The Defiant Governess

by Andrea Pickens

  Jane’s hand were knotted in her lap. “Yes,” she sighed, trying to sound enthusiastic.

  “What’s this? Blue-deviled on a night like this. For shame!” She shot her charge a shrewd look. “Why I hear that all the young bucks have come up from Town. Lord Astley is at his estate and it’s said Lord Hawthorne is staying with him. You’ll have no lack of dancing partners.”

  Jane smiled as she opened her jewelry case.

  “And of course there’s that handsome lord what’s staying here. Devilishly attractive is that one. Quiet he is, and a bit mysterious if I do say so. Surely he’ll be there as well.”

  Jane’s fingers fumbled with the catch of her necklace, a double strand of pearls with a starburst pendant of cut sapphires. A knock on the door saved her from having to reply.

  “Don’t be all evening! The guests will be arriving any moment.” Thomas poked his head in the door and gave an appreciative whistle. “You look magnificent, my dear.”

  “Fustian,” she murmured but was secretly glad that he thought she looked well. She snapped the clasp in place and pulled on her kid gloves. As she hurried to the door, she stopped to plant a kiss on her maid’s cheek. “Don’t bother waiting up for me. I shall tell you all about it in the morning.”

  * * * *

  Sarah had been right. The ballroom looked absolutely enchanting. Even though Jane had helped supervise the gardeners in arranging the garlands of evergreens and the fragrant flowers from the greenhouses, the glittering of the chandeliers along with the hundreds of snowy candles places in among the greens brought a special magic to the space. At the far end of the room, on a platform nearly hidden by sheaves of wheat and arrangements of cabbage roses, the musicians began to warm up.

  The ballroom was fast filling up with guests. Some of the older gentlemen made no pretense of being interested in the dancing and made straight for the card room. A few old dowagers and apprehensive Mammas sat grouped together where they could keep their basilisk stares on the dance floor. Jane was relieved that her aunt had insisted on doing the honors with her father in the receiving line. It gave her time to look around and compose her thoughts.

  “Welcome back, Lady Jane. I trust your relative is quite recovered.” Jane turned to a familiar face, framed by short auburn curls carefully arranged a la Brutus. “I know we shall never recover from your absence from the Season,” continued the smooth voice as her hand was lifted towards his lips.

  She managed a smile. “How kind, Lord Frederick, though I’m sure life was not quite so sadly flat as you hint.”

  “Oh, it was.” He held her hand longer than necessary and she had to restrain the urge to yank it away. At that moment she thought him a conceited prig! Was he so sure of himself that he was oblivious to her lack of particular regard?

  He reached for her dance card. “Ah, the rewards of being unfashionably early,” he smiled. “I shall claim the first waltz, as well as…”

  “I’m sorry. I’m promised for the first waltz.”

  His eyes flickered with annoyance. “I see no name there.”

  “Nevertheless, it is taken.”

  “Who…” began the young Duke, when a group of other gentlemen descended upon them. Jane was saved from further conversation with him as she exchanged greetings with her well-wishers. Within minutes, her card was filled for the evening, Lord Frederick having had to satisfy himself with the supper dance and a later waltz. The music began and she was led out for the opening set of country dances. Her partner, Viscount Stoneleigh, was an old friend who also chided her on her long absence from Society. With a twinkle in his eye, he promised to bring her up to date on all that had happened. Despite his droll observations on the latest on dits, Jane found her attention wandering. Her eyes searched the crowded room. Surely he must be here by now. Unaware of the music, she made a glaring misstep, causing her partner to tread on the toe of her slipper.

  “Your pardon!” Stoneleigh apologized, peering at her startled face. “Lady Jane, I fear you haven’t heard a word I have been saying!”

  Jane blushed guiltily and forced herself to banter with him until the dance ended and he led her back to the group of her admirers.

  Her next partner was sent to fetch lemonade, giving her time to look around once more. She caught her breath as she saw Saybrook standing alone, arms crossed, surveying the room. He looked magnificent in his evening clothes. The other lords suddenly seemed like a flock of poppinjays with their striped waistcoats, bright colors and dangling fobs and seals. Saybrook was dressed entirely in black, save for the snowy cravat at his throat and a single gold signet ring on his finger. He seemed not to notice her at all, his eyes sweeping past as if she were merely one of the decorative blooms. With a tiny sigh of disappointment she turned back to her partner with an animated smile and feigned a lighthearted gayness.

  After yet another dance Jane begged a moment to take a chair. She knew what was coming next. Already the musicians were running through the first few bars of the lilting melody in order to get ready. Resisting the urge to look around yet again, she made herself listen with a smile to the Vicar’s wife prose on about her weak constitution.

  “What sort of mutton-headed fool leaves a Diamond of the First Water sitting out a waltz?” growled Lord Frederick as he bent close to her ear.

  “I am quite exhausted. I prefer to sit,” she answered quietly.

  “Nonsense. I won’t allow it.”

  “Lord Frederick, please. I do not wish to,” she said, trying to evade his hand.

  He had succeeded in taking hold of her however, and rather than make an unpleasant scene, she rose reluctantly.

  “I believe Lady Jane is promised for this dance.”

  The deep voice sent a thrill down Jane’s spine.

  Lord Frederick turned to face the tall stranger. “Since you, sir, have been so rag-mannered as to leave the lady waiting, I believe you have forfeited your right.” He glared with a smug expression, confident that such a ringing set down would send the man slinking away.

  “I think not.” Saybrook’s voice was still low, but with an icy coolness that made Lord Frederick draw back in surprise. Saybrook’s hand was already on Jane’s elbow and he guided her to the dance floor before the startled Duke could say another word. They took their positions silently and the musicians began to play.

  Like before, she followed him effortlessly, instinctively. As they floated along with a natural grace that drew admiring glances from the couples around them she was intensely aware of his hand on the small of her back, the heat emanating from the closeness of his body, his earthy, masculine scent. Unconsciously she squeezed his hand. In response he pulled her a fraction of an inch closer. At that, she summoned the courage to look up at him. His eyes were riveted on her face, his expression intent yet inscrutable.

  “You…you remembered,” she managed to say.

  “As if I could forget,” he murmured in a husky whisper.

  Nothing was said for another few moments. Then he spoke again, still in a near whisper. “Let me say that your gown is infinitely more becoming than the one you were wearing last time we danced.”

  A smile came to her lips and she saw an immediate softening of his features. “Don’t remind you of how hideous I must have looked. Thank goodness you are well rid of such a sight.”

  “You are very wrong. ‘Tis a great sadness to me that Miss Langley has disappeared.”

  “But she hasn’t, sir. She is here.

  “Is she?”

  Before Jane could answer, he tightened his hold on her waist and swept her along at a quickened pace. Her heart was racing, whether from exertion or the sudden wave of emotion she couldn’t tell. She couldn’t tell much of anything. The rest of the dance was a blur, and when he released her to lead her back to her next partner she was amazed to find that her legs were steady enough to support her.

  There was already a cluster of gentlemen waiting her return. They eyed Saybrook with a range of expressions that ranged from spec
ulative to downright hostile. Suddenly Jane couldn’t bear the idea of anyone else’s touch. As Saybrook left her with a slight bow, she turned to Lord Morton, the next name on her list.

  “Please excuse me, sir,” she said as she fumbled with the fold of her gown. “I seem to have a small tear at my hem that simply must be mended.”

  Without waiting for reply she turned and made her way through the crowd. Reaching the hallway, she hurried past the ladies’ withdrawing room, praying that no prying tabby would note her strange behavior. The drawing room was empty, lit only by moonlight. As she flung open the French doors and stepped outside a wave of cool air washed over her. It felt good on her flushed cheeks, and she stood still, breathing it in deeply. To her chagrin, she felt tears trickling down her cheeks. She scolded herself for being ridiculous. Why, she seemed to have turned into a veritable watering pot these days. With a loud sniff, she reached to wipe them away.

  “Allow me.”

  Saybrook came around to face her and dabbed gently at her face with a white silk handkerchief. Returning it to his pocket, he slipped off his coat and settled it around her shoulders.

  She turned away in confusion. “I…I was too warm and just came out for a breath of air. I must be getting back.”

  He placed a hand on her arm. “A moment longer.” He turned her round to face him. “Why are you crying?”

  “Why did you come here?” she countered, her jaw thrusting out defiantly. “And I’m not crying. The cold air has merely made me tear…”

  For the first time in ages, Saybrook gave a hearty chuckle. “You are right—my dear, defiant, prickly Miss Langley is still here.”

  “I’m not prickly,” she retorted. “It’s just that you bring out...” She stopped as he ran the back of his hand down her jawline.

  “No,” he whispered. “On that I am very wrong.”

  Suddenly she felt hot all over again.

  “Why did you come here?” she repeated.

  He was silent for a number of moments. “To see Miss Langley. To ask…her forgiveness...”

  “Sir! The past is done with. There is nothing for which you need forgiveness. You are a good man, a kind, compassionate, honorable man. The past is over. It is time to move on with your life.”

  “Yes,” he mused. “Yes, I have come to that decision as well. And so I came to do properly what I made a terrible mull of the first time I tried it.”

  Jane’s mouth went dry. “What is that?”

  His sea green eyes flickered in the pale moonlight. “I was afraid to say what I truly felt,” he went on. “Afraid of—no matter. I have come to realize it is infinitely harder to bear hiding one’s feelings than it is to risk hurt.”

  “And perhaps I was afraid to hear it, for all the same reasons.” Jane met his gaze. “But...” She hesitated. “These past few days you have remained silent. Has something changed?”

  “Yes, it has.”

  Jane felt a rush of sadness, regret. The tears welled up again and she dropped her head. “I see.”

  “The governess is now a lady of great rank and wealth.”

  “And that matters because I lied to you,” she mumbled.

  Saybrook lifted her chin. “For such an intelligent person, you have come up with a most nonsensical notion. It matters because I fear you may think me no better than a fortune-hunter or...”

  “Now it is you who have windmills in your head. As if I could think such a thing! You forget that I already know your faults.”

  Saybrook’s hands moved to her shoulders. The coat slid to the ground. “Lord, what fools we both have been,” he breathed as he pulled her close. “Jane, my dearest Jane. I love you beyond reason. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Truly?”

  “Most truly, darling. Surely any man less modest would have known I’ve been head over heels in love with you for an age.” Her head was resting on his shoulder and she turned it to look up at him.

  His lips came down on hers, tender but full of need. It took but a moment to ignite the smoldering passion in both of them. Saybrook’s tongue demanded entry, and she opened wide for him, with a soft moan of desire. He thrust in deeply, drinking the taste of her while she, shy at first, then more boldly, explored him as well.

  He released her mouth only to trail his lips along the curve of her neck down to the edge of her gown.

  “My darling,” he groaned as his hands cupped her breasts. Then he slid a finger inside her bodice, pulling it down to expose the rounded flesh. Jane gave a gasp of pleasure as he took her nipple between his teeth, feeling it harden as he caressed it with his tongue.

  “Edward,” she moaned, her nails digging through the fine fabric of his shirt to the rippling muscles beneath.

  “Say it again, my love,” he urged. “Let me hear my name on your lips once more.” He began to kiss her other breast.

  Jane repeated his name over and over again as she slid her hands down to his buttocks and pulled him tight, so she could feel the hardened ridge of his manhood pressing against her. With another groan, he gently undid her arms and held her away.

  “Love, we must wait till our wedding night—and in another moment that will be impossible,” he whispered raggedly. The disappointment and desire in her eyes made him smile crookedly as he straightened the front of her gown. “Damnation that your father is a Duke and we cannot be married tomorrow by special license. But promise me it will be a short engagement.” He bent to kiss her once more. “I’m not sure I can survive much longer in this state.”

  “As short as can be allowed,” she agreed. “You know how a governess must keep furthering her education—and I am quite curious to see what happens from here.” As she spoke, she ran her hand along the front of his thigh.

  “Hoyden,” he said with a groan. “Behave yourself or I shall have to take you over my knee.” And he claimed another kiss.

  “And you, my lord, remember there is always a horsewhip to keep you in line.”

  Their muffled laughter floated through the air as Saybrook bent to pick up his coat. “I suppose we had better return,” he sighed.

  As they reentered the drawing room, a lone figure seated in one of the brocade wing chairs was silhouetted by the moonlight. The Duke had his legs stretched out comfortably in front of him, a glass of cognac held in one hand as he contemplated the thick cigar in the other.

  “Ah, Saybrook,” he drawled. “I believe you were looking for me?”

  “As a matter of fact, Your Grace…”

  “The answer is yes.”

  Both Jane and Saybrook looked startled.

  “Any man with the fortitude to take my daughter over his knee has my wholehearted blessings. So, yes. Yes! Before you change your mind!”

  “Father!” cried Jane indignantly.

  The Duke let out a chuckle. Jane opened her mouth to retort but found herself laughing as well as her father rose and gave her a hug.

  “You have chosen much better than I,” he murmured in her ear. “I believe you will be very happy.” He extended his hand to Saybrook and added, “I believe that an announcement of our own is in order… You may wish to retie your cravat. The, er, wind seems to have caused some disarray.”

  “But Papa, Aunt Bella will have a fit of vapors if we take the attention from Cousin Annabelle!”

  “Quite.” A rather satisfied smile spread over the Duke’s face. “She vastly deserves it, too, for all of her meddling...”

  “I, for one, would like to embrace the dear lady,” interrupted Saybrook.

  Jane and her father looked at him as if he were mad. “But Edward, you can’t imagine…” began Jane.

  “Without her, I would not have met you,” he grinned.

  “You have a point,” conceded the Duke. “We shall wait until the end of the evening then, and let her bask in attention until then.”

  “Papa, before we return to the ballroom Edward and I must visit the nursery.”

  He nodded, smiling broadly. “O
f course the lad must know. I shall wait for you here and savor my good fortune.” He lit his cigar. “You know, I look forward to seeing Peter here at Avanlea often—along with his brothers and sisters,” he added as the two of them left the room.

  “Mmmm,” said Saybrook, nuzzling close to her ear as they climbed the stairs. “Lots of brothers and sisters.”

  “Edward...” Her words were cut off by yet another kiss.

  “Very soon.”

  About the Author

  Andrea Pickens created her first book at the age of five-a neatly penciled story about cowboys, the pages lavishly illustrated with full color crayon drawings of horses and bound with staples. She has since moved on from Westerns to writing about Regency England, a time and place that has captured her imagination ever since she opened the covers of Pride and Prejudice.

  Andrea graduated from Yale University and now works in New York City as the Creative Director of a lifestyle sporting magazine, a job which lets her combine her love of the printed word with a Master's degree in Graphic Design. She feels very fortunate in that her work allows her to travel to interesting destinations around the world-but her favorite spot is London, where the funky antique markets and used book stores offer a wealth of inspiration for her stories.

  Publishing Information

  Copyright © 1997 by Andrea Pickens

  Originally published by Signet (ISBN 9451194799)

  Electronically published in 2011 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228

  http://www.RegencyReads.com

  Electronic sales: ebooks@regencyreads.com

  This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.