by Regina Darcy
Angelica looked at her for a long moment. “Your hair is very dark.”
Beatrice laughed. “Yes, it is. Do you know how often I have wished to have your fair colouring? But it was not to be, it seems.” She smiled at Angelica and, finally, got just the smallest smile in return. “I think we shall get along very well. I would dearly love to see the schoolroom, though. Do you think you would be able to show me the way?”
To the Duke’s immense surprise, Angelica dropped his hand and walked over to Beatrice without a moment’s hesitation. Beatrice’s smile grew wider as the child slipped her hand into her own, before walking towards the nursery door.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Beatrice called back over her shoulder. “Please excuse me.”
“Not at all,” he murmured, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. “Please come to the library this evening, once Angelica is abed. We have her education – and your compensation – to discuss.”
Beatrice nodded, giving him a quick curtsy before allowing Angelica to lead her out of the room and along the hallway. Things had gone better than she’d hoped with the girl, who had taken to her almost immediately. Beatrice hoped that the child’s acceptance of her would continue.
Remembering that she would have to find her way to the library this evening, a shot of nerves hit Beatrice full-force. She was already far too aware of the Duke, barely able to get his handsome face from her mind. The look on his face when Angelica had taken her hand told her that he had been just as surprised as she. Mayhap that would reassure him that all would be well with her as Angelica’s governess.
Beatrice smiled to herself. She had been delighted to see the obvious love and care between father and daughter. Whatever rumours might circulate about the Duke, his love for his daughter was above reproach. With a spring in her steps, Beatrice continued towards the schoolroom with Angelica, for the first time in a long time looking forward to her new life.
THREE
Jonathan Ross, the Duke of Carrington, blew a long breath from between his pursed lips. This simply was not going to work. Already he was thinking about writing to his aunt and telling her that the new governess would have to return home – not that his aunt would accept that, of course.
His concern had grown from the very first moment Miss Beatrice Lakeheart stepped into his office. Her youth had surprised him, followed by her beauty. He was a connoisseur of beauty, and she was a diamond of first water, despite her chestnut tresses being tied up primly into a bun and her morose-looking governess attire. He smiled to himself, her garments had not quite manage to hide her curves. Heat burned into his core as he thought of her. She was altogether too lovely to remain in his home, for his immediate attraction to her both concerned and frustrated him.
His reputation as a rake was something he made no apologies for. Ladies practically fell into his arms, despite this. There were both married women and widows in London who had made it more than obvious that they wished for a dalliance with him. It had been all too easy to oblige, especially after the death of his wife, but that part of his life was behind him now. At least for the moment. He had to maintain a spotless reputation, in the preparation for his upcoming wedding.
Miss Abigail Martins was the daughter of Lord Carver, who was both wealthy and well-known.
Jonathan’s face darkened with consternation at the thought of the young lady in question. He did not care much for the chit, but it was a good match. Her pedigree was impeccable, she would make him an honourable wife. However, there was an air of arrogance about her that he did not particularly fancy. She came with a sizeable dowry and had a pretty face, but that was all that could commend her to him. Why he had agreed to the match, he was not quite sure – but he was sure it had something to do with getting his mother to stop harping on about the future of the Carrington estate. In fact, the moment he had proposed to Abigail, his mother had begun to make arrangements to move to the Dower House, to oversee their courtship in Bath. Now that she was gone from his home, life was a little easier, but the storm clouds were already beginning to gather.
What would his mother do should he break off the engagement? Musing to himself, he poured a splash of whisky into a glass, moving to sit in his comfortable chair before the fire. She would be utterly irate, and would, in all likelihood, attempt to move back into his home in order to begin her reign once more. Rolling his eyes, Jonathan let out a long sigh. What had become of him?
His thoughts turned to his daughter. He had been greatly surprised by just how quickly the girl had taken to her new governess, for she barely graced her own father with a smile, never mind a complete stranger! His heart grew warm as he thought of the way she had carefully placed her hand in Miss Lakeheart’s before walking from the room. His Angelica had never before shown such immediate camaraderie with a stranger before. Perhaps the new governess had more to recommend her than he’d first expected.
Angelica needed a warm and friendly governess. With her mother now gone for over three years, she needed a womanly role model. Someone to inspire her, and to teach her all that she would need to enter into society and take on her responsibilities when the time came. Would Miss Lakeheart be able to show her all of that?
A frown marred his brow. Miss Lakeheart was young and seemingly inexperienced, although she did come from a good family and, according to his aunt’s account, was well-educated. Something of a bluestocking, she had said. Still, it seemed quite peculiar for a lady of quality to deign to become a governess.
Getting up, he rifled through his drawer for one of the most recent letters his aunt had sent him. It took him some minutes but, eventually, he held it aloft triumphantly. Walking back to his chair, he unfolded it and read it again, trying to find where his aunt had written about Miss Lakeheart’s situation.
“She is both kind-hearted and good-tempered,” he read aloud. “Her father, however, has remarried, and his new wife is something of a termagant. Needless to say, my goddaughter has suffered due to her father’s lack of fortitude and his new wife’s iron will. She needs to be removed from this situation with the utmost speed,” he finished, refolding the letter.
So that was what his new governess had escaped from. He was not quite sure how exactly she had suffered, but it had been enough for his aunt to notice and become concerned. Jonathan groaned aloud, resting his head back on the chair. He could not ask her to leave, at least not yet. His attraction to her would have to be managed, that was all. Allowing her a fortnight’s trial with his daughter would give him the opportunity to see just what she could do, and whether or not Angelica truly took to her.
If Angelica formed a bond with the woman, then Jonathan vowed he would not remove Miss Lakeheart from her post. His child meant more to him than the world, and he would not allow her to be heartbroken.
“Then it’s settled,” he muttered to himself. “If she can prove herself, then she stays.”
You will simply have to put your instant attraction to her to one side, he thought to himself, grimly. Taking a large sip of his whisky, he rose from his chair and returned to his desk. Putting all thoughts of Miss Lakeheart from his mind, he continued to work on the arrangements for the upcoming ball, where he would, unfortunately, see his fiancée once more.
He felt like he had barely re-immersed himself in matters at hand, when there was a knock on the door.
“Enter.”
In walked the new governess. Smiling as she entered the library, Jonathan tried not to look anywhere other than at her eyes. The problem was, however, that her eyes were an incredible shade of green that almost glowed in the candlelight. The young woman was quite striking, despite her drab appearance.
“You have settled in, then?”
“Yes, Your Grace” Beatrice replied, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. Clasping her hands in front of her, she attempted to smile back, ignoring her churning stomach.
“And Angelica?”
She nodded. “We have rubbed along very well thus far, Your Grace.
”
Slightly irritated, Jonathan waved a hand.
“You may dispense with all the ‘Your Grace’ declarations, Miss Lakeheart. A simple ‘my lord’ will suffice in private.” He watched her eyebrows lift in surprise, but grinned as she clamped her mouth shut. Obviously, he had taken her by surprise.
“I find such formalities take up too much time,” he continued, by way of explanation.
“I see, my lord,” Beatrice murmured, still recovering from his pronouncement. She certainly had not expected that, but, then again, perhaps it was simply another attempt on his part to put her at ease.
“So,” Jonathan continued, studying her once more, “I have decided that, despite your lack of experience, you may have a fortnight’s trial.”
Relief rushed into her face. “I thank you, my lord,” she breathed, bobbing a quick curtsy. “I shall make every effort to ensure I meet your standards.”
“And I am quite sure you will,” came the easy reply. “Angelica does not often take so easily to those she has never met before, so already, you see, you have surpassed my expectations!”
Beatrice smiled, her eyes sparkling with delight.
“I must say, your daughter is quite lovely, my lord. We have spoken of many things.”
“Indeed,” Jonathan replied, surprised. “I had worried she would remain as quiet as a mouse.”
“It did take some time for her to begin to talk with me, I must confess, but since then, she has spoken at length about her pony and one of her dolls. They are both her very favourite,” she finished, laughing.
For a moment, Jonathan was dumb struck. Miss Lakeheart’s laugh brought joy to his heart, and he was finding it difficult not to allow his attraction to her to get the better of him. Already, his gaze was drifting to her lips, and he had to force himself to look away. Lambasting his weakness, he got to his feet.
“Then we are agreed,” he said, walking towards the door and holding it open for her.
“I shall provide remuneration, at the end of the month.” Naming a sum that made her gasp, he grinned delightedly. He had not intended to pay so much, but from what his aunt had said, she deserved a little happiness.
“I thank you, my lord,” Beatrice breathed, bobbing another curtsy. “You shall not regret this, I swear it.” Walking from the room, she turned her head to give him one more brilliant smile, before disappearing into the darkness of the hallway.
“I hope I shall not regret it,” Jonathan murmured to himself, staring after her.
FOUR
Beatrice threw herself into her new role, and, as the two weeks’ trial period passed, found herself growing more and more attached to the little girl in her care. Angelica was both polite and sweet, with a keen eagerness to learn. Once she had overcome her initial shyness, she had formed quite a bond with Beatrice and was always delighted to see her each morning after breakfast. Beatrice never had to utter a single word of correction, for Angelica was eager to please.
During her entire trial period, Beatrice only travelled into central Bath twice. Once to visit the Pump Rooms and once to go shopping with little Angelica.
She had neither the acquaintances nor the social connections to attend any of the Assembly Rooms. But this did not leave her dissatisfied. Her brief visits had confirmed to her that Bath was indeed a husband hunting market and she had neither the patience or ruthlessness to join such endeavours. Besides, it had become very clear that she neither belong upstairs or downstairs, which meant her circle of acquaintances was non-existent.
Knowing that she was to meet with the Duke in only a few minutes, Beatrice studied herself in the mirror. She had taken down, brushed, and retied her hair into a neat bun, and her high-necked dress was spotless. All in all, she looked quite the governess. Still, Beatrice could not ignore the ripple of nerves that sped down her spine as she made her way to the library. Whether it was from the thought of being in such close proximity to the Duke again, she was not quite sure, considering that it was only now that she would discover whether or not she would be allowed to stay on as governess. She hoped desperately that she had done a good enough job to earn the Duke’s favour.
At least Angelica approved of her, she thought to herself. That should put her in good stead.
As she made her way to the library, Beatrice’s thought’s lingered on the Duke. She had seen him on a few occasions during the last fortnight, and, each time, her stomach had flipped, her palms had grown sweaty, and a silly smile had appeared on her face.
She grew warm with embarrassment just thinking about it. Her reaction to him was growing stronger by the day. If only he were not so handsome and well-mannered!
They had shared a few short conversations, and he had always put her at ease. In fact, she completely forgot the differences in their station in life, when they were alone.
They had discussed Angelica’s education, and he had seemed more than happy with her proposed plan of study, although she had noticed the slight surprise on his face at some of her suggestions. Perhaps he had not thought her such a bluestocking, as undesirable as that was for a woman of quality.
She sighed, heavily. There were times when she allowed herself to imagine what it would have been like to be introduced to the Duke as Miss Lakeheart, daughter of Lord Shropton, as an eligible debutante instead of an impoverished employee.
Throwing such thoughts aside, she rapped on the library door, and waited to be called in.
“Good evening,” the Duke said cheerfully, from his seat beside the fire. “Do come and join me, Miss Lakeheart. I find myself in sore need of some company this evening.”
A little surprised, Beatrice did as he asked. Taking the seat opposite him, she was even more astonished to see a tea tray at her elbow, filled with a host of afternoon treats, as well as a freshly brewed pot of tea.
“I know it is late,” the Duke said, apologetically. “But we have some matters to discuss and, as I said, I am in dire need of some company!”
In truth, Jonathan was not quite sure why he was so drawn to the little governess’ company, but, given the latest correspondence he had received, he certainly needed someone to talk to. He had quite enjoyed getting to know Miss Lakeheart over the last two weeks and was, in some strange way, desirous of spending more time with her. “I do hope you will stay awhile,” he finished, smiling broadly at her.
Beatrice nodded, a little numb. To spend more time in the Duke’s company was one thing, but to be treated as an acquaintance was quite another. She was not quite sure why he had asked this of her, but she was certainly not about to refuse. A small smile crept over her face as she poured herself a cup of tea. Looking at him questioningly, she saw the Duke grin and raise a glass of whisky.
“No tea for me at the moment, Miss Lakeheart, although I thank you for your consideration.”
She gave him a quick smile, attempting to appear relaxed despite the rolling in her stomach. By all appearances, he was not about to give her bad news and send her home, but she could not be certain. How frustrating it was to have to wait for him to speak!
“Ah,” the Duke said, as though recognising her anxiety. “You need have no concerns over your position here, Miss Lakeheart. I am quite delighted with the progress you have made with Angelica. Indeed, I scarcely recognise her sometimes!”
Beatrice let out a long sigh of relief, attempting to keep the emotion from her face, but failing abysmally. The Duke grinned at her, and heat filled Beatrice’s cheeks.
“You have done very well,” he continued, more gently. “I do hope you will be with us for many years to come.”
“I hope so, as well,” Beatrice replied, entirely truthfully. “Angelica is a very sweet girl, and I believe there is already something of a bond between us.”
“I believe so, as well,” the Duke affirmed. “She has taken well to her learning, then?”
Beatrice nodded fervently. “Very well, sir.”
“Good,” he replied, with another broad smile. “And you are enjo
ying your time here? You are comfortable?”
Pausing for a moment, Beatrice eventually nodded. The Duke quirked an eyebrow, aware of her hesitation, and Beatrice could not help her blush. “A governess is neither a servant nor someone of standing, sir,” she tried to explain. “It can be somewhat lonely, although I have enjoyed reading when I can.”
“Lonely?” the Duke repeated, looking surprised. Oft he felt the same emotion, given that it was only he who rattled around his large country estate most evenings.
“Then, if you will permit it, I welcome you to attend the library whenever you choose. You may read here if you wish, and mayhap you will keep me company at times.”
Her blush deepened. A lady of quality would never spend time alone with a man, no matter his standing, but she supposed a governess was not under the same scrutiny. However, she also could not fail to remember the Duke’s reputation.
“I shall be quite the gentleman, I promise you,” the Duke continued, as if he had read her thoughts. “I have no doubt, my dear Miss Lakeheart that you have heard of my reputation, but that need not concern you. After all, I am now a betrothed man.”
Beatrice stared at him as he took a large sip of his whisky, his face unreadable. Her world was left in shambles. Although she had no intimacy with him, her attraction to him had developed into something greater since she’d arrived.
But Beatrice refused to dwell on that for the moment. Giving herself a slight shake, she attempted to smile at him. Perhaps it would be for the best if he were to marry, for then she could rid herself entirely of her ridiculous infatuation.
“Many congratulations,” she murmured, lifting the china cup to her lips. “When is the wedding?”
He let out a snort. “Whenever my mother deigns to arrange it.”
Surprised at his harsh words, it dawned on Beatrice that the Duke was not marrying for love. He was, as many of his class did, merely entering into an arrangement. For whatever reason, he did not seem particularly enamoured of the idea, and her foolish heart found that this lessened the pain of his pronouncement a little.
