The Forbidden Passion 0f A Governess (Historical Regency)

by Lucy Langton

  Emilia seated herself at the table as she was instructed, and a silver platter of scones was placed before her. It was enough to feed the British Navy, but Emilia didn’t feel daunted. She had such a ravenous appetite that morning, despite the fact that she couldn’t sleep, and what was left over could be shared with Deirdre when they had a break from their studies.

  “They’re no good without butter,” Winnifred went on, putting a large porcelain dish of fresh butter upon the table. Then she poured Emilia a piping hot cup of tea.

  Taking a scone upon her plate, Emilia felt the warmth on her fingers and stifled a sigh. She picked up her knife and took a large pat of butter, placing it atop the magnificent cake.

  Just as Emilia lifted a piece up to bring it to her mouth, she was interrupted by Hugh, and all at once her appetite turned to naught.

  “I’m going into town,” Hugh said curtly, looking down at the scones and frowning. “Those will rot your teeth.”

  “And a diet without sugar will rot your heart,” Winnifred called back from the kitchen, not liking the fact that Hugh was disparaging of her cooking.

  “We’ll serve the earl something more wholesome, I trust?” Hugh said.

  “As you wish,” Winnifred said dismissively.

  Emilia marvelled at what a villain Hugh was in her own mind. He did not seem so upon their first encounter, but she was often told that, with time, people showed their true colours. It seemed that Hugh’s true colours were dark and dingy.

  “I am to secure a fresh lamb for this evening’s dinner, at the earl’s request. The butcher in town was not well stocked yesterday, so I’ll have to venture to the next town over,” Hugh explained.

  “Very well,” Winnifred said, seeming to not care in the slightest.

  “Have you still the mint jam?” Hugh asked.

  “There’s a fresh jar in the canary, yes,” Winnifred replied.

  “Good.” Hugh looked down at Emilia and scowled. From her vantage it was almost as though he suspected something. Had he known that Emilia was watching his interaction with Lady Spencer from her room? It would have been impossible for him to see as much. “Behave whilst I’m gone,” he added, and abruptly left the kitchen.

  “As though we were children,” Winnifred said under her breath once he was out of hearing.

  “Pay no mind to him,” Emilia replied, finally taking the first bite of her scone. The delay that Hugh had caused would not prove to ruin the taste of the warm treat. It literally melted into Emilia’s mouth.

  And after the first taste of bliss was done, an idea came to Emilia’s mind that she could not shake. It was the first time that she had been at Glastonbrook that Hugh would be gone for a considerable length of time, the better part of the day. And, being the curious, and sometimes admittedly nosy, girl that she was, Emilia wished to learn more about Hugh, even if that meant a bit of snooping.

  It was too tempting. Hugh’s office sat adjacent to the kitchen, and his own chambers were in the same wing of the house as her own, albeit one flight of stairs up. She would not be caught if she did a little investigation. Certainly, the earl would not venture to that side of the house, and should Winnifred see her there would be no punishment. Yes, after breakfast and before the first lesson, Emilia would undertake it, and with haste.

  It was then that she heard those familiar boots enter the kitchen, and Emilia felt her heart jump out of her chest.

  “What’s that smell?” the earl asked.

  “Good morning, M’Lord,” Winnifred said with a little bow. “I made fresh scones for Miss Stewart. I know how you don’t care for berries.”

  “I do not,” the earl replied flatly.

  In the silence that followed, Emilia watched as the earl turned her way and gazed at her. It was disarming, the way he looked at her, taking his time before turning away.

  “I suppose this means that Miss Stewart will not be taking breakfast at my table,” the earl said, his voice angry.

  “Well, I . . . ” Winnifred said, feeling as though she might be at fault for that.

  “It’s for the best, M’Lord,” Emilia said, hoping to free Winnifred of any blame. “I chose to take breakfast early in order to properly prepare the lesson plan for today.”

  In truth, she would use that time to find out as much about Hugh as she possibly could. She would only be allowed the interval in which the earl and his sister were dining.

  “Very well,” the earl said, abruptly leaving the kitchen.

  “If I’m not mistaken,” Winnifred said, turning back to the stove, “that sounded like a heartbroken man.”

  “Oh come now, you jest,” Emilia said, wishing to brush it off.

  But she had heard the disappointment in the earl’s tone loud and clear. It reverberated in her body. Did he truly desire her presence so often? Emilia felt her heart begin to race.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I do have to prepare that lesson,” Emilia said, getting up from the table.

  “So soon?”

  “Indeed. I can’t thank you enough for the scones.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Winnifred said with a warm smile.

  And so Emilia’s little exploration began. She found herself walking up the servants’ stairs, past the floor on which her room resided, and up one more flight to where Hugh enjoyed a floor all of his own.

  Walking down the hall, a nervous fear flooded Emilia. What she was doing was not right, but it could not be considered wrong, either. If he truly had plans to undermine the earl, then it was essential that she knew as much. There were enough things that Lord Forest had to contend with. Emilia believed wholeheartedly if his head servant was against him in some way, then it was her duty to find it out.

  Hugh’s hallway was remarkably different from her own. Whereas on her walls she saw lovely paintings, and on the side tables she found fresh flowers – all thanks to Winnifred – Hugh’s hallway was dark and sparse. Pools of dust collected on the floorboards, and the curtains at the end of the hall were drawn.

  The room that she knew to be Hugh’s, for it resided right above her own, was open. The door was suspiciously ajar, which again was not something she would expect from the head servant of Glastonbrook. Was he really that careless? Or did he truly never suspect that someone would be as bold as Emilia and inspect his space?

  Pushing the door open further, Emilia found a modest room that was impeccably clean, which was as she suspected. She stepped in, hearing the floorboards creak below her feet. Should Hugh see her in that room that very moment, it would be the end of her, but there was no turning back.

  Similar to Hugh’s office, there was a desk by the window that had piles of papers and ledgers. It was where Emilia was first drawn to, and she walked towards it slowly, her trepidation informing her that the desk might spew its papers upon her, like a horror novel or some arcane ghost story.

  Reaching it, she was content that the desk did not animate itself in some way, or that the ground below her did not quake beneath her feet. She placed her fingers tentatively upon the papers and inspected them. On top were lists of meals that had been served at the earl’s table, outlining the various ingredients that had been used, the cost of each, and whether or not the earl had enjoyed the meal.

  Two weeks previously, the log displayed that the earl and his sister had dined on roast mutton and soup. It appeared as though the mutton was favoured, although mildly overcooked, and soup was not favoured because it was lacking in salt and served a tad too cold.

  Such nit-picking! She was always happy to receive at the table whatever she was fortunate enough to have placed in front of her. But the earl was clearly not so easy-going in any matters concerning his life or his household.

  Under the stacks of food chronicles was a detailed list of what flowers had been placed around the house, and their cost as well. Then there was a detailed chronicle of the clothes that had been purchased for Emilia, the sizing and price of each item. Hugh was good at his job, that much was certain. But
the next article she found proved that his intentions were not as satisfying.

  It was a letter, weathered with time and much handling, and beside it was an opened envelope. She immediately knew that it was a lady’s handwriting, and this was corroborated when she read upon the envelope that it was addressed from Lady Spencer herself.

  Picking up the letter, Emilia was careful to not leave any indentations upon it. Clearly, Hugh had held it many times, and had no doubt memorised his imprints upon it. “Trust in me, dear,” it began simply. “Know that all shall be well, once we are taken care of.

  Emilia felt a lump develop in her throat. What the devil could it mean? Once we were taken care of? She had no notion before that Lady Spencer and Hugh were even considered as a ‘we’. So her instincts had indeed not led her astray. Something was amiss in Glastonbrook, and Hugh seemed to be at the centre of it.

  Emilia dropped the letter back upon the table, fearing the implications, and also dreading the fact that she now had a piece of important information that no one else in the household knew of, at least to her humble understanding. Must she show the earl at once? Should she take pains to question Hugh first? No doubt, if she brought up the matter with Hugh she would be maligned to no end. For sharing her knowledge of the letter would expose the fact that she had been trespassing in his room. Emilia was at a loss as to what to do next.

  She heard something down the hall and Emilia’s heart nearly burst forth from her chest. She stopped dead in her tracks, bile forming in her throat. Was that it? Was it going to be the end of her in that moment? She waited patiently to see what happened next.

  All that followed was silence, until the earl’s voice called out to her, not from the hallway, but from the bottom of the servant’s stairs from her estimation.

  “Emilia!” he called out again, sounding impatient.

  “Coming,” she replied, hastily grabbing the letter and clutching it in her hands, before she even had time to consider her actions.

  She walked down the hall quickly and silently, hoping that the earl would not perceive what floor she was on. She came down the stairs with equal haste, and found the earl leaning upon the handrail, deep in thought.

  *

  “You called for me?” Emilia asked, nearly out of breath.

  “Yes, what took you so long?” he asked.

  “I was preparing my lesson, as I said I would do,” Emilia replied, and a flush came to her cheek.

  “Come along, then. I wish to speak to you on the terrace,” he said, leading the way but keeping one eye on her all the same.

  “Very well,” Emilia replied, eyes downcast.

  The earl led her through the house and out the back door. The veranda sat lazily in the soft morning sun, and birdsong could be heard overhead.

  “I needed some air,” the earl said.

  For his own part, Lord Forest’s heart beat in his chest as well, but for very different reasons. He had found it frustrating that Emilia had not taken breakfast with him. A possession was coming over him that he could not comprehend, but he knew that he wanted her by his side as much as possible. It was vexing, considering that he had hired Emilia to be at his sister’s side for the better portion of the day. He was beginning to regret that.

  “Are you all right?” Emilia asked.

  “I have been tormented of late,” the earl admitted, walking to the balustrade and leaning his back upon it so that he might face Emilia. He wanted to admit the truth to her, that his need and longing was growing, that he thought of her constantly throughout the day, and that she even invaded his dreams at night.

  “Why is that, M’Lord?” Emilia asked, a pretty crease across her pretty brow.

  “I think of you constantly,” the earl said softly.

  She took in a sharp intake of breath and the flush upon her cheeks grew in intensity. Suddenly, she blurted , “M’Lord, there’s something that you must see,” and her voice choked.

  “And what is that?” he asked, not wishing to discuss anything but his mounting feelings for her.

  “There’s a letter . . . that has been discovered,” Emilia said haltingly, displaying it with her shaky hand.

  The earl took it from her immediately, not looking down at it.

  “It’s from Lady Spencer,” Emilia explained, “and it’s addressed to Hugh.”

  The earl did not speak but rather crunched the letter up into a ball in his hand. His anger had peaked.

  “You’re telling me that I should not trust Hugh?”

  “M’Lord, read the letter and you’ll see.”

  “I don’t need you to be a source of conspiracy, Miss Stewart,” the earl explained. “After the untimely death of my parents, which you know far too much about, Hugh was the only male servant that I kept at Glastonbrook. I trust the man like a brother, and now you wish to put scorpions into my mind?”

  “M’Lord, I wish to do no such thing,” Emilia protested.

  The earl took the crumpled letter and grabbed Emilia’s palm, placing it into her hand. Then he held onto her first, hard with his own, and forcefully pulled her towards him. The strength of his pull brought Emilia careening into his chest, her head tilted back and looking up towards him. He grasped her back, holding her tight, and brought his mouth down to hers. He felt her go weak and she may have surrendered to gravity had the earl not been holding her so tightly.

  Every muscle in his body ached when he held her so. His animal instincts wished to clutch her tightly, to kiss her endlessly, and to do so much more that would prove to Emilia that she was his, from that moment forward.

  “Lord Forest,” Emilia protested, trying to pull away. But his strength was too great.

  “I can’t stand this any longer,” the earl said.

  “We mustn’t!” Emilia protested.

  “Do you seek to torture me?” the earl asked, his fingers exploring her back, playing upon its every curve like an instrument.

  “I do not,” Emilia said. “But this is not . . . right,” she said, seemingly not able to think of anything else of intelligence to say. “Please,” she finally whimpered.

  “Emilia,” the earl whispered softly, lovingly, passionately into her ear.

  “Please,” Emilia protested once more.

  The earl’s tenderness turned to anger, and he quickly released her, marching down the stone steps and into the garden, off on an intense jaunt in the woods, he could feel her eyes on him as he went.

  The earl would walk for hours, desire mixed with fury and rage. Yes, he needed Emilia Stewart more than he ever needed anything in his life. She would be his, no matter what happened. The Earl of Cunningham was a man who always got what he wanted.

  Chapter 17

  The earl sat at his desk and sipped his tea. The long morning’s walk in the woods had cleared his head, which was the intention, but he still couldn’t shake what had happened. So Miss Stewart was doubtful of Hugh, a man the earl had trusted for the better part of his life. It pained him to think so. Had she been snooping again, just as she had picked up and read from his journal? Maybe the governess wasn’t the woman he thought she was. Was she deceiving him, or worse?

  Yet still, he couldn’t deny the passionate draw he had towards her, and the fact he was having difficulty controlling himself. The need to touch her was profound, as well as the need to have her as near as possible, and frequently.

  Winnifred had offered the earl scones from that morning, but he had refused. The earl thought it paramount that he sustain a Spartan-like diet at all times. He wished to have his sister do the same, but so often she would stray and he would scold her for it.

  No, that afternoon he’d take black tea with lemon and nothing else. It would help him to clear his mind further, and would plan for how he would deal with Miss Stewart from that day forward. His feelings were entirely too uncontrolled, too animal-like for his own comfort and sanity, and therefore he would have to find a way to temper his desire and need, but it would be no easy task.

  �
��M’Lord,” Hugh said, stepping into the study and carrying a pile of papers, as he was wont to do.

  “Yes,” the earl said, taking another sip of his tea.

  “There are several letters that have arrived for you,” Hugh said, stepping in further.

  “Put them on the desk. I’ll read them at my leisure.”

  “There’s one of particular importance,” Hugh added.

  “And what is that?”

  “It’s from Lady Spencer,” Hugh said, placing the letter right in front of the earl upon the desk.

  The earl looked up and frowned. Yes, Hugh was pushing the letter to his attention immediately, and his thoughts drifted back to what Miss Stewart had tried to impart to him earlier. Was she perhaps not lying? Was she sincerely trying to bring something to his attention that was important? The earl massaged his temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. Who was he to trust and what was he to believe?