The Governess Was Wild

by Julia Kelly

  The barb glanced off Jane—this was all the posturing of a young woman who was backed into a corner after all—but Nicholas didn’t know that.

  “You will not speak so disrespectfully to Miss Ephram,” he gritted out between grinding teeth. Now that she’d spent so much time in his company, it was easy to forget about Nicholas’s commanding presence, but the boom of his voice through the entryway froze everyone. “She has traveled a long way to ensure your safety.”

  Lady Margaret gave something akin to a refined little snort. “And the security of her position, no doubt.”

  The clattering of boots on wooden stairs made them all look up, and Mr. Lawrence came into view. When he spotted them, he froze on the landing, his hand still clutching the banister.

  “Hello, Mr. Lawrence,” said Jane, at the same time disappointed and satisfied that she’d been correct in thinking her charge would be traveling in his company rather than meeting him in Gretna Green.

  “What’s this?” the man asked, eyeing Jane and Nicholas suspiciously.

  Lady Margaret reached out a hand, beckoning him to her. “It seems my governess has found a more diverting companion for her journey north. What did you say your name was, sir?”

  “Lord Hollings,” Nicholas said.

  “A title?” said Lady Margaret with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve done very well for yourself, Miss Ephram.”

  The bitterness in the young lady’s voice grated on Jane, but she wouldn’t let it deter her.

  “Lady Margaret, it’s my duty to stop you from making a huge mistake and running off with that man.” She gestured at Mr. Lawrence, who’d edged closer to the wall of the stairway as though he could simply disappear into the woodwork. “Your reputation—”

  “You’re beginning to sound like my parents,” said Lady Margaret with a strained laugh.

  “Then it does your parents credit. I don’t begrudge you the chance to marry him, if that’s what you really want, but there are other ways. Running off to Gretna Green will only make you a pariah.”

  Lady Margaret drew her shoulders back. “I’m still an earl’s daughter.”

  “Are you really willing to hang everything on the chance that your father’s title will save you the stigma of an elopement? You’ve seen other women ruined by it before. It’s too much of a risk.”

  A shadow fell over Lady Margaret’s eyes. “It’d be better than being trapped in Rawson House with my parents dictating everything I do, from the invitations I accept to the dresses I have made. I want to be my own mistress.”

  There were far worse fates than living in one of the great houses that lined one of the most fashionable squares in Mayfair, but Jane wasn’t about to point that out to her charge. Lady Margaret had grown up being given everything she desired as long as she agreed to stay inside her golden-barred cage, except confinement had never suited the girl. Jane knew that the entrapment of Lord Rawson’s home must have been infuriating if not stifling.

  She closed the gap between them and laid a light hand on Lady Margaret’s forearm. “Like I said, there are other ways.”

  “I don’t want other ways.” Lady Margaret whirled around to shake off Jane’s hand and drape herself on Mr. Lawrence’s arm. “I want to be married and have over with it all.”

  Now didn’t seem like the most opportune time to note that marrying a fortune hunter to escape from meddling parents was a foolish plan, especially when there was a strong possibility that Mr. Lawrence would simply fill that role once the ink was dry on the license—never mind the fact that the spineless man was a known rogue. All of the ton knew he had a history of broken engagements to a string of heiresses, and Jane had it on good authority from at least two other governesses that he’d been seen flirting with their wealthy charges at the time he’d set his sights on Lady Margaret.

  It was time to change tactics. If she couldn’t convince Lady Margaret to drop Mr. Lawrence, she’d go for the man’s vulnerability: his avarice.

  “I suppose if you’re really in love, it won’t matter,” Jane said, feigning a disinterested shrug. “Your father does have that cousin in Jamaica.”

  “What does Branick have to do with any of this?” asked Lady Margaret with suspicion.

  “I was just thinking that Lord Branick would be overjoyed at the chance to secure both the earldom and the unentailed portion of your father’s fortune. I’m no expert in keeping up an estate, but I imagine that it’ll take all of Holmesfield’s income to manage it and his Jamaica property.”

  “What is all this?” asked Mr. Lawrence, speaking up for the first time and sounding more than a little panicked. “Lord Rawson has made clear his intentions to settle the bulk of his unentitled fortune on his daughter. Everyone knows the coal money goes to Maggie.”

  “It doesn’t matter, James.” Lady Margaret retreated up a couple of steps to soothe him, the edge of worry unmistakable in her voice.

  “Oh, Mr. Lawrence, you’re so amusing,” Jane said with a laugh.

  “I didn’t speak in jest,” he said, his eyes burning with anger. “Explain yourself.”

  Ambition and greed. Jane had been right all along about what this man was made of. Now, painful as it might be, she needed to make sure that Lady Margaret saw him in all of his avaricious glory. She narrowed her eyes. “Did you really think that the earl wouldn’t alter his will the moment he found out that you two had eloped?”

  “Papa wouldn’t,” Lady Margaret protested, but her voice shook.

  “Alter his will . . .” Mr. Lawrence said, as though he hadn’t even thought of the possibility.

  “Don’t underestimate the anger of a disobeyed father,” said Nicholas next to her, his hand surreptitiously on the small of her back, supporting her. “Especially one who believes that his daughter and his fortune have been stolen out from underneath him.”

  Jane smiled her thanks up at Nicholas but, although he returned the gesture, it didn’t reach his eyes. A queasiness began to roil in her stomach, but she wasn’t done with Mr. Lawrence yet.

  “So, the question remains, sir, are you willing to risk the possibility that Lady Margaret might be disinherited all for love?”

  “He wouldn’t—”

  She cut Mr. Lawrence off with a shake of her head. “Would you stake a fortune on that? I imagine it won’t be easy maintaining a lifestyle like yours on virtually no income.”

  “James,” Lady Margaret started to protest.

  Mr. Lawrence’s lips pressed into a hard line, and Jane knew she’d won before he even spoke.

  “He hates me, darling,” the man said. “You know that I can’t wait to be married to you, but there are other things to consider. My debts . . .”

  The gall of Mr. Lawrence was something to behold. In the space of a minute he’d gone from allowing his fiancée to fight for him to walking back the very idea of their engagement. The man was every bit the charlatan Lord and Lady Rawson believed him to be. Jane only wished that her charge didn’t have to find out in this manner. No matter the irresponsibility of Lady Margaret and the worry she’d caused, she was still in some ways a naive child. Whether she’d truly believed herself to be in love with Mr. Lawrence or not, no woman should have to witness the treachery of a lover.

  “I’ll leave you in the care of Miss Ephram,” said Mr. Lawrence, carefully removing Lady Margaret’s fingers from the sleeve of his coat. “Go to Holmesfield Hall with her, as you planned.”

  From the way Lady Margaret’s shoulders sagged, Jane could tell the young lady heard the empty promises wrapped up in those words.

  “You’re just leaving the lady?” asked Nicholas.

  Mr. Lawrence shot him a contemptuous look as he edged toward the inn’s front door. “This is none of your business.”

  “But it’s Miss Ephram’s, and that makes it very much my concern,” he said.

  Mr. Lawrence opened his
mouth as though to say something, but then snapped it shut and bolted out the door.

  “Oh, that blaggard!” Lady Margaret cried.

  “Say the word and I’ll run him down,” said Nicholas.

  The young lady shook her head. “Let him go.”

  “Lady Margaret—” Jane started softly.

  At the sound of her name, Lady Margaret’s face molded back into the picture of aristocratic ennui that Jane knew so well. “Let him go,” she repeated with a careless wave of her hand. “It isn’t as though I loved him.”

  “You didn’t?” Jane didn’t know whether to be enraged that the young lady had run for Scotland with a man she didn’t really care for or to feel pity that her charge had been desperate enough to marry the man to make her escape.

  “Of course not. I understood what he was, and I didn’t care. At least I was smart enough to know I was going to get something out of it. What’s your excuse?”

  This time the jab hit home, slicing her across the heart with exacting precision. Jane had no explanation for her behavior. She’d wanted Nicholas, and so she’d had him. She could hardly moralize to the young lady whose education and moral compass she was meant to be guiding. In every respect, Jane was a fallen woman.

  “What concerns me most is your future,” she said.

  Lady Margaret tapped a finger against her chin as though deep in thought. “Now I wonder, should I write Mamma and let her know that my governess is traveling in the company of a gentleman now or after luncheon?”

  “Don’t be spiteful,” Jane said as Nicholas stepped out in front of her and said, “You ungrateful child.”

  That got Lady Margaret’s attention. “I’m not a child,” her charge bristled.

  “It’s difficult to tell when you’re acting like one,” said Nicholas. “And I will ask you not to speak with such disrespect to the woman I plan to marry.”

  “What?” both Lady Margaret and Jane said at the same time.

  Nicholas grasped her hand, his features softening with a warmth that could’ve been love if only Jane could let herself believe it. “Of course we’ll marry, Jane,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  Her heart was pounding against her chest as though it were about to burst. Except it wasn’t the joyful, swooping delight she’d always dreamed of. This felt more like dread.

  “Nicholas, think about what you’re saying,” she said.

  Nicholas bent down on one knee and kissed the back of her hand—a formal gesture that still made her blood sing despite the panic edging in and making it hard to breathe. “I should’ve asked you last night or this morning, but I didn’t want to do it when you were still preoccupied with our search. Marry me, Jane. I’d never even entertained the thought of a wife until you came along. Everything has been about my family and seeing Effie and Helen settled. I always thought that there’d be time after, but now I know—”

  “But that’s why I can’t,” she blurted.

  His face stayed composed, but in his eyes she could see him shatter into a thousand pieces. “You can’t or you won’t?”

  She dropped to her knees with him right there in the inn’s entryway with Lady Margaret looking on, and yet she didn’t care. All at once she was going to break his heart and snuff out the little ember of happiness that glowed in her chest simply because it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t just Nicholas and herself she had to think of. There were two other people in this engagement as well.

  “Don’t you see?” She touched the tips of her fingers to his chest and bowed her head. “If you married me, it would ruin every chance of your sisters marrying well.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  The fierceness of his words cut through her—one thousand little cuts that she knew would never heal. And yet she couldn’t stop herself.

  “It’s the truth. They’ll become as notorious as I will. It will spoil everything you’ve planned for and dash any hopes they might have of finding their own happiness. They’ll be unmarriageable, and believe me when I say I would never burden another woman with that.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” he said.

  “But it’s not. Don’t you see?” She turned to her charge for support. “Lady Margaret, how would a governess who married a baron be welcomed in London?”

  To her credit, her charge hesitated before answering. “She wouldn’t be, unless he were rich as Midas. Wealth changes everything.”

  “And his sisters?” Jane asked, driving home the painful truth.

  Lady Margaret shook her head. “Maybe in a season or two once the scandal died down. Again, wealth helps . . .”

  “Which is one thing you know I don’t have,” said Nicholas, his fists clenching at his sides.

  “I’m sorry, Nicholas. If it were just me, it would be different, but it’s not.” She took a deep breath and let go. “Please understand that I can’t marry you.”

  “No.” His voice cracked under all of the frustration and anger she knew he’d been holding back—probably for years. “I’ve given up my whole life for my sisters, but I will not give you up.” He grasped her hands and shook them. “Do you love me?”

  “I’ve known you less than a week,” she whispered.

  “A week hardly matters. My life is tangled in yours. My happiness is wrapped up in you. I know because I feel it too. I never thought I’d meet a woman who would make me want to give up everything for the chance to see her smile. I love you, Jane. Tell me that one day you might love me. Please.”

  I love you when I thought I would never love anyone. Her silent confession overwhelmed her, but he was never going to hear those words from her lips. She wasn’t going to make him choose her over the happiness of the two young ladies he adored most in this world. If she accepted his proposal, she wouldn’t just be condemning his sisters to a possible life of spinsterhood. Nicholas would learn to resent her. He wouldn’t be able to help it. His love for Effie and Helen was too strong. He’d eventually grow to hate Jane for coming between them and their chance at happiness.

  She’d been a governess for a very long time. She knew how to play that role, but she’d cast it aside for a little taste of adventure, life, and love. She’d unlearn all of those things, pushing them to the furthest corners of her mind. With time she’d go back to being just Jane Ephram—quiet, unimposing, unimportant.

  Nicholas squeezed her hands as though trying to will his love into her. “Do you love me?”

  The word she needed to say—one menacing yet simple syllable—choked her. Still she managed to get it out. “No.”

  Nicholas sat back on his heels with a deflated sigh. “Why not?”

  “I’m sorry, Nicholas. I can’t love you as you want me to.” It wasn’t a lie. She couldn’t love him, for all of the reasons he refused to see.

  If she hid it from him, everything would go back to normal. Nicholas would disappear and become nothing more than a dream that kept her up at night. He’d be a memory that haunted the quiet moments in the day when her mind wasn’t occupied. For the rest of her life, he’d be a reminder of what happened when a governess dared to love above her station.

  “Right,” he said quietly before straightening. When she gazed up at him, his face was stone. “Lady Margaret, you took a black stallion of mine. Once that horse is returned, I’ll be on my way.”

  Lady Margaret looked between the two of them, pursed her lips, and then nodded. “I apologize for the theft. The horse is in the stables. You’ll find him in good form.”

  “I appreciate you caring for him.” He tipped his hat to Lady Margaret, not even bothering to glance down at Jane. “Good day.”

  Nicholas’s footsteps rang out against the floorboards as he walked away from her. When the door opened and shut, Jane sank to the floor and buried her hands in her face. But the tears wouldn’t come, her body refusing to understan
d why Nicholas was gone.

  There was a rustle of fabric, and Jane felt two hands on her slumped shoulders. “Miss Ephram, I’m sorry.”

  She looked up to find Lady Margaret crouched on the ground next to her, crushing the fine wool of her traveling dress.

  “You love him very much, don’t you?” asked the young lady.

  “I do,” she whispered.

  “Go after him, then. Tell him you were wrong.”

  “I’m not wrong. I have my reasons.”

  “Whatever they are—”

  “They’re mine,” she said firmly even as she choked on the words.

  But this would not do. She’d made her choice, so she stood and smoothed out her plain skirts with as much dignity as she could muster. “Now we should be going. If we’re lucky, perhaps we can arrange a carriage to drive us to the station.”

  Lady Margaret frowned. “The station?”

  “We’re going back to London. You may weave the story you tell your father however you choose. I’ll agree with whatever you say.”

  “Why?” Lady Margaret asked.

  “Because you’re right. I’m no longer fit to be your governess and couldn’t chaperone you even if we were to press on to the estate.”

  “Miss Ephram, I didn’t mean those things,” Lady Margaret said with genuine remorse. “You know I’m horrid sometimes.”

  None of that mattered. Jane couldn’t stay in the employ of Lord and Lady Rawson. Not knowing what her charge had done and her own misadventures. The earl and countess might be able to forgive their daughter’s attempted elopement one day, but Jane would be out on the streets faster than she could blink for failing as a chaperone. It was safer to leave before any rumors had a chance to get back to London or Lady Margaret slipped up one day and revealed Jane’s secret in a fit of temper.

  “I’ll deliver you home, and then I’ll inform her ladyship about my decision.”

  “But someone could spot us on the train,” said Lady Margaret.

  “It’s better than risking anything else happening on this trip. We’ll take a private berth and not leave it for the duration of the journey. I suggest you concoct some reason we didn’t reach Yorkshire but your carriage did. No matter what you come up with, you’d do your best to hide the truth. If your parents don’t suspect anything, you stand a chance at being able to make your own choice of husband as long as they don’t object to him the way they did Mr. Lawrence.”