The Cinderella Governess

by Georgie Lee

  ‘I will end our relationship, but not for the deed or for you, but for her. I love her enough to give her up to ensure that she has a better life than I can give her. The kind of life she deserves.’

  To his credit, Lord Helmsworth appeared more surprised than gloating at Luke’s announcement, as if at a loss for what to do because he hadn’t expected his plan to work. Then he tugged at his waistcoat and recovered his usual crotchety stance. ‘Good. You’ll come to the ball and tell her yourself that there can be nothing further between the two of you.’

  Luke nodded, his own heart clenching at the thought of having to break hers.

  ‘And, since you’ve proved yourself a man of honour, you may have the land.’

  ‘I don’t want it.’

  ‘Take it anyway. After today I want nothing more to do with you or your family.’ Lord Helmsworth flung down the deed on the table beside him, then turned and strode out of the room, head held high in triumph.

  Luke watched him go and for the second time since coming home cursed his honour. It had cost him his heart.

  * * *

  Joanna stood in the receiving line in the ballroom of her grandfather’s London house, trying not to shift and fuss like the little girls at school used to do before they became accustomed to Madame Dubois’s discipline. The last two hours had been an endless round of people, titles and introductions. Everyone had been too eager to openly scrutinise the new granddaughter of the Marquis of Helmsworth to avoid the receiving line, except for Luke. He had yet to arrive.

  She’d nearly skipped with delight when, during a walk in Rotten Row a few days ago, her grandfather had told her he’d sent the invitation to the Inghams and they’d accepted. He said he’d paid them a visit, too, and settled the dispute between the two families, although he hadn’t told her how. It didn’t seem possible and it had made all her preparations for tonight more thrilling.

  ‘I think we’ve had enough standing about. Anyone else who wants to greet us can find us in the crush,’ her grandfather announced to the hoarse butler.

  He escorted Joanna to the dance floor. Mrs Petit, Joanna’s chaperon, followed close behind, less awed by their surroundings than Joanna had been at the Pensum Manor ball. Luke had been the brightest point of that night as he would be again tonight.

  If he arrived. No, he’ll come, he must.

  They passed beneath the evergreen garlands hanging between the pillars of the room. The finest musicians played on a raised platform at the far end while disciplined and liveried footmen offered the best wine to an overflowing room of guests. Joanna searched the crowd for Luke, at last understanding Frances’s obsession with finding her lieutenant. Nothing else mattered except seeing him, not her new dress, the dancers, the guests, or even the strange looks she received from more than one matron. Luke’s acceptance of the invitation, the fact her grandfather had sent it at all, created possibilities she hadn’t allowed herself to imagine a few days ago. It made his having not arrived yet even more troubling.

  They reached the edge of the dance floor and worry continued to undermine her excitement. Luke wasn’t among the many gentlemen who came forward to claim a dance. She had no choice but to accept one short young man’s hand, the son of a peer whose name she couldn’t recall. A month ago, men like him wouldn’t have acknowledged her, tonight they clamoured to dance with her, a possible connection to a marquis and a fine dowry enough to make them overlook her less-than-sterling past. It amused her to turn their heads, but not enough to make her forget Luke, or to stop fretting about why he wasn’t here.

  Then the dance began and she was forced to concentrate on the steps the dancing master had taught her over the last few days. The other young ladies surrounding her moved with effortless elegance while she focused on not stumbling. Her partner was patient when she missed more than one turn, but it was clear a few women lined up along the side of the floor weren’t so charitable. Her inability to dance properly reinforced their view of her unsuitability to be in society. She wasn’t sure she disagreed with them, but accepting her grandfather meant accepting her place with him. She must learn to adjust to this as she had to being at the Huntfords’.

  She held her head high and moved with her partner through the promenade. That cold lonely life seemed like so long ago, never to return again. There were people here hoping she’d fail and she wouldn’t allow them to lower her as Lady Huntford and Frances had tried to do at Vauxhall Gardens. This was who she was and she would at last embrace it instead of shying away. It would be a greater triumph if Luke were at her side.

  Her partner stopped and raised her hand as she circled him. Awareness rippled across her bare shoulders and slid beneath the gold chain holding her mother’s locket encircling her neck. She glanced at the crowd. Luke stood at the edge of the dance floor, ignoring the ladies on either side of him turning to and fro in an effort to catch his eye and secure a partner. His black coat increased the sharpness of his chin and the dark brown of his hair. She opened her fingers, ready to rush to him before she remembered herself. Instead, she rewarded his arrival with a coy smile.

  His only response was a slight twitch in a muscle along his hard jaw. Her joy dropped to the floor to be trod on by the other dancers. Something was wrong, terribly so. She made a turn, getting another look at him. He appeared as he had the night he’d told her of his men’s disappearance, his expression dark with trouble. She trussed up her resolve, refusing to allow his stern appearance to drag her down. He was here, and whatever was bothering him, they would make it right together as they had every other challenge they’d endured since the night they’d first met.

  At last the dance ended, and Joanna forced herself to walk slowly next to her companion as he escorted her back to her grandfather. Tonight, Lord Helmsworth played the role of chaperon more than Mrs Petit. He was about to offer her to another partner when Luke shifted forward, blocking the man.

  ‘May I?’

  She glanced at her grandfather, expecting him to object since the next dance was a waltz, but he waved Luke forward to Joanna. A strange smile split her grandfather’s pale lips, not of irritation or amusement, but something more unnerving. Whatever it was, her concern vanished the moment Luke’s fingers curled over hers.

  While they walked side by side to the dance floor, the memory of him covering her in the vicarage and the sense of peace she’d experienced in his arms teased her. The peace wasn’t here. There was no amusement in his stride, no interest when he rested his hand on the small of her back, then took her other one to bring her into the circles of his arms and prepare for the dance. All around them people whispered and practically pointed, their presence together reinforcing all the rumours they must have heard. Joanna ignored them, too concerned with Luke and what was wrong to worry about what others said or thought.

  ‘You’re so late I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.’ Joanna eyed him from beneath her lashes, prodding as much as tempting him. She’d dared to doubt him before Vauxhall Gardens and been proven wrong. She wanted him to counter her qualms again.

  ‘How could I stay away?’ It might as well have been Mr Selton saying it for all the feeling in his words.

  Her stomach rolled as the music began and it grew tighter with each turn as her feet moved in rote steps to match of his. They danced with as much passion as the wooden figures on her grandfather’s German cuckoo clock.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Joanna demanded, unable to keep the note of panic out of her voice.

  Luke stared over her head as if it hurt him to acknowledge her. ‘I must speak with you alone at some point this evening.’

  ‘Tell me what you need to now, I don’t want to wait.’

  ‘Not here in front of your guests.’

  Her hand stiffened in his, his need for secrecy as potent as Grace’s when she’d first told Joanna she was expecting a baby. ‘Then escort me
off the dance floor.’

  ‘People will talk.’

  ‘Then tell them I’m ill.’ She was sick with worry.

  He stopped them in their whirling, making more than one couple break stride to stare before better sense swept them back into the dance. Luke escorted her away from her grandfather who was too deep in conversation with Lord Jarsdel to notice. The watching crowd parted to let them through, casting a parcel of whispers at them as they left the dance floor. What should have been the dance of the evening, the one she’d looked forward to for days, became a long, painful march.

  In a moment, Mrs Petit was behind them, giving their spectacle a modicum of respect.

  They passed through a door at the far end and cut through the empty and silent music room separating the ballroom from the rest of the house.

  ‘Miss Radcliff, where are we going?’ Mrs Petit asked, her slippers fluttering over the wood floor in time to Joanna and Luke’s decided stride.

  ‘Major Preston and I have something to discuss.’

  ‘Alone? You can’t.’ She rushed to place herself between Joanna and the door to the sitting room on the far side of the music room. There was no one in this part of the house, the ball having been relegated to the more spacious rooms at the front.

  ‘I must, now stay out here,’ she snapped, as irritable as Frances had been. Shame engulfed her and she reached out to rest one hand on the thin woman’s arm. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be cross, but I must be alone with Major Preston for a few short minutes.’

  ‘But, Miss Radcliff...’ she began to protest.

  ‘Please,’ Joanna begged. ‘It’s important.’

  Mrs Petit glanced between her and Luke. He stood with arms stiff at his side and back straight. It was clear whatever she and Luke were about to discuss didn’t involve lovemaking.

  At last Mrs Petit relented. ‘All right, you may be alone, but only for a bit and I’ll be right here outside this door.’

  ‘I wouldn’t expect you to be anywhere else.’ She gave Mrs Petit’s arm an appreciative squeeze, then pushed open the sitting room door and led Luke inside.

  ‘You haven’t come to propose, have you?’ she demanded before the door was even closed. The silent portraits of her mother and grandmother watched them as they faced one another.

  ‘No, I’ve come to end things.’

  Joanna grasped the back of a chair as the entire house shifted around her. She stared at him, trying to convince herself she’d heard him wrong, but it was clear in the set of his jaw she hadn’t. All the eagerness to see him, the expectation they might be free to be with each other shattered, leaving nothing but a hollow sensation in the centre of her chest. He’d chased her through Hertfordshire and then London, slowly undermining her refusals and protestations while capturing her heart. After all his effort, his words, the risks they’d taken, her grandfather had been right. He didn’t love her. No, it wasn’t possible. This wasn’t the Luke she’d come to know, the one who struggled and fought against any difficulty in his determination to succeed. ‘Why?’

  ‘In the last week, I’ve realised the obstacles between us are too great to overcome.’

  ‘You’re giving up? I don’t believe it.’ There must be some reason why he’d suddenly changed his mind. Over his shoulder, the portrait of her mother stood out against the green-papered wall. At once, she knew what had happened. ‘My grandfather made you break with me in return for the land, didn’t he?’

  * * *

  Luke silently cursed Lord Helmsworth and his wicked demand. He couldn’t tell her the truth. It would make her hate her grandfather and he’d vowed not to come between the two of them, no matter how much it pained both him and Joanna. She wanted a family and she would have one, but not with him. ‘No.’

  ‘Then what’s going on? Please, tell me the truth.’ Her sweet fragrance embraced him as she came forward. He wanted to kiss away the pain clipping her words, but he couldn’t. He could only stand and retain a measure of dignity while he tore himself down in her eyes. ‘You said you loved me.’

  She might as well have shot him for the hole it left in his gut.

  ‘I do and I always will, but it was wrong of me to court you, especially since it was always my plan to return to Spain. I can now since my brother’s wife is with child.’

  ‘You mean it was wrong of you to finally admit in front of everyone there was a connection between an earl’s son and an illegitimate governess whose reputation you ruined.’ Hate turned her sapphire eyes stormy and she balled her hands at her sides. He braced himself, ready to feel her blows on his chest but she stood still. ‘Grandfather was right. You got what you wanted from me in the country, in secret, but when it came time to make it known you were too ashamed to be seen with me. No wonder you arrived late. I’m surprised you came at all or had the courage to dance with me since it might compromise your ability to find a woman with a purer past and lineage than me.’

  He ground his teeth at the insult, but he let it stand. If hate eased her pain she could hate him for ever. ‘You’re wrong about yourself. You’re worth more than any other woman in the ballroom and you deserve a man who can give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. I’m not him. It was never possible for me to be him and I’m sorry.’

  ‘You’re only sorry your lies have at last been exposed. Get out.’ She jabbed one slender finger towards the door, her stiff arm shaking with rage. ‘I’m through with you.’

  He nodded, and placing one foot behind him, turned as if taking leave of an officer. Outside in the music room, the chaperon grasped her fan in worry as Luke passed. He said nothing as he forced himself across the marble floor, away from Joanna and everything he’d fought in his attempt to win her.

  The doors to the ballroom opened and the music washed over him along with a hundred curious stares. He only saw Lord Helmsworth observing him from his place beside Lord Jarsdel. Luke stopped and, from across the room, bowed to the Marquis in surrender. If he’d had his sword he would have broken it across his knee and chucked it at the man’s feet. He straightened and strode out of the entrance, leaving the candlelit room. Each step hurt as much as if he’d marched a hundred miles barefoot, but he kept going. His reputation and honour were all he’d possessed when he’d returned to England. It was all he had now. He’d left his heart behind with Joanna.

  * * *

  Joanna paced until the muscles of her legs protested and still she continued on, eyes dry, too furious to cry. The grating of metal against metal met the fall of each of her feet as she tugged the locket back and forth on its chain. It wasn’t Luke’s rejection feeding her fury, but her gullible stupidity. She’d been so desperate to be loved, she’d believed in his lies and continued to entertain his secret advances even in the face of her grandfather’s evidence.

  ‘How could I have been such a fool?’ If she’d kept away from Luke as her grandfather had warned her to, guarded her heart instead of throwing it at him, she’d be dancing and having a wonderful time in the ballroom, not hiding here in humiliation.

  She stopped and stared out the window at the carriages filling the street outside. The drivers stood together laughing at jokes Joanna couldn’t hear. She envied their good humour, hers was at an end.

  The door squeaked open behind her, but Joanna didn’t turn to see who it was.

  ‘Miss Radcliff, are you all right?’ Mrs Petit asked.

  ‘Yes, I need some time alone. I’ll be out soon.’

  The door clicked shut and Joanna sighed. She couldn’t stay in here all night. She’d have to return to the ball soon and smile and pretend everything was all right. She wasn’t sure she could. Raising her hand, she touched the cold window, tempted to throw the sash up, slip outside and command one of the drivers to carry her away. Except there was nowhere for her to go. The school was no longer her home, this was. Even if she could g
o back to Salisbury and Madame, it would mean running from her troubles instead of facing them with the comportment and dignity Madame had instilled in her. She wanted to prove to her headmistress she was the strong, capable woman she’d raised her to be, not a senseless goose, despite having acted like one with Luke.

  Joanna turned and caught the silent eyes of her mother watching her from the portrait. Regret as powerful as that over never having met her mother smothered her. She let go of the locket, wondering if she’d avoided sharing a similar fate with her. If she’d continued with Luke, they might have met again in a dark room in defiance of everyone and she could have found herself with child. She’d wanted to make a decision about her life, but Luke had proven she wasn’t capable of doing so, or trusting her own heart. When he’d held her in Vauxhall Gardens, she’d been as convinced of his love as of Grace’s, Rachel’s and Isabel’s friendships. When he’d told her he still loved her tonight, she’d wanted to believe him, despite the anger driving her to deny it. It was difficult, even now, to accept she’d been so misled, but she had been. She’d craved him and had imagined their future. In the end, he’d disappointed her and her expectations as much as the position with the Huntfords’ had.

  ‘I wish you were here,’ she said to her mother, craving another letter, and more words to help her deal with the pain crushing her heart. She would have understood Joanna’s torment and wouldn’t have judged her for her mistakes, but she wasn’t here. No one was. There was nothing except silence. Once again Joanna was left to forge ahead alone.