To Love a Governess

by Josi S. Kilpack

  Heavens, of course Captain Ridout couldn’t sleep.

  Emmeline didn’t know how long she watched the man whose sternness had melted more than once in front of her when he’d interacted with those children. But by the time her eyes were heavy enough to welcome sleep, she’d determined that she would do whatever she could to help make the captain’s life a bit easier. She didn’t know how, but she understood the pain of loss. The pain of changed plans. The pain of loneliness.

  “Miss Finch!” The voice in her dreams was sharp now. “Open your eyes. I know you’re awake.”

  Quite irritating, if truth be told.

  Why couldn’t she have a lovely dream? One in which she floated above the earth and went sightseeing to ancient castles? Instead, her dream consisted of the smell of half-burned toast and a reedy voice demanding that she open her eyes immediately.

  Emmeline snapped her eyes open. This was no dream. She was really in an attic bedchamber, and a woman she’d never seen before was standing next to her bed, bony hands on her hips, eyes narrow like a ferret’s.

  “Captain Ridout has asked that you come down immediately,” the woman said. “You’ve no time to break your fast now.”

  Apparently the smell of burned toast was her morning meal. Well. “Who are you?”

  “Mrs. Pratt to you, miss,” she said. “My husband’s the gardener, and I’m the cook. This is the first and last time I’ll bring a tray to your bedchamber. I expect you to come down in the mornings to break your fast. A governess is not the lady of the house.”

  If flames could shoot out of a person’s eyes, it would be happening right now with Mrs. Pratt. Emmeline wasn’t entirely sure what she’d done to raise the woman’s ire, except for sleeping past a mysterious appointed hour. By Emmeline’s estimation, the day was yet early since the sun had not fully risen.

  She stifled a yawn. “Tell Captain Ridout I’m coming if you must give him a reply.”

  This seemed to satisfy Mrs. Pratt, yet the woman remained in her sentinel position.

  So Emmeline shifted aside the covers and climbed out of bed, Mrs. Pratt still watching.

  “Do you need anything else?” Emmeline asked in a pointed tone, because Mrs. Pratt’s staring was making her skin itch.

  “Captain Ridout also asked me to see if you needed assistance with getting dressed,” Mrs. Pratt said, her voice significantly less hostile now.

  The color in the woman’s cheeks went from ruddy to scarlet.

  “Oh.” Well, Emmeline hadn’t expected that. And she was certain that Mrs. Pratt hadn’t expected it either. “I can manage quite well on my own. Thank you for the offer, though.”

  The relief on Mrs. Pratt’s face made Emmeline want to laugh. For a woman who had to be in her fifties, she sure could move fast. The woman scurried out of the room and shut the door before Emmeline could take her next breath.

  Washing up and dressing didn’t take long, and Emmeline left her room as the sun’s first rays spilled over the eastern hills. The house was silent, and if her ears were correct, the children were both still asleep. No voices, no thuds, no sounds at all came from the second floor as Emmeline walked along the hallway to the main staircase.

  She paused about halfway down the staircase. Where was Captain Ridout waiting for her? In the front parlor? In the library he’d showed her on the tour? Perhaps in the back gardens? Or . . . the dining room? Was he breaking his fast and expecting her to join him?

  Suddenly, Emmeline wished she was one of those women, effortlessly elegant, skilled in conversation, and able to grace any situation with a smile. For, at this moment, she believed that last bite of toast she’d eaten was still lodged in her throat.

  Chapter 7

  Hudson hadn’t expected Miss Finch to walk into the library quite so soon. But he had a feeling that Mrs. Pratt, saint that she was, had been a bit unpleasant toward the new governess, if the sight of Miss Finch looking like she’d awakened only moments before was any indication. Would it embarrass her if he pointed out that there was an imprint of her pillow on her cheek?

  Of course it would.

  And of all things to smile about, this shouldn’t be one of them. What if she asked him why he was smiling? If anything, he should be out on the estate meeting with the tenants. Of course, it was way too early for that, but with Hudson’s usual insomnia, it seemed he was always waiting for others to awaken so he could give them instructions.

  “Have a seat, Miss Finch,” Hudson said, after rising to his feet and using the credenza to support himself against the throbbing of his ankle. Blasted thing. He indicated the chair opposite the credenza he was sitting behind.

  Her footsteps were silent, almost cautious, as she moved to the chair.

  Miss Finch in the morning was more subdued than the Miss Finch in the afternoon on the tour of the house and grounds and the Miss Finch reading to the children the night before in a rousing voice differentiating between the various characters of a children’s storybook.

  “What are you smiling about?” she asked.

  Ah. So he was smiling. “I . . . I didn’t intend to smile. I mean, I should not be . . .”

  Her dark-green eyes were lighter than he remembered. Or perhaps it was due to the way the room now glowed with soft morning light.

  “Smiling is best when it’s not forced or intended,” she said.

  “True.” He agreed, of course he did.

  “Never mind,” Miss Finch said. “I can hardly interrogate you about your smile. I am surprised is all, assuming you probably slept less than I did.”

  Hudson hadn’t considered this scenario. “Did you not sleep well?”

  “I eventually slept, but not until after I deduced the man pacing in the garden was you and not some nefarious miscreant.”

  Hudson blinked. Then he chuckled. “Nefarious miscreant? I don’t think I’ve ever heard that phrase, Miss Finch.”

  Her cheeks dimpled. Laws, how did he not know she had dimples until now?

  “Don’t worry, I soon realized it was you.” She tilted her head, and the deep auburn of her hair caught the light just so, making her hair look like it had threads of fire running through it.

  The morning sun seemed to have warmed the room rather quickly.

  He hadn’t realized he was simply staring at her until she spoke again. “Do you often walk the gardens in the middle of the night?”

  Hudson picked up a quill pen. Set it down. Picked it up again. “What is your definition of often?”

  Those dimples appeared again. “More than once a week.”

  “Then I must say that I often walk the garden in the middle of the night,” he said. “I can’t sleep more than a handful of hours at night, you see. Sometimes I keep to the library and read. Even when my eyes tire of reading, my mind continues in circles, and walking helps to calm my thoughts—” What was he saying? Confessing?

  Emmeline looked properly shocked. “Did you sleep at all last night? I must say, it’s still rather early, if you don’t mind me mentioning it.”

  Hudson felt his lips quirk. She wasn’t the first person to mention how early he was awake. In the military, it was a given, but on a gentleman’s country estate, perhaps unusual. “I did sleep a little.”

  The relief that crossed her pretty face did something strange to Hudson’s being. He wanted to sit closer to her and ask her to tell him more about herself. And yes, he had just admitted that she was pretty. Hudson recognized that Miss Finch wasn’t a standard beauty by any means, but only a handful of moments in conversation with her left no doubt that her charm and intellect far outweighed creamy skin and fashionable clothing complementing a woman’s form.

  Miss Finch was certainly womanly, although the rather shabby dress set her form to a disadvantage. Hudson reeled his thoughts back. How had his mind gone straight to the gutter so quickly? “I’m sorry if I worried you,” he said. “Perhaps I should have warned you about my nightly wanderings.”

  “I recovered quite well,” she said.
“Although Mrs. Pratt had a time of it waking me this morning.” With that statement she stifled a yawn.

  Hudson wanted to feel guilty, but the sooner the new governess was on the household schedule, the better. Speaking of schedules, he hadn’t heard a word from the children yet.

  “But I must warn you, Captain Ridout,” she said. “If I don’t get my usual nine hours of sleep, I tend to be a bit cranky.”

  Hudson battled between the surprise that anyone besides a small child could sleep nine hours and the curiosity of what Miss Finch might be like when she was cranky.

  “I think the last time I slept nine hours was when I was in leading strings.”

  Miss Finch’s eyes rounded, as they very well should. “Goodness, your poor mother. Or nurse, or whoever was in charge of you in the mornings. And nights.”

  Hudson had never considered this. He supposed that his odd hours had been disruptive when he was a child. When he was a young man, no one seemed to worry about his nightly forays about the house and garden. Perhaps his family had been used to it?

  It was strange to think his entire life he’d had difficulty sleeping, even before the navy.

  “I apologize, I shouldn’t have said that,” she said. “I don’t always stop my thoughts from reaching my tongue.”

  And that was precisely why Hudson found this woman so refreshing. But he had instructions to give, and all this talk about sleeping or not sleeping was way off course. “I’m not one to censor a woman’s talk, Miss Finch. That said, I did send for you for a reason.”

  “Not to discuss sleeping patterns?” she said.

  “Not precisely.” He folded his hands atop the credenza. “As you know, the children have been through some terrible things. They might take more care and patience than the average child. And I must admit that I haven’t helped them along in their education one whit. So you might have some catching up to do, especially since I don’t know where they stand in regards to other children their age.”

  “They’re bright children,” Miss Finch. “That is obvious already, so I am sure they’ll not have much trouble catching up on things.” Her brow furrowed. “Although I must ask how you feel about expanding the army.”

  “The army?”

  “Yes, Andrew’s army and Charlotte’s supporting cast.” Her cheeks dimpled.

  “You mean . . . whittle more toys?”

  “Precisely,” she said. “When they are finished with their lessons, of course. They are both so enthusiastic about it.”

  Hudson had been a witness to that enthusiasm. “Am I to be carving an entire nation?”

  Her smile was quick to spread. “Only when you have time, of course.”

  His gaze dropped to his hands. “It seems that I have nothing but time right now.” He hadn’t meant to speak the words aloud.

  “Will you return to the navy someday?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  “No,” he said. “I retired before traveling to Branhall. My ankle gives me too much trouble. And then, of course, everything changed yet again once I arrived here.”

  “I’m very sorry for your losses,” Miss Finch said. “If there is anything I can do to ease the situation, I will do it.”

  “I think you’re already helping the children.” He hadn’t meant for the conversation to take such a serious turn, but it seemed with Miss Finch, no subject was off the table.

  A trio of birds began their morning song outside his window. Perhaps the children could sleep a few more moments. “What led you to become a governess, Miss Finch?” he asked. “Have you always wanted to become one?”

  “Oh, heavens, no,” Miss Finch said, the blush pinking her cheeks in a rather lovely way. “I’ve run away, you see. From heartbreak, that is.”

  Chapter 8

  Perhaps Emmeline should rehearse proper conversation lines in her bedchamber each morning before venturing out into the world at large. She could see that she’d caught Captain Ridout off guard. He went very still, while surprise flickered in his deep-gray eyes.

  “I was to be married,” she said. “Well, not married exactly, since there was no proposal. That went to my closest friend. It wasn’t a betrayal by any means, more of a foolish woman’s hopes being dashed.” She was rambling, and she’d be surprised if the captain could follow a word she was saying.

  “So . . .” she continued. “The wedding invitation came, and the same day I wrote a letter of inquiry to my aunt, asking if she knew of any governess positions. And here I am.”

  His brow furrowed, which made him look very serious indeed. Although the more she got to know the captain, the more personable she found him. He’d been unexpectedly forthright with her. And she was definitely not minding his unshaven face and uncombed hair. It made him look more approachable somehow. Perhaps that was why this morning’s tête-à-tête had covered so many topics.

  “Your best friend?” he said. “Did she know?”

  “Most definitely not.” Emmeline puffed out a breath. “I didn’t want to make her feel sorry for me.”

  “And this Mr. . . . ?”

  “Baker. Mr. Baker. He didn’t know either. Like I said, things were all in my imagination. It’s not the first time it’s gotten me into trouble.”

  Captain Ridout leaned forward. “I’m sorry for the pain you must have gone through.”

  In truth, this was the first person Emmeline had been completely forthright with about the circumstances, yet she hadn’t expected such sympathy. “Thank you. I realize that in the scheme of things a broken heart is not too terribly important. Everyone in life has challenges, and mine are but a raindrop compared to the deluge of others.”

  The captain continued to study her, and for some reason, Emmeline didn’t flinch under his scrutiny. In fact, she felt comfortable in his presence. Not nervous like she had felt in Mr. Baker’s, and certainly not annoyed as she did in her brother’s.

  Hudson picked up the quill pen and fiddled with it. “We should never compare our problems to someone else’s,” he said at last. “The military taught me that much. The men who were the most loyal, the most hardworking, were often the ones with the most turmoil in their personal lives.”

  Silence fell between them as the impact of his words seemed to relate to him alone.

  “What do your parents think of your choice to become a governess?” he asked a moment later, in a quiet voice.

  “Had they been alive, I am sure they’d consider it another excessive reaction to my situation. I tend to be impulsive.” Emmeline smoothed out her skirt, her palms suddenly moist. “Here I am listing all my faults, when I should be impressing you with my abilities.”

  “I don’t think I’ve been impulsive a day in my life,” he said. “Unless I count hiring you.”

  Emmeline wondered if she should be offended, but the captain was looking at her like he wasn’t disappointed in the least. The gray of his eyes had lightened, and his lips were slightly curved—an expression that she decided she quite liked.

  Yet the darkness beneath his eyes told her that he had indeed slept poorly last night, and perhaps for many nights. Even if he was used to getting by on only a few hours of sleep each night, it couldn’t be good for his well-being, could it? “I hope you don’t regret hiring me,” she told him. “And I will try to keep any impulses to a minimum.”

  “Does building a toy village count as an impulse?”

  She knew he was teasing, but she still said, “Of course not. That was carefully thought out.” She couldn’t help but smile, and she was gratified when he nodded.

  “Very well, then,” he said. “I believe it will make the children very happy, and that is all I can ask for right now.”

  This of course made Emmeline wonder what else he might ask for if he could.

  But before she could ask, a thumping sounded overhead. Then the thumping continued along the upstairs hallway, then descended the stairs.

  “It’s Andrew,” the captain said. “When he wakes up, everyone in the household knows it.”<
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  “Oh.” Emmeline rose to her feet. “Should I make sure he breaks his fast?”

  “He won’t need any encouragement,” the captain said, his voice laced with humor. “You should eat too. Burned toast isn’t substantial.”

  “How did you know—”

  “You’re still here!” Andrew said, coming to a sliding stop at the open library doors.

  “Where else would I be?” Emmeline asked.

  Charlotte joined her brother, her blue eyes wide, her hair a jumble of tangles, and her dress askew. “I told you she’d be here.”

  Andrew’s lips lifted into a half smile. He looked as if he’d jammed on his clothing in the dark.

  “Good morning,” Captain Ridout said. “What did I tell the two of you about dressing and grooming before you come downstairs in the morning?”

  Andrew’s face reddened, but Charlotte stepped forward. “We had to see if Miss Finch was still here.”

  “And I’m still hungry, Uncle.”

  Emmeline smiled. “I think your uncle can forgive your curiosity just this once?” She peeked over at him.

  His brows had furrowed, but he said, “Very well. Off to the dining room if you’re still hungry. I don’t want you to blow away in the wind.”

  Charlotte set her hands on her tiny hips. “There’s no wind.”

  “There will be,” their uncle said. “A storm’s coming.”

  Emmeline and the children all looked toward the window. Only blue sky and wispy clouds could be seen.

  “Is it your ankle again?” Andrew asked.

  Emmeline couldn’t help but look down at the man’s feet. What did his ankle have to do with the weather?

  “Yes, I’m afraid my ankle has been aching for hours.”

  Andrew gave a solemn nod, then looked at Emmeline. “His ankle tells him the weather.”

  Emmeline tried not to laugh, but it escaped anyway. She quickly sobered when she saw the line between Andrew’s eyes.

  “It’s true,” Captain Ridout said. “My ankle aches when a storm is brewing.”