Breaking the Governess's Rules

by Michelle Styles

  Annie reluctantly came out of the back kitchen. Lines of worry were etched on her round face, but she appeared far happier and content than she had in Newcastle. Had it not been for Louisa, he might have missed her.

  ‘Miss Sims, what has happened? What do you have to show me?’ Jonathon spoke in an even voice, one that he might use to gentle a horse or when he had to deal with Arthur’s screaming night terrors.

  ‘I should’ve told Mr Thompson afore now. It were wrong of me but I wanted to be away from that awful place. And I weren’t sure if he would be as kind as that lady.’

  ‘Which lady?’

  ‘You know, Miss Sibson.’ Annie drew designs in the dust with the toe of her boot. ‘She is a right canny lass. I was scared I was going to turn out like … well … like some folk.’

  ‘Miss Sibson is a friend,’ Jonathon said gravely.

  There was a distinct whine of self-pity to the woman’s voice. ‘Me da said that straight away when I told him, like. Annie, me girl, he said—you tell his lordship and all will be made right.’

  ‘Tell me what?’

  Annie burst out into fresh sobs, but, giving a glance at her father, she straightened her back and reached into the pocket of her voluminous apron.

  ‘I think Trevor had something to do with the missing things up at the big house. He boasted something fierce about how he kept happening on things. Before I left, I found one of them snuffbox things.’ Annie brought out a little gold box. ‘Me da says it must belong to you as it has the Chesterholm crest on it.’

  ‘There is a substantial reward for this box.’

  ‘You see, my girl, it pays to be honest.’ Sims puffed out his chest.

  Annie placed it in his hand and gave a small curtsy.

  ‘Did your man have a name?’

  ‘He called himself Trevor, Trevor James. Said he were a horse trader, but he weren’t a very good one. Too clever by half for a start, if you get my meaning,’ Sims said, tapping his nose. ‘Kept saying he knew this peer or that one. Boasting with a manner far too fine for his britches.’

  Annie wiped her eyes with a corner of her apron. ‘It weren’t his real name, Da. It were Trevor Brown. I found a letter from his wife. It’s why I left. A wife and three children. That man lied to me.’

  ‘His lordship understands, dear.’ Her mother put a comforting arm about the girl. ‘You ain’t done nothing wrong. Just followed your heart a bit too much, a bit like our Mary. Men are like that sometimes. It is why I say to get that ring on your finger afore anything.’

  Jonathon closed his hand around the snuffbox. Had Louisa received the same sort of well-meaning advice in her hour of need?

  ‘Did he say who he met at the Grange?’ Jonathon asked before Annie could begin a litany of self-pity.

  Slowly Annie shook her head. ‘I was crazy in love. He promised me all sorts of fine things and then I found myself in a tiny room in Newcastle where all I could see was the privy. It weren’t what I thought it was, see.’

  Didn’t think? Or did not want to know? Annie was Nanny Hawks’s niece, but… Jonathon tapped his riding crop against his thigh. How much did she know? It was clear that she was unwilling to confide in him.

  ‘Shall I bring Miss Sibson to see you?’

  Annie’s cheeks grew bright pink. ‘Would you? I should like to thank her.’

  ‘We all would. Without Miss Sibson, I doubt our Annie would have come home,’ Mrs Sims said.

  ‘I will see what I can do,’ Jonathon said, a plan beginning to form in his brain. Two things at once. Louisa could discover the secret Annie was hiding and Louisa and he would have time alone, uninterrupted.

  Louisa held the ball in her hand and eyed the bowling green and the distance to the jack. Several hours later and her mouth still gently ached from Jonathon’s kiss. Nothing seemed to distract her mind from those few moments in his study and, what was worse, the woman she was now appeared no less immune to Jonathon’s attractions than the girl she once had been. It was just as well that he had departed on business as it had allowed her time to recover.

  ‘Is this an easy shot, Miss Sibson?’ Miss Blandish called out from where she stood on the edge of the bowling green as Louisa went up on her toes, getting ready to roll her bowl.

  ‘Shh, Miss Blandish, Miss Sibson is trying to concentrate. Don’t you know anything about bowls?’ Lord Furniss remonstrated. He turned towards the rest of the group. ‘Everyone, quiet, please! Miss Sibson is about to bowl her final ball of the match.’

  ‘Miss Sibson plays ever so much better than I do,’ Miss Blandish cried.

  Louisa watched as the bowl, rather than heading straight for the jack, veered off to the left, missing it altogether.

  Miss Blandish gave a pleased twirl of her pink parasol. ‘You have won, Lord Furniss. Miss Sibson has missed.’

  ‘Bad luck, Miss Sibson,’ Lord Furniss shouted, giving Miss Blandish a hard look. ‘You must try again … in silence. I have no wish to win in this manner. It is terribly unsporting. Perhaps I could show you how to turn the bowl more to your advantage.’

  ‘I would not dream of it, sir. You won.’ Louisa dropped a small curtsy. ‘It was an honour to play against such a worthy opponent.’ Lord Furniss turned scarlet.

  ‘Really, Miss Sibson, you are quite the expert.’ Miss Blandish’s tone dripped honey-laced jealousy as she handed Louisa a cup of tea. ‘And you in that dress. Quite up to the minute, isn’t it?’

  ‘I used to be quite the expert at bowls. Margaret Ponsby-Smythe and I played quite frequently, but my eye is not what it used to be and bowls is a sedate occupation,’ Louisa said smoothly as a plan began to form in her mind. Miss Blandish was developing a tendre for Lord Furniss, something that was definitely to be encouraged. ‘We should have the next match.’

  ‘I am not good enough. I can’t spin the ball like Lord Furniss does.’ Miss Blandish gave another twirl of her parasol. ‘I rarely play these days.’

  ‘Playing bowls is one of life’s great pleasures,’ Lord Furniss proclaimed. ‘How could anyone give it up? I play whenever I can.’

  Miss Blandish shook her head. ‘I am not sure I even remember all the rules.’

  ‘Susan prefers to practise her singing,’ Mrs Blandish said, taking an overly refined sip of tea. ‘It is such a worthy pursuit for an accomplished young lady.’

  ‘But she makes everyone’s ears ache.’ Miss Nella put her hands over her ears in a dramatic pose. ‘Scales morning, noon and night as if that will make some aristocrat fall in love with her!’

  ‘Nella!’

  ‘I could teach you like I taught Margaret Ponsby-Smythe, Miss Blandish,’ Louisa offered as Miss Blandish’s cheeks flamed scarlet. If she could get Miss Blandish playing bowls, perhaps Lord Furniss would transfer his affections. She hated playing matchmaker, but Miss Daphne would be disappointed if she actually refused Lord Furniss outright. Redirecting his attention was by far the best course. ‘It is very easy to learn, Miss Blandish. The rules are far from complex. Within a few hours you will prove a formidable opponent to Lord Furniss.’

  ‘I would like that,’ Miss Blandish whispered, ducking her head. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I keep forgetting you were a governess to Lord Chesterholm’s family,’ Lord Furniss said, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. ‘I must say that playing bowls brings up a tremendous thirst.’

  ‘Miss Milton also plays well,’ Nella said in a singsong voice. ‘It is something governesses do. It used to be the highlight of my day. We played and played, rather than learning boring things like deportment and the proper conversation one has with an eligible man, like Mama was lecturing about in the carriage all the way here. Boring!’

  ‘Nella!’ Her mother said. ‘That is quite enough of that particular conversation.’

  ‘Why?’ Nella put her hands on her hips and faced her mother. ‘Why are the interesting topics of conversation never proper? If Susan wants to make herself a ninny over a man, I am sure that it is no concern of mine. Even
if she chooses the right man to be a ninny over and, knowing Susan, she won’t.’

  ‘Nella!’ Her mother’s cap shook as Miss Elliot began to speak very loudly about the weather to Lord Furniss.

  Louisa’s lips twitched upwards at Nella’s intelligence and she studiously avoid catching either Miss Daphne’s or Lord Furniss’s eye.

  ‘I understand that Margaret Ponsby-Smythe is quite the bowls player,’ Mrs Blandish remarked into the silence. ‘Did you teach her, Miss Sibson? Or was her brother involved?’

  ‘Lord Chesterholm is quite a keen player,’ Lord Furniss remarked. ‘We often play.’

  Louisa suddenly wished that she had not had her corset tightened this morning. She used to take her charges out for a bit of fresh air and peace and quiet. And with Margaret, there was always the chance that Jonathon would happen along and put his arm about her waist under the guise of correcting her shot. Louisa forced her mind away from that memory. She refused to remember his touch and yet everything she did, even a simple game of bowls, brought it back.

  ‘Do you know the answer?’ Mrs Blandish rattled her tea cup with an imperious air. ‘From whom should my daughter seek instruction?’

  ‘I am really not sure who taught Margaret,’ Louisa confessed as everyone turned towards her. Silently she cursed. She had made the situation worse. Everyone was looking at her with expectant expressions as if she was hiding something.

  ‘I wonder where Lord Chesterholm is. He would know the answer to the question,’ Mrs Blandish said, finishing her drink and standing up.

  ‘What question should I answer?’ Jonathon’s rich voice floated out over the bowling green. ‘You must forgive my absence, but duty called.’

  Louisa turned her head and saw him striding towards the group with his dogs at his heels. His hat was pushed back slightly and his brown cutaway coat was cut to highlight his shoulders. His tan-striped Cossack trousers were moulded to his legs. Heat curled about her insides. He had no right to look that good.

  ‘We understand entirely, Lord Chesterholm. It takes a great deal of knowledge to run an estate like this one,’ Mrs Blandish simpered like a frumenty kettle. ‘Perhaps you would be so good as to settle the dispute. Who should my daughter Susan have as a bowls teacher?’

  Jonathon’s eyes turned a sparkling green. ‘Furniss should teach Miss Blandish. His ability to spin the ball is second to none.’

  ‘You are far too kind.’ Lord Furniss made a bow and he gave Miss Blandish a speculative glance. ‘But I am not certain.’

  ‘Would you please, Lord Furniss?’ Louisa said quickly. ‘It was your skill that won the game.’

  ‘If you insist, dear Miss Sibson, I will do it for you,’ Lord Furniss said.

  ‘Then it is all settled,’ Jonathon said with a bow. ‘Lord Furniss will undertake to instruct Miss Blandish in the finer points of bowls.’

  Louisa sucked in her breath, but no one else appeared to notice the innuendo. She saw with relief as Miss Blandish accepted the idea with enthusiasm. Why was it that Jonathon possessed the ability to make something as innocent as bowls sound like a seduction in a harem?

  ‘Are your skills becoming rusty, Miss Sibson?’ Jonathon asked. ‘Do you need to obtain some instruction from a master?’

  ‘My skills are just fine, Lord Chesterholm,’ Louisa replied with crushing firmness.

  ‘And yet you lost this match. You should be careful or you may find your reputation slipping through your fingers.’

  ‘My reputation remains as it has been—spotless.’

  ‘Or are you simply afraid to risk your reputation with me?’ Jonathon tossed the jack ball in the air and expertly caught it. ‘Surely you can play a simple game without fear of compromise.’

  ‘I believe Lord Furniss wishes to instruct Miss Blandish on the finer points of bowls now.’ Louisa gave Jonathon a severe look.

  The corners of Jonathon’s mouth twitched. ‘I will yield the green then.’

  ‘And I will get the bowls set up while Lord Furniss explains the rules to Miss Blandish.’

  Louisa began to carefully set up the bowls again, taking time to place each ball precisely as she tried to marshal her thoughts. Every time she glanced over, Jonathon was watching with a sardonic expression. By the time she had finished, she knew that she had to do more than stand there and make polite conversation while Jonathon played increasingly intricate word games whose sole purpose was to set her off balance.

  ‘Miss Daphne, are you certain that the black shawl is the correct thing? I may have made a mistake when I packed the basket,’ Louisa said, thinking quickly. The excuse was paper thin, but hopefully Miss Daphne would understand the unspoken message. ‘Perhaps your white one would have been better for an excursion like this one, considering the weather.’

  Miss Daphne gave her a significant look. ‘My white shawl is one of my favourites and you are quite right, the black would be far too heavy for this sort of weather.’

  ‘It is utterly my fault.’ Louisa heaved a sigh of relief. Miss Daphne had guessed her purpose and with any luck would detain Jonathon with questions about bowls.

  ‘Then you should rectify it immediately. And dear Nella may keep me company.’

  ‘It would be my pleasure.’ Louisa set off at a quick walk. When she was out of sight of the group, she ran.

  Jonathon waited at the bottom of the stairs. It was only a matter of time before Louisa appeared. Her little act of having to fetch Miss Daphne’s shawl fooled no one, least of all him. However, it did show that his plans were progressing. If she was entirely indifferent, Louisa would have stayed and flirted with Furniss to prove her point.

  ‘My lord, this arrived for you.’ Reynolds held out a piece of thick cream paper.

  Jonathon broke the seal and frowned. Venetia was on the move. Finally. She and Margaret planned on arriving tomorrow. Jonathon tore the note into pieces as light footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  ‘Jonathon?’

  ‘Miss Daphne sent a message—her black shawl will do admirably. You must not hurry on her account as Nella is keeping her entertained.’ Jonathon concentrated on Louisa rather than the note.

  ‘Something has happened, Jonathon. Do not bother denying it. I recognise the look,’ she said. ‘Has something happened to Arthur? What are you worried about? You did not come back in just to give me the message.’

  ‘Arthur is fine.’ Jonathon caught her arm and led her towards the terrace. ‘Or at least he was this morning when we breakfasted together. He asked after you. You made quite a conquest there.’

  ‘I will go to see him soon.’ Her hands twisted the lacy shawl. ‘I had no wish to disrupt the nursery routine.’

  ‘He would like to see you.’ Jonathon frowned. Something was making Louisa hesitate. She used to love children. He shook his head. ‘I will let Nanny Hawks know to expect you.’

  ‘Then what is it?’

  ‘You could always tell when something was wrong. Have the others been making comments as well?’

  ‘No one has said anything.’ She drew a deep breath, making her chest fill out agreeably. ‘Your face was thunderous when you arrived at the bowls and even blacker when I came down the stairs. I recognised the expression. It was precisely the same as when you had Bee’s Wing put down.’

  ‘I am flattered you remembered,’ Jonathon replied. ‘But nothing was bothering me at the bowling green. You are reading too much into my expression. A lesser man would think you cared.’

  ‘And he’d be right. I hate to think of anyone in distress.’

  When he had arranged the house party, he’d thought it would be simple. Louisa would tumble into his bed, and he would be able to banish Venetia without Louisa being unduly disturbed. And he would be free to spend time with Arthur. Keep the parts of his life separate, just as he had always done. Now he discovered Louisa had guessed something was wrong and he wanted to share, but he also wanted to keep her from getting hurt. And that was an unforeseen problem.

  ‘Louisa, is m
y heart supposed to be touched?’ Jonathon hardened his voice. It was far better for her to be slightly hurt now than to face the worry and fear of his stepmother. After Margaret was safely in his custody and his stepmother gone, he’d confess, but for right now, he had to keep Louisa in ignorance. ‘Why did you leave the bowls if you were so concerned about me?’

  Louisa concentrated on the summer house at the end of the terrace.

  ‘Miss Daphne helpfully sent me for her shawl.’ She paused and her cheeks coloured. ‘There was little need for me to stay.’

  ‘You always could think on your feet.’ He gave a little shake of his head. ‘Would you care to share the true reason that you decided to leave, or shall I guess? You might wish to forget the past, Louisa, but you can’t help remembering it and what we shared.’

  ‘I …’ She took a deep steadying breath. ‘We can bandy words about if it will make you feel better, but it will solve nothing. Yes, I remember, and, yes, I kissed you this morning.’

  ‘That is hardly my fault.’ He put out his hand and touched her cheek. ‘Nothing happens unless you wish it too.’

  ‘Where were you?’

  ‘I went to see Annie Sims. It proved to be an interesting visit.’

  ‘Was Annie well received when she returned home?’ Louisa asked.

  ‘Well enough.’ He gave a slight shrug.

  ‘Are you trying to say that I should never have brought her to your attention? You promised me, Jonathon.’ Louisa put her hand on his sleeve. ‘No harm would come to her.’

  ‘Why should you care about what happens to that woman?’ Jonathon stared at her. ‘A woman you have spoken no more than ten words to?’

  ‘I have been in the same situation. I know what the reception can be like.’ Her eyes became haunted and she bit her lip as if she was afraid to say more. ‘I am not devoid of human feeling. Annie was scared to return home; knowing how people can behave, I do not blame her. Did her father beat her?’