The Governess and Mr. Granville

by Abby Gaines

  “He loves the city,” Marianne reminded Serena.

  “I discovered my—my appearance was considered pleasing, and I had an instinct for dressing well and getting on with people,” Beaumont said. “I wasn’t cooped up alone at home—I had friends, pastimes. I was happy for the first time in my life.”

  “Drinking and gambling,” Marianne said.

  “And other activities. Hang it, Marianne, it was fun. If it hadn’t got out of hand, if I’d been able to afford the life that suited me...”

  “He looks upset,” Marianne commented.

  Serena stretched to see again. Beaumont was pacing beneath the window. “I feel like I’m the Nurse in Romeo and Juliet,” she muttered.

  “But it did get out of hand,” Beaumont admitted, “and although I came to faith and was able to deal with some of my problems, I realized marriage to an heiress would be the best way to preserve my way of life.”

  “So you chose me,” Marianne said bitterly.

  “Only because my first two attempts failed,” he said, with a candor that shocked Serena. “You seemed an easier mark, out here in the country with no competition for me. And your insecurity about your appearance.”

  “You’re shameless.” Marianne’s voice shook with anger.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, more fool me.” Beaumont sounded bitter. “With Miss Somerton hinting at my lack of Christian virtues and your brother appealing to a better nature we all know I don’t have...I lost my nerve.”

  “That’s why you didn’t come back after the house party supper dance?” Marianne asked.

  “I’m a slightly better matrimonial prospect now that I’m my uncle’s heir, so I decided the best thing—for you—would be if I returned to London, to have another crack at Miss Deverell.”

  “Who has not as much money as I do, but a very nice complexion,” Marianne said tartly.

  Beaumont said nothing.

  “Ask him what happened with Miss Deverell,” Serena said. The way Beaumont’s mind worked was oddly compelling.

  Marianne rolled her eyes, but asked the question.

  “I think I could still have her,” Beaumont said carelessly. “But, hang it, Marianne, since you’ve stopped writing to me—the letters, not the chess moves—I’ve realized...I care for you.”

  What, exactly, did that mean?

  Marianne drew a shuddery breath. “You can’t care for me, yet want to leave me at home while you gallivant around enjoying yourself.”

  “I wouldn’t do that! I admit, when Babcock talked about your looks, and how we would appear together, I panicked. I’m only recently accepted into society, and I’ve had enough of rustication to last me several lifetimes. I don’t want to lose what’s been so hard-won.”

  “You’re crazy,” Marianne said.

  “But even more, I don’t want to lose you,” Beaumont said. “Marianne, if you’ll marry me, there’ll be no talk of leaving you behind. I’d want you with me.”

  “With you while you spend my five thousand a year?” she said sweetly.

  Beaumont uttered a word no Christian should say.

  But then, Beaumont wasn’t your regular Christian. He was, as he called it, a work in progress. Which we all are, Serena reminded herself.

  “Marianne, I love you!” He sounded so wretched, Serena could almost believe it.

  Almost.

  Marianne was crying quietly. She drew a deep breath to steady her voice, then said, “I don’t believe you, Geoffrey. I don’t trust you. Even if you think you mean it—”

  “I know I mean it, woman!”

  “—you don’t have the—the steadiness of character I admire.” She paused. “Goodbye, Mr. Beaumont.”

  She stepped back, tugged on the window. It crashed down with no help from Serena. Marianne pulled the curtains across, then turned, leaning against them, breathing heavily.

  “He’s a very unusual man,” Serena said. “Very persuasive. But, Marianne, I think you did the right thing.”

  “Did I?” Her smile was bleak. “I don’t know about that. But I do know that Geoffrey Beaumont is a powerful temptation for me. And the best cure for temptation is to remove oneself from its path.”

  Chapter Twenty

  At breakfast, Dominic learned from Serena that his sister had had a late-night visitor.

  “So you think it’s all over between them?” he asked at the end of her long, complicated report.

  Before she could reply, Marianne walked into the breakfast room. She had circles beneath her eyes.

  “I took his bishop, the one that took my knight,” she announced with dark satisfaction as she poured her coffee.

  “You’re still playing chess with him?” Serena asked. “What happened to removing yourself from temptation?”

  Marianne let out a hiss. “I won’t see him again, I won’t write him a letter. But this game is nearly over, and I need to finish it.” She added two lumps of sugar to her coffee. “I sent a groom to Farley Hall with my move.”

  “You look as if you’ve been contemplating the chessboard all night,” Dominic said.

  Beaumont’s move came by return messenger, along with a terse note informing Marianne he was leaving for London today, and she should send her next move to his lodgings in Curzon Street.

  The Laceys left that day, too. As Mrs. Lacey said, the wedding wouldn’t organize itself, and she needed to be back in London. Dominic told himself that the unmistakable lightness that came over him as soon as they’d left was from the departure of his mother-in-law, not his bride.

  A week later, he received a letter from his friend Severn, mentioning that Geoffrey Beaumont had once more been seen driving in Hyde Park with the pretty Miss Deverell.

  Marianne clamped her lips together at the news.

  Dominic raised his eyebrows at Serena across the breakfast table, to ask if his sister was all right. But she’d already told him Marianne wasn’t confiding her feelings at the moment. Serena could only shrug in response.

  The other letter he’d opened was a suggested list of wedding guests from Mrs. Lacey. Dominic handed it to Marianne. “Could you deal with this, my dear?”

  “Of course. Serena, will you help me?”

  Dominic pushed back his chair and left the room, intending to finish the rest of his correspondence in the library.

  He’d been there only a few minutes when Serena tapped on the open door.

  “Dominic, may I come in?”

  “Of course.” He sat back in his chair, but didn’t put down the paper he was reading. He maintained what he’d decided was the safest demeanor toward her: polite distance. Much as it had been before all this had started. Before he’d fired her as governess; before she’d decided to tell him what he’d now realized were a few home truths about his children and his skills as a father. “Don’t close the door,” he told her, as she was about to do just that.

  “I wanted to talk privately.”

  “No one will come by at this hour,” he said. “Leave it open.”

  Dominic wasn’t prepared to negotiate on that point. He’d met with Serena in here with the door closed before, as was entirely acceptable for an employer with an employee. But now...now that he was in love with her, a state of heart from which he was determined to extricate himself...well, he would rather not—he should not—be alone with her at all.

  “Will this take long?” he asked curtly. “I have things to do.” Such as get her out of his library as fast as possible. He gestured her to a seat, but she remained standing.

  “Not long at all,” she said coolly. “I wish to resign my position.”

  She might as well have pulled the chair out from beneath him.

  With his right hand, he fumbled for the edge of the desk. “May I ask why?”

  “I miss my family.” Her gaze slid away from his. “I’ve spoken to Marianne, and she feels she won’t need my companionship once you are married. I’d like to leave as soon as possible.”

  “There are still four wee
ks before...” He couldn’t say my wedding. “And then another three weeks afterward...” He would be on a honeymoon—Hester had an old longing to see Scotland that he’d promised to indulge. Some small compensation for not having a husband who loved her.

  The thought of a honeymoon, and all it entailed... He felt slightly ill. Which couldn’t be a good sign.

  “I must finish here now,” Serena snapped.

  “Well, you can’t,” he snapped back.

  “Excuse me, sir.” Molson had materialized next to the desk.

  Serena squawked.

  “Blast it, Molson,” Dominic roared, “could you stop doing that?”

  The butler showed not a flicker of remorse. It wasn’t until Serena glared at him that his lips pursed ever so slightly. “Mr. Beaumont is here, sir. He stormed the staircase, shoving young Gregory—” the lizard-hating footman “—out of the way, and is right now in the blue salon, saying he won’t budge until he sees Miss Granville.” Molson cleared his throat. “Miss Granville’s maid overheard this, and has gone to fetch her mistress.”

  Dominic rounded on Serena. “You’d leave Woodbridge Hall, leave Marianne, with all this drama going on?”

  “At the rate these two play chess, this or something like it could be going on forever,” Serena said. “And if you think I’m going to stay here when...”

  “When what?” he demanded.

  She swept out of the room, saying over her shoulder, “Consider my notice given, Mr. Granville. One more week, and I’ll be on the mail coach to Hampshire.”

  * * *

  Serena walked as quickly as she could, but Dominic’s long stride soon caught her up. They arrived at the door to the blue salon together, at the same time as Marianne. She pushed past them to enter first.

  Beaumont stood by the window, his usual immaculate, polished self. When he saw Marianne, he strolled toward her, a picture of elegance.

  “What do you want?” she asked, with an absence of good manners that made Serena raise her eyebrows.

  Beaumont’s mouth curled in a cat-got-the-cream smile. He glanced down, adjusted his already perfect shirt cuffs, then met Marianne’s eyes.

  “Knight to E3,” he said.

  Dominic groaned.

  Marianne actually paled. “Isn’t that...”

  “Yes, it is, madam,” he said. “Checkmate.”

  Serena gasped. Had anyone beaten Marianne in recent years?

  Her friend rallied, though she seemed shaken. “If you think this changes anything...”

  “I’m not here to argue, I’m here to claim my prize.” Beaumont swept her into his arms and caught her up in a kiss that was most definitely not for public viewing.

  Dominic dragged the man away from his sister. “How dare you, sir! If you don’t want me to call you out—”

  “Hang it,” Beaumont said, as he tore free of Dominic’s hold, “what is it with you Christian fellows and your determination to break the sixth commandment? I’ve already fought two duels this week, and I have no interest in a third.” As he adjusted his cuffs again, he added piously, “Besides, dueling’s against the law.”

  Marianne, who’d been standing frozen since he’d kissed her, her hand to her lips, said, “Two duels? Geoffrey, what on earth...”

  He grinned, and his elegant air fell away. “I exaggerate, sweetest. In one of them we both fired in the air. It was only Anthony Deverell who was determined to put a bullet through me.”

  Marianne swayed, and didn’t object when Beaumont chafed her hand between his.

  “And why did Miss Deverell’s brother call you out?” Dominic demanded grimly.

  “The usual reason,” Beaumont said. “I insulted his sister’s honor—no, not in that way.” He held up a palm to ward off the suspicions of every person in the room. “It’s all Miss Somerton’s fault, actually.” He jerked his head toward Serena.

  “Mine?”

  “Your father’s, anyway.” Beaumont had somehow managed to catch hold of Marianne’s other hand and was running his thumb over her knuckles. “I got talking to him at that ball about the problem of a man’s past sins being held over him, and he said that men find it harder to forgive than God does. That sometimes confessing our sins to each other is important.”

  “He has been known to say that,” Serena admitted.

  “I told him it was twaddle. If I blabbed my transgressions I’d lose everything I value—my standing in the ton, my friends. If God had forgiven me, that was good enough.”

  “Then how did you end up dueling?” Marianne asked.

  He grimaced. “After I spoke to you the other night, I realized you didn’t believe I could change. And as long as no one else knew quite how bad I’d been, I could get away with staying the way I am. So I thought I’d try Reverend Somerton’s trick—I apologized to the two young ladies I’d pursued for their fortunes, and left in their hands whether or not to expose me as a self-declared fortune hunter.”

  “And they did?” Marianne asked, with a kind of horrified outrage.

  He nodded. “I must admit, I’d hoped they’d be more forgiving. But no, they both had to have their brothers try to shoot me.”

  Serena looked at Dominic and found him stifling a laugh. Which meant she could stop holding in her own smile.

  “But, Mr. Beaumont, are you saying you’ve now lost those things that are so important to you?” she asked. “Your friends, your standing?”

  “I hope not,” he said. “But there’s a good chance I have. Though I did meet another relative of yours, Miss Somerton—your aunt, Miss Jane Somerton.”

  “You know Aunt Jane?”

  “Met her in church on Sunday, after my duel with Deverell,” he said. “Told her a little of my woes—she’s like your father, a deuced good listener. She said if I manage to convince Marianne to marry me, she might invite us to a dinner or two, if it’ll help reestablish me. If it doesn’t work—” he lifted one shoulder “—we can spend the Season at Harrogate or somewhere else a bit less particular than London.”

  Since Aunt Jane was the niece of the Duke of Medway, her support would certainly help.

  Beaumont turned his back on Serena and Dominic, and looked only at Marianne.

  “Marianne, my love, can you find it in you to forgive my abominable behavior? I’m so ashamed of what I said to Babcock, words spoken from fear of losing things that really don’t matter—not compared with losing you.” He pressed her palm to his lips. “I do love you, sweetest, and I want you at my side, always. I think we can safely say I’ll never be the most decent man you’ve known—though I’m working on it—but I promise I’ll be the best husband you could have.”

  Marianne threw her arms around him. “Geoffrey, I love you.”

  No one who saw the joy that burst over Beaumont’s face could doubt the genuineness of his feelings. His voice was choked as he said over his shoulder to Dominic, “By the way, Granville, I want nothing to do with that confounded hundred acres my uncle’s so set on. In fact, I insist the marriage contract should specify you’ll never let me have them.”

  “Oh, it will,” Dominic promised. But he was grinning at his sister’s obvious happiness.

  Having dealt with the last of the details, Beaumont applied himself to sealing the bargain with a kiss. Marianne broke away first. “Geoffrey Beaumont,” she said, cupping his face in her hands, “you are, quite simply, the best, most beautiful man I know.”

  And to the delight of everyone in the room, Geoffrey Beaumont blushed a deep, tomato red.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dominic waited long enough to agree on settlement details with Beaumont—not that he was responsible for Marianne at her age, but she asked him to get involved—then set off for London three days after Beaumont’s unorthodox proposal.

  Leaving before dawn, he completed the whole journey in a day, arriving at his aunt’s house in Brook Street at nine o’clock Saturday night. He was so tired from the ride, he fell asleep before he had time to reflect on the irony
that Geoffrey Beaumont had given him a lesson in how to grab a second chance with both hands, no matter how undeserved it was.

  Knowing he was at last on the right track didn’t make Sunday any easier. He sent a note around to Hester at breakfast time, asking to see her that afternoon. Her reply said she would expect him at three o’clock.

  Dominic spent most of the intervening time in prayer. He arrived in Half Moon Street at three on the dot, and was shown into the drawing room, where Hester waited.

  “Dominic, this is a nice surprise.” She accepted his kiss on the cheek, then surveyed him. “You look tired.”

  “There’s been a lot going on.” He sat next to her on the sofa then told her about Beaumont and Marianne. He didn’t blame her for not being a wholehearted supporter of the match. To anyone who hadn’t been present at the proposal, it all sounded very odd.

  “Will they marry soon?” Hester asked. “It seems as if we won’t have Marianne living with us for long. But how nice to have her as a neighbor.”

  Which was the obvious opportunity for him to state his business.

  “It’s you and I that I’m here to talk about,” he said. “Hester, there’s something you need to know.”

  She straightened, folded her hands in her lap.

  “I’ve made it clear to you that, much as I like you, this marriage is primarily one of convenience,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “Since I proposed to you, I’ve realized that I— My heart is with someone else.”

  She turned pale. “You’re in love with someone?”

  “I should have realized it sooner, much sooner. If I had, I’d never have been so rude as to propose marriage to you.”

  She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and began twisting it through her fingers. “Are you jilting me, Dominic?” Her voice quavered.

  “No, of course not. I could never do something that would ruin you. If you wish our marriage to go ahead, it will. But it won’t go ahead with you in ignorance. If we do marry, I assure you I will be everything I promised—faithful, affectionate.”