deep pride for her, and hoped her efforts would be appreciated by
his guests.

  The girls’ performance was greeted with enthusiastic applause. They ran to him again to be hugged and kissed before they said their goodnights and were escorted up to bed by the nursemaid. Then it was Charlotte’s turn, and his aunt had a request.

  “Play that piece you played for me the first time, child,” she ordered her. “I think Edmund’s guests will enjoy it as much as I did.”

  Edmund watched Charlotte sit at the piano and close her eyes. Soon music echoed around the room, and he took the opportunity to observe the faces of his guests. They were all enraptured. Even Aunt Agnes, who had already heard it once, seemed wrapped up in its magic again. And when the music died away, everyone applauded with honest admiration.

  “My congratulations, Miss Williams,” Lady Jane said. “I have scarce ever heard a pianoforte played more masterfully. It is no wonder the children did so well!”

  Charlotte blushed deeply but managed to speak her thanks with quiet grace. The vicar asked for a particular piece, and she played it, to his endless delight. Then she excused herself, claiming an early rising for a ride she had promised the girls. Edmund escorted her to the door, and said, “Thank you for this evening. You made the girls, and me, very happy indeed. And everyone loved your performance on the pianoforte.”

  “You’re welcome, Your Grace. It was my pleasure,” she replied.

  “As it was mine to hear you and to have you here, Miss Williams,” he said, his voice low and laced with the feelings he was doing his best to keep in check.

  When she looked into his eyes, no doubt startled by the tone of his words, he saw a flash of heat colour her cheeks. Her lips parted breathlessly as she looked up at him. The raw nakedness of emotion that shone through her eyes, stopped him in his tracks.

  Before he could verify the truth of what he had seen, her gaze was guarded yet again and she hurried away.

  Could it be that his little governess held him in the same regard as he did her? The thought stirred him, but he still had guests to entertain. They would be with him for the next two days, until the weekend when they would all depart, as would Charlotte, whom he had given leave to visit with her family for a few days. But he had to see her before she departed, to find out if what he had seen was real or a figment of his imagination.

  The next day he could not find her, and did not wish to invade the schoolroom, where he knew she would certainly be. He did not wish for anyone to remark upon his too frequent appearance there, as it would give rise to questions. And so he endured, and bided his time until he heard her greeting Milton as she was leaving by the front door to take her usual stroll after tea. He followed her, going through the door in his study, and came upon her by the fountain that she loved to sit beside.

  “Miss Williams,” he said as he approached. “Good afternoon to you.”

  “Your Grace,” she said, lowering her eyes before him, and rising to her feet.

  “Why do you always start away when I approach?” he asked. “Are you afraid that I will harm you in some way?”

  She flushed crimson at his question, and stammered out an apologetic reply. “Oh, no, Your Grace. I am sure you would never harm me, sir!”

  “Then why?” He needed to get some response from her that was more than the cool aloofness that was her usual demeanour with him, even though he knew he was playing a dangerous game.

  “We are not of the same station, Your Grace,” she said, almost reprovingly, “and it would be unseemly of me to encourage any untoward familiarity.”

  He smiled, charmed by her words and by the sentiments that they expressed. “How is it unseemly to be polite?” he wondered.

  “I am an unmarried woman, Your Grace, and a servant in your household. There are rules on proper decorum in such circumstances!”

  She was still scolding him, although she was doing so respectfully. The thought made him laugh.

  “Have you not heard the rumours?” he asked. “I am an unconventional man, who does not follow the rules. It is no consequence to me what others think about my actions, as long as I am happy with my decisions.”

  “And what if your actions have dire consequences for others, Your Grace?” she asked quietly, finally meeting his eyes.

  “I have always striven to ensure the safety of others, Miss Williams,” he said, realizing that she must have heard about his marital escapades. “But a man must be true to who he is.”

  He spoke passionately, needing her to know who he was. She nodded, agreeing with him, then added, “But a man must also be true to the codes of behaviour that govern his station. Surely you can be who you are within the limits of your status in society?”

  “Sometimes, Miss Williams,” he said, “one must stretch the boundaries of accepted behaviour in order to find happiness and joy in living. Revolutions are not won by those who take no risks.”

  She looked at him again, and smiled, clearly understanding his meaning. “This is true, Your Grace. But I do not think that I am willing to be a risk taker in some matters.” The she stepped away from him. “If you will excuse me, I must return indoors. Have a good afternoon, Your Grace.”

  She left him standing there, bemused and seduced by her.

  SEVEN

  Charlotte remained in her rooms until the house party broke up, and the Duke’s relatives and friends had all departed. Then she packed a small satchel and was whisked away to her home for three days.

  She needed the space away from the Duke, whose attentions were becoming more and more particular. Never had she been so tempted to relax and let common sense be gone with the wind, but she had a reputation to maintain, and he had one to repair.

  She could not allow him to declare himself, if that was his intention. The ton would not look favourably on such a match…but how she wished that was his intentions…declaring himself…to her. But she knew the folly of it. The Duke himself had already paid a steep price for flouting the rules, not once but twice. And his Great Aunt Agnes was a sharp-eyed old biddy, who probably knew more about what he was doing, and what he intended to try to do, than she let on. Charlotte did not want to find herself on the wrong side of that venerable lady.

  Her parents welcomed her home with open arms, and for the next three days, she immersed herself in life the way it used to be. There were pies to be made, chores to be done, visits to be made, and after hours, stories of village life, and of life in the manor house to while away the evenings until it was time for sleep. She spent a day with Emma, tramping around in the woods, picnicking beside the pond, and confiding her secret struggles with her deepening attraction to the Duke. Emma seemed to be of the Duke’s mind, that there should be nothing wrong with pursuing those things that were important to you.

  “It isn’t as though you are the one pursuing him, Charlie,” she said. “Why should you feel guilty when you have done nothing wrong?”

  “And I do not intend to do anything wrong, either,” she declared. “This attraction will dissipate if we just avoid each other. I cannot risk losing my job because I find myself hopelessly attracted to my master, Emma. This is a serious matter.”

  Emma sighed. “I wish I knew how to help you,” she said. “You are my dearest friend in the world, and I would hate to see you hurt. But I would love to see you happy, too.”

  The next day, Charlotte returned to Marbleton House, with no clearer sense of what else she could do. She had not told her mother, whom she feared would be disappointed in her, were she to know of Charlotte’s desires. And how unrealistic they were! To imagine, even for a moment, that the Duke of Marbleton would ever be interested in her was laughable! He had his pick of the cream of the society crop. A poor vicar’s daughter was no catch by comparison. A memory of Lady Henrietta Aston strolling in the garden with him, her arm laced through his, hit her square in the chest, and she gasped, as though someone had had to manually restart her breathing. She would never fit by his side the way that lady had done.

  All such sad thoughts were shelved though, once she a
rrived to find that while she had been away, her charges had become ill. The Duke himself had met her in the hallway as she was ascending the stair, and the look of relief on his face was unaccountably endearing. It was almost as though he had been waiting for her to return. He explained that his nieces had a high fever and hacking cough, and he feared it might be consumption. The doctor had been called away to another village, and in the meantime, it was up to the nursemaid, almost a child herself, and Mrs Thomson, to attend to the girls, until either his own personal physician, or the village doctor, arrived to assess the situation. Charlotte threw herself into the task of caring for them, thereby easing the burden on Molly’s shoulders, and relieving Mrs, Thomson of the extra work.

  On her first night with them, the Duke appeared in the doorway as she was sitting next to the bed where the two little girls lay, their laboured breathing filling the distressed silence. They were resting, and Charlotte was about to begin on a new piece of embroidery, while Molly went to have some supper. She stood again as he entered, and he said,

  “Please, Miss Williams, sit you down. I have only come to see my nieces,” he said, casting a worried eye over them, before turning to look at her. “Welcome home,” he added. “I forgot to say it earlier, when you returned.”

  Charlotte looked at him closely in the dim candlelight, but could not read his face, except to see the lines of strain that were more deeply etched in them. That he was very worried about the girls’ health was evident, but she could feel the tension that surrounded him as he stood there looking back at her, and it had nothing to do with the reason he claimed he was in the sick room. It would be up to her to maintain the distance that was appropriate between them.

  “The girls are resting for now, Your Grace,” she said, sitting again. “There is little to be done except to make sure the fever doesn’t get any worse, and really, no there’s need for you to be here.”