by Sophia James
Squaring her shoulders, she gripped her small overnight bag more tightly and marched into the wind, screwing her face up against the stinging rain—and the pain of losing everything, just when she’d been on the verge of really belonging. She had longed for somewhere she could call home for so long. She had never dared hope it would be the kind of place Pippa had found, with an adoring husband. She knew she wasn’t pretty, no matter what fustian Lord Chepstow had spoken last night. Nor did she have a dowry to redress that lack of allure. The most she had hoped for was to find a place where her skills as an educator would be valued.
To have it all so cruelly snatched away, just when it had been within her grasp, was almost more than she could bear.
As she’d sat at Mrs Gulpher’s table, sipping endless cups of hot, sweet tea, she’d discovered, much to her surprise, that the staff of Budworth Hall thought of her as one of them. They’d been, without exception, incensed that she was losing her job because one of the male guests had strayed into her territory and snatched a couple of kisses. Instead of laying any blame on her at all, they had asked what on earth Lady Springfield had been doing up there, so far away from the guest wing? The maids had packed her this overnight bag and promised to stow all the rest of her belongings safely in a trunk that a footman had volunteered to fetch down from storage.
And they had all said she had been such a good influence on the girls, she was bound to find another job in no time.
Jane had promised to spend her day in the schoolroom, making sure the children were properly looked after. And when Honeysuckle had raised the subject of their Christmas party, several other, younger members of the staff had assured her they would make sure the children would have a rollicking time of it.
In fact, they had all been so kind that she suddenly found herself blinking back tears. The way they had closed ranks round her, their instant assumption that she had done nothing wrong, the way they had all been so swift to castigate Lord Chepstow and Lady Springfield had been so…touching.
She had never guessed they thought so highly of her. How could she, when none of them had made any attempt to breach what Lord Chepstow derided as her shrewish nature?
Not that she was really as shrewish as all that, was she? Her throat closed up as she tried to suppress a sob. She’d just grown used to standing up for herself. She didn’t quite know how to handle having so many people rallying round her like that. To discover that they regarded her as one of their own.
Just as she was being forced to leave.
The sob broke free. And then tears began to stream down her face. And before long, she knew she was going to have to stop and blow her nose; for the combination of stinging rain and bitter tears was making it run in a hideous fashion.
As she put her bag down to fumble in her pocket for a handkerchief, she realised she had already, somehow, reached the wall surrounding the churchyard. The lych gate wouldn’t be a bad place to shelter from the worst of the wind while she attempted to compose herself. She simply couldn’t march up to the vicarage in this state. Making a litany of complaints against her employers, railing at the injustice of it all, would not make her look like the kind of person Reverend Colleyhurst would want to take into his home. Especially since he relied very heavily on Lord Budworth’s patronage.
After a few moments, during which she thought she would never be able to stop crying, it occurred to her that the whole thing was much harder to deal with because it was happening at Christmas.
For once again, it felt as though everyone else was preparing to feast and make merry, while she was out in the cold, friendless and alone.
She looked up the path to the church, seeking—well, she wasn’t sure what. But her eyes came to rest on the nativity scene the villagers had set up next to the porch. It struck her that the Holy Family had been poor and homeless at Christmas, too. There had been nowhere for Him to lay His head except a place intended for cattle.
At least she wasn’t going to have to sleep in a stable, not if she knew the Reverend Colleyhurst, she sniffed. Nor was she a helpless babe.
She was a grown woman, with a strong will, a healthy body and a good education. She might have nothing else, but nobody would ever be able to take her education from her. Moulsham Lodge had been a harsh place, but she had learned a lot there.
To start with, she had learned that it was pointless yearning for things she could not have. It only made her more miserable. She’d learned that the strong trampled down the weak to get what they wanted, that the wealthy lived by a different set of rules from the poor.
And there was nothing an orphaned girl could do about it, but endure life just exactly as it was.
With one last shuddering sigh, one last sniff, she removed her spectacles and rubbed the lenses on the one dry corner of her handkerchief remaining.
So, she was on her own again. But she had known, from the moment those heartless trustees had deposited her in Moulsham Lodge, that she would have to make her own way in the world.
She was not, she decided, perching her spectacles back on her nose, going to sit here wallowing in self-pity. And though anger was much more energising—only consider how rapidly her legs had carried her thus far—it would not do to let it take over her life completely, either. She would only end up bitter and twisted, like the teachers at Moulsham Lodge.
Besides, if she could go back and do things differently, would she? If she had known this would be the result, would she have found the resolve to virtuously spurn Lord Chepstow?
And never have known what it felt like, to be in his arms?
Oh, no. For once she agreed wholeheartedly with Lord Chepstow’s philosophy. This life was the only one she had. She could not be sorry that, if only for a few seconds, she’d discovered what it felt like to be a desirable woman. A woman desired by the man she adored. Nobody would ever be able to take that away from her. She sat for a few moments, reliving the feel of his body pressed against hers from shoulder to knee. Of his hands clutching her so close there was no mistaking how much he was enjoying the encounter, too. She committed his scent to memory, and his taste, and the silky texture of his hair as she ran her fingers through it.
And then she blew her nose one last time, got to her feet, picked up her bag and crossed the village green to the vicarage.
Chapter Six
Lord Chepstow was grinning to himself as he made his way up to the schoolroom after lunch. When he’d got up that morning, his first instinct had been to go straight there and spend the entire day coaxing Honeysuckle into accepting his proposal. But after the heat of the kisses they’d shared the night before, he knew he was going to find it damned difficult to keep his hands off her. Not that he cared what a pack of someone else’s children might think of him kissing their governess into submission. But he had an inkling that Honeysuckle would find his ardour embarrassing. Which would make her angry. And he didn’t want her angry, he wanted her to melt for him again, as she had begun to do last night.
Lord, but it had felt marvellous when she’d kissed him back with such passion. He’d never, ever felt such a sense of—triumph, yes, that was it. As if he’d won some kind of battle. Because she had not set out to entrap him, like so many women did. Rather, she’d done all she could to resist. Her own longings, as much as his.
His grin widened. He had breached her defences, but by now, if he knew anything about her, she would have retreated into her defensive shell once more. Just as she’d retreated into her bedroom, when what had flared between them had become too passionate for her to handle.
Not that he minded. On the contrary, he was relishing the prospect of breaching her barriers all over again. Her natural reticence brought out the hunter in him. The fact that he was certain to catch her in the end did not make the pursuit of Honeysuckle Miller any less satisfying. It was all as it should be. The man pursued. The woman surrendered.
Though there was nothing predatory about his pursuit. He had realised, when he woke this morning, t
hat he wanted to spend the rest of his life making up for all she’d had to do without so far by showering her with gifts. Jewellery, clothes…whatever her heart desired.
How could he ever have thought she was plain? With her hair rippling down to her waist, her body all shrouded in white, the night before she’d looked so damned desirable he could scarcely remember his own name, let alone why he’d gone up to the schoolroom.
She had to marry him. She needed him to take her away from this life of drudgery and treat her as she deserved to be treated.
Not that she would be likely to accede to any demand she abandon the children and leave Budworth Hall right away, even though he’d had more than enough of the place. Not only was he beginning to seriously dislike his hosts for the way they had treated Honeysuckle, but he was also devilishly bored with the set of people staying here.
But Honeysuckle would not regard his wishes as of—he grinned—parrot mount importance. No, her priority would be to make sure there was someone else to care for the children before she would consider handing in her notice.
He paused on the landing, wondering why he did not mind the fact he was not first on her list of priorities. It didn’t take him more than a moment to work out that her loyalty to the children in her care, her determination to do her best for them, no matter what it cost, whether they appreciated her sacrifices or not was one of the things he admired about her most. If she could just leave them behind without suffering a pang, she wouldn’t be…Honeysuckle.
A tender smile played about his mouth as he thought of the one sure way to win her compliance. No matter how much she wanted to argue with him, the moment he took her in his arms, she melted like ice in the sun, which made him feel very…manly. As though, having conquered Honeysuckle, he was now capable of achieving just about anything.
Even spending the New Year with Pippa and her boring baronet. For that was what he would have to do, now that he’d decided to make Honeysuckle his wife. It would take a little while to organise a wedding. And Pippa’s house was the obvious place to take her while they sorted out all the details. He’d instantly dismissed any notion of procuring a special licence and marrying her quietly. It might look as though there was something suspect about their union, as though he was not completely sure that she was the woman he wanted. So he was going to organise a grand wedding and show her off. Start as he meant to go on. Nothing was to be too good for Honeysuckle. And no expense spared.
And Pippa was the one person he could trust to stand by her through it all. In fact, Pippa would be absolutely thrilled to be able to call Honeysuckle her sister.
He walked the remaining few steps to the schoolroom door, savouring the prospect of making a grand entrance, whisking Honeysuckle away from her life of drudgery and showering her with all the things she’d had to go without. And seeing her look at him as though he was her hero.
Puffing out his chest, he pushed open the door and strode in. ‘Miss Miller,’ he began, for the sake of the children and her sensibilities. Though part of him still wanted to cry Darling, sweep her into his arms and cover her face with kisses, it would be prudent to moderate his behaviour.
‘Miss Miller is not here,’ said the servant, who appeared to be in nominal charge of the pack of children whose faces were beginning to look familiar.
‘Oh? Where is she, then?’
One of the little girls, who’d been sitting on the servant’s knee looking rather sullen, began to cry. Or, to judge by her mottled complexion, started to cry again.
‘She’s been dismissed,’ said the servant.
‘Dismissed?’
Another little girl peeled away from the rumpus taking place at one end of the room to come and put her arms protectively around, to judge by their identical dress, her younger sister.
‘For misconduct,’ said the servant, glowering at him.
‘Misconduct?’ It made no sense. What on earth could Honeysuckle have possibly done to result in her dismissal? She was so utterly devoted to the children he could not imagine her doing anything that would jeopardise their welfare.
‘And it’s Christmas,’ wailed the first little girl. ‘She was going to give us a party. Our first proper Christmas party.’
‘We shall still have our party,’ said the older sister. ‘Jane promised. Didn’t you, Jane?’
The servant nodded. ‘Here,’ she said, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing a bulging paper bag. ‘Share these out, will you? I need to have a talk with this…’ she paused, and a sneer crept into her voice ‘…gentleman.’
The little girl who’d looked so inconsolable stopped crying when presented with the bag of toffee. She took it over to the hearthrug and, as the others gathered round her, making her the centre of attention, brightened up considerably.
The moment the girls were fully occupied the servant whirled round and glared at him.
‘She has nowhere to go, did you know that? Or care? She set off walking down the drive with just as much as she could carry in one small bag, with no idea what is to become of her.’
A chill struck him in the gut.
‘She has already left Budworth Hall? Then I must go after her. Find her.’
He was about to make for the door, when the servant intercepted him. ‘You’ve done enough already. You leave her alone, do you hear?’
‘Me? What have I done?’ he protested.
‘You know very well,’ said the servant indignantly. ‘Everyone knows what went on up here last night, thanks to that hussy Lady Springfield. You ought to be ashamed of yourself—sneaking up here last night and…and toying with our Miss Miller.’
‘I did not sneak,’ he said, completely shocked by having a member of the lower orders rebuking him, though in some ways her heated defence of Honeysuckle made him warm to her. And though he would not normally bother to explain himself to a servant, he found himself doing exactly that.
‘Miss Miller is a friend of my sister’s. We have known each other for years. Since she told me she had no time off during the length of my stay here, I had no choice but to visit her in her schoolroom. And I most certainly did not toy with her. I have done nothing of which I need be ashamed…’
He trailed off. To be completely honest, he’d known he ought not to have made so free with a woman who was well born. Wasn’t that why he’d proposed to her?
And then he looked at the two girls, who were still quite subdued in spite of having cheeks bulging with toffee. And saw that the boys who had joined in with his game of pirates with such enthusiasm had taken a defensive stance at their side. All were looking at him as though he were a pantomime villain.
‘Look, there seems to have been some sort of misunderstanding. Perhaps I should not have come up here so late last night, while Miss Miller was all alone, but nothing happened that…’
But now another aspect of the situation struck him. She was a servant here. He’d always despised the kind of men who preyed on vulnerable female members of household staff. Not that it had been anything like that, last night. But…to people who did not know about their life-long connection, it must have looked pretty damning.
‘This is all completely ridiculous,’ he said, spearing his fringe out of his eyes with agitated fingers. ‘There was no need for her to leave. Even if she was dismissed, she should have just come to me…’ But as soon as the words had left his mouth, he saw how impossible that would have been for Honeysuckle. She was too used to having to deal with all her problems by herself. She did not know him well enough yet to trust him. And she’d never had anyone she could trust, not in her whole life. First her parents had let her down by dying and leaving her so poorly provided for, then her guardians had demonstrated their indifference by leaving her to sink or swim in that school without doing more than paying the bills. His heart squeezed in his chest as he saw her assuming she would have to deal with the loss of her job alone, too.
‘Oh, really?’ said the servant, hands on hips. ‘And what would you have done? Humi
liated her even worse, no doubt. Men of your class always blame the woman. And it’s always the woman who has to pay the price when you’ve had what you wanted.’
‘I haven’t had what I wanted,’ he snapped. ‘Not at all. In spite of what Lady Springfield might have said, all I did was kiss her a time or two. And ask her to marry me…’
‘You,’ the servant said, looking at him up and down with incredulity, ‘asked her to marry you?’
‘Why not?’ It was one of the little girls with the bag of toffee. ‘Miss Miller is the loveliest person in the whole world.’
‘Yes, she is,’ he agreed. ‘Annabel, isn’t it? And last night I realised—’ about the time he’d been running through Havelock’s list, and discovering she had every single virtue any of the fellows in his club had written on it ‘—that there is no woman on earth who would make me a better wife.’
The little girl sighed and looked at him as though he was now the romantic lead, rather than the villain of the piece.
‘Well, if’n you really do mean to marry her,’ said the servant, her face softening, ‘then you couldn’t do no worse than start looking for her at the vicarage. She meant to ask the reverend if he would kindly take her in, just while Mr Rothman tries to get the wages she’s owed out of his lordship.’
‘Do you mean to tell me that they threw her out without her wages?’
The servant shot a meaningful glance at the children, implying reluctance to speak ill of their parent in their hearing. But she added, in an undertone, ‘Nor a character, neither.’
He was half inclined to head straight down to Lord Budworth and tell him exactly what he thought of a man who’d throw a vulnerable woman out of doors without any means of support in the midst of winter.
But he’d already wasted enough time. Night fell early at this time of year. And he had to make sure that Honeysuckle was in a place of safety before it did.
Pray God he found her, before anything worse happened than…he groaned…than losing her job, her wages, her home.