His Unusual Governess

by Anne Herries

  ‘Do you indeed? Are you her guardian now?’

  Sarah flinched at the sarcasm in his tone. ‘No, I am not—and if you feel I have overstepped the mark I can …’ Her words died away, for she could not simply leave. She had promised Francesca she would stay.

  His gaze narrowed, nostrils flared as if in temper. ‘Going to run off and leave us again, are you?’

  ‘Perhaps if you would calm down a little I might explain why I felt it necessary to leave.’

  ‘It had better be good.’ He glared at her and then sat down in her chair. ‘I’m listening.’

  Sarah told him the tale Sir Roger had told her in his effort to blackmail her, leaving no sordid detail to his imagination. Then she paused and looked at him.

  ‘I thought that I might ruin Francesca’s chances. She has begged me to stay with her until and during her Season. I have, of course, told her the chance we take, but she says she does not care. You must be the judge of the situation, Lord Myers. I am prepared to risk it, but if you feel Francesca may suffer too much I shall withdraw.’

  ‘And do what? Run away and hide?’

  ‘No, not at all. I am determined that Sir Roger shall not win. I shall go home for a time—and then I may take a house in London for the Season.’

  ‘Francesca would want to know you. No …’ He frowned and Sarah’s heart sank—he meant to forbid her. ‘I have a better solution. You will become engaged and then in time you will marry me.’

  Sarah gasped, feeling the colour drain from her face. It was the last thing she’d expected. Her heart leaped with joy, but the feeling was quickly followed by one of doubt. She would be a fool to think that his proposal meant that he loved her. Yet he was prepared to do so much to save her from public scorn—why?

  ‘But you can’t … I do not see why you should make such a sacrifice for my sake.’

  ‘Who said it was for your sake?’ His eyebrows rose imperiously and her heart sank. His offer had nothing to do with love or affection, but was intended to deflect more scandal from Francesca. The pain struck deep into her heart. ‘I have reached the age where I need an heir, Sarah. You cannot be unaware that I find you attractive. I have already taken steps to protect you from unscrupulous men who might wish to force you to sell your mills—which in the minds of most people adds up to an interest on my part. It will solve everything neatly, do you not think?’

  ‘Perhaps … yes, I mean, no.’ Sarah’s mind was reeling from the shock and she hardly knew what she said. If he’d spoken of love, she would have been so happy, for then a marriage between them would have been all she could wish for. ‘Do you really want to marry the daughter of a low-born whore?’

  Her mind was in a whirl. Sometimes she’d felt he was interested in her as a woman he would like to make his mistress, but she’d sensed that he held a part of himself in reserve. She’d wondered if perhaps he’d suffered some reverse or heartbreak in the past. Was that why he was willing to make a marriage of convenience to save them all from scandal? Had he been so hurt that it was impossible for him to love? The thought pained her and made her want to take the hurt from him, because whatever he felt she loved him with all her heart—so much that she did not think she could bear to lose him.

  ‘You are a woman of sense, Sarah. I think we should do well together—and it will suit me to marry. This tale of Sir Roger’s—do you mean to simply accept it as the truth? For my part I think him a liar and a knave. Had it not been for his prompting Monks would never have thought of abducting Francesca.’

  ‘You think he might be lying? He said my uncle told him. I have written and hope to hear the truth from his hand.’ She caught her breath, her heart taking a dizzying somersault as she thought what it might be like to marry Rupert. She knew it would bring her happiness to be his wife and bear his children, even if she could never truly have his love.

  ‘I do not care if it is the truth,’ Rupert said flatly. ‘I’ve met whores who were more of a lady than some who call themselves by the name.’ His gaze narrowed. ‘Would it be so very hard to be my wife and bear my children, Sarah?’

  ‘No … of course not,’ she said, her breath expelling nervously. She must not betray herself for he would not want a clinging vine. She must remain the cool Miss Hardcastle despite the clamouring of her heart. ‘You know I need a husband I can trust and—and I like you very well. Are you sure you wish to? I am stubborn and can be quite difficult at times, I’m told.’

  ‘I imagine you can.’ He laughed softly in his throat. ‘I dare say I can manage you if I try. I should not want a woman who gave me all my own way. I need an equal, Sarah, and I believe you would match me in many ways.’

  ‘What of Francesca? You know I must see her safe and happy …’

  ‘Sir Freddie told me he has hopes of her. No doubt he will pet her and spoil her—and I dare say she will twist him round her little finger. That kind of relationship would not do for me. I want a woman of sense I can talk to about business as well as pleasure.’

  Sarah was silent. What he was offering her was not love, but affection, passion, at least for a time, and companionship. Well, she’d known that he did not particularly like or admire young women of his own class. Perhaps he had learned to distrust them for reasons of his own. Because of his past hurts, he’d decided that a woman of Sarah’s class might prove more trustworthy. He liked her, even desired her, but his emotions were not deeply involved. He would be her husband, give her children and a home and protect her from men like Sir Roger. She supposed it was enough. If she refused, she did not think she would have the chance of happiness again.

  ‘I thank you for your very kind offer … Rupert,’ she said and a shy smile hovered on her lips. ‘If you are perfectly content with the idea, I shall accept with pleasure.’

  ‘At these times one is supposed to declare undying love, but I shall not bore you with that nonsense,’ Rupert said, a mocking twist to his mouth. ‘We’ll announce it in the morning. Then I’ll leave you for a while …’ He laughed as she looked startled. ‘I am not prepared to let the rogue who shot at you get away with his crime, Sarah. You might have died—and that means he must pay. Also, I intend to have it out with Sir Roger—make him apologise—and then I shall set private agents on to discovering the truth of your conception. If your mother truly was a whore, something caused her to be that way. I think you would like to know her story—and if you have another family somewhere. My agents are already working on your behalf and I dare say the mystery is halfway to being solved before we ask.’

  ‘You would do that for me?’

  ‘Once we are married, you will discover just how much I am prepared to do for the lady who honours me by becoming my wife.’

  Sarah nodded, her throat too tight to speak for a moment. He was such a fine honourable gentleman. ‘If what you discover is too terrible …’

  He touched his fingers to her lips and then hesitated before bending to kiss her lips. It was a very soft, sweet kiss, but it left her feeling weak at the knees.

  ‘You will not say foolish things. I am a man, not a boy, Sarah. I know what I want, believe me.’

  ‘Yes … I have thought you wanted me …’ She could feel the heat in her cheeks as she met his eyes. ‘Your … kind feelings were returned.’

  He flicked her cheek with his fingertips. ‘I rather thought they might be or I should not have spoken. We shall do very well together. Now I should leave. If someone sees me coming from your room, you will have to put up with odd looks from the ladies and the occasional wink from the men. We shall announce our engagement tomorrow.’

  ‘Very well, Rupert,’ she said, her heart racing despite her controlled speech and steady manner. ‘As you wish.’

  ‘We must arrange something for Francesca while we are away on our wedding trip, which need only be a few days to buy you a wardrobe in Paris. Perhaps Merrivale will come down—or Sir Freddie may take her off to stay with his mother.’

  ‘We must also think of John.’

/>   ‘He seems to like Dupree. He may take over as his tutor until he leaves for school—and of course the boy can live with us until he leaves home. I am sure you would always welcome him during the holidays.’

  ‘You seem to have worked everything out. What if I had refused?’

  ‘Then I should have been devastated,’ he said and gave her a mocking smile. ‘Fortunately, I was able to persuade you it was for your own good.’

  Sarah’s expression altered, took fire. ‘You sound like my father when I did something that pleased him.’

  ‘Ah, I have struck a spark.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Good. I like it when you fight back, Sarah. It would be a mistake to let me have my own way all the time.’

  ‘I have no intention of it.’

  ‘I am very pleased to hear it, and now, my dearest Sarah, I must leave you—or I shall be tempted to sweep you up into my arms and carry you to that tempting bed …’

  Sarah gasped. Before she could recover her breath, he had opened the door, let himself out and closed it behind him. She locked it immediately and heard him laugh.

  He was an arrogant rogue and altogether too sure of himself. His plans were so neat that she thought he must have been plotting them for a while.

  Yet he might have his pick of the young ladies looking for husbands. He was handsome, rich in his own right and charming—why should he choose her?

  He wanted an heir and he wasn’t interested in a girl straight out of the schoolroom. He clearly had an aversion to women of his class. Rupert clearly felt a marriage of convenience to a woman he could trust would suit him well—and Sarah would be a fool to regret her bargain. He’d given her so much already and she could only think that being his wife would bring its own rewards. He might break her heart one day, but that was a chance worth taking.

  Smiling to herself, Sarah removed her robe and slipped into bed. Before long she was sound asleep.

  Rupert savoured his brandy and reflected on the future. He had gained part of his objective, but there was more to achieve. Sarah seemed content to accept his plans and he had much to do, much to sort out before he could relax and reveal all of them to the woman he intended to be his wife.

  Had he truly considered making her his mistress? Only for a short time at the start; it had not taken him long to see her true worth or the potential of a match between them. Sarah might not like the idea of selling her father’s property at the start, but if the right buyer could be found it would be the best solution. Her fortune could be joined with his and used for the benefit of them all. As yet he had not spoken to Merrivale about Cavendish Park. It would one day be John’s inheritance, of course, but that was a long way off and the marquess was far from able to care for it, as it ought to be cared for. If Rupert did not take permanent charge it would dwindle into nothing by the time the lad was grown.

  Of course he would need Sarah’s agreement to his plan, but he thought she might be willing to listen. He would bring the subject up once their engagement was public knowledge and she had become used to the idea.

  Sipping his brandy, he lay back against the pillows and smiled. Yes, it was all going his way, but he had to sort out this business of whoever had taken a shot at Sarah—and settle with Sir Roger. Not a pleasant business, but it had to be done. Either the rogue would take his punishment like a man—or he would have to be killed in a duel.

  Either way, he must protect the woman he loved.

  Sarah dressed and went down to breakfast. Some of the gentlemen were at table and rose with alacrity as she entered, making her welcome and enquiring after her health with such sincerity that she was overwhelmed by their kindness.

  ‘We were all so sorry to learn of your setback,’ Lord Phillips said. ‘Such an upset—with Miss Francesca being involved in an accident. I dare say you found that distressing?’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ Sarah agreed and smiled at him. ‘However, she was just a little shaken by her experience and will, I am sure, be herself today.’

  ‘I was mightily relieved to hear it,’ Sir Freddie said. ‘If no one minds I’ve decided to stay on for a couple of days … talk to Rupert when I see him. I believe he went riding early this morning, had some important business, I understand.’

  ‘Did he?’ Sarah’s cheeks were warm, as she wondered whether Rupert had said anything to his guests about their engagement, but as neither gentleman mentioned it she thought perhaps he intended it later. ‘When do you leave, Lord Phillips? Or have you decided to stay on, too?’

  ‘I wish that I might, Miss Hardcastle.’ The look he gave her was so warm and admiring that Sarah’s heart jolted. She had thought he might like her quite well at the start and he had sent messages of goodwill and flowers while she was ill. ‘Had it not been such a difficult time—but you have been ill. I must keep another engagement, but I hope we shall meet again soon—should you visit London or perhaps Bath.’

  ‘I do not think there is any intention of it as yet,’ Sarah replied. ‘We are here until Christmas, I believe—but we shall certainly be in London next year.’

  ‘Then I may call on you before Christmas,’ Lord Phillips replied, looking oddly shy. ‘Sometimes one wishes one did not have so many engagements.’

  He was a gentleman and it restored Sarah’s pride to know that any feelings he might have had for her were not motivated by her wealth. He liked her for herself.

  Sarah smiled and murmured something appropriate. She was not sure if he was hinting that he would like to make her an offer if the circumstances were more auspicious. Clearly, he felt she was not well enough to deal with a matter of that nature now.

  Rupert had not let such notions weigh with him. He’d made his intentions very clear and, perhaps in something of an emotional state, she’d accepted his offer. A night of rest and reflection had not changed her mind, though she was aware that her position was not ideal.

  She would be a fool to demand too much. Her ideas of loving and being loved were perhaps the dreams a young girl might cherish, but did not apply to a woman who was past five and twenty. No, she must accept passion and companionship and not look for romantic love.

  Lord Phillips rose to his feet, having finished his breakfast. He bowed his head to Sarah and said he hoped they would meet again soon, took his leave of Sir Freddie and went out. She heard his voice addressing someone and thought he was asking for his trunk to be brought down.

  ‘Now we are alone, Miss Hardcastle …’ Sir Freddie looked at her a little uncertainly across the breakfast table. He cleared his throat. ‘I was thinking … I mean, I should very much like to speak to Miss Francesca this morning. Do you think she is well enough to see me?’

  ‘Yes, I am very sure she will be,’ Sarah said and smiled at him. ‘Indeed, I think your failure to do so might be more distressing than anything else that has happened to her.’

  He looked struck, then his eyes lit up. ‘Do you say so? By Jove! Then there’s hope for me?’

  ‘You must ask Francesca,’ Sarah replied with a smile. ‘But I think everything may be as we should all wish.’

  ‘You are an angel. She told me how wonderful you were …’ He got to his feet. ‘I think I’ll go up and change. Want to look my best, you know.’

  ‘I’ll speak to Francesca. Shall we say half-past the hour of ten in the small back parlour?’

  ‘Thank you. Thank you …’ He bowed to her and hurried off and Sarah heard him speak to someone in the hall. The next moment the door of the breakfast parlour opened and Rupert entered. He had been riding and, as she looked at him, she saw a small cut at the side of his mouth. It had stopped bleeding, but swollen a little.

  ‘Rupert …’ She got to her feet and went to him. ‘Are you all right? Did you have a fall?’

  ‘No, I called on James Monks. We had a fight. I think you could say that he came off worst. It was my intention to thrash him and I did—but he threw a lucky punch.’

  ‘I cannot pretend to be sorry that you gave him a good hiding,’ Sarah said. ‘But I t
hink your lip may be sore for a while.’

  ‘It was better than calling him out—besides, that honour is reserved for gentlemen and he does not deserve the name. I do not imagine he will bother you or Francesca again.’

  ‘No, I should imagine not,’ Sarah said and laughed. ‘Well, since you are no worse, I shall go up and speak to Francesca. Sir Freddie intends to speak to her this morning.’

  ‘Yes, he told me. I warned him that Merrivale will not think of allowing the marriage before she’s had a Season—but there’s no reason they shouldn’t have an understanding, is there?’

  ‘None, as far as I am concerned. The marquess would not forbid her—would he?’

  ‘Oh, I think Sir Freddie is eminently suitable. He actually knows Merrivale quite well. I imagine there can be no objection. He will have to be told and I expect he will come down. The engagement might be announced at Christmas.’

  ‘I think that should make them both content. She is still young in years, though as sensible as girls much older.’

  ‘Your influence, I imagine?’ His eyebrows rose.

  ‘Oh, in part, I dare say. She has a lovely nature and might have been taken advantage of by that rogue had I not been here.’

  ‘Then I dare say Merrivale will forgive the small deception.’

  ‘I suppose he must know?’

  ‘He will need to be informed, but I shall vouch for you, Sarah.’ Rupert’s tone was teasing. ‘Do not look so anxious, my love. I shall tell him of our engagement when I write—and that reminds me, I must give you a ring. You will, of course, have your pick of the family heirlooms when we are married, but I am not sure of your preference—emeralds, rubies or sapphires for your ring? Or do you prefer plain diamonds?’

  ‘I’ve never worn rings, though I have Mama’s,’ Sarah said with a frown. ‘I think something fairly simple would suit me—perhaps diamonds in the shape of a daisy. I think it is possible to purchase such a ring, is it not?’

  ‘Perfectly possible. I shall send to my jeweller in London. In the meantime, perhaps you would care to wear this?’ He took a small box from his pocket, in which, when it was opened, nestled a plain gold band set with one rather fine diamond. ‘This was my mother’s wedding ring. She stopped wearing it before she died, because her finger became too thin. You must have your own rings—but for the moment …’