The Brooding Earl's Proposition

by Laura Martin

  Selina felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She could never tell anyone about those dreams. Her upbringing hadn’t been the strictest, but a woman of her birth wasn’t meant to succumb to the pleasures of life. Always there had been this message that she should remain in control of her baser instincts, project a façade of cool uninterest.

  Letting a little laugh escape her lips, Selina looked up to check Theodosia hadn’t noticed. Cool uninterest wasn’t likely to happen when Lord Westcroft was nearby.

  Tapping her pen on the table, she thought for a moment before continuing her letter. She would not tell of her illegitimacy—even now that revelation still had a sting to it she could not bear to put to paper.

  As you will know my father passed away eighteen months ago. After his death my half-brother, the new Viscount Northrop, was not keen on my remaining at home. I ventured out into the world and found a position as a governess in London. That lasted for a few months before the little boy I was teaching went to school, then I was employed to teach two young siblings in Surrey.

  This latest position is suiting me well. I enjoy my work and Theodosia and Priscilla are sweet children, if a little sensitive due to the early death of their parents. I feel that here I can make a difference.

  Lord Westcroft is hoping to return to India soon and, if he does, I will stay on and look after the children in his absence.

  I miss Cambridge. I miss you and Felicity. I miss our walks to Grantchester and our picnics in the meadows. My life is very different now from how I had thought it would be, but I think I am beginning to feel happy again. For a long time after my father died I felt nothing but sadness and loneliness, but here I feel as though I am part of something again.

  Please write and tell me your news. Did you accept the proposal from Mr Huntsworth? How have you fared these past eighteen months?

  I long to hear from you.

  With love and affection,

  Selina

  She sat back and read through the letter. It contained barely any of the turmoil she was feeling, the rush of emotions. If Violet had been sitting here across from her, then Selina would not have been able to hide the truth of her feelings, but in a letter it was so easy to put down only what you wished to tell.

  She would give almost anything to have one of her friends here, someone friendly to discuss every aspect of life with, to plan and worry about what she should do for the best. At Manresa House there wasn’t anyone Selina could get close to. The servants were quiet and scurried about their work without stopping to talk and Mrs Fellows, the housekeeper, was sour and disliked idle conversation. Here she was alone.

  Not quite, the little voice in her head told her. Lord Westcroft didn’t count, not really. Not when her feelings for him were what she wished to talk about.

  It wasn’t as though she could go and talk to him and expect an impartial opinion when she told him she was falling for him, that she was developing feelings for him a governess shouldn’t have for her employer. He likely wouldn’t even answer her—just run for the door and find the fastest ship back to India.

  Selina just wanted one of her friends to hold her hand and tell her that desire and love were two very different things and, as she was very inexperienced in both, she was merely getting them mixed up. Desire was acceptable, as long as she was strong enough not to act on it again, but these last few days Selina had begun to wonder if the feelings she was having ran deeper than desire. If they did, it would be a disaster. Love meant heartbreak, at least when the man you thought you loved was set on sailing off to the other side of the world in a few weeks, and Selina wasn’t sure her heart could withstand any more blows.

  ‘Miss Salinger?’ Theodosia’s voice broke through her thoughts.

  ‘Yes, Thea?’

  ‘Do you think Priscilla will like my painting?’

  Selina took the proffered artwork and inspected it carefully. Normally a little careless in her work, Theodosia had taken a lot of time and care over making the offering for her sister. She had painted a beautiful, brightly coloured flower on the front, complete with green stem and leaves. On the back she had carefully written a get well message and signed her name.

  ‘I think she will like it very much, it’s beautiful.’

  Theodosia nodded seriously.

  ‘Will she...?’ The little girl faltered and Selina held out her hand, letting Theodosia clamber on to her lap before urging her to continue. ‘Will she get better?’

  Selina squeezed her eyes tight shut to stop the tears from falling on to her cheeks. Someone so young shouldn’t have to worry about life and death like this. After losing both her parents in a relatively short space of time it was no wonder Theodosia was petrified she might lose her beloved sister as well.

  ‘Your sister is a fighter. She’s strong and stubborn and she wouldn’t let something as insignificant as a little chill get the better of her,’ Selina said, trying to inject a note of levity into her voice. In truth, she didn’t know if Priscilla would recover. The fever did not seem to be too bad at the moment, but illnesses and fevers could be unpredictable, worsening in a matter of hours and killing indiscriminately.

  ‘I don’t want her to die,’ Theodosia said in a small voice.

  ‘We will look after her and I’m sure she will be back on her feet in a couple of days.’

  ‘My papa never got better.’

  Selina swallowed. She had never asked Lord Westcroft how his brother had died. He couldn’t have been very old, Lord Westcroft had talked of their time together as children and from his stories it sounded as though they were only a few years apart in age. She found it difficult to judge people’s ages, but Lord Westcroft must be in his early thirties, so his brother couldn’t have been more than thirty-five. A man in his prime, too young to die, although it wasn’t unheard of. She wondered if it had been a fever or an accident or something else entirely.

  ‘What happened with your father?’ She spoke gently, not wanting to upset the little girl.

  ‘He was very sad after Mama died,’ Theodosia said, snuggling into Selina’s arms and half-burying her face in Selina’s chest. ‘He used to go away for weeks at a time. Weeks and weeks and we wouldn’t see him. Then one day when he came home he was ill. He went straight to bed and never got up again.’

  Selina stroked Theodosia’s smooth blonde hair. No wonder she was worried about her sister. The last member of her family who had been ill in bed had died and now Priscilla was in bed and Theodosia was imagining history repeating itself.

  ‘Do you miss him very much?’

  Theodosia shrugged, her little shoulders moving against Selina’s arms.

  ‘I miss Mama every single day. She used to sing to me and tuck me into bed and kiss me better when I hurt myself. At least she did when she had her happy days.’

  Selina’s heart almost broke. At seven the little girl in her arms shouldn’t have to know about sadness and suicide. Or be worrying that the last member of her immediate family was going to slip away from a fever.

  ‘Did she have many sad days?’

  Theodosia nodded, ‘Sometimes for months at a time. Papa would have to force her to eat and she wouldn’t come out of her room for days on end. And she cried at night. I used to creep down the stairs and listen.’

  It was an upsetting image, little Theodosia creeping downstairs to hear if her mother was crying.

  ‘I missed her very much when she was gone.’

  Gently Selina kissed the top of her head, holding her a little tighter. Her own mother had died when Selina was seventeen, her father when she was twenty. It had been hard enough losing the two people she had loved most in the world as an adult, she couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like for a child.

  ‘Would you like to visit her grave again when Priscilla is a little better? We could take some fresh flowers. You can tell her everything you’ve been
doing.’

  Theodosia nodded. ‘Do you think she can hear us when we talk to her?’

  ‘Without a doubt. Your mama will be up in heaven watching over you, so proud of the brave and courageous girls you and Priscilla have become.’

  ‘Sam Taylor from the village said she wouldn’t go to heaven because of how she died.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Selina said in her firmest voice. ‘Your mother was a kind woman, a good woman, that is all that matters.’

  Theodosia fingered the painting she was holding and Selina sat up slightly, knowing they needed to move on. Theodosia needed to talk about her mother and her father, but at the tender age of seven it would have to be done very delicately, very gradually. For now they’d made a good start, but it wouldn’t do to dwell on the sadness of the past for too long, not when she was scared about her sister’s condition.

  ‘Shall we go and visit Priscilla? You can give her the painting.’

  Slipping down from her lap, Theodosia gave Selina her hand and side by side they made their way out of the schoolroom and into the bedroom.

  As they walked into the darkened room Selina almost shouted out in surprise when a figure rose from a seat beside the bed. Lord Westcroft stepped forward, crouching down to speak to Theodosia.

  ‘Priscilla just woke up, she was asking for you, but she’s fallen back to sleep now.’

  ‘I painted her a flower,’ Theodosia said, brandishing the painting.

  ‘I’m sure she’ll love it. Shall we put it by her bedside so she will see it as soon as she wakes up?’

  Theodosia hopped into the chair by her sister’s bed and started chattering away, telling her all that she’d been doing in Priscilla’s absence. The worried look was still on her face, but she talked and talked none the less.

  Lord Westcroft touched Selina gently on the elbow, guiding her to the door.

  ‘I’ve sent Jim for the doctor again, he should be here in the next few hours.’

  ‘Do you think she’s improving?’

  ‘It’s difficult to say. She was lucid when she woke up this time, which has to be a good sign, but more than that I really don’t know.’

  He looked tired and drawn and Selina wondered if he had ever felt this sort of worry before, the kind of worry you only experienced when an innocent child was very unwell.

  Impulsively Selina reached out to him, laying her hand on the sleeve of his jacket.

  ‘Priscilla is a strong girl,’ she said, repeating the words she’d said earlier to Theodosia. ‘She will fight this.’

  ‘I hope so. I couldn’t...’ He trailed off, his eyes seeking out Selina’s.

  ‘We don’t have to worry about that,’ she said firmly. ‘She will get better. Soon.’

  He nodded, not looking entirely convinced, then walked out of the room. Selina had to fight the urge to run after him, to wrap him in her arms and provide the comfort he sorely needed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Matthew crashed around his study, moving the papers from the desk to the chair and back again, not making any progress with his search for the inventory he was looking for. For the last few hours he’d been unable to concentrate, worried as he was about Priscilla lying quietly upstairs in her sickbed. The doctor had visited in the early afternoon and declared she was a little stronger, but the fever still had a grip on her. The medical man had prescribed a concoction to bring down her temperature and told them bluntly that either the fever would break or it wouldn’t. Now it was just a waiting game.

  He wished he could take the illness for his niece, to suffer it in her place. Anything would be better than the torture of not knowing what would happen to her. She looked so young lying in her bed, the sheets tucked up to her chin. Young and helpless.

  Forcing himself to sit down, he passed a hand across his brow and inhaled deeply. He wasn’t used to having anyone else to worry about. For so many years it had just been him, no one else to fear for or consider. Now he had these two vulnerable girls dependent on him and he wasn’t sure he was up to the challenge of looking after them. It felt so hard, watching Priscilla suffer and not being able to do anything to help her.

  Matthew was pulled from his thoughts by a sharp rap on the door. Despite all his worries he smiled. Selina even knocked on the door like a governess, sharp and to the point.

  ‘Come in,’ he called.

  She slipped into the room, closing the door quietly behind her as if she didn’t want anyone to know she was there. Immediately his body felt on edge, as if it wanted to leap forward and take her into his arms, to take comfort from her.

  ‘Priscilla seems a little better,’ she said, hovering near the door. He waited for her to move closer, but as the seconds ticked on and she didn’t move he decided to go to her instead.

  ‘She’s woken up?’

  ‘For short spells. She seems very fatigued, but her chest isn’t rattling as much and her cough is a little improved, and when she woke she was more lucid, more her normal self.’ He could see the strain on Selina’s face and knew she was suffering along with Priscilla. Even though she’d only been part of the household for a short while she already cared deeply for the girls.

  And for you. Quickly he silenced the voice in his head. He knew Selina desired him, but sometimes he thought he caught a flash of something more in her eyes, despite her dislike for men of his class, her distrust of anyone who could be in a position to hurt her.

  ‘That is a relief. I have not worried like this for a long time.’

  She gave him a curious look, half-question, half-smile.

  ‘You haven’t had people to worry about?’

  ‘No, not since...’ He trailed off, aghast he’d been about to mention Elizabeth’s name to Selina. She certainly didn’t need to know that bit of his past. ‘Not since I left home,’ he finished.

  ‘I know you said you travelled around a lot, but there must have been someone you cared for. A friend? A colleague?’

  ‘No.’

  He saw the confusion in her eyes and realised it must be a strange notion for someone as caring as she. Selina had always had someone to care for, her parents, her friends, even in the last few years the children she looked after.

  ‘I’ve lived a fairly nomadic life,’ he said in explanation.

  For the first time he realised how few bonds he’d made over the last decade. It was a mode of defence, a way to protect himself. After agreeing to marry Elizabeth against his better judgement and the difficulty and sadness that had followed he hadn’t wanted anyone dependent on him. Even friendship had been too risky.

  Selina had been the first one to get through his guard for a very long time. Selina and the two girls she looked after so well.

  ‘Theodosia is petrified of losing her sister,’ Selina said.

  ‘I’m not surprised.’

  ‘She’s sitting with Priscilla now, quietly playing at the foot of her bed.’ Selina paused, then turned to him with a deep vulnerability in her eyes. ‘Do you think Priscilla will recover?’

  Without thinking through the consequences he gathered her in his arms and pulled her body close to his. Selina dipped her head so it rested on his shoulder and he could feel her breathing deeply into his chest. Gently he stroked her hair, letting his fingers trail though the silky tendrils before they reached her well-pinned bun.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he murmured. There was no point in lying to her, it wasn’t just blind reassurance Selina was looking for, but comfort, someone to share her worry with. ‘She’s a strong little lady and she has a lot of people looking after her. I think in a day or two we might see her regain some of her strength.’

  Selina nodded, her head still buried in his shoulder, and he had to resist the urge to lift up her chin and kiss her. Now wasn’t the right moment, no matter how much he wanted to.

  After another minute she stepped back, smoothi
ng down the wrinkles in her dress where she had been pressed against him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t apologise.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have...’ She made a vague gesture in his direction.

  ‘I think we need to discuss what happened in Whitby,’ he said quietly. ‘But perhaps now isn’t the time.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Tonight. After dinner. When you are happy the girls are settled in bed.’

  Selina seemed to consider this for a moment and he had to suppress a smile. It was her nature to consider things from all angles before agreeing.

  ‘Tonight,’ she said.

  * * *

  Selina walked down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. It was only nine, hardly late, but the house was quiet, the servants taking advantage of the early dinner served a few hours before and the lack of demands from their master to retire upstairs for the night.

  Hesitating before she knocked, Selina wondered if she should have thought of what she would say to Lord Westcroft before making her way downstairs, but she knew however much time she spent preparing it would matter little. She just needed to stick to her principles.

  ‘Come in.’

  Head high, back straight, shoulders down.

  She stepped into the room, barely illuminated by the two candles burning on the large wooden desk.

  ‘Have the girls settled?’

  ‘They’re both sleeping soundly.’ She’d sat with them for half an hour after they’d fallen asleep just to check neither would stir and also to put off this moment. Already Selina felt her resolve crumbling.

  ‘Good. Would you like to sit down?’

  ‘No.’ It came out as an abrupt refusal, a testament to how nervous she was feeling.

  ‘No?’ Even in the candlelight she could see the amused smile on Lord Westcroft’s face.

  ‘I thought we might go for a walk about the gardens. It is a pleasant evening and the rain has finally stopped.’