The Governess's Secret Baby

by Janice Preston

Grace did not know how to console Clara. She could not promise she would see Sweep and Brack again. She did not know what the future held. She hugged her daughter tight.

  ‘Who was that gentleman?’ she asked, in an effort to distract herself.

  ‘That is the Duke.’

  ‘The Duke?’

  ‘Of Wakefield. He visits Madame every afternoon at three o’clock.’

  Grace gazed up the stairs, but the Duke had already vanished from sight. ‘Is it true what Isabel wrote to me about him? He told her that he and Madame...well, that they had been in love, many years ago.’

  ‘Yes, it is true. And now they have found one another again. Oh, it is so romantic.’ Miss Fanworth’s eyes misted over. ‘His visits have done her the power of good; the change in her is astounding. And he has vowed to come every day until she is fully recovered.’ Miss Fanworth sighed, one hand pressed to her ample bosom. ‘Such devotion. Would that I might so inspire a man.’

  Would that I might, also.

  Nathaniel. Just thinking his name turned Grace’s knees to jelly and set up a wanting, deep down inside, that gave her no respite. Madame’s voice repeated through her head and the conviction grew that she must go back.

  The very thought terrified her, but how could she not? She must face up to the mess she had made of her life. And of Clara’s.

  * * *

  On New Year’s Eve Grace was reading a story to Clara in the library when Miss Fanworth bustled in, waving two letters.

  ‘They are from dearest Rachel,’ she said. ‘One for each of us. I dare say she had not received my letter with your address in it by the time she sent these. That is fortunate, is it not?’

  She sat opposite Grace and they opened their letters at the same time. Grace read the joyful announcement of Rachel’s betrothal to her employer, Sheikh Malik bin Jalal Al-Mahrouky and of their plans to marry in the spring, then stared unseeingly out of the window.

  ‘Well...what splendid news.’

  Grace started. ‘Yes, indeed. I am thrilled for Rachel.’

  Then why was her heart leaden with self-pity? What kind of person envied a friend’s happiness? Her three friends were now settled and she was truly happy for them, but...

  I am the only one alone and unloved. As I always have been.

  Even as a child she had been unlovable. Tears scalded her eyes, and she stood abruptly.

  ‘Would you mind...could you finish Clara’s story for her? I will not be long.’

  She ran from the room and up the stairs, unsure of where she was going until she found herself outside Madame’s door. She did not allow second thoughts. She knocked.

  ‘Well, Miss Bertram? Have you made your decision?

  ‘No. I do not know what to do.’

  ‘Listen to your heart. It will tell you what to do for the best.’

  The best for me? Or for Nathaniel? Or for Clara?

  Grace thought of the Duke, with his silver hair and his dignity. Madame had faced heartbreak.

  All those years apart.

  ‘Did you listen to your heart, Madame?’

  ‘Ah.’ Madame closed her eyes, lost in thought.

  ‘Non, ma chère,’ she said, eventually. ‘I listened to my conscience. I gave him up without a fight, because I loved him and because I could offer him nothing. I ignored my heart, believing it was for the best. Perhaps, if he had come after me...if he had tried to persuade me...but he did not. He is honourable, and he put his duty first.

  ‘I have regretted it every day of my life. Now, we have another chance and we both know that love, it does not die. It hides away. It bides its time, until it may shine again.

  ‘You have the chance I did not have: to fight for your love, to reassure your Marquess that what he can offer is enough and that you will be content. He is afraid he will be unable to make you happy. If you are sure he can, go back and tell him what is in your heart. That is my advice. What is the worst that can happen?’

  ‘He might reject me again.’

  ‘He might. You must learn to accept that you cannot mould others’ lives to suit your own purposes. And if he does...you are a strong woman; you will survive. Would you be any unhappier than you are now?’

  Madame’s words haunted Grace as she returned to the library and to Miss Fanworth and Clara, whose woebegone face lit up when she saw Grace.

  ‘I think,’ Miss Fanworth said, ‘that Clara is scared you will vanish too. She needs a great deal of reassurance.’

  My little girl is unhappy and it is my fault.

  Could she risk returning to Shiverstone? If Nathaniel did not love her...if he sent her away...she would lose Clara too.

  But she is no longer mine. I gave her away and I cannot support her on my own. Whatever the risk, I must return her to Nathaniel. He loves her and he will care for her whatever comes of him and me.

  ‘Miss Fanworth.’

  ‘Yes, my dear?’

  ‘Please, will you look after Clara? I am going to buy a ticket. To go home.’

  The teacher’s kindly face wreathed in smiles. ‘I am so pleased, but I will miss you, and Clara. When will you leave?’

  ‘The day after tomorrow,’ Grace called, as she rushed out of the door.

  New Year’s Day, 1812

  Grace was in her bedroom with Clara, packing in preparation for their journey the next day, when she heard a carriage draw up outside the school. It must be three. She peered out of the window for one last look at Madame’s Duke.

  The carriage outside was mud-spattered. The horses’ breath clouded in the chill air and the driver was... Ned! Joy erupted through her. She snatched Clara from the bed.

  ‘He’s here, Clara. Uncle Nathaniel is here.’

  * * *

  Nathaniel tapped his foot as he waited on the doorstep of Madame Dubois’s School for Young Ladies. The door finally opened to reveal a matronly woman with kind eyes and a welcoming smile.

  ‘Good afternoon. May I help you?’

  ‘Miss Grace Bertram,’ he said. ‘I have come for her and for my niece.’

  Her smile faded and she made no move to allow him entry.

  ‘This is a school for young ladies, sir. Might I enquire as to your purpose in seeking Miss Bertram?’

  She reminded him of nothing more than a mother hen fluffing up to protect its chicks and, despite his irritation, he warmed to her.

  ‘I have come to take them home.’

  She visibly subsided and opened the door wider. ‘They are upstairs. Please, come in.’

  Nathaniel strode towards the stairs. At the foot, he became aware of several whispering and giggling girls staring at him over the balustrade. He had faced worse on the journey south, but soon discovered that if he ignored people’s reactions, they quickly lost interest. A few silly girls would not stop him.

  Nothing mattered more than finding Grace and Clara.

  He ran up the stairs and there they were. What could he say? What words would heal the hurt and mend the chasm between them? But words were not needed. Her smile shone out and she ran to him, and then his arms were full.

  Grace and Clara.

  Back in his arms, where they belonged.

  They parted, Clara now in Nathaniel’s arms, her pudgy arms locked tight around his neck.

  ‘Uncle Naffaniel.’ She kissed his cheek.

  ‘Did you miss me, poppet? I missed you. And so does Sweep.’

  While he talked to Clara, his eyes were on Grace, devouring every inch of her, oblivious to their audience.

  ‘How did you know where to find us?’

  ‘Ned heard you enquire about a stagecoach to Salisbury when he dropped you off in Lancaster.’

  The mother hen arrived at the top of the stairs, puffing. ‘Girls! Go to the common ro
om immediately.’

  The girls scurried down the stairs and out of sight.

  ‘My lord, this is Miss Fanworth,’ Grace said. ‘Miss Fanworth, the Marquess of Ravenwell.’

  Even Nathaniel, with all his personal misgivings, could hear the pride in Grace’s voice and his heart swelled with hope.

  ‘Shall I take Clara whilst you talk?’

  Miss Fanworth reached for Clara, who tightened her hold on Nathaniel’s neck. Only when she had possession of Nathaniel’s hat would she consent to go with Miss Fanworth, satisfied her Uncle Naffaniel would never leave without his hat.

  ‘She has been miserable without you,’ Grace said. ‘I am so sorry.’

  ‘You have nothing to be sorry for. It was I who sent you away. And I have regretted it every day since. I missed you so much.’

  He must say the words out loud. He would not continue to live in fear of rejection. ‘I love you, Grace Bertram.’

  Grace stepped close, gazing up at him, her green-gold gaze intense. ‘I love you too, Nathaniel. And I am sorry because you were right. I did presume too much. I never questioned whether the life I thought would make you happy was what you truly wanted.’

  ‘With you by my side, sweetheart, I can change. I will change.’ He brushed her lips with his, stroking a tendril of hair from her face.

  She leant into his hand, turning her head to press a kiss to his palm. ‘There is no need to change: it is you I want, Nathaniel, not the life you can provide. As long as we are together, I will be happy.’

  ‘But I want to change. I have had time to think...to adjust...and I no longer wish to hide myself away at Shiverstone. You have helped me to accept myself, scars and all. You have given me the courage I lacked. With you by my side, I can face the world again.’

  Her familiar lily-of-the-valley scent weaved through his senses and he crushed her to him, taking her lips in a scorching kiss, losing all sense of time and place as their tongues tangled and he caressed her curves, aching with need.

  The bang of a door downstairs roused him.

  ‘Is there somewhere we can go?’ he whispered against her lips.

  ‘My bedchamber.’ She took his hand and led him to a room containing four beds and a half-packed portmanteau. ‘This is my old room: the one I shared with my friends,’ she said. ‘It no longer feels the same, despite the memories. We have all moved on.’

  Nathaniel took her in his arms. ‘You have moved on to make new memories. The old ones are still there, to be treasured, but you cannot go back in time.’

  ‘I no longer have any desire to go back in time. All I desire now is a future with you, however you will have me.’

  Gentle fingertips stroked his face. He captured her hand and kissed those fingertips, one by one.

  ‘I am sorry I doubted you,’ he said. ‘I loved you and I wanted you, but I was afraid and I fought my feelings for you with every ounce of my strength.’

  ‘Shh, my love. No more apologies, no explanations.’ Her breath whispered across his skin as she pressed her soft curves against him. ‘We have no need of words. Come.’

  She urged him to a bed. He sank on to the mattress and she settled on his lap, cradling his face as she kissed him. He stroked her lips with his tongue and she opened to him. Silence reigned for several minutes as lips, tongues and hands expressed their love.

  Nathaniel wrenched his lips from hers. ‘I could never believe a beautiful girl like you would look at an ugly monster like me.’ He feathered kisses over her face and neck, the blood pooling hot and heavy in his groin.

  She touched his cheek. ‘You are so very far from being ugly or a monster. You are a beautiful man, inside and out.’

  His vision blurred and he blinked as he forced a laugh. ‘Beautiful? Now that is coming it too strong, even for you, my darling.’

  She shook her head, loose wisps of blonde hair framing her face. ‘Beauty means nothing.’ She placed her hand over his heart. ‘It is what is in here that counts. Always.’

  With a groan, he tilted his head and nuzzled her neck. She squirmed and giggled, fuelling his blood all the more, and he lifted her, laying her back on the narrow bed, crushing her lips with his as he covered her with his body. She was warm and pliant beneath him as she returned his kiss, reaching beneath his jacket to pull his shirt free. Warm hands slid under his shirt, over his bare chest and a quiet sound of satisfaction hummed deep in her throat.

  She reached for the fall of his breeches, desire burning in her eyes as her fingers closed around him. The last vestiges of his restraint flew away. He tugged at the hem of her gown. She raised her hips to assist him. He skimmed her satin thighs to play amongst the soft folds between, his touch eliciting a breathy, ‘Yes’. She writhed beneath him, widening her legs, urging him on.

  He settled between her legs and pushed into her slick, welcoming heat, then stilled, savouring the sensation as she tightened around him. He took her lips in another searing kiss as he slowly withdrew. Then he thrust, hard. She gasped into his mouth even as her hips rose to meet his and then they were moving together in glorious rhythm.

  He knew instinctively when she was ready: he felt the tension build within her, felt her teeter on the edge. He drove into her again, sending them together into a starburst of ecstasy.

  Some minutes later, Nathaniel cranked open one eyelid and took in their surroundings. He looked at Grace, still lying beneath him, eyes closed, a satisfied smile curving her lips. She was utterly beautiful. He longed to pull her into his arms and drift into sated sleep, but they could not take that risk. Not here. Not now. He forced himself to his feet, tucking his shirt into his breeches as he crossed the room to peer out of the window.

  ‘Nathaniel?’

  The worry in that one word had him whirling to face her. The uncertainty in her eyes near unmanned him. Hell and damnation! He reached the bed in two strides, pulled her to her feet, and folded her into his arms.

  ‘I am here,’ he murmured. ‘I will never let you go again.’

  Her tension dissolved and she relaxed into him. She fitted against him perfectly. He rested his chin on the top of her head, content for the first time in nine long, lonely years.

  ‘I love you, Nathaniel.’

  He lifted her chin with one finger. ‘And I love you, Grace, very, very much.’

  There was something he must do. A question to ask. But...first...he lowered his head and kissed her again, tenderly, worshipfully, the smooth perfection of her lips soothing his soul.

  A tap at the door had them springing apart. Miss Fanworth peered in, her cheeks pink.

  ‘Clara started to get upset so I thought I should bring her up to you.’

  Nathaniel took Clara from the kindly teacher, thanking her, then ushered her from the room, shutting the door behind her. He turned to Grace and, still holding Clara, heart pounding, he dropped to one knee. Grace’s eyes widened.

  ‘It seems fitting Clara should be a part of this,’ he said. ‘Grace Bertram, I bless the day you came into my life. You have unlocked my heart and my soul and I love you more every day.

  ‘Please, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

  ‘Yes! Oh, yes!’ Grace fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around Nathaniel and Clara.

  ‘Me too, Uncle Naffaniel?’

  Nathaniel and Grace laughed as one and Nathaniel hugged Clara a little tighter.

  ‘You too, Clara, poppet, you too. We will be a proper family, and you will be our adopted daughter. But we will never forget Hannah and David.’

  ‘No, we will never forget Hannah and David,’ Grace said. ‘Even though I never met them, they will always hold a very special place in my heart.’

  Nathaniel bowed his head, the memories of his sister and her husband still painful, but no longer as raw.

  ‘When they died
, I railed against the Fates for taking away my only friends and for forcing my life along a different path. But love and hope and a new future have sprung from that tragedy and I bless the day you both came into my life, my beautiful Clara, and my dearest, darling Grace.’

  ‘Me too, Uncle Naffaniel.’

  Epilogue

  Ravenwell Manor—23rd December 1812

  ‘Milady!’ Alice rushed into the drawing room, her plump cheeks quivering. ‘Milady!’ She skidded to a halt, hand pressed to heaving bosom. ‘There’s carriages a-coming. Three of them.’

  ‘All three together? How wonderful.’

  Grace jumped to her feet, then froze, her hand to her mouth. Alice reached her side in an instant.

  ‘Oh, milady. Again?’

  ‘No.’ Grace shook her head. ‘No, it is not the sickness. I rose too quickly and felt light-headed, that is all. Now, come. We have visitors to greet.’ She cast a swift glance around the room. All was neat and gleaming. ‘Will you ask Fish to tell his lordship—?’

  ‘I am here.’

  The deep voice came from the doorway and Grace pivoted to face Nathaniel: handsome, inherently masculine, hers. Her heart gave its customary somersault and then melted at the sight of Clara, holding his hand. She was growing so tall, her soft brown curls falling down her back in ringlets. Grace could not wait to introduce her new family to her friends.

  ‘Alice, will you alert Cook that we shall require luncheon in an hour, please? Are all the bedchambers prepared? And the servants’ quarters?’

  ‘Yes, milady. Shall I take Miss Clara now?’

  ‘No. She will come with us to greet our guests.’

  Alice, who had moved back to Ravenwell Manor with Nathaniel and Grace after their marriage, scurried from the room. The Sharps had elected to stay at Shiverstone Hall as caretakers and Ned, Tam and Annie had also stayed behind, to care for the animals and Nathaniel’s beloved hawks. Every few weeks, Nathaniel rode over to the Hall to fly his birds and stay the night and, in the spring, they planned to return as a family for a longer visit.

  If I am able to. Grace smoothed her hand over her gently rounded stomach, and a warm glow of contentment suffused her.