The Cinderella Governess

by Georgie Lee

  * * *

  Joanna pushed open the door to the Huntford Place library and peered inside. She wanted to make sure Frances and Mr Winborn weren’t completing what Frances had failed to finish with Lieutenant Foreman. Seeing no one, Joanna crossed the dark room to the bookcase on the far wall to peruse the offerings. The twins were with their nurse and Catherine had joined the other ladies for a lesson with the dancing master, leaving Joanna with a free hour to find a book on Huria.

  She frowned as she examined the available selection. There was no rhyme or reason to their placement with geography next to poetry and history. Joanna sighed. It would take her the better part of her free time to find anything in this mess.

  She finished examining the books on the bottom shelves and climbed the narrow rail ladder to view those on the higher ones. She was at the top, shaking her head at the jumble of subjects, when the door behind her opened. She tensed, expecting Sir Rodger to appear and claim her free time with another errand. It wasn’t him, but Major Preston.

  A smile split the tense line of his lips at the sight of her, then it hardened around the corners. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

  ‘Please, come in, I have no special claim to this room.’ She climbed down off the ladder, trying her best to be prim and proper, but her weak knees and fluttering stomach made it difficult. All she could imagine was him pushing her up against the panelling, lifting her skirt and doing to her the things Lieutenant Foreman had done to Frances.

  Her daydream ended when she faced him. He stood like an officer, aloof and formal in a way she hadn’t seen in him before. It reminded her of when Madame had summoned her to her private sitting room to say she’d found Joanna a position. She’d been kind about it, but it had been clear the subtle separating of Joanna from her school life had begun. Perhaps Major Preston had proposed to a lady and he was now going to end their brief friendship. She should be glad, for it removed the threat of his presence to her good sense, but she wasn’t.

  ‘I’m trying to find a book on Huria,’ she rushed, attempting to chase away her encroaching fear and recapture some of the rapport they’d enjoyed during their previous encounters.

  ‘I’m surprised Sir Rodger allows you in here. When I asked if I could borrow a book, he almost made me give him a deposit in case I should damage one.’ The flash of humour eased the lines at the corners of his eyes, heartening her.

  ‘Oh, he was quite adamant I read. He said it would improve upon the limited education I must have received at Madame Dubois’s.’ She rolled her eyes at the memory of Sir Rodger’s insulting directive. ‘I should have told him how superior my education truly was, but he wouldn’t have believed me any more than he would his role in his daughters’ behaviour.’

  ‘He sounds like some of the commanding officers I served under. No matter how much it was to their benefit, they didn’t want to hear the truth.’

  ‘Who does?’

  ‘No one. Not even me.’ He clasped his hands behind his back and faced her with a seriousness to make her heart race, not with anticipation, but with fear. ‘My family has never asked anything of me except one thing, to come home and produce an heir. It seems so simple and yet every day I fight it, especially when I read about the battles in Spain in the papers coming up from London. If I were to be killed over there, my family line would die out and everything they’ve held dear for centuries would be lost.’ He spoke with the rigidity of a teacher explaining a misunderstood lesson, except regret made his words halting and softened the intensity of his eyes. Madame Dubois had fixed on her the same way the morning when Joanna had turned five and the headmistress had felt she was old enough to understand the circumstances of her arrival at the school. Despite Madame’s attempt to make Joanna see how wanted she was by her and the teachers, there’d been no concealing how unwanted she’d been by her parents. Major Preston was about to make it clear to her how far apart they were and how they should remain so. ‘I must find a wife, surrender my wants for my family’s, which is why...’

  ‘Our friendship is a mistake,’ she finished for him, flinching from listening to him say the words aloud. He was being practical and realistic and she must do the same. She brushed a spiderweb from the corner of one ladder step. She didn’t want to be practical, but hold on to the hope his friendship had offered, the brief belief someone might come to love her, even while he was pulling it away.

  ‘Not a mistake, only inappropriate.’ He cleared his throat as if reluctant to continue. She prayed he would stop and recant his painful declaration, but he didn’t. ‘You were correct the other night. The difference in our positions makes almost anything, even the most innocent relationship, between us impossible.’

  She wrapped one hand around the ladder frame and gripped it tightly. Each of his words pelted her like the rain had during the ride from Sandhills. Except this time there were no friends to brave the onslaught with her or to bolster her flagging confidence in herself and her value to anyone.

  ‘I apologise for pressing you on the matter. I should have known better,’ he added. At least he had the decency to recognise and admit his mistake.

  She squared her shoulders and faced him with all the calm required of their situation. She might not be a titled woman, but she could conduct herself with all the poise and dignity of a duchess, even while she was crumbling inside. ‘We were silly to be so open with one another, but I appreciate your honesty in this and everything else.’

  He bowed, then turned and cracked open the door and checked the hall to ensure it was clear. It was and he slipped out, pausing beyond the threshold for one last look at her. It was more than misgiving or apology colouring his eyes, but a longing which called to her from across the quiet room. He didn’t want this parting any more than she did and he was waiting for her to summon him back, to fight for him to change his mind. She felt it as keenly as she did his remorse. It would only take a word or two to keep him and whatever had been building between them here. She opened her mouth to speak and he leaned forward, ready to return, but she said nothing. She couldn’t. Everything he’d stated was true and nothing could change it, not his wants or hers. He must leave and she must let him go.

  With no reply to his silent enquiry, he backed into the hall and drew the door closed behind him. When the latch clicked shut, Joanna sank down to the floor at the foot of the ladder. The cold wood cut through her thin dress, but it was nothing compared to the loneliness swathing her. A short time ago, she’d believed two people here were concerned about her, but she’d been wrong. She appreciated Major Preston’s honesty, and his safeguarding her reputation by being cautious when he’d left, but it didn’t matter. He could check a thousand hallways and it wouldn’t change the reason why he’d walked away and why she’d let him go. She was nobody.

  Not to my friends. But they were hundreds of miles away. Feminine laughter echoed through the room from somewhere outside, the joyful kind she, Rachel, Grace and Isabel had shared so many times in the quiet world of Madame Dubois’s. Never again would Joanna enjoy the acceptance of people who didn’t judge her because of who she was, or, more importantly, who she wasn’t thanks to her parents.

  The selfish fools. She pressed her fists against her temples as anger filled her. How could they have done it? How could they have given her up? If they hadn’t, things between her and Major Preston might be different.

  She lowered her hands and took a deep breath, willing herself to calm. It wasn’t fair to blame them. She had no idea what situation had driven them to leave her at the school. Maybe her mother had been like Grace, too impetuous for her own good and forced to surrender Joanna to keep them both from being cast into the streets to starve to death or worse. She could no more blame Grace for the choice she’d made in giving up her daughter than she could Major Preston for ending their burgeoning friendship. There was little she could offer him which would ease the burde
ns and responsibilities he now bore.

  Out in the hallway, the large clock rang with the quarter-hour. In a short while, her responsibilities would once again consume her. She should get up and prepare to face them, but she couldn’t rise. She wanted to avoid reality for a touch longer.

  * * *

  ‘You’re not enjoying the play?’ Miss Selton asked, her thin fichu doing little to hide the too-high curve of her breast. She was beautiful, and rich, but neither were enough for Luke to overlook her lack of character.

  ‘I received a letter with some news about my regiment being involved in an offensive. It’s difficult to concentrate on this when I’m worried about them.’ And the damage he’d done to Miss Radcliff. She’d been brave in the face of his rejection, struggling to conceal the pain he’d caused, but she hadn’t. He’d caught it in her white knuckles as she’d gripped the ladder and in the stiffness of her bearing as she’d faced him.

  I had no choice. Everything he’d said about dying in Spain and the end of his family line was true.

  ‘You needn’t worry about your men. I’m sure they’re fine.’ Miss Selton flicked her hand in dismissal as if he’d complained about the overcooked pheasant at last night’s dinner. Miss Radcliff wouldn’t have been so unfeeling, yet he’d pushed her away because she wasn’t the same rank as Miss Selton. He despised himself for what he’d done. He was no better than the commanders who allowed men to die under incapable officers instead of promoting a more worthy and humble candidate. ‘Shall we practise your scene together? I can read the part of the nymph since Miss Radcliff isn’t here.’

  She leaned forward, peering up at him like a simpleton as she batted her eyelashes at him.

  ‘No, I’ve had enough for today.’ He left her, done trying to be anything more than annoyed at this empty-headed chit. Edward rose, hurrying to intercept him, but Luke levelled a halting hand at him. ‘Don’t.’

  He’d allowed Edward to pressure him into giving up his friendship with Miss Radcliff, he wouldn’t allow him to force him to stay in this room. He paused in the hallway outside the ballroom, at a loss for what to do and hating this indecision. He’d never been like this in the Army. Everything there had been clear and concise. He’d make his decisions and not second-guess them no matter what the outcome. Here, he was confounded at every turn by duty, family and rank. No wonder some of the seasoned officers turned to drinking and gambling when they came home. At times, it seemed like no other way to relieve the boredom and frustration. Give him a gruelling march any day over this endless irrelevance.

  ‘You’ve offered him your favours. Why not share them with me?’ Mr Selton’s low voice slid down the long hallway from near the library.

  Luke paused, the hairs on the back of his neck rising the way they used to whenever the forest in Spain grew too still, signalling the enemy was near. Miss Huntford and Mr Selton hadn’t been in the ballroom rehearsing. What was the chit up to now? The answering female voice made his blood boil.

  ‘I’ve given no one my favours and I certainly won’t give them to you, now let me pass.’

  Miss Radcliff.

  Luke marched down the hall and turned the corner. Mr Selton stood with his back to Luke, blocking Miss Radcliff’s way.

  ‘Let me by.’ She tried to step around him but he shot out his arm and slapped his hand against the wall to stop her from leaving.

  ‘There’s no reason for you to be rude to me.’

  ‘If a lady asks you to leave her be, then I suggest you do it,’ Luke thundered as he came up hard on the man.

  Miss Radcliff sagged against the panelling in relief.

  ‘She’s not a lady,’ Mr Selton snorted, less enamoured by Luke’s appearance. ‘And a little fun is what governesses, especially ones as pretty as Miss Radcliff, are practically made for.’

  Luke pulled back his arm and slammed his fist into Mr Selton’s lecherous face. The man staggered back, hitting the wall before he dropped to his knees.

  ‘You hit me,’ Mr Selton wailed, clutching his mouth. ‘Over a governess.’

  ‘I hit you because you aren’t a gentleman.’ Luke stood over him, hands clenched, hoping Mr Selton gave him another reason to strike him. The slime deserved it.

  Mr Selton pierced him with a slicing look. ‘How dare you! I’m a baron’s son, and I’ll be a baron some day. You’re nothing more than a dirty soldier. Who are you to strike me or tell me what to do?’

  Luke’s foot twitched with the urge to kick him, but he didn’t want to scuff his boots. Mr Selton was everything he hated about the aristocracy, the type of man who’d lorded his supposed superiority over him at Eton while unable to take one prize or win one sporting match against him. He was the worthless officer who’d sneered down his aquiline nose at soldiers as he sent them off to die in a futile offensive meant to impress his commanders.

  Luke bent down, hands on his knees, bringing his face so close to Mr Selton’s he could see the small veins along the sides of his nose. ‘If you’re insulted, then call me out, show me how superior you think you are. Remember, I’ve had a lot of practice shooting at men trying to kill me. I doubt I’ll miss your big head.’

  Mr Selton’s bravado slackened as Luke straightened.

  Mr Selton picked himself off the floor, staggering against the wall before he steadied himself on his feet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and winced at the streak of blood left there by his split lip. ‘There’s no need for it.’

  Luke stared down at him, a good head taller than the future Baron. ‘Then I suggest you depart at once. I wouldn’t want your superior rank and honour impugned by having to explain to everyone how you received your bruise from a dirty soldier so obviously beneath you.’

  Mr Selton tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to his broken lip. He hesitated and Luke wondered if he’d change his mind and meet Luke’s challenge, but he doubted it. The man was a coward and he proved it by rushing off down the hall, calling for Gruger and announcing his immediate departure.

  Luke turned to Miss Radcliff. She stood, one hand on her chest, confusion as much as surprise swirling in her eyes. He shifted close to her, aching to take her in his arms and run his hand along the arch of her back to smooth her shock. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes.’ The whispered word brushed his neck above his cravat. He opened and closed his fingers, wanting to draw her into his arms and let her quick breaths subside against his chest as she leaned against him in comfort. Neither of them closed the small distance separating them. ‘Once again you’ve saved me. Soon I’ll owe you so much for your help, I’ll have to singlehandedly extinguish a house fire to return the favour.’

  Her limp smile punctuated her attempt at humour and Luke felt less like a hero and more like a heel.

  ‘About our discussion earlier,’ he stammered, warring with the urge to hold her close and the one to push her away. He could almost hear Captain Crowther’s advice to forget everyone and do what he damn well pleased.

  She laid a silencing finger on his lips and he almost groaned as her warm skin met his. It hurt to hold back from taking her hand and pressing his lips to her palm, but her gentle touch was a warning, not an invitation. ‘There’s no need to explain. I understand.’

  ‘You don’t.’ He shifted closer, his fingertips brushing her skirt as she withdrew her hand.

  She stared up at him, head back, lips parted, her desire as strong as his. The conflict ripping at him tore at her, too. It was in the hitch in her breathing, the stiffness of her shoulders and the delicate craving for him in her eyes. If there wasn’t so much standing between them, he would claim her lips, and her, but he wouldn’t cross the line he’d just pulled Mr Selton away from. ‘If things were different...’

  ‘But they aren’t.’ She darted around him, her skirt whispering against her legs as she fled down the hall, bac
k to her life, leaving him to his.

  The faint scent of dust and damp quickly overcame the fresh lavender scent of her. Luke leaned against the wall and tilted his head against the unpolished panelling. This wasn’t the first time he’d stepped in to protect a woman from a man’s unwanted advances, but it was the most personal. Miss Radcliff was alone in the world, made more so by his rejection of her friendship. It made her vulnerable to men like Mr Selton. Luke might have been here to protect her this time, but he wouldn’t be in the future. She wasn’t his to protect and she couldn’t be. Neither his father nor his brother would sanction a match with a penniless girl of questionable birth. It didn’t mean he had to like it. For the first time ever he cursed his honour and sense of duty. It was strangling him, but he wouldn’t set it aside. Without the accomplishment of his Army career, honour and duty were all he had left.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The yapping and howling of the hunting dogs and the calls of the trainers outside on the drive filled the schoolroom. The guests were gathered downstairs in the entrance hall to escape the misty day, drinking brandy and preparing to ride out. The ladies would accompany them, enjoying the fresh autumn air as they galloped with the men over the rolling hills of the Huntford estate.

  Joanna hadn’t been downstairs since the incident in the hallway yesterday afternoon. It wasn’t Mr Selton she feared. He’d departed soon after leaving them, causing his sister to bitterly complain about it ruining her play. It was Major Preston Joanna didn’t want to see.

  When she’d laid her finger on his lips, the passion which had sparked between them had stolen the air from the hallway and nearly carried off her resolve to keep her distance. She shouldn’t have touched him, but she didn’t want to hear his words, not when they contradicted everything in his eyes. She craved him as much as he did her and she could have rested her hands on his shoulders, risen up on her toes and kissed him, but she’d held back. His words in the library had been too fresh, the truth of his situation and hers too raw to allow either of them to weaken. His family’s hopes for a future rested on him and she wouldn’t be the one to wreck their expectations. If she did, they’d accuse her of ruining him in a quest to raise herself and their criticism would drive a wedge between him and them. He’d been willing to put aside their friendship for his family. He would deny his heart for them, too, and it was to her peril to ignore this.