Dangerous Lord, Innocent Governess

by Christine Merrill

  ‘Yes.’ He smiled encouragingly again. ‘If it gives you any comfort to know the fact, she was not born to this life. She was frightfully rich, of course. But she is not one to put on airs or think less of a person because of their birth or a need to take employment.’

  ‘Oh. That is good.’ For she remembered, after a moment, that this would have been a comfort to a true governess. But what would her mother have made of the situation now? There would have been much bowing and scraping, while at table. But when they got home, there would be a stern lecture on the tendency of great men to marry beneath themselves while gently raised ladies of a better class, ladies such as Daphne, for instance, went unclaimed.

  ‘And I am sure she will be interested in your progress with the children’s education. She is frightfully intelligent as well. She is just finished with her own translation of Homer.’

  ‘Are you speaking of my wife’s book?’ The Duke’s ears seemed to prick from across the room, to catch the mention. He turned from the children, and reached into his pocket. ‘I have brought a copy for you, since I knew you would appreciate it. It is an early printing, of course. A proof from Penny’s brother. The man still has no understanding of the material, but I must admit he has done a good job with the setting and binding.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’ The Duchess looked eagerly at Tim. ‘What is your opinion? I thought, if I was seeking a more accessible translation of the story, perhaps it would do to have some illustrations, but I have not the slightest idea of how to go about getting them. I suppose I must hire an artist.’

  ‘Oh, Miss Collins. Have Miss Collins do them.’ All three of the children were chorusing the suggestion enthusiastically.

  Daphne took a step back, wishing there were a way to withdraw from the room without notice. But the children did not cease their clamour.

  ‘Could you?’ The Duchess looked hopefully at her.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I doubt I would be good enough.’ And it would be incredibly complicated to explain, once she had completed her task here and returned to her old life. Especially if she accused the Duchess’s husband of murder.

  ‘No. You must. It would be wonderful. Come and see her sketches, Uncle Adam. Come and see.’ Sophie had opened like a flower in the presence of company, talking non-stop and showing no sign of shyness. She grabbed the duke by the hand and was pulling him from the room.

  Too late, Daphne remembered that it was her job as governess to prevent just such an embarrassing occurrence. ‘Sophie. That is quite enough. You must return to your seat, immediately.’

  The Duke smiled at her. ‘Do not mind her. It is quite all right, really. I have not seen Sophie in a very long time. And if this gives her pleasure?’ He smiled down at the girl and gave a courtly bow. ‘I am at your command, my dear. Where are these sketches? If you would like to show them to me, I would very much like to see.’

  ‘In the nursery.’ She had tugged him out into the hall before Daphne realised the girl’s intent. And they had headed up the stairs.

  ‘Do not concern yourself, Miss Collins.’ The Duke tossed the phrase over his shoulder. ‘She is not the least bit of a bother. We will return shortly.’

  So she stood in the entry and watched. It took only a few steps for Sophie to recover from her hesitation over taking the main stairs. She gripped the Duke’s hand tightly, and started up them.

  The Duke showed no hesitation at all. He was smiling down at the girl, holding the banister with relaxed fingers, proceeding at an orderly pace towards the first floor, and chatting as he went.

  It was a stark contrast to the way Tim approached the same stairs. There was no guilt in this man’s posture at all. Perhaps her suspicions were wrong. He did not behave as if there was a reason to fear discovery. And while some might be so duplicitous as to disguise a murder, would it not have been easier to avoid the Colton family altogether, if the object was to hide an illegitimate child?

  And with man and girl, side by side, she could see no resemblance at all. Surely there would be something alike in the two, if he were Sophie’s father?

  But if it was not the Duke? She looked back over her shoulder at her employer, who was glancing at the stairs with the same trepidation as always.

  If the Duke was not a murderer, then she was left with her original suspect, whether she wanted him or not.

  The Duchess was looking over her shoulder at the retreating pair. ‘My word. You have been here less than two weeks and already I see a substantial change in Sophie’s behaviour.’

  ‘Well, I…’ She struggled, unable to come up with an explanation for it.

  Tim had come to her side, to answer for her. ‘It is all up to Miss Collins, Penny. And I must apologise for the way I treated you, when you insisted on hiring her. You were right and I was wrong. The children needed someone sensible to look after them.’

  Daphne was stunned. For when had anyone ever used the term sensible to refer to her?

  Tim was smiling at her, as though she had hung the moon and stars. ‘We needed someone who could look at the situation with a head unclouded by previous events, and come up with solutions to our problems. And Miss Collins has been a godsend.’

  The Duchess was staring at Tim, who hardly seemed to notice her scrutiny, for all his attention was focused on Daphne. ‘I can see that.’

  Oh, dear. By the look in her eyes, the Duchess could see far more. Sophie was not the only one who had been transformed since her last visit. Tim was behaving in a manner that would be most ordinary in any drawing room. The saturnine man who had been forced into hiring her had disappeared. This man was gazing upon her with the same doting pride that the Duke lavished on his own wife.

  Daphne would have found it quite flattering and a sure sign of strong admiration and attraction had they met under ordinary circumstances. But to bestow such lingering gazes on one’s children’s governess must seem almost as mad as his earlier storming. She dipped her head in subservience, and muttered, ‘Lord Colton is too kind.’

  The Duke and Sophie returned to the main floor a short time later, with her sketchbook under his arm. She had a brief, irrational desire to snatch the thing away from him and argue that it was none of his affair what she might draw, or whether she displayed any skill while doing it. But it would not do to insult a peer. Her mother would be horrified that she would even consider it.

  And as a governess? She should be doubly honoured that he took any notice at all.

  He set the book before his wife, and opened it to the odd landscape she had drawn. Then he cocked his head and looked at her. ‘I must say, the work is most singular. But I do not recognise the location.’

  She cleared her throat. ‘It is all of my imagination, I fear.’

  ‘All the better, for you would have to use imagination freely, to render the scenes from my wife’s book.’ He smiled proudly at Penny. ‘Although she has a most vivid turn of phrase. If she can make me read Homer, then think what she will do to you.’ He flipped a few more pages, to see how she had rendered the plants in the garden and the statuary there. ‘And I trust you can draw people as well?’

  And it was then that she remembered the sketch she’d done of Tim. Her hand was halfway to reaching for the book when he flipped the page and stared down at the image.

  Tim was across the room, seeing to the children, and did not notice the sudden silence from the group standing over the sketchbook. The light in the drawing was obviously from a breaking dawn. It was soft and flattering, as was his expression. His cravat was missing, and his shirt undone. It was a view that no decent woman should have seen, much less committed to paper. What must they think of her?

  Perhaps she should protest that it had been a passing fancy, and not drawn from life at all. But would it be any better that they believed she was in some way obsessed with a glimpse of her employer’s bare chest? And how would the Duchess react, knowing that she had hired such a person to care for children?

  But it was even worse
that they think she had drawn the picture from memory of an actual event. If that was the case, it was plain what was going on in the house. And that Tim would entertain the Duke and, worse yet, his Duchess, while his mistress sat at table with them, was the gravest possible insult. She swallowed, trying to come up with some explanation that would make him turn the page.

  And he said suddenly, ‘It is a very good likeness, is it not, Penny?’

  She adjusted her spectacles in a way that might have implied disapproval. But then it became clear that she was only wishing to get a better look at the picture. The Duchess responded, ‘Most well drawn.’ When she glanced away from the sketch, there was a faint hint of colour in her cheek as evidence that she had seen, understood and been amused by the subject matter. But however she might look, when she spoke to Daphne she made it clear that there was nothing worth acknowledging about the picture. ‘I would be most flattered to have you accept a copy of my work, and see what you might make of it. I have ideas, of course. But I would welcome the advice of so talented an artist.’ And then she smiled warmly. ‘I suspect that you will be with us for quite some time, and we will be able to discuss this again.’

  Daphne expelled the breath she had been holding, and murmured, ‘Thank you, your Grace.’

  And the Duchess reached out to touch her hand, giving it a small, affectionate squeeze. ‘Please. You must call me Penny. And my husband is Adam. All the titles can get so tiresome, at times. It is good to be able to relax.’

  Then her husband shut the book quietly and looked back toward his host.

  Tim was giving him a curious look in response, as though he waited on an answer.

  The Duke called, ‘Where is the dinner you have promised us, Tim? And the wine. I have quite missed the access to your fine cellars.’

  Apparently, the answer had been given, for Tim grinned back at them. ‘As though you cannot afford to stock your own. I had hoped, Adam, that since you had found a wife with more sense than you possess, you’d have let her take on the accounts.’

  ‘That is just what I have done. And now she will not let me spend on such foolishness as decent brandy. So I have come to drink yours. Gather your children.’ He held out an arm to his wife and the other to Daphne. ‘And I will see to it that the ladies arrive safely in the dining room.’

  Daphne gingerly accepted his offer of escort. So he chose to think of her as a lady, even after the damning evidence of the drawing?

  He saw her hesitation and glanced in the direction of his friend. ‘It is good to see Tim so happy. I was worried that he would not recover from his wife’s death.’ He looked at her pointedly. ‘It was very difficult for him. Almost more so than the time before her death, which was very bad indeed. And I feared for the children as well, to be raised in such a household. In your short stay here, the mood of the house is returning to what we hoped it might be. Our friend Tim deserves an end to strife, for he has suffered long enough.’ Then he smiled in her direction. ‘If you are the cause of it, then you are a most welcome addition to his table, and to our little circle. Tell me, my dear, do you enjoy cards? For it would be pleasant to have a fourth…’

  Dinner had been delightful, as had the cards and games afterwards. And it was only when Sophie had begun to nod over the drawing she was making by the fire, and the older children yawned into the books they were reading, that the adults decided it was time to end the evening.

  When Daphne made to excuse herself to help them to bed, Lily fixed her with a curious look, as though reassessing her place in the family, and offered to tend to her sister herself, so that Miss Collins could stay a while longer with the adults. Tim smiled to himself. It did his daughter credit that she could interpret the situation so quickly, without him having to enlist her help.

  He could see Daphne opening her mouth to refuse, and moved quickly to speak ahead of her. ‘Thank you, Lily. That is most considerate of you and very helpful.’ And when he was sure no one was looking, he winked at his older daughter and she smiled back at him.

  It felt natural to have Daphne there, sharing a final glass of wine before Adam and Penny departed. And even more so to have her standing at his side, as he bid adieu to his guests. His friends reached out to her with warmth, eager to put her at ease. Both the Duke and Duchess took her by the hands and kissed her cheeks, as though she was more sister than servant. Although she was still too shy to return the gesture, he felt that it would not be too long before she treated them just as warmly as they did her.

  When the Bellstons were safely on their way home to the grand estate just a few miles away, he shut the door and smiled down at her, laying a hand on her shoulder in a gesture of casual affection. ‘Did you enjoy the evening?’

  She smiled. ‘Very much so. At first, I did not think…’

  ‘That it was appropriate?’ He smiled in return. ‘I saw the look in your eyes when you came downstairs. Full of doubt. It was most unusual for you.’

  ‘Well, it is rather unusual to seat the governess down next to a duke. And given the rather unique nature of my position here…’ She took a deep breath.

  ‘You were worried that they would learn the truth?’ He laughed. ‘I am sure they surmised the truth, even before they arrived. Adam is not the idiot he might pretend to be. He had it all worked out before he stepped over the threshold. His wife as well. I fought and complained over you, and made no secret of the fact that I did not want or need you. And then, two days ago, I stopped complaining. Perhaps they came to make sure that I had not pushed you down the stairs.’

  ‘Do not joke over such things.’ She’d gone deathly white at his words.

  ‘Why?’ He smiled at her, the wine and good company leaving him reckless. ‘It may very well be true, you know. They had reason to be worried. I have lost the right to expect full trust, even from those who admired me in the past.’

  ‘If they do not trust you, then they are not truly your friends, Tim.’

  He laughed softly to himself. ‘It is flattering to have such blind devotion from you, my love. No matter how unwarranted.’

  She reached out and touched him lightly on the cheek. ‘I see no reason to doubt.’

  He kissed her palm and then reached to catch her about the waist, pulling her close to take her lips. This was as it should be. A beautiful woman who trusted him against all reason and loved his children. And whose lips were sweeter than after-dinner port.

  For a moment, she was kissing him as ardently as he did her. But then she stopped, and struggled in his arms. ‘Lord Colton. Stop it this instant.’

  ‘Lord Colton, am I? You were not nearly so formal last night. I did not think you would mind a few kisses overmuch.’

  ‘That was last night. And this is here and now, in an entryway, where anyone might see.’

  ‘Are you afraid to have others know the truth about what is going on between us?’

  ‘The Duke, Adam, and his wife might know already. But the servants do not.’

  ‘It is my house, and I will behave how I wish.’ He tipped her chin up and kissed her again, open mouthed, so there would be no question of his feelings should they be discovered. ‘And I wish to do this. As often as possible.’ He kissed her again and again, until she forgot all arguments. When he released her mouth so that she might catch her breath, he ran a finger along the neckline of her gown, and sighed in contentment. ‘You look lovely tonight. But I imagine you in satin and lace, every night. With diamonds, here and here.’ He nibbled on her ear, as his fingers stroked her throat. ‘Sharing my table and my bed.’ She tensed at his touch, and he whispered, ‘Tell me you want me as much as I want you.’

  There was a pause, and then she whispered, ‘I do. But…’

  ‘But…’ He nodded, for her hesitance confirmed his fears.

  ‘It is not about you,’ she insisted. ‘It is all much more complicated than that. We are not married. Not even betrothed.’

  It stung him to think she might reject him, and he struck back with wo
rds meant to wound. ‘If suddenly your honour matters so much, I will marry you. Only to see you forfeit it again, by your association with me.’

  He could see that he had hurt her, for her green eyes grew large and sparkled with tears. But when she spoke, her voice was clear. ‘I regret that I cannot accept your kind offer. And before you suggest it, my reasons have very little to do with what happened to your late wife. You talk of marriage. And yet you know nothing about me, nor do you seem to care about that fact. Though you will continue to enjoy my physical company, it would be very foolish of me to expect that you will change your mind about the rest of me, and suddenly begin to care once we wed.’

  And with that, she stalked up the main stairs, so fast that she was gone before he could follow.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Daphne pounded her pillow in frustration. It had been three days since she had left him in the hall, and it was obvious she had offended him so greatly that he did not mean to visit her again. The whole thing was grossly unfair. If she’d claimed that she could no longer bear the shame of lying with a murderer, she suspected he would have been apologetic and perfectly understanding of it. It would have appealed to his sense of tragedy.

  But he could not seem to fathom that someone might have feelings to be hurt, just as he had. He supposed he could marry her, if honour mattered…

  She punched her pillow again. He was not a murderer, and hardly worth saving, if that was the best he could do. Timothy Colton was a selfish lout, no better than the men she had known in London. Just like the faithless cads whose attentions Clare had trained her to encourage. It served her right that when she met someone who mattered to her, and tried to learn from her mistakes and not be a public embarrassment, it would mean nothing to him.

  And yet, she could not leave. There were the children, who needed her so much more than their father did. And she had not been paying attention to them, too focused on the needs of their father. The older children were all right, for they seemed to thrive, no matter what mistakes she made.