She had indeed lost so much—not just family, home and friends, but the work that had been the driving force in her life.
He marvelled that she had borne it with such fortitude. Other than the few rare glimpses of distress he’d caught, she’d hidden her heartache under a serene exterior and a cheerful smile.
How unfair it was that this woman, who would have made a splendid helpmate for a man in government, or at the very least the superbly capable wife of a landed aristocrat, had ended up a servant. Whereas he’d seen too many bored and indolent officers’ and gentlemen’s wives in India, gossiping and complaining as they lived lives of leisure and did little of importance for anyone.
‘Well, the Judd Street house was not to be,’ she concluded, the enthusiasm fading from her face, a pensive look taking its place.
‘Did you never encounter a dashing young politician who could persuade you to accept his hand?’ he asked, voicing a curiosity that, he was ashamed to admit, carried more than a trace of jealousy.
‘Alas, no.’ She smiled faintly. ‘None of the society gentlemen I met over five Seasons interested me in the slightest. Though to be fair, their only interest in me was the possibility of obtaining a modestly dowered, well-bred female to manage their household and eventual children. The Members of Parliament were either already married, or had attachments elsewhere.’
Because you were meant to come here—to me.
Quickly stifling that inappropriate thought, he made himself focus back on her losses.
‘I’m sorry you had to leave London and your work,’ he said, knowing his regret could make little difference, but compelled to express it anyway.
‘I suppose all of us stagger under the weight of real tragedy. But facing the small slings and arrows of everyday life, one can be as happy as one chooses—paying attention to the things that please, or letting ourselves focus on those that annoy. For myself, I choose as much as possible to be happy.’
‘I hope that you find helping my wards adjust to life in England a worthy cause too, if not as important as the work of your reform Committee.’
Smiling more broadly, she nodded. ‘In some ways, it is more important. When I left London, there were others to take up the pen and continue that fight. Arriving with no nurse or maid from home, the children had no advocate. And they are darling girls. Although I’ve been with them less than a month, I’m terribly fond of them already.’ After a moment’s hesitation, she added, ‘I hope that, with time, you are finding it...easier to be with them?’
‘I am. Thanks to you. I suspect I’m even growing...somewhat attached,’ he added, surprising himself with the truth of that statement.
Her face had grown melancholy, but at that admission, she brightened again. ‘That’s wonderful! At the risk of being presumptuous—again—I can’t help thinking that sharing a fond affection would be a blessing for all of you.’
As you have been a blessing to me.
He stifled the thought before he could utter the words aloud. A sweet tightness constricted his chest again, along with a strong desire to pull her into his arms. Not just from the carnal desire he had to battle constantly. But also for the simple pleasure of offering her the comfort of his embrace and a poignant yearning to help her carry her burdens, as she had helped him lift his.
Before he could succumb to it, Elizabeth stirred sleepily. ‘Are we almost back?’ she asked, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. ‘When can we uncover Pierre’s cage?’
Hugh welcomed an interruption that brought him up short before his thoughts veered off in a direction they had no business taking. Even had he the funds, with no excuse of kinship between them, there was no way he could help Miss Overton recover the life she’d lost. And despite his daily growing regard for her, he dared not offer anything else.
‘Another mile or so down the road and we’ll pass through the gates into the drive leading to the Abbey,’ he told Elizabeth. Turning to Miss Overton, he had to chuckle. ‘I can’t wait to see the expression on John Coachman’s face when the grooms unload Pierre.’
Chapter Seventeen
That night, after the children were in bed, Miss Overton again returned to the music room to play the piano. Abandoning his usual listening post by the library door, Hugh slipped into the hallway and drifted to the threshold of the music room, captivated by the melancholy beauty of the music and irresistibly drawn to be closer to her.
As she caught him in the gentle web of her music, he found himself thinking again about the proposition that had occurred to him after she’d told him more about her life on the way home from Bristol this afternoon. A proposition he’d almost blurted out, before Elizabeth awoke and interrupted him.
If some relative volunteered to take over the girls—though the more days that passed without a reply to his letters requesting assistance, the less and less likely that seemed—he would have to discharge Miss Overton and send her back to London.
Back to search for another position, where she would have to start over again with a new employer who might—or might not—appreciate what a talented, committed, sterling woman of character she was.
Someone who might treat her merely as a convenient servant. Or even worse, mistreat her.
Unless... If they were to enter a marriage of convenience, it might be a happy solution for all of them.
He’d instinctively recoiled from the idea. He’d been a star student, a natural commander who could direct a company of soldiers, analyse the threat facing them and send them out with a plan to meet it with perfect confidence. Though the hours of work required were long and the progress frustratingly slow, he had no doubt that eventually he would restore Somers Abbey to the prosperous estate it had been in his father’s day.
But when it came to figuring out matters of the heart, he felt as inadequate and uncertain as a green lieutenant leading his first patrol into hostile territory.
After having longer to ponder the idea—and he’d thought of little else since returning this afternoon—he’d once again rejected the possibility, even more grateful that Elizabeth’s return to wakefulness had stayed his tongue. Despite all the advantages such a marriage might offer them both, with his dreadful record as a husband, he couldn’t bear risking the possibility that the warmth and respect they now shared might disintegrate into the bitterness and anger his union with Lydia had become.
But just now, as he listened to the music, a more encouraging realisation had struck him. If, in some distant future, they should fall into discord, Olivia could live apart from him—in England.
Where she would be safe. Safe to return to her political world in London. With the increase in income he expected the estate would produce by then he’d able to rent her that house in the capital, where she might devote herself to the political causes she loved. Still linked to the girls, still shielded from penury and proposals from unworthy suitors. Still his, even at a distance.
The thought of having her near, protecting her—and at last, at last, being able to make love to her—made his senses and spirits soar.
She might well react to a proposal with indignation and summarily reject him. Despite that probability, he’d summon up his courage and speak to her—this very night.
He had his eyes closed, savouring the last chord, when her soft voice startled him. ‘It won’t...disturb me if you wish to sit in the room,’ she said, turning on the piano bench to face him. ‘Heaven knows I make enough mistakes not to be vain about my performance. If you have the time to listen, you don’t need to stand outside the door.’
‘Thank you. I truly didn’t wish to disturb you.’ It was her disturbing effect on him he always struggled to resist, he thought as he walked into the room.
Though perhaps, if she were willing to take on a conflicted widower, a not-yet-restored estate and the care of two little girls not her own, he might no longer have to resist her.
&nb
sp; But how to begin?
While he pondered that, she said, ‘Now that you are here, I wanted to thank you again for driving us to Bristol today. The girls are still so excited! I had to promise Elizabeth I would take her to visit Pierre first thing tomorrow before I could get her to lie quietly enough to fall asleep.’
She chuckled. ‘Then I had to return to the stables and tell John Coachman again how grateful I am that he allowed us to keep Pierre in the stables tonight, how much I appreciate his forbearance in giving temporary shelter to a creature that brings the girls so much comfort, being such a beautiful reminder of their homeland. I promised him I’d have another home for the parrot by tomorrow.’
‘Laid it on thick, did you?’ he asked with an answering chuckle, coming over to stand beside the piano bench—his heart skipping a beat at her nearness and the audacity of the proposition he was about to make.
‘Inches deep. You saw the look he gave when we brought in the parrot! I might have also promised him I’d have Cook prepare a basket of his favourite foods tomorrow. Else I feared we might find the poor bird had mysteriously expired in its cage some time in the night, which would devastate the children. I... I’m also glad that you are feeling easier around the girls. I still feel guilty for berating you about them when I first arrived. I’ve lost brother, father and mother and I know how much that hurts.’
‘Your mother’s loss was quite recent, wasn’t it?’ he asked quietly, giving in to the temptation of sitting beside her.
She nodded. ‘It was losing her that sent me into service. As you guessed, I didn’t want to become a charge upon the cousin who’d inherited the estate and then my mother’s house.’
‘I find it strange that neither your father nor your mother left you a legacy.’
She laughed shortly. ‘My father left me quite a handsome one. Unfortunately, my trustees saw fit to invest virtually all of it and my mother’s in an investment that went bankrupt.’
Yet one more loss to add to all she had suffered. ‘I’m so sorry. It must have been a terrible shock. To believe you would be living in comfortable circumstances, and then discover...you would not.’
She shrugged. ‘What was there to do? One takes stock of the choices one is left and m-moves on.’
It was the little catch in her voice as she spoke those brave words, the soft sheen of the tears in her eyes he saw gleaming in the candlelight, that gave him the courage—and the opportunity—to broach his proposition.
‘It occurred to me on the road home today that there might be an alternative to you continuing a life in service. What if you were to enter into a marriage of convenience...with me? Don’t respond at once,’ he added quickly, as her eyes widened. ‘I know the suggestion comes as a surprise. Please, let me explain.’
Too shocked—or horrified—to speak, she sat silently as he continued, ‘I know you’ve grown fond of the girls and they certainly adore you. Were we to marry, you would have a legal and permanent claim to them, while they would finally have that lady of wisdom and breeding so necessary to guide them into becoming capable, refined young women. It would be no less a blessing for me, gaining me a skilled hostess, a clever and amiable companion, and a partner in raising the children and restoring Somers Abbey to its former splendour. While it would offer you a return to your rightful status and position, eliminate the necessity for you to earn your bread among strangers and permanently free you from the threat of penury.’
Hardly stopping for breath, he forged on to the most difficult part. ‘On a more personal level, I—I couldn’t, in all honesty, pledge you my heart. I’m not sure, after the events of India, I have one left to offer. But I could promise you respect, kindness, compassion and fidelity. And this,’ he concluded, easing her into his arms.
He’d planned to immediately release her after one brief hug. But as he held her, she snuggled closer and rested her head on his chest. As if she, too, had longed to be there for ever, in his arms.
‘Will you consider my proposition, my lovely, Managing Miss Overton?’ he whispered into her hair.
‘I can’t... I... Oh, I don’t know how to answer!’
‘Don’t answer—not yet. Take time to think about it, as much time as you need. Whatever you decide, you may be assured of my continued respect and protection.’
Saying that, he released her, his heart beating rapidly with both hope and trepidation. He couldn’t say which frightened him more—the possibility that she would refuse—or that she might accept.
Had he really had the audacity to propose to her, when he couldn’t pledge the soul-deep love so beautiful a soul deserved?
But now it was no longer his decision. He would abide by hers—whatever it turned out to be.
Feeling calmer and more at peace than he had in months, Hugh rose, dropped a kiss on the top of her head and walked from the room.
* * *
All through the following day, Olivia went about her work absently, tired after a sleepless night spent tossing and turning as she examined the alternatives over and over, without being able to reach a decision.
In the afternoon, she took the girls for a long walk across the meadows and through the nearest orchard, hoping the crisp, warm air fragrant with the aroma of growing apples would clear her mind and bring her endless circular arguments to a halt. But she arrived back at the house without reaching any conclusion—other than that she must make up her mind soon, before she drove herself mad with indecision.
* * *
After tucking the girls into bed that evening, she wandered back to her room and hopped on to the bed, her mind once again filled with conflicting thoughts and desires.
The advantages of such a match were so overwhelming, she ought to accept without another thought. To know she would have her darling girls with her for ever, a home in the countryside she was growing to love, the security of a permanent place—and the affection and protection of a man as honourable, stalwart, and attractive as Hugh Glendenning should be more then incentive enough.
Were she to know Olivia had been offered so attractive a proposal, Lady Patterson would call her an idiot for hesitating a second before seizing it.
Still, if she’d been content to settle for a convenient marriage with a man who wanted her to run his house and mind his children, she could have accepted one of the several offers she’d received over the years in London. Hadn’t she vowed never to give up her independence for anything less than marrying a man who loved her—without reservations?
The Colonel was honourable, stalwart and almost irresistibly attractive. Despite the huge incentive of knowing she would have him at her beck and call in her bed, she knew she was more than half in love with him already. If she were to have the girls to love and the Colonel in her bed, knowing all she could hope for from him was respect and affection, spiced with a fiery passion, would it be enough?
Or would she condemn herself to a lifetime of heartache, losing her heart to a man who’d already confessed he no longer had one to give?
Over time, once he grew to trust in completely in your fidelity and affection, he would learn to love again, a little voice whispered.
Perhaps, she answered it back.
But what if he could not? The heart and soul, like the body, were capable of recovering from grave injuries. But not from all.
Was she willing to gamble on the possibility that the Colonel would eventually recover from his?
Would you throw away the potential for a lifetime of happiness, because you are too cowardly to accept that risk?
When she phrased it in those terms, she swayed towards accepting him. She had never backed down from a challenge, or refused to take a risk that had a good chance for success—as she had when she’d abandoned the security of remaining her cousin’s dependent to brave the uncertainty of striking out on her own.
Then another, more troubling, thought occurred. N
ow that he knew the truth of her circumstances, knew also how attached his wards had become to her—and she to them—had the Colonel felt almost obligated to offer for her? Had he done so out of a sense of duty and chivalry—nobly rescuing an indigent gentlewoman whom he admired—while secretly hoping she would refuse?
Still torn, she shook her head. The Colonel had said she could have as long as she liked to make her decision. She simply couldn’t make it right now.
Giving herself permission to postpone her final answer eased the turmoil churning within her. To be able to put it from her mind completely, at least for an evening, she needed the soothing effect of music.
Hopping down from her bed, she shook out her skirts and headed for the music room.
* * *
While working on the estate books in his library a half-hour later, the supper tray Mansfield had brought him set aside, mostly untouched, Hugh heard the muted chords of the first few measures of a Mozart concerto.
A mingling of disappointment and relief filtered through him. Miss Overton must not have yet decided whether or not to accept his proposition, else she would have come to see him directly after putting the children to bed.
His own emotions continued to seesaw wildly from a muted excitement about the possibility of having her permanently in his life, to a deep foreboding that trapping her into marriage with a man who’d never fully recovered from the disaster of his first union was a prescription for misery.
He knew what she wanted to hear—vows to love and cherish. Much as he told himself the proposal he’d made her had been offered purely out of a desire to find an honourable solution to problems posed by the clash of his passions and responsibilities, he knew it was more than that. He’d been strongly drawn to Olivia Overton from the first. But his ever-strengthening affection was all tangled up with lust and loneliness and longing...and fear.
The Tempting of the Governess Page 19