The Key to the Governess's Heart: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

  “N-no. Just unusual. I am not typically asked such things,” she confessed.

  “That is a shame. You ought to be given the opportunity to express what brings you joy. Should not everyone have such a chance?” he asked.

  Miss Cloud nodded and smiled.

  “I suppose that is true. And, to answer your question, yes. I am happy here. Lord and Lady Seton are exceedingly kind to me. I have heard so many stories of homes where governesses and maids experience a great deal of trials, but I have been spared such difficulties,” she said.

  “I am glad to hear that,” Peter said.

  “I am sure that, being that you will soon marry into the family, you must be happy to hear that they are good people. They are, I assure you,” she said.

  It did make Peter glad to hear this. He had never wondered how household employees might feel about the home in which they worked, but there was a moment in which he could not ignore the question as to how his own housekeeper might feel about him as an employer.

  “Well, I trust that you understand how important it is to me to know this,” Peter said.

  “I once heard about a young woman whose employer would not even allow her to return home when her father was ill. He passed away before she could say farewell. Lord and Lady Seton recently allowed me the freedom to visit my family and I was gone for nearly five whole days,” Miss Cloud told him.

  “Five days? That is all?” Peter asked, thinking it must be difficult to have to see them for such a short time.

  “They would have allowed me to stay for longer had I requested it. But I enjoy working here so much that I made the choice on my own to return so early. That is what excellent employers they are. I actually made the choice to come back before I had to,” she said, as if really hoping he understood their importance to her.

  “That is remarkable. I can’t say that I know very many men and women in London who would be spoken of so highly by their governesses. I mean, to be perfectly honest with you, I do not think even my own housekeeper would feel so strongly about a matter like that,” Peter said, laughing.

  “Well, you never know. You might be surprised,” she said.

  “Yes, perhaps I would. But I also believe that it must reflect well on you that they trust you so much. And that they like you so much. Allowing a governess the freedom to visit her family is one thing, but attending a dinner party put on by the family? That is another matter entirely,” he said.

  Miss Cloud looked down and her cheeks appeared to burn. He wondered which part of what he said had bothered her. Was it the fact that he mentioned an evening that he held so dear? Or was it something else?

  “I know that I am only a governess, but they do see me as a person,” she said.

  It was then that Peter realised his words may have been somewhat offensive. He was certainly painting the household staff as being a rather different portrait from the nobility who hired them. Was Miss Cloud offended?

  If she was, it did not appear to last for long. Quickly, she recovered and was smiling once more.

  “What I meant to say was that they are a kind family and I do appreciate their care for me,” Miss Cloud said.

  “You are right. And you are deserving of nothing less than their utmost respect,” Peter added, wishing that he understood how best to talk to someone of such a drastically different class.

  Miss Cloud was right. She was just another person. Why did he find it strange and uncomfortable to be interacting so freely with someone of another class? Should he not have the same consideration for her that he would have for anyone else?

  Then again, that was a part of the problem. He did have the same consideration for her as he had for Isla. He thought of Miss Cloud with as much esteem as he considered the woman that he was meant to be marrying.

  More, perhaps.

  So, what was he to do? How could he best express his respect for Miss Cloud without allowing his underlying feelings to show through?

  He had to be strong, to push those thoughts away and look to Lady Seton for the life that they were going to be spending together.

  Peter was a better man than this.

  “I really ought to be going now, but it was very nice to see you, Miss Cloud,” he said.

  “Yes, and you as well,” she said, clearing her throat with the same sense of discomfort that he felt.

  Peter was frustrated at himself for having ruined the conversation. What he really wanted was to know more about Miss Cloud and her family and her history. He was intrigued; he wanted to learn all he could.

  But that was born out of something that he would have to push aside. It was born out of having a stronger appreciation for Miss Cloud than he did for Lady Seton.

  He glanced at Miss Cloud once more. The heavily-lidded eyes that gave her such a dreamy quality, the full lips that lent to her femininity, the nose that gave her a childlike quality. Every aspect of her appearance was so lovely; how could he not be overwhelmed by her?

  With that, Peter did what he should have done immediately. He turned away from her and made for the door, departing before his emotions could get the best of him all over again.

  When he reached his home, Peter tried to process the encounter that he had just had, but it was difficult. All he wanted was to sit with Miss Cloud for a while longer.

  It was not fair to Lady Seton. It really wasn’t even fair to Andrew, who clearly had some infatuation with Lady Seton.

  No. He was hurting everyone without meaning to, and perhaps without their knowledge.

  Peter brought back to memory all of the lovely qualities of Lady Seton once more, trying to focus his attentions upon the woman that he was meant to marry.

  He could love her. He was sure of it. All it really took was a bit of time, attention, and focus on what mattered most.

  Peter had made a commitment. He had promised that he would marry Lady Seton, that he would spend his life with her, that he would make her happy.

  And that was precisely what he intended to do.

  Chapter 15

  Humming and grinning simultaneously, Beatrice tidied up the classroom while Cecile and Mary were going for their baths. She could hardly keep her heart from swelling with excitement and expectation, even if she knew that it was a fool’s hope that was plaguing her with such ridiculous joy.

  Lord Hawthorn had remained to speak with her for a little while the previous day. Of course, it meant nothing at all. He was simply being a gentleman. But he clearly recognised her station—even if he felt bad for doing so—and yet, he was genial enough to speak with her for a while.

  By now, Beatrice thought she ought to realise that not all noblemen and women were cruel. She was so fortunate to have her particular employers, so why would she be foolish enough to think poorly of an entire social class?

  And yet, it was still a surprise when Lord Hawthorn treated her with such regard. It was still a shock that he seemed to care.

  And even if nothing would ever come of it, Beatrice was not going to fight off the sense of joy that she was feeling.

  There was still her mother’s offer to consider, and Beatrice was thinking it through very carefully. She wanted to be wise about her choices, and this one was quite important.

  However, if she intended to proceed, she would have to do so with the awareness that she may be marrying a man with whom she had little connection. It would not be such a terrible tragedy, but it was not going to make her happy either.

  Then again, there was a chance—a very small one—that she would actually like the man that her mother chose for her.

  Regardless, Beatrice continued on, humming and replaying the conversation from the previous day. Again and again and again.

  “My goodness. Do we have a songstress amongst us?” Isla said, popping her head into the room.

  Beatrice turned to her and grinned.

  “Of course we do! It is a lovely day and there is so much promise,” Beatrice said, Lord Hawthorn’s face in her mind.

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nbsp; “And what is it that is making you so happy?” Isla asked.

  Beatrice opened her mouth, ready to share about the marvelous man who spoke with her.

  And then, she froze. Her eyes went wide and her mouth was still hanging open.

  What was she thinking? She couldn’t tell Isla about this! It would be absolutely terrible to share about her feelings for Lord Hawthorn with the woman that he was supposed to be marrying.

  But Isla was looking at her with expectation. Beatrice had already opened her mouth to speak and it would look even more suspicious is she now refrained from sharing anything. What could she do?

  “I was just thinking back to my weekend and visiting with my family,” Beatrice said.

  Isla’s brow twitched, as if she might not believe Beatrice.

  “I see…” she said.

  “It was such a lovely time, you see. I do miss them already,” Beatrice said.

  “Why did you not go for longer?” Isla asked.

  It was the question that everyone seemed to be asking her. Truly, she probably could have, but she had wanted to return to work, to continue proving herself to be the devoted governess that she knew she was.

  “It is difficult to be gone from the girls for too long. You know how dear they are to me,” Beatrice said.

  “Those two? They are little beasts,” Isla said, laughing.

  “Yes, perhaps, but they are my favourite little beasts,” Beatrice giggled in reply.

  “And they certainly adore you in return. Honestly, I think my brothers missed out on a good deal by being boys, stuck away at school, not getting to have a wonderful woman like you for a governess,” Isla said.

  “I think they missed out because they do not get to be with their family. Who wants to be off and away at school when you have a family waiting for you?” Beatrice asked.

  “You’re one to talk. You are stuck working when you have a family back home,” Isla pointed out.

  Beatrice shrugged. Isla was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to admit.

  “Well, anyway, you should know by now that I am perfectly happy to be here and I shall be very sad when you are the one who is trying to come home for a visit,” Beatrice said.

  Isla frowned and Beatrice immediately regretted having mentioned the topic.

  “I am sorry, Isla. I shouldn’t have brought that up,” she said.

  “No, it’s all right. It is true, after all. I shall be going. Marrying someone and going to live with him. I never thought that I would find it so difficult to say goodbye to this place,” Isla said, acknowledging the struggle. She gave a little cough and cleared her throat.

  Beatrice could see that she was trying to hide that she still had a touch of her illness.

  “It sounds very difficult, truly. I know that you love your family. Are you sure that this is what you want? Is it worth it?” Beatrice asked.

  “It has to be. There is nothing else that I can do. I like Lord Hawthorn. He is nice and handsome and rich. It is only that I shall be so sad to go,” Isla said.

  But there it was again. That acknowledgement that she was being paired off with him because of the many ways that the family would benefit from the union.

  It felt wrong and Beatrice didn’t like to hear about it or think about it. She very nearly cringed with the awareness that this was a part of the reason for having Isla marry him.

  Lord Hawthorn deserved better than that.

  Beatrice tried to remind herself that Lord Hawthorn was probably every bit as guilty. After all, there had to be some benefit to him in this marriage. That is, some benefit other than having Isla for a wife.

  She was beautiful and graceful and intelligent. Why should that not be enough of a prize for him?

  “Do you think Lord Hawthorn will be the sort of husband that you have always longed for?” Beatrice asked, hoping to prod Isla into truly appreciating him for more than his wealth and status.

  “Certainly! As I said, he is a good man. There is no questioning that. I am perfectly certain that we are going to get along well and that he will be an ideal husband,” Isla said.

  “That is a relief. Anyway, good luck to the both of you for the future,” Beatrice said, hoping that was the end of the conversation.

  “Thank you. We have arranged for him to come today since I was unwell yesterday, but he likely won’t arrive until closer to lunch,” Isla said.

  Beatrice clenched her jaw.

  “He is coming here today?” she asked.

  “Yes. We thought it was best since I was unable to see him yesterday. It would not be ideal to wait a very long time between occasions to see one another. My father wants us to grow close as quickly as we are able, but I do not think that something like that can be rushed. Honestly, I find myself often wishing that it could be,” Isla sighed.

  “Why does it need to be? Can you not fall in love with one another once you are married?” Beatrice asked.

  “No one wants that, Beatrice. Committing to a husband when you can’t possibly know if you will like him? It sounds miserable. It would be awful to have to live my life with someone when I don’t know if I actually want to do so. And, although I understand that my mother and father want me to do this, I truly need them to be understanding of the fact that it isn’t easy,” Isla said, looking emotional.

  “If you do not wish to marry him—” Beatrice began.

  “I never said that,” Isla retorted quickly. “I never said that I would rather not marry him. It is only hard being rushed into it when I do not know him yet. Anyway, forget that we even spoke of it. I only meant to tell you that he is coming for lunch today and we are going to be taking that much-needed time to get to know one another.”

  Beatrice nodded but she stayed quiet, seeing that this was not easy for Isla.

  “I-I am sorry, Beatrice,” she said. “I did not mean to be rude or to speak too harshly. It is just difficult to be urged into a marriage without my own voice being heard in the matter.”

  “I understand,” Beatrice said. Then, she thought about it and realised that she really did not. “Actually, I suppose I could not possibly understand what you are going through. However, I can imagine that it could be distressing to have to marry someone that you did not choose. Even if you like him enough.”

  “Yes, that is it exactly. No matter how lovely he is, I did not choose him for myself,” Isla said, not looking at her.

  Beatrice thought back to the evening of the dinner gathering and the man that Isla had been speaking with. The friend of Lord Hawthorn. She could not help but wonder if Isla had left that evening with the same sadness that Beatrice had.

  The realisation that she could not continue the conversation with the man who had truly grasped her attention.

  Regardless of how Isla felt, she was moving forward with her marriage to Lord Hawthorn. It was the only choice and it was the acceptable thing to do. Lord Seton would never hear a word against it, even if Isla had tried to refuse.

  “I do hope that you find love with Lord Hawthorn before you are to be married. Honestly. It is unfair to expect you to wed a man for whom you have only a mild affection,” Beatrice said.

  “Thank you. I hope so as well. But you must be there. My mother is taking the girls to Aunt Mildred’s, is she not?” Isla asked, suddenly perking up.