A Governess for the Brooding Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

“Thank you for making the girls ready, Mrs Wells,” Georgette said without any measure of warmth in her voice. “I shall take them now,” she said and reached for the little girls’ hands without making any further reference to their nurse.

  Georgette did not even bid the nurse good morning but simply took Eleri and Ffion by the hand and walked them from the room, not once looking back towards Mrs Wells.

  “Tell me, have you been to the church with His Grace before?” Georgette gently questioned them as they slowly made their way through the great corridors to the entrance hall.

  “Yes, Miss Darrington,” Eleri said, and Ffion simply nodded. “And we shall not speak, we promise.”

  “Oh, Eleri,” Georgette said sadly, “you must not believe that I think as Mrs Wells does. I think that you and Ffion have such wonderful voices that I should never tire of hearing them. You speak so beautifully but, if speaking beautifully is something which ordinarily finds you in a little trouble with His Grace, then it might be better if you just spoke to me.”

  “Yes, Miss Darrington,” Eleri said.

  “But does it get you into trouble?” Georgette said, keen to know a little something about the relationship which existed between the Duke and the children before she got into the carriage.

  “We do not know, Miss Darrington. We have been told not to say anything in front of him, and so we do not.”

  Georgette truly did not know what to say. She did not want the children to be treated so appallingly and to think that they could never open their mouths because their voices simply were not good enough. And yet, at the same time, she did not want to encourage them into doing something that would inevitably find them in some sort of trouble and make them feel sad or even afraid. If only she knew what to do about it all.

  “I must say, girls, you both look very beautiful this morning. These are very lovely little gowns. Tell me, are they your Sunday gowns?”

  “Yes, Miss Darrington,” Eleri said.

  Georgette was pleased to see that both girls had enjoyed the compliment and felt her heart swell when she saw little Ffion looking down at her pretty blue and white gown with some pride. It was such a sweet thing to see how the almost silent little girls flourished with the very smallest amount of care and kindness.

  They were in no way spoiled little girls; they were not the sort of children who took such praise as an entitlement. No, they had been raised well and with such great care by someone with good and simple values.

  Georgette thought back to her silent and, initially at least, inadvertent eavesdropping of just a few days before and wondered who the children’s mother was to the Duke. As Georgette had left the schoolroom for the day, the girls having been handed over into the dubious care of their nurse until the following morning, Georgette had heard very slightly raised voices coming from the drawing room as she made her way past.

  Pausing for a moment, Georgette looked hurriedly all about her for any sign of a witness before she stood a little closer to the door and, despite everything she had ever been taught, strained to listen. Her heart had thundered wildly with the expectation that she would be discovered at any moment and yet, despite this, she could not tear herself away.

  When Georgette heard the strident female voice declare that the Duke had hardened his heart to them, she had known by instinct they were discussing Eleri and Ffion. It made her heart quicken further still, and she closed her eyes as if to concentrate harder on hearing.

  “Did you hate her so much that you are allowing your hatred to wash over two innocent little girls? Have they not lost enough in this world?”

  Who was it that he had hated so much? Surely it could only have been Eleri and Ffion’s mother. But who was she to the Duke that he hated her so? And how could that very hatred have spilled over onto two such helpless and wonderful little children?

  Although she could still hear voices from within, they seemed to have lowered just a little. Finally coming to her senses and realizing that she could very easily be discovered any moment, Georgette had hurried away without finding out anything about the woman who had spoken to the Duke in such a forthright manner. Surely only a relation could speak such for anybody else would undoubtedly have been thrown from Draycott Hall.

  When they finally reached the great door of Draycott Hall, Georgette looked over the little girls once more, checking that everything was in place. Their little blue bonnets were straight and their gowns immaculate.

  “Well then, let us go to church,” Georgette said brightly and was pleased to see that both girls smiled back at her response.

  Chapter 11

  Just as Georgette had feared, the carriage ride did, for the most part, proceed in silence. When she and the girls had walked down the stone steps towards the carriage, the Duke was also making his way from quite another direction altogether. Georgette had briefly wondered where he had come from before surmising that he had likely been into the stables for some reason or other.

  “Allow me,” the Duke said gruffly and held out his hand for her to take so that he might help her into the carriage.

  Once again, Georgette was rather surprised by his behaviour. After all, the coach driver had been ready and waiting to help her in and, once the Duke had seen that she was safely in the carriage, he stood to one side as the driver lifted and handed the children in.

  Georgette thought it such a strange thing that a man who did not even bother to say good morning was so keen to help her into the carriage. She really did wonder at the man’s character and if she would ever truly know what it was that passed through his mind.

  When he climbed into the carriage and sat alone on the seat opposite Georgette and the girls, she rather thought that nobody would ever know what it was that ran through the Duke of Draycott’s mind. There was something about him which seemed so very apart from everybody else. It was not simply a matter of his title and elevated status, she was sure. It was as if he himself thought that he was so very separate. In truth, she did not even think it was an arrogant thought, but rather a very sad one.

  Ffion’s tiny hand in her own finally pulled Georgette from her musings. Whilst Eleri sat quite contentedly looking out of the window, her tiny body sitting a little sideways on the seat to accommodate her observations, Ffion obviously felt the weight of atmosphere settle about her. Without any other movement, the little girl had gently wriggled her hand into her governess’ and, when Georgette took the little hand and gave it a squeeze, she elicited no response whatsoever. It was almost as if Ffion needed the comfort but did not want the Duke, sitting opposite, to witness it.

  Once again, Georgette was drawn into thoughts of the curious relationship between the little girls and the Duke of Draycott.

  The Duke seemed to sit like a statue, comfortable in his own the presence, his silence rather more natural than determined. Georgette could not help thinking that he looked very smart indeed in his spotless tan coloured breaches, gleaming brown knee boots, and deep brown tailcoat and matching waistcoat. The crisp white necktie of his shirt was rather high collared, as was the neck of his waistcoat. It rather gave him the appearance of sitting up very straight and tall. The stance also made him appear somewhat imposing; intimidating even, although his countenance was neither of those things. Rather, he seemed simply to be at rest; at one with his own thoughts.

  With the flicker of his eyes, Georgette knew that he was aware of her close study of him and, feeling her cheeks flush, she hurriedly looked away from him and out of the window. She remained that way for several minutes, wishing that they would arrive at the church. Whilst Daisy had claimed it to be ten minutes, Georgette thought the journey felt so very much longer. Of course, discomfort rather had a habit of distorting time.

  Georgette maintained her surveillance of the countryside until she felt Ffion squirm a little at her side. Immediately looking down at the child, she could see that her head had dropped, and she was looking rather blindly at her lap. Casting her eyes up just a little, Georgette coul
d see that the Duke was staring quite fixedly at the little girl. He was so intent upon his study of her that he did not this time recognize that Georgette was looking at him with equal intensity.

  Under such scrutiny, it was little wonder that Ffion felt so uncomfortable. However, Georgette could see nothing of disdain or dislike in the Duke’s face. He seemed to be staring at the child almost absently, looking at her but not quite looking at her at the same time. And his countenance was one of such sadness that Georgette found she was holding her breath for a few moments. In her heart, she was simply hoping that he would look away so that she did not feel compelled to witness whatever it was that had him so affected.

  Gently, so gently, Georgette squeezed Ffion’s little hand. Above all things, she had wanted the little girl to know that she was not alone in this. Georgette was there, and she understood. If only she could convey to the child by a simple squeeze of the hand that she, unlike the previous governesses, would never leave her.

  “Have you ever been to Oxfordshire previously, Miss Darrington?” The question came so suddenly that Georgette almost gasped.

  “No, Your Grace. I have always lived in London and, whilst I have visited many counties, I have never before come to Oxfordshire.”

  “And what do you think of the countryside? After all, there is little of it to be had in London, is there not?” He seemed to be most determinedly making conversation with her.

  Perhaps he had, after all, realized that she had witnessed him staring at Ffion. Perhaps it was simply his way of distracting her from what she had seen. His conversation seemed really rather strained, almost lacking in confidence somehow. Rather than being a genuine enquiry, Georgette could not help thinking it felt rather more like general small talk. It was as if he suddenly found himself feeling uncomfortable in so small a space with the new governess and was trying to cover it over with conversation. For a moment, Georgette felt rather sorry for him.

  “In truth, Your Grace, I have always thought myself something of a town dweller. But I must admit that the countryside here is really rather beautiful. And the grounds of Draycott Hall are really very fine indeed,” Georgette spoke in as level a tone as she could manage. In truth, she did not want to appear overly enthusiastic for fear that he would think she was simply speaking to please him.

  “So, you have not been at all put off by the remoteness of your new surroundings, Miss Darrington?” he said, and she rather thought that his question this time did at least have some little thought behind it.

  In truth, he seemed as if he wanted to at least rule out the isolation of her surroundings as something which might, eventually, cause her to leave her position.

  “Not at all, Your Grace,” Georgette said, fighting an urge to tell him that it was not the isolation of her surroundings but rather the isolation in terms of human contact which was rather the greater thing.

  After all, had it not already been made clear to her that the Duke of Draycott was little interested in the good or bad relations which existed between his staff? For the time being at least, Georgette would rather think better of it and say nothing.

  “That is good,” he said, almost to himself as he nodded his head quite thoroughly. “I think the remoteness of Draycott Hall has proved rather an insurmountable inconvenience to your predecessors.” He looked directly at her, his eyes holding hers for a moment in a way which almost made her mouth drop open.

  However, Georgette held her countenance and bearing most steadily and nodded thoughtfully at him.

  She rather thought that the remoteness of Draycott Hall was simply given to him as a polite reason by her predecessors rather than there being an ounce of truth in it.

  Georgette silently waited for him to say more and, when he did not, she felt a little awkward. He had turned from her and had begun to look out of the window, and Georgette had to fight the urge to fill the silence. After all, he was the Duke, and it would not do for her to try to lead the conversation in any way. Furthermore, she rather thought that he had decided against any further conversation at that moment, and so she decided that it was best for her to simply accept it.

  Just moments later, Georgette felt the change in speed as the horses began to slow and the driver gradually drew the carriage to a halt. She could see that they had pulled up just outside the churchyard of a really very beautiful little village church.

  Georgette leaned forward a little to look out of the window and could see that the tiny graveyard held numerous little headstones, some falling this way and that as if they had been there for many, many years. The churchyard was beautifully attended, with neat lawns and immaculate shrubbery.

  The driver appeared suddenly at the window and, as he hastily opened the door and reached in to take the first of the children, she rather hoped that it would be him, and not the Duke, who would help her out of the carriage.

  Of course, once the children had been placed safely on the ground, the driver instinctively leaned into the carriage to assist Georgette. It came as a great relief to her for reasons she could not quite get a firm grasp upon. However, as soon as she had been helped down and had gathered up the children, she felt herself relax a good deal.

  The church service would, undoubtedly, go on for some time, and there would be very little need for her and the Duke to make any conversation together whatsoever. She would simply be able to listen to the sermon, sing the hymns, and keep a good watch on the children. Not, of course that two such beautifully behaved little souls really needed very much attention.

  “The family pew is at the very front, Miss Darrington. At the front and on the left-hand side. Do make your way there as I have no doubt that my aunt is already in position,” he said, wincing a little as the Reverend, caring little for the feelings of the parishioners he was currently turning his back on in favour of the Duke, came scampering over. “I might be a little while.” He raised his eyebrows in a way which almost made Georgette laugh.

  No doubt the Reverend’s company was no more welcome than her own had been, and yet it rather seemed as if the Duke would not be able to escape the seemingly determined little man. As the Duke turned his attention to the approaching Reverend, Georgette hovered for just a moment to observe them further.

  The Reverend was very much of a type; telling everybody in church that all God’s creatures were equal and then turning his back on those very same equal creatures in favour of the man with the greatest title. Georgette pressed her lips firmly together in order to deny the little sneer that was trying to force its way forward. In church, she had always found herself much preferring the message to the medium. It would appear that things in the adorable little church in the village of Marsden were to be no different.

  “Well, girls, it looks as if I am in your hands entirely. Do you remember how to get to the family pew?” Georgette said, smiling at Eleri and Ffion in a most encouraging way.

  “Yes, Miss Darrington,” Eleri said, tugging a little at her hand.

  “Yes,” Ffion said, her voice seeming so tiny. “It is right at the front.”

  Georgette was pleased to find that Ffion also tugged at her hand a little, and both girls, each of them smiling as she had not seen since they had climbed into the carriage, pulled her gently through the great wooden door of the church and along the aisle.

  Chapter 12

  Georgette looked ahead and could see that there was, indeed, a woman already sitting in the family pew. If only the Duke had been there to introduce them; surely that was a great oversight on his part. Still, the woman would undoubtedly recognize Eleri and Ffion, and so Georgette would simply have to introduce herself. Of course, if his aunt was as taciturn as the Duke, she might find herself entirely ignored anyway.

  The nearer they drew, the harder the girls began to pull, and it was with a certain amount of surprise that Georgette realized that they were most keen to see the lady in that pew. As they drew level and began to make their way to her side, the woman looked up and, seeing the children, s
miled brightly.

  “Ffion,” she said, reaching out both hands to take the little girls’ in her own. “How very pretty you look this morning.” She smiled at her most adoringly. “And Eleri, you look as pretty as a little butterfly.” She let go of one of Ffion’s hands and reached out to take Eleri’s also.

  Without speaking, the girls simply smiled at her. Georgette studied the woman for a moment and rather wondered if she were not the lady who had been so very forthright with the Duke just days before. Could this have been the voice she had heard? Had this been the lady who had accused him of hardening his heart towards Eleri and Ffion?

  “Oh, I say, you really must excuse me, my dear. Whenever I set eyes upon these two, I quite forget myself.” The woman, a fair-haired and rather handsome sort of a lady, hurriedly rose to her feet. “I am Lady Cynthia Lyndon, my dear. I am the Duke’s aunt and the great aunt of these two adorable little creatures,” she said, giving the girls an indulgent, almost motherly smile.

  Lady Lyndon was very finely dressed in a simple but well put together gown. It had long sleeves to it, although it was only of the medium weight material. It was perfectly suitable for the weather, and Georgette could see a light shawl of matching colour folded neatly and placed down on the pew beside where Lady Lyndon had been sitting.