The Governess and Mr. Granville

by Abby Gaines

  Marianne retied the ribbon of the bonnet, then turned to her left to examine it in profile. “I’m looking forward to going home. I hope I never have to see Beaumont again.”

  The tinkle of the bell above the shop door drew their attention.

  The new arrival turned out to be Dominic. He nodded to the milliner, then approached Serena and Marianne. More specifically, Marianne—he hadn’t spoken to Serena since they’d left the ball last night. He’d demanded kindness for her from her father, but stayed distant himself.

  “Dom, how did you know we were here?” Marianne asked.

  “I didn’t. I was picking up some gloves I’d ordered in Savile Row, and thought I’d walk back to Brook Street. I saw you through the window.” He stood, slightly nervous, hat in hand.

  Dominic was never nervous.

  “I’ve just dropped Miss Lacey back at her mother’s house after a walk in Hyde Park,” he said.

  “You must have dragged her out at the crack of dawn,” Marianne said. “What do you think of this bonnet, Dom? Is it big enough? The feathers are certainly prominent.”

  “It’s...feathery.” He sounded distracted.

  “Maybe one with a bigger brim,” Marianne mused.

  If she bought a bigger bonnet, she wouldn’t be visible at all. Inside Serena, something snapped. “Excuse me,” she called to the milliner. “Do you have a smaller bonnet Miss Granville could try? In the same pink, but much smaller?”

  “Serena, what are you talking about?” Marianne asked. “You know I don’t—”

  “Do you even believe what you told me last night? What you wanted Beaumont to see?” Serena demanded. “That you’re more than your complexion?”

  “Of course I do,” Marianne said, her cheeks like two tomatoes.

  “Then why do you persist in buying hats and dresses that render your face near invisible?”

  “You know how people stare....” Marianne began.

  “Do you think they talk about you any less when you hide your face?” Serena asked. “Because I assure you, whatever you think they’re saying, they certainly are.”

  “Serena!” Marianne glanced at Dominic for support.

  “Go on,” he said to Serena, and his confidence in her felt like a gift, especially after the silence he’d preserved since last night.

  “Your sense of inferiority, your lack of confidence—those are what allowed Beaumont to take advantage of you.”

  Dominic’s face turned thunderous. “He what?”

  “Not that kind of advantage,” Marianne quickly assured him.

  “No, not that kind,” Serena said. “But you’re more worthy of admiration than Beaumont, Marianne, not less. I’m sick of you feeling you have to make your appearance less offensive, when it’s people like Beaumont who offend beyond measure.”

  “Hear, hear,” Dominic said. “Bravo, Serena.” The chasm that seemed to have been carved between them last night was suddenly less intimidating.

  She lost her way for a moment. Recalling it, she said, “Marianne, you’ve asked God to take away this thorn in your flesh. Instead, He loves you as you are. If that’s good enough for Him, then it should be good enough for you.”

  There was a moment’s stunned silence.

  “Easy for you to say,” Marianne grumbled. “You’re flawless.”

  Dominic burst out laughing. “Serena is not flawless.”

  “Dominic...” Serena said. Surely he wouldn’t tell Marianne her sins?

  “Her appearance is fine,” Dominic admitted. “Very fine. But five minutes is all it takes to discover she lacks tact, she’s interfering and she’s forever pushing her romantic notions forward.”

  “Dominic!” Marianne glanced from him to Serena in shocked bemusement.

  “The point is, appearance isn’t the sum of the person, whether you’re red in the face or—” he eyed Serena “—a blue-eyed, flaxen-haired beauty.”

  Serena’s pulse quickened. Suddenly, the gap between them didn’t seem that wide at all.

  “Thank you, Dominic,” Marianne said. “I feel so much better now.” She let out a peal of laughter.

  Serena found herself in the unusual position of being the one trying to restore propriety as the milliner returned with three new bonnets.

  “You win, Serena.” Marianne wiped her eyes with her gloved fingers. “I have no idea why God made me this way, and I daresay I’ll continue to complain about it as long as I live, but I have nothing to be ashamed of.” She pointed to the smallest bonnet on offer, which, compared with the feathery one, was positively minuscule. “That one,” she told the milliner. “I won’t try it on. I might scare myself.”

  When the woman went to wrap her purchase, Marianne sat down heavily. “What have I done?”

  “You’ve taken an important step,” Dominic told her. “Thank you, Serena, for saying what I should have said years ago.”

  “I had the advantage of coming in from outside,” Serena said. “Sometimes it enables one to see more clearly.”

  “Which explains why you lecture me about my children.”

  “Exactly.” She smiled. He’d been so much better with the children lately. Though his manner and his speech were far from effusive, the children had noticed and responded to his increasing warmth. “And why I felt qualified to make recommendations about your remarriage.”

  Her words fell into an awkward silence.

  What had possessed her to bring up a topic that had become a source of sleepless nights?

  Dominic folded his arms across his chest. “Marianne, if you have recovered your strength, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  She snapped her fan shut. “What’s wrong?”

  He did indeed sound grave. Serena tensed.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “On the contrary, I have good news.” His gaze didn’t stray from his sister’s face. “I asked Hester to marry me.”

  Marianne’s squeal of excitement, her rush from the chair into her brother’s arms, all provided cover for Serena, who clutched the back of the chair on the pretext of steadying it.

  Dominic proposed to Miss Lacey.

  Had she accepted?

  Marianne pulled back from her brother. “I assume she accepted?”

  “She did,” he agreed.

  Of course she did. A lead weight settled on Serena’s heart. Now, his eyes met hers. She couldn’t decipher their expression. Certainly not the joy of a man in love, but then, that wasn’t what he wanted.

  “Congratulations,” she said woodenly. “I wish you both every happiness.”

  “Thank you,” he said stiffly.

  “Tell me, Dom, was it romantic?” Marianne demanded. “Did you go down on bended knee?”

  “You know me better than that,” he said. “Hester is a woman of great good sense. We shall suit each other very well.”

  “I can’t believe it wasn’t at least a little romantic,” Marianne scolded. “But I won’t make you tell me.”

  “I don’t suppose you could,” he said, with a lightness that seemed forced.

  His reticence left Serena’s imagination to run riot. What had happened after he’d proposed and Hester accepted? He may not have declared his love to his betrothed, but he had surely kissed her.

  “I invited Hester and her mother to visit us at Woodbridge Hall next week,” Dominic announced.

  “How lovely,” Marianne said. “The children will be eager to see her—I’m sure they scarcely remember her.”

  “I have no doubt they’ll like her,” he said.

  “I look forward to getting to know my new sister, too....” Marianne trailed off.

  “Hester is insistent that you must continue to live with us,” Dominic said quickly.

  How like him to have ensured his sister was protected, Serena thought.

  “We’ll have quite the house party again,” Marianne said, with a determined cheerfulness that told Serena she was thinking about the loss of her own prospects last night. “With Hester and her
mother, and Serena’s Lieutenant Givens—did you not think him very dashing, Dominic?”

  His gaze brushed against Serena’s. “I’m no judge of dashing, I’m afraid,” he said. “I’ve never had much dash myself.”

  Serena opened her mouth to protest that he had as much dash as any man could...then realized she would be defending another woman’s affianced husband ahead of the man who wanted to be her own.

  She held her tongue. Whatever she had hoped, imagined, conjectured...it was over.

  There were some things that couldn’t be undone.

  Dominic was getting married.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “But why must Papa marry again?” Charlotte demanded.

  “It’s not that he must.” Serena tucked a curl of Charlotte’s hair behind her ear. The children had been lined up in the entrance hall since one of the grooms had ridden up to report that the Laceys had turned through the gates and would be here in mere minutes. “But remember how God created Eve because it wasn’t good for Adam to be alone? Your father will have a wife, and you children will have a new mother.”

  “I think it’s nice,” Hetty said. “She and I have the same name.”

  “Oh, shut up about the stupid name,” Thomas said, in a rare moment of impatience with his twin. With his hair slicked back, he looked just like his father. “We don’t even know her. We don’t need her.”

  “You remember her perfectly well, Thomas Granville, so don’t try telling me otherwise,” Hetty said. “It’s just the babies who don’t.”

  “I’m not a baby,” Charlotte said. “I remember Mama and I don’t need a new mother.”

  “I want her if she’s pretty,” Louisa said.

  “Louisa, you know that what matters is who a person is on the inside,” Serena said.

  “I just don’t know.” William sounded about fifty years old, not seven. “I don’t know what to think.”

  “You’ll meet her in a few minutes, and you can make up your own mind,” Serena said. “But I assure you, Miss Lacey is a very nice lady and was a dear friend of your mother’s. You’ll all—you children and your father—be very happy.” If Serena kept telling herself that, maybe she wouldn’t feel so depressed.

  “I wanted you to marry Papa,” Charlotte said. “When he’s with you, he likes me.”

  Serena caught her breath. “Charlotte, your father loves you always.” How sad that she still doubted Dominic’s feelings. Though Serena might have guessed it would take longer for Charlotte than it would for the others to trust his changing attitude. “Sometimes, two people are so alike, they find it hard to get along,” Serena said. “You and your papa are like that.”

  “I’m not like Papa,” Charlotte objected.

  “You’re both determined to have your way. And you’re both kind. But neither of you likes to depend on another person.”

  “That’s not true,” Charlotte said halfheartedly. “Besides, I still don’t see why you can’t—”

  “You need to understand this, my girl,” Serena said sternly. “I am not going to marry your father.”

  “I’m delighted to hear it,” said a voice from the open front door.

  Serena whirled around. Miss Lacey stood there, parasol in hand.

  Serena curtsied. “Miss Lacey, I’m so sorry. Charlotte is caught up in a—a silly fantasy.”

  Charlotte gave an angry sob and ran toward the kitchen. Serena hesitated, then gave the new arrival her full attention. “Did you come alone?” Her solo appearance was very odd.

  “Mama is a fanatical rose grower,” Miss Lacey said. “One look at the rose garden as we passed, and she demanded the carriage stop immediately. Not being a rose enthusiast myself, I chose to walk the last hundred yards.”

  Just what Serena would have done. She cast an urgent glance around. “Where is Molson?” Dash it, why couldn’t the butler materialize when she actually wanted him to? “He needs to fetch Dom—Mr. Granville.”

  A flicker of Miss Lacey’s eyes registered her near-use of his Christian name.

  Serena ran a hand across her forehead. This was all turning out wrong. “Marianne is on her way downstairs,” she said. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry for this appalling welcome.”

  Just as she finished speaking, she heard the crunch of carriage wheels on gravel. The sound brought Molson—too late, of course!—and Dominic, who emerged from the library. No sixth sense to tell him when his betrothed was on the premises, Serena thought crossly.

  Molson was plainly chagrined not to have heard Miss Lacey’s arrival. Dominic, on the other hand, was all pleasure.

  “Hester,” he said warmly, as he approached. She held out both her hands, and he took them as he kissed her cheek.

  By the time that sentimental interlude was over, Mrs. Lacey had stepped through the doorway. Dominic introduced the two women to the children. Any hope that he might not notice he was a child short evaporated when he asked, “Where’s Charlotte?”

  In an almost eerie answer to his question, Charlotte came running from the direction of the kitchen. She had something tucked under her arm. It looked like... Serena groaned. It looked remarkably like a roast chicken.

  “Charlotte,” Dominic rapped out. “Slow down. Come and greet Miss Lacey.”

  She slowed, momentarily. Just long enough for him to register the chicken legs protruding from the towel wrapped around her loot.

  “Charlotte...” he growled.

  She took off out the front door, still open from the Laceys’ arrival.

  “Hester, Mrs. Lacey, I do apologize,” Dominic said.

  “We need to go after her,” Serena said.

  Dominic barely looked at her. “I’m not about to go running after my daughter.”

  “She’s taking that chicken to a tramp,” Serena said.

  Now she had his full attention. “What did you say?”

  “At least, that’s what I’m guessing. There’s been one other incident since the leg of lamb.” At last, she’d confessed.

  “Are you saying that, right now, little Charlotte is off befriending a tramp?” Miss Lacey asked.

  Not helpful.

  “I’m not sure how friendly he is,” Serena said cautiously.

  Even less helpful, but it had to be said.

  “Excuse me, ladies. Molson will serve you tea.” Dominic wheeled on the heel of one Hessian boot and strode to the door.

  “Dominic,” Serena called from the porch. “The Ramsay gamekeeper found signs of a poacher in the East Wood last week. He’ll be able to tell you where.”

  Dominic was heading for the stables. Serena picked up her skirt and sped after him.

  “You will be kind to Charlotte when you find her, won’t you?” she asked.

  “I’ll do whatever’s necessary,” he called over his shoulder.

  “She’s worried you won’t love her once you have a wife,” Serena said.

  His stride faltered.

  “She needs reassurance,” Serena said.

  “She needs to stop stealing food,” Dominic said grimly.

  Before he reached the stables, Mr. Beaumont rounded the building, mounted on his black horse. He pulled up next to them and dismounted. “Good afternoon. Is Miss Granville in?”

  This was the first they’d seen of him since leaving London. He had no idea Marianne had overheard him at the ball. That his scheme was at an end.

  “Not to you,” Dominic said.

  “Mr. Beaumont, did you see Charlotte as you rode through the woods?” Serena asked.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Has she been feeding tramps again?”

  Dominic turned rigid. “What does he know about this?” he asked Serena.

  She ignored that. “Mr. Beaumont, would you be able to search the East Wood?”

  “Of course.” He remounted the horse and left at a gallop.

  When Serena turned around, Dominic was gone, too. He soon reappeared, perched on his bay mare.

  “Beaumont?” he demanded.

  Sere
na swallowed. “He told me he’d seen Charlotte walking alone in the woods. He offered to keep an eye open for poachers.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” he demanded. “This is my estate, my daughter.”

  “Charlotte didn’t want you to be angry with her....”

  “So you allowed Beaumont to get involved? A man without decency?”

  Serena didn’t believe Beaumont was entirely without decency—witness the way he’d charged off to look for Charlotte. But now wasn’t the time to say so.

  Dominic left before she could say anything at all.

  * * *

  Dominic arrived back an hour later to find Serena still pacing on the front steps.

  “Marianne is entertaining the Laceys,” she said. “I wanted to keep watch for Charlotte.”

  Beaumont rode up a moment later. He hadn’t seen any sign of Charlotte.

  Dominic started to pray silently, grimly aware of the approaching dusk.

  “If she plans to be outside for a long time, she’ll have found somewhere comfortable,” Serena said. “She hates to be cold.”

  Dominic didn’t know that.

  “Why didn’t you say so?” Beaumont asked. “In that case, she’ll be in the same place I used to go when I was a child. Check your hayloft, Granville.”

  Five minutes later, the three of them crept into the barn. Their stealth enabled them to hear Charlotte’s voice almost as soon as they entered.

  “My papa is Mr. Dominic Granville,” she was saying. “He gets very cross—” Dominic bristled...then realized he was indeed getting very cross “—but he’s kind,” Charlotte said. “He’ll help you.”

  “She has the cursed tramp up there with her,” Beaumont hissed.

  Dominic signaled for him and Serena to stay where they were. Then, silently, he climbed the ladder. He hadn’t been sure what he’d find when he stuck his head over the top, but it certainly wasn’t what met his eyes. The small, high window at the back of the loft illuminated Charlotte, lying on her stomach, legs kicked up behind her. Next to her, his face almost touching hers, was a boy. About the same size as Charlotte, but probably older, Dominic decided, if that world-weary look on his face was anything to go by. In front of them, half unwrapped from its cloth, sat what was left of the chicken.