Dangerous Lord, Innocent Governess

by Christine Merrill

  She swallowed and said softly, ‘I am sorry. I did not think.’

  ‘You rarely do.’ Her father shot a glance at Tim, smiling to mitigate some of the gall. ‘I swear, if the girl was not so sweet natured, we’d never put up with the mischief. I hope she has not given you too much bother, in her time here.’

  Tim’s face was frozen as though carved in stone. At last, he managed, ‘She has made up for some of the bother, and been a great help to the children.’

  ‘Daphne helping with children?’ Her father laughed then, unable to contain himself. ‘What a ludicrous idea. You must have been bored out of your senses, Daphne darling, to succumb to the charms of little ones.’

  ‘They are most exceptional children, Father. All three of them…’

  But he’d turned back to Tim and was confiding, ‘She really is the most selfish creature on some subjects. My wife and I have been long resigned to the fact that when she settles, any grandchildren we are likely to have from her will be raised by the nanny. If it is left to my daughter, the first handprint left on a gown, and she will put the poor mites outside with the dogs.’

  ‘Really.’ It was impossible to read the meaning in a single word. But she suspected that Tim meant to let her father ramble, just to see where the path of the conversation went.

  Her father was laughing as though it were the most wonderful diversion that he had raised his daughter to be so insensible to the needs of others. And Tim was staring at her as though she were a monster. She could feel her cheeks, hot with embarrassment.

  Her father ceased his laughing, and dipped his head in apology. ‘I can’t think what has got into the girl. We sent her to Wales as a punishment. She was nothing but trouble while in London. And, until recently, I had no idea that she had not followed instruction and gone directly to her aunt’s.’

  ‘I see.’ Tim’s face was deathly white, and still devoid of expression.

  ‘I really cannot understand young women nowadays. Not even the ones in my own family. For they seem to know no bounds of decorum.’ It was then that her father realised that he was speaking ill of the former lady of the house, and his tone moderated. ‘But lovely, of course. Your wife was a great beauty.’

  Tim nodded, giving the man nothing to rescue himself.

  ‘And a particular friend of Daphne’s. I suspect that is why she came here.’

  ‘I had no idea that you and Clare were so close. You never said.’ If possible, Tim’s complexion went even whiter. And his face twisted in a sickly smile. ‘Had you not heard that Clarissa was no longer living?’

  ‘I had.’ Her answer was barely a whisper.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ her father announced. ‘She was most affected by it. She grieved for days about the unfairness, the strangeness that one so young, without a trace of infirmity, should die in a fall.’

  Daphne touched a hand to her throbbing temple, as her father all but explained her suspicions, and the way she had declared to all in the family that it was likely to be the work of that horrible Timothy Colton.

  And then, her father stopped just short of the truth, and said, ‘But the children… I expect that was what drew Daphne here, and it explains her sudden change of heart. It was all out of a desire to see that they were well. I am sure that Clarissa would have wished it.’

  ‘You are sure, are you?’ Tim’s smile had changed to a grimace. And for a moment, she was afraid that he would reveal all. Then he seemed to gain mastery over himself, and returned to the reliable lie. ‘That is it, certainly.’ He turned to her, then, speaking formally. ‘Well, Miss Collingham. As you can see, after staying with us, you have nothing to fear for the sake of the children. I am quite able to care for them, from this time forth. I trust I have been able to set your mind at rest on the subject.’

  ‘Yes.’ She choked out the word, and her answering smile was as false as his. But it seemed to reassure her father that, at least this time, there would be no scandal. She had not made as complete a cake of herself as he feared.

  ‘While I appreciate your concern, you had but to ask and I could have invited you formally to stay as a guest. Your treatment would have been much less haphazard, had we been better prepared for your visit.’

  Her father accepted it as an apology, and nodded again. But she knew the truth of the words. Had he known who she was, he’d never have touched her, or trusted her with the care of his children. And he certainly would not have been fool enough to love her.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Her father glared again. ‘As well you should be, for causing the man so much trouble.’

  Tim waved his hand. ‘We will not speak of it again.’

  And again, her father accepted it, as a gentlemanly dismissal of the mess she had caused with her foolishness. But she suspected that the words were directed to her, and meant I will not speak to you again.

  ‘I appreciate your understanding. And now, if the servants will finish packing your things, the carriage is waiting.’ Father gave her a significant look.

  ‘If I could speak to Mr. Colton for a moment, before departing?’

  Her father gave an impatient sigh. ‘This was not sufficient farewell?’

  ‘In private, Father.’

  Her father looked to Tim, who looked back, still impassive, and gave the slightest of nods.

  ‘Very well, then. I will await you in the carriage.’

  She waited for a moment, as her father left the room, until she was sure that he was out of earshot. And then she spoke. ‘Tim, I must explain.’ She reached out to touch his sleeve.

  He shook off her hand and stepped clear of her grasp. ‘Further explanation is not necessary. I already knew you thought me a murderer.’

  ‘As you did yourself. But you are not. We both know that now.’

  ‘It must have disappointed you to discover the fact. I had no idea the lengths you would go to, to prove my guilt. And I thought it was I who dragged you to do what you did.’

  ‘Do not speak of it so,’ she moaned. ‘As though what we did was foul and base.’

  ‘It was,’ he said firmly. ‘But now that I know of your relationship to my wife, it makes much more sense. You were not without guilt, or your parents would never have sent you from London.’ He laughed. ‘And I tortured myself with the notion that I had debauched an innocent. It appears that I am the more naïve of the two of us.’

  ‘That is not true. I never… There was no one before you.’

  He shrugged. ‘Perhaps not. But you gave your virtue up fast enough, once you could find a reason to. You let me use you, to gain the information you craved. And you used me as well.’

  Tears were stinging in her eyes to hear what had happened between them relegated to a transaction. ‘It was more than that, I swear. I love you.’

  ‘If you are a protégée of Clare’s, then you are no more capable of love than she was.’

  ‘That is not true. Perhaps once it might have been. But she was wrong. I do love you, Tim. And I love the children.’

  ‘Do not speak of them!’ His eyes narrowed. ‘If I can do nothing else, I will see to it that you never bother them again. You know what I am capable of, with regards to them. Do not cross me. And do not think, for even a moment, that I will let you become a part of their lives.’

  ‘Have you forgotten so quickly what we were talking about last night?’ she argued. ‘I am already a part of their lives, just as they are a part of mine. And I am a part of your life, as well.’ She held her hand out to him again.

  He ignored it. ‘No longer.’

  ‘You cannot send me away so easily. They need me, Tim. You need me.’

  ‘They do not need another Clarissa. They need a mother. Or perhaps, they need better than that. A true governess, and not some ignorant, lying sham.’ He looked at her, slowly, up and down. ‘And if I wish to replace what you have been to me? To find a pretty woman, to share my bed and tell me lies? Then I will find a whore. Good day to you, madam.’

  And he turned an
d left her alone in the room, ignoring the tears in her eyes.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘Vouchers!’ Her mother fairly sang the word. ‘The patronesses have seen fit to forgive you, my dear. We are going to Almack’s.’ She waved the letter over her head in triumph. ‘A few months away was all that was necessary. The disasters of last Season are forgotten.’

  ‘Much has changed,’ Daphne said, without much enthusiasm.

  ‘I should say so.’ Her mother nodded in approval. ‘For you turned down a chance to go to Vauxhall Gardens last night, and Covent Garden the night before. And bless my eyes if I did not see you reading before the fire.’

  Daphne shrugged. ‘It is a quiet way to pass the time. And I have begun to suspect that there are gaps in my education. It would be wise to remedy them, lest I be thought a fool.’

  Her mother laughed. ‘It certainly did not concern you before. But reading is harmless enough, if not carried to extremes. I would not want to see you wrapped in a book once the Season is full upon us. That would be most unnatural.’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Or dressed in the same gowns that you wore before. I do not wish people to think we have no money to purchase new. It will give the husband-hunt an air of desperation. Or worse yet, it will make your suitors think you do not care enough for them to put on fresh silks. And so we must shop.’

  ‘I suppose, if we must.’ She sighed.

  Her mother looked at her strangely. ‘Are you ill, darling?’

  ‘No. I am fine, really.’ She could not help it. She sighed again.

  ‘Well, I think you must be ill, if you are resisting a trip to Bond Street. Your father will be incensed over it, of course. How very like a man not to see the need.’

  Daphne glanced at her already too-full wardrobe. In truth, she could not see the need herself. Even her oldest dresses were hardly worn. ‘It just seems so wasteful not to manage with the things I’ve already got.’

  Her mother was giving her the look again. ‘The scandal of last Season may be behind you, my dear, but I doubt that last Season’s dresses will be forgotten so easily. It would never do to have every mother’s daughter sniping behind their hands at your finery, in your moment of triumph. If I’d known that a month in the country would give you such bizarre notions… But never mind, it could not be helped. And now we must work to bring you back to the spirited girl you once were. For I swear, while I welcome the moderation in your character, you are most decidedly not yourself since your return.’

  ‘I suppose.’ She looked into the mirror at her own reflection, trying to see what her mother saw, and continually surprised at what she did not see. When she looked into her own eyes, the new knowledge in them was plain enough. She had expected, with a single look, that her mother would discern what had happened, and ship her right back into permanent rustication.

  But no. While her father and mother had feared for her reputation before she left London, and all society had proclaimed her a hoyden, they now saw a picture of maidenly modesty. And they meant to reward her for it, whether she liked it or no.

  The thought would have made her laugh, if she could bring herself to that mood. Instead, she sighed again.

  He mother laid a tentative hand upon her shoulder. ‘I am sure it is just a matter of re-entering society, and your mood will return to normal. I am sorry that we had to take such drastic action, my dear, and send you far from home. We missed you dreadfully, of course. And it did concern me to learn that you had stayed with Clare’s family, instead of the family we had chosen for you. She was dreadfully wild, you know. We did not realise what we had done by encouraging the friendship. But hers was not the influence we sought.’

  To be told this now heaped irony upon the situation. ‘Oh.’

  Her mother smiled. ‘But I can see it has done you no real harm, and, in some ways, much good.’

  ‘Lord Colton was most hospitable,’ she lied, ‘and the children were lovely.’ She felt the pang of longing go through her. Did they miss her at all? she wondered. Or had they forgotten?

  ‘And it has put you in an excellent position to receive suitors. To spend time in the country, with a family in need, and in the wilds of the country, instead of gadding about town with your rackety friends, says much about your character that is admirable. In all, we could not have hoped for a better result.’

  And now she felt more like crying then ever. Her future required that she pretend she had gone to help, rather than to punish. Her mother was spreading it about that she had spent the last month as an angel of mercy to a broken man and his orphaned children, instead of tangled in the sheets with her lover. She was sure that she would go mad.

  Of course, her father suspected that something other than the obvious had gone on. He had lectured her all the way back to London about the dangers of attaching herself to the household of a single man, with no sign of a chaperon. And never mind that he was family.

  But her mother cared only about the improvement in her character, and gave little thought to how it might have been wrought. She went blissfully on, not noticing Daphne’s melancholy. ‘I must send Lord Colton a note of thanks for taking such good care of you.’

  ‘I doubt thanks are necessary,’ she said softly. ‘I am sure he is too modest to think of it.’

  ‘No thanks after such a long visit?’ Her mother’s eyebrows arched. ‘Well, I suppose, with no woman to head the house, Lord Colton has gone a bit odd about the social niceties. But perhaps we can arrange another visit, next autumn, so that you might see how the children have grown. Or invite them here so that we all might meet them.’ She smiled. ‘I dare say you will be wedded by then, or at least betrothed. And the Colton family will have an honoured place on the guest list. We owe them much in reforming your character.’

  ‘That would be…lovely. I am sure the girls would like to see a wedding.’ She swallowed hard to keep back the rush of tears she felt at the thought of Tim, relegated to a front pew with the family like some sort of doting uncle, holding his tongue while another man met her at the altar.

  Her mother was smiling broadly at the image formed in her mind. ‘Perhaps it is not too early for me to begin the guest list. Such a large event will require planning. And once the Season is under way, we will not have time to do it justice. It is much more difficult to lay out a proper wedding breakfast than to find a groom.’ Her mother exited the room in a haze of fantasy, still clutching the vouchers that were the ticket to all her future hopes and dreams.

  Daphne sank back into a chair beside the dressing table, too weak to move. That was her future, and always had been. A proper Season, with no false starts, embarrassments or trips into the bushes. Suitors, an offer and a society marriage. It did not matter that her heart was in Wales. And her true family as well.

  For that was how she had begun to feel. It had been such a short time. But she had begun to think of Tim’s children as her own. She had helped them, and they had loved her for it. It was not her fault that she had loved in return. And was it really so strange? For little Sophie belonged to no one, and yet Tim knew from her first moment on earth that he was her true father. Perhaps that was the way, with young ones.

  They had got so much better, under her care. Had the changes lasted? she wondered. No matter how she felt now, it was a small comfort to think that she had done some permanent good. But what if they felt betrayed by her sudden departure? Had everything gone back to the horrible way it was, before she’d started meddling in it?

  At least now Tim knew the truth. He could move on with his life. There was no danger in marrying again. The children needed a mother. And if he had given his heart to a woman who was not worthy of him? The fact was immaterial. He was a handsome man, and wealthy as well. If he wished to remarry, then it would happen soon enough. He might even precede her down the aisle.

  What did love have to do with making a future? For either of them? Clare was evidence enough that it need not enter into marriage at all.
r />   She waited until her mother was out of sight, before ringing for her maid.

  ‘Hannah, I need you to pack me a bag.’

  ‘Miss?’

  ‘And dresses, Hannah.’ She looked into her closet, at the annoyingly bright array of silks that hung there. ‘None of these. Could you find me something simpler? Borrow from the servants if you must. Or remove the trims from some of my older things. Do any of the dresses remain from my time away? I know that Mother wished them destroyed, but there were a few that I would quite like to take with me. Plain dresses, such as a governess might wear.’ And she felt something crack inside her, like ice on a stream in spring.

  ‘You are going in disguise?’ The maid brightened at the idea.

  ‘Yes.’ Although the way she was now felt more like a disguise than her governess clothes ever had. She shoved her lovely gowns to the side, searching the back of the wardrobe for the clothes she had borrowed from the real Miss Collins.

  ‘And it is to be a secret. You must wait as long as you are able before giving my parents the letter that I will leave for them. Can I trust you to help me?’

  The girl hesitated for a moment, and then smiled. ‘Will you need a lady’s maid, miss, once you get to the place you are going?’

  Daphne grinned. ‘If I am successful in what I mean to do? Then I certainly hope so, Hannah.’

  ‘Then you must be sure to succeed. For your father will throw me out once he realises that I have helped you get away again. And I will be needing a position.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Tim threw more coal into the stove and held his hands out to the metal. Would he never stop being cold? The thermometer said that the conservatory was warm enough. Almost too warm, if he was to be honest. The air was dry. If he was not careful, the excessive heat would damage the plants.