The Governess's Scandalous Marriage

by Helen Dickson

  Momentarily distracted, Christian glanced at the driver of his carriage who had climbed inside. Taking advantage of the distraction, the woman dragged her arm from his grip and turned and slipped into the crowd. By the time he looked again, she had disappeared. His eyes searched for her among the crowd of people milling about on the street, but there was no sign of her. His disappointment was profound. He could not believe that he had allowed her to slip through his fingers.

  The simple truth was that he was strongly attracted to the young woman and she was far too beautiful for any man to turn his back on. Having seen her today without her disguise, he was astounded by the force of his feelings. He was quite bewildered by the emotion he felt in his heart. He couldn’t really describe what he felt for her because he didn’t have any words. All he knew was that he felt strange—different from anything he had ever expected to feel.

  Only now when he had returned from Egypt after sorting out his father’s affairs was he beginning to get his life under control. Eventually he would marry, but until that time he did not want a woman in his house, at his table or in his bed. He could satisfy his physical needs well enough with women seeking diversion for a few night hours, women who wanted from him what he wanted from them.

  And yet he wanted this young woman whose kiss had roused emotions in him like no other woman ever had before her. He had to find out who she was. She had run from him but he was determined to find her. Someone must know who she was.

  * * *

  Reaching the carriage, Christian was relieved to see the occupants were no worse for the incident which could have resulted in injury but for the stranger’s prompt action to calm the frightened horse.

  Preoccupied as he was with thoughts of the young woman who had just escaped him and determined to find her—starting with Lord Stourbridge who might know the lady she was with at the ball—Christian only half-listened as Mrs Marsden gave him an account of the conversation she’d had with the young woman who had rescued them, telling him that she was well educated and was considering seeking a position as a governess. Christian knew by the hopeful expression when she looked at him that she wanted him to say he would consider giving her employment. He was to leave for his estate in Sussex the day after tomorrow and had no time to seek a governess for Alice. Trusting Mrs Marsden’s judgement completely, he told her to go ahead and employ the young lady if she considered her suitable.

  Chapter Three

  Woodside Hall was the ancestral home of four generations of Miltons. It was a large, sprawling half-timbered structure and so beautiful that Linnet temporarily forgot her anxieties and looked forward to the next day’s celebrations. They were admitted by the butler, who guided them into the drawing room. For the celebratory event the house was done simply but elegantly, each room decked with urns of fragrant summer flowers. The chandeliers, which maids had spent the week dusting, hung from the ceilings and wood polished to a warm sheen glowed in the quiet statement of elegance and quiet good taste.

  Aunt Lydia stopped fussing with some flowers and came to greet them, although her attitude was cold and unwelcoming. With a twenty-four-year-old son as well as her twenty-two-year-old daughter, she had high hopes that they would both soon be wed. Her son William had inherited Woodside Hall, Lady Milton continued to act as mistress. When William took a wife, she would retire to the Dower House.

  ‘Thank you for inviting us, Aunt Lydia,’ Toby said. ‘We are both happy for Louisa and Harry is such a grand chap.’

  ‘Yes,’ Linnet agreed. ‘Louisa is so fortunate.’

  ‘So is Harry,’ Lady Milton remarked, ‘to be marrying Louisa.’

  ‘Yes, Of course,’ Toby mumbled.

  ‘I expect you would like to freshen up after your journey. The rooms I have allotted to you are on the upper floor—there will be a large complement of guests to accommodate. I know you will understand.’

  Pride enabled Linnet to smile and pretend to ignore the insult. Where her aunt was concerned, wealth and position carried more weight than good intentions. She felt no surprise on being given rooms on the servants’ floor. She had expected nothing better. If Aunt Lydia knew the true state of their affairs, she would have an apoplexy. Although if they didn’t find a solution to their problems soon, then it was inevitable that she would find out and be sure to distance herself from them even further.

  * * *

  After freshening up in her room, Linnet went in search of Louisa. Louisa was the same age as Linnet, but unlike her cousin had a generous dowry. She was pretty, too, with a sweet expression and bright blue eyes. Linnet’s mother had died when she was fifteen and her father had followed three years later. Afterwards, Linnet found living at Birch House alone with Toby difficult and was oppressed by a terrible feeling of isolation. During that time, Louisa had been her salvation. She was vibrant and charming and could not be found wanting in those accomplishments that characterise a young lady. Linnet envied her cousin her home and her closeness to her brother William, who adored her and showered her with many gifts.

  ‘You’ll have a beau soon, Linnet. You’ll see.’

  With the sun beating down on them, the two girls were stretched out on the grass in a quiet part of the garden.

  Linnet gave a deep sigh. She didn’t have a beau and nor was she likely to, yet thoughts of her encounter with the handsome stranger at the Stourbridge ball were never far from her mind. She remembered everything about him—how could she not after he had kissed her so ardently? His voice was deep and seductive and made her think of highly improper things. It had seemed to caress each word he had spoken and she knew there weren’t many women who could resist a voice like that—especially if he were also over six feet tall and built like a Greek athlete of old. Linnet had not been immune to that potent allure he exuded.

  Her cousin would be shocked if she knew the true nature of her situation. The truth of it was that she was envious of Louisa. Linnet was lonelier than she had ever been and it was beginning to take its toll. It frightened her to think about the future. She kept her fears to herself and no one saw the vulnerable side of her. She was in need of love and so afraid she would never find it, and she wanted to, so very much. Linnet sighed, a sigh of regret. There was no use wishing for things she could not have. She wanted to stay in the moment, with the sun on her face and the smell of roses and honeysuckle heavy on the air and listening to Louisa’s happy chatter.

  ‘It’s different for me, Louisa. I have no dowry and, apart from you and William and Aunt Lydia, my only kin is Toby. I know he can be difficult sometimes, but it is fortunate that deep down he has a fondness for me and he can be considerate when he tries.’

  ‘I’m so glad you like Harry, Linnet. He’s so caring and charming. I can’t wait to marry him and go to live in Kent. The betrothal party promises to be exciting. Mama has gone to a lot of trouble and expense to make it right.’

  ‘Then that is what it will be.’

  Louisa turned her head and looked at her. ‘You never know, Linnet. There might be someone here who will draw your attention—a rich gentleman who is looking for a wife.’

  Linnet laughed, closing her eyes and stretching her young body on the grass beneath her that felt like rich velvet. She was her own person and as isolated as she had always been. ‘I really don’t think so, Louisa. I’m not on the market for a husband—rich or poor.’

  * * *

  On the day of the celebrations the reception rooms were filled with people. Whenever Lady Milton entertained she liked to relax the rules. There was always plenty of amusement without any of the coarser element that vulgarised so many of the stately homes of England. She had sufficient force of character to steer clear of any such difficulties at her parties.

  Lord Christian Blakely was impressed by the house and its prospect. He had been greeted by Lady Milton. After enquiring of Lord and Lady Stourbridge as to the identity of the lady, giving them a rather haz
y description—although he did remember the red and black mask she had been wearing—Lady Stourbridge recalled Lady Milton had been wearing one just like it. She also told him that she had escorted her niece and nephew, Toby Osborne and his sister Linnet, to the ball. Convinced this was the young lady he was searching for they were happy to provide him with further information regarding Lady Milton. Her daughter Louisa was about to become betrothed to Harry Radcliffe and she was to host the celebratory event at Woodside Hall in Richmond.

  Christian was impatient to see Miss Osborne again—he wanted to see her. He hadn’t been honest with her when he had come across her in Lord Stourbridge’s room of antiquities and it bothered him. As well as that, what she had said just before he had left her, that she hadn’t stolen the necklace but was there to put it back—what if that was the truth? If so, he had done her an injustice. It was important to him that he set things right. He also wanted to gaze at her lovely face and lose himself in those tawny eyes of hers. As an acquaintance of Lord Radcliffe and after contacting him at his club, he had managed to have his name placed on the guest list for the betrothal celebrations.

  He took casual note of the guests. Having recognised Miss Osborne without the mask she had worn to the Stourbridge ball, he now knew what she looked like.

  Doors opened from the large, circular hall, the French doors from the long dining room opening on to the terrace. The trees in the gardens were hung with lanterns, which would be lit at dusk, when a hundred pinpoints of light would shine sharply as guests wandered along the pathways. Stepping out into the gardens, he exchanged smiles and polite greetings with other guests. Some of them he knew—those he didn’t looked at him with open curiosity.

  The lawns had been mown to resemble smooth velvet and the borders and terraces were ablaze with flowers and trailing roses and dotted with graceful sculptures. Most of the privileged, rich and well-connected guests had already arrived and spilled out into the gardens. Lady Milton flitted like a butterfly among the titled and influential people, their brightly coloured gowns, jackets and painted parasols echoing the bright colours of the flowerbeds.

  With his hands behind his back, ignoring the scrutiny of the other guests, Christian’s pace was slow as he looked for Miss Osborne. The sun was hot, the air heavy with humidity, which, he thought, might run to rain later. Conversations, laughter and the rustle of gowns eddied about him, competing with the hum of bees. Lords and ladies sat around sipping punch or lemonade from crystal glasses. Some of the fashionable, overdressed gentlemen were sprawled on benches and some stretched out on the lawn, drinking wine and talking and laughing much too loudly as the liquor loosened their inhibitions.

  Hearing shrieks and giggles from behind a tall privet hedge, he felt an invisible thread draw him in that direction and entered an enclosed lawned garden. Bright sunlight illuminated a happy group of young people playing a game, their faces alight with laughter and flushed with exertion. In an array of brightly coloured gowns and decorated bonnets, they were circled around a girl in a bright yellow dress who held centre stage. A scarf was tied around her eyes, her hands held out in front of her, her mouth stretched wide with merriment. Spinning on her heel, she laughed and her skirts billowed out, exposing shapely ankles encased in white stockings. Having disposed of her bonnet better to accommodate the scarf, her head was full of luxuriant honey-gold curling locks that bounced as she tossed her head.

  Transfixed, Christian’s gaze homed in on her, staring openly at her and savouring the supple grace in the way she moved. The young ladies, as skittish as ponies with the wind up their tails, paid him no attention, seemingly immersed in their game. He began to move slowly across the grass, drawn compulsively to the young woman in the yellow dress. His footsteps made no sound and she was laughing, unaware of his approach. He smiled for her laughter was infectious. He stopped close to her, bewitched by this picture she presented. He was aware of a surge of heat inside him that had nothing to do with the warmth of the sun. She reached out to clasp a player, only to find thin air as her prey nimbly danced aside and others reached out to touch and tease her.

  Coming closer to Christian, who stood perfectly still, she reached out her arms and one of her hands came to rest on his arm.

  A bubble of laughter escaped her. ‘At last,’ she cried, her smile unfurling like a pennant on her lips. ‘I have someone. Harry—it has to be you.’

  Her hand moved from his arm to his broad chest and upwards, tentatively feeling his chest, his height. ‘Oh—you are not Harry.’ Her breath was a quiet whisper, her lips soft and moist and parted to reveal perfect teeth that shone like pearls. ‘It is a gentleman, I think.’ Her hands sought to identify this mysterious being, small fingers gently touching his face so far above her own—his cheek, the wide brow, the nose, the lips, lingering there a moment before moving to the other cheek, encountering a narrow scar.’ She withdrew her hand fractionally. ‘Oh! You’ve been hurt! I am at a loss, sir. I feel I do not know you.’

  * * *

  Quickly removing the blindfold, Linnet blinked her eyes a moment to adjust them to the bright light, becoming focused on the stranger—but he wasn’t a stranger, not to her.

  At first she was unmoving and lost in a confused welter of troubling thoughts, then all the feelings she had experienced since the night of the Stourbridge ball came rolling back. All she could do was stand and stare at him with her lips slightly parted, her heart beating a rapid tattoo in her chest.

  Tall and straight, and with a whipcord strength, he emanated an aura of carefully restrained power. The area around them was so charged with tension it was as if all the air had been removed.

  Linnet stepped back, unable to look away. ‘Please forgive me...’ she breathed softly. ‘I—I did not mean...’

  Inclining his head slightly, he smiled, giving no indication of recognition. For a moment she was allowed to hope this was just a chance encounter and he would continue on his way. She bobbed a small curtsy. ‘E-excuse me...’ she stammered.

  Her haste seemed to amuse him. A smile lit his eye. ‘Just one moment, if you please.’

  Linnet looked at the girls standing around, but she couldn’t get her eyes to settle on them for more than a few seconds. Sick with uncertainty, she waited for him to speak, clutching the scarf in her hands in front of her.

  The man bent his head and spoke softly in her ear, his warm breath fanning her neck. ‘Did you think you could escape me so easily? I’m hardly surprised to see you at such a fashionable gathering when there are rich pickings to be had.’

  Indignation flushed Linnet’s cheeks. ‘I would not... I am hardly likely to... Oh, how dare you—’

  ‘Oh, but I do dare, Miss Osborne.’

  She stared at him in disbelief. ‘You know who I am? How did you find out?’

  He smiled down at her, enjoying her confusion. ‘It wasn’t difficult.’

  ‘But—what are you doing here?’ It was a coincidence. It had to be. ‘Do you know Aunt Lydia?’

  ‘We have not met until today. Lord Radcliffe is a close acquaintance of mine.’ He glanced around, conscious of the young ladies observing their exchange in open-mouthed curiosity. ‘We have an audience. We will speak later.’

  Smiling, he met Linnet’s stare, his eyebrows rising, and then without more ado he took his leave of her. For a long moment she watched him stride away. The next thing she was aware of was Louisa by her side, an excited flush on her cheeks.

  ‘That was Lord Blakely and as handsome as a man can be, don’t you think?’ she uttered on a sigh, as struck as all the other females in their group gazing after him.

  ‘Lord Blakely?’

  ‘Christian, Lord Blakely. I think he’s also an earl of somewhere or other.’

  ‘Oh—I... I didn’t know.’ Blinking like someone waking from a dream, Linnet looked at Louisa for further information about the man in whose arms she had surrendered and even cont
emplated spending the night with without even knowing his name.

  ‘Harry was surprised to see him here,’ Louisa went on. ‘He didn’t know Lord Blakely was back in London and had no idea he had been invited, although I do believe he is a close acquaintance of his father. He’s been out of the country for several months—in Egypt, apparently. He spoke to you so you must know him, Linnet?’

  Linnet flushed, knowing how scandalised her cousin would be if she were to learn of the sordid circumstances that had brought them together.

  ‘No—I—how could I? What was he doing in Egypt?’

  ‘Rumour has it that his father died over there. He was an archaeologist, I think—loved digging for ancient relics and the like. Lord Blakely went out there to sort his father’s affairs out, I imagine.’

  Linnet shook her head, still feeling the after-effects of her encounter with Lord Blakely. ‘What else?’

  ‘Only that he is a man of considerable wealth. William is acquainted with him and from what I have heard him say a great deal of his fortune comes from land, taking no account of his industrial interests—which are considerable apparently—and the properties he owns, mainly in London.’

  No longer in any mood to join in the games with the other young ladies, Linnet escaped to the house to prepare for the evening’s festivities.

  * * *

  Entering the small room allotted to her in the upper reaches of the house, she discovered the maid had laid out her pitiful belongings. Her nightdress was folded on the bed and the pale gold gown she was to wear, the dress she had worn to the Stourbridge ball, hung pathetically on a hanger on the wardrobe.

  She was just putting the finishing touches to her hair when Louisa burst in, brimming with happiness.

  ‘Oh, there you are!’ she exclaimed. ‘I was wondering where you had disappeared to. You’re not feeling ill, are you, Linnet? You did look rather pale earlier.’