The Governess Game

by Dare, Tessa

  “This isn’t serious, Alex. I am being funny.”

  “Oh, indeed.”

  God damn it. None of this was coming out right. His brain buzzed like a hive of wasps. His whole body hurt. “Stop looking at me that way,” he growled.

  “In what way is that?”

  “As if you care.”

  “I do care.”

  “As if you expect me to care in return.”

  “Don’t you already?”

  “No.” He released the banister, drew to his full height, and marshaled all his remaining strength into making one last stand. “Come Michaelmas, the girls are going to school. You will be leaving my employ. I will bid all three of you farewell, and we will carry on with our separate lives. No attachments.” He let the words fly like missiles. Gunshots, arrows. Meteors, comets. Dried peas launched through a hollow reed. Anything hurled far and fast enough to wound. “And our little lessons downstairs? Those are through. We are through. I don’t know what kind of dream you’ve sold yourself on, but it is time to wake up. Nothing has changed. Nothing.”

  He despised himself for putting it to her so viciously. But apparently, it needed to be done. Any alternative would have been crueler, on balance.

  “There, now.” He dragged air into his lungs. “I hope we understand each other.”

  She nodded. “I think we do.”

  “Good.”

  And then, to put an ironic punctuation mark on this little speech, Chase staggered two steps sideways and fainted at her feet.

  “Chase.” Alarmed, Alexandra shook him by the shoulder. “Chase.”

  No response, other than a low mumble. Something about sheep and manure.

  She loosened his cravat. Good heavens, he was burning up. His breath came in shallow rasps. He was even more ill than she’d thought.

  Alex surged into action. What with waking the house, calling for physicians, boiling water for tea, and dragging some fifteen stone of weakened, feverish man to his bed, the next few hours passed in a rush.

  The following days, however? They slowed to a snail’s crawl.

  The longer Chase remained ill, the further Alex slipped toward madness. The nature of her relationship with the master of the house was—she hoped—a secret to everyone but the two of them. She didn’t have an excuse to visit Chase’s bedchamber, let alone sit by his sickbed and keep a nightly vigil, as she yearned to do. Neither could she use the excuse of bringing the girls in to visit. Too much risk of contagion.

  The situation served as a painful dose of reality. A reminder of her true status in his life. She’d fancied herself to be something more than just another of his illicit lovers, but she wasn’t. Not really. Not in any way that counted now.

  She couldn’t lay claim to him.

  Her only news came from overheard scraps of conversation and bits of information shared by the servants. The doctors came and went, they said. Mr. Reynaud wasn’t improving. A pneumonia had settled in his lungs, and his fever hadn’t broken.

  Alex wore a brave face for Rosamund and Daisy, but fear tightened its grip on her heart. Chase was a strong, healthy man in his prime of life—but even strong, healthy men in their prime of life could be struck down without warning. She knew that all too well.

  After three days, she couldn’t bear it any longer. She waited until the house went to sleep and then took the chance of slipping into his bedchamber. There would certainly be a maid or footman present, watching over him. On the way, she sifted through a dozen pitiful excuses. Mrs. Greeley was calling, or a new poultice had been prepared, or she, the governess, had been charged with keeping watch for an hour, for some unfathomable reason in a house full of servants.

  To her relief, she found him alone.

  Alex rushed to his bedside. “Chase.”

  His eyelids fluttered, and he moaned through cracked lips.

  “It’s me. It’s Alex.” She stroked the sweat-dampened hair from his forehead. Sweet Lord, he was still on fire with fever.

  She took a cloth from the washstand, dampened it with tepid water, and dabbed his brow and neck.

  “Alex.” He opened his reddened eyes, struggling to focus on her face. “Sorry, love. Can’t lick your cunny tonight. I’m sick.”

  She laughed aloud, even as tears of relief came to her eyes. The real Chase was still in there somewhere.

  “I know you’re sick, darling. It’s all right.” She kissed his forehead.

  The door swung open behind her. Alex leapt to her feet and wheeled about.

  Mr. Barrow entered the room.

  “I didn’t mean to intrude,” she stammered. “The children have been asking how he’s coming along. I thought I’d—”

  “Don’t worry. No excuses needed. I know about the two of you.”

  She was briefly stunned. After a moment, she found her tongue. “I know about the two of you, too.”

  “He told you?”

  “I guessed.”

  “I’m not surprised.” He pulled up a chair, and they sat next to one another at the bedside. “You’re clever. And he’s not very good at hiding it when he cares for someone.”

  “No, he isn’t. And you’re too promising a solicitor to take this post without a compelling reason. No one would remain in Chase’s employ unless they were either desperate for work, or cared too much about him to leave.”

  “So what’s keeping you here?” Her voice was quiet, but steady. “Desperation? Or love?”

  “To be honest, I’ve been asking myself the same question. A bit of both, I think.”

  Chase had lapsed back into a fitful sleep. His rattling breaths were an unsettling accompaniment to their conversation.

  “He isn’t getting better, is he?” she asked.

  Mr. Barrow exhaled heavily. “No. Much as I hate to even countenance the idea, the lawyer in me is cruelly pragmatic. We may need to prepare for the worst.”

  A painful lump rose in Alex’s throat. “What would happen to the girls?”

  “For the time, they’d pass back to the old duke’s guardianship, just like everything else attached to the estate. That is, until the next in line can be granted power of attorney.”

  “They’ve been through so much already. To thrust them into the unknown again, just when they’ve begun to feel safe . . .”

  “I’d do my best to advocate for them. But in the end, the decisions wouldn’t be mine.”

  “I know. And it isn’t only being uprooted that would devastate them. They adore him.”

  “As do we all.” He sighed. “God knows why. He’s such a horse’s arse.”

  “He truly is.” A hot tear spilled down her cheek.

  Mr. Barrow reached for her hand. “All this talk will likely come to nothing. He won’t go easily. At school, he was always scrapping with the other boys. Most of the time, in my defense. Mind, he wasn’t purely motivated by brotherly love. He copied all my schoolwork. Without me, he never would have passed an exam. But he knows how to put up a fight.”

  “Right now he’s fighting with both hands tied behind his back.” Alex sat forward, determined. “We have to even the odds somehow. We can’t just sit by and watch.”

  “All the usual remedies have failed. Bleeding, purging, sweating him out, starving the fever . . . Nothing the doctors have tried has helped.”

  “Then we send the doctors away,” she said firmly. “Whatever we try, we can’t possibly do worse.”

  He looked at her and nodded in agreement. “Very well.”

  Alex drew to her feet and peeled the heavy wool blanket away from his body. “We have to bring down his fever first. Cool compresses, tepid baths. And he’s been sweating so much, he must be miserable with thirst. We should be spooning him all the broth and tea he’ll take.”

  “I’ll ask Elinor about an aromatic poultice for his chest.”

  “Elinor?”

  “My wife. Perhaps you’ll meet her someday. The two of you would get on well.” He lifted Chase’s head so Alex could place a cool cloth beneat
h his neck. “Chase and I were born only three weeks apart, less than one year after his parents married. That alone should tell you how much my natural father valued his wedding vows.”

  “That must have been difficult for you.”

  “Not really. I had the better half of the bargain. My father stepped forward to marry my mother and raised me as his own, with love and principles. There wasn’t any affection in the Reynaud house.”

  Alex paused. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because when it comes to love, Chase has no idea what the devil he’s doing. He’s brilliant at caring for others. He’s bollocks at letting others care for him.”

  Of course. Of course he was. For weeks, she’d been needling him to express love for the girls—but she’d been taking the wrong tack. Chase needed to believe he deserved their love in return.

  But before all that, he needed to not die.

  “Well.” She plumped his pillow decisively. “He’s going to be cared for now, whether he likes it or not.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chase drifted in and out of consciousness. Gentle waves lapped at his body. Fresh, cool water trickled between his lips. Soothing murmurs came and went. The scents of herbs and lemon hovered about him. And orange flowers. Always orange flowers. As if he were floating in a sea of Alexandra. Or drowning in it. He couldn’t tell.

  He woke in the morning—it had to be morning, what with the light stabbing him square in the eye—to find her asleep at his bedside, head buried in her arms.

  “Alex.”

  “Chase?” She lifted her head. “Chase.” She pressed the back of her hand to his brow. When she spoke, her voice cracked with emotion. “Thank God.”

  “I told you I wasn’t ill.” He struggled to a sitting position. “I suppose I just needed a good night’s sleep.”

  She blinked at him. “A night’s sleep?”

  He rubbed his eyes and cursed. “Don’t say you let me sleep through a full day and a half. Good Lord.”

  “Chase, it’s been a week.”

  “A week? That’s impossible.” He noted her tangled hair and the dark circles haunting her eyes. “What happened to you?”

  “If you think I look dreadful, you should see yourself. You had pneumonia. You were burning up with fever for days. No fewer than three physicians waited on you. You had everyone so worried.”

  “You needn’t have been worried. I’m fine.”

  He scratched his jaw and found it thick with whiskers. A week. Bloody hell. He swung his leaden legs over the side of the bed and prepared to stand. He could do with a wash and a shave. Perhaps then he’d feel human again.

  “Don’t you dare.” She laid her hand flat on his chest. “You’re not yet ready to stand.”

  “I can determine that for myself, thank you.” He brushed away her hand. Planting his feet on the floor, he shifted his weight off the bed and stood. For a fraction of a second, anyhow. Then his knees buckled, and he found himself seated on the bed again, with black and white dots swimming before his eyes. “I’ve determined I’m not yet ready to stand.”

  As he waited to regain sensation in his knees, he looked around at the bedchamber’s new appearance. His bed hangings had disappeared, and the walls looked as though they’d been repapered. On closer examination, they’d been covered with sketches and letters—all of them in a child’s hand. He pulled one from where it had been tacked above his headboard.

  Dear Mr. Raynod,

  Sam says evry time you kiss Miss Montbadin we have an outing. Pleas get well and kiss her soon.

  Yours truley, Daisy Fairfax and Milisent Fairfax

  P.S. I made a draring of a tyger, but it is not much good.

  Alex peered over his shoulder. “Her writing is coming along well, isn’t it? Even if her spelling needs a good deal of work. I quite liked the tiger.”

  Chase’s stomach twisted in a knot, and it wasn’t from hunger.

  Alex reached for a paper at the bedside, unfolded it, and put it in his hand. “This one was from Rosamund.”

  Dear Mr. R.,

  Miss M. says I’m to write a letter of confession. I took four shillings and a nacre button from your library desk, this Monday last. They have been returned. I am sorry to have committed such a grievous act. Please take mercy on your wayward ward. The Tower of London is much too poorly lit for reading.

  Yours, etc.

  Sam F.

  “I suspect she took more money than that,” Alex said, “but I only caught her with the four shillings.”

  “I see.”

  “Oh, I must send a note to John straightaway. He was here all night, and he went home to sleep. He’ll be so relieved to hear you’re awake.”

  Chase was confused. “John? Who’s John?”

  “Mr. Barrow.”

  “You’re on a first-name basis with my solicitor?”

  “No. I’m on a first-name basis with your brother. Ever since we gave the doctors the boot, we’ve been trading the watch back and forth.” She reached for a cup. “Here, take some broth.”

  He pushed the cup away. “What are you doing?”

  “You need nourishment to regain your strength. Perhaps I’ll take the girls for ices and bring you some back? It will be some days before you can take solid food, but it would be a change from beef tea.”

  “It’s not the beef tea,” he said irritably.

  Damn it, had his whole week in the country been for nothing? He’d meant to put distance between them. This was the opposite of distance. This was closeness. Intense, unbearable closeness unlike anything he’d ever known. The walls were closing in on him, with their sharp-toothed tigers and sweetly printed words.

  “I told you in no uncertain terms we’d reached the end of this. You, me, and the girls. Then I wake up to you fussing over me, feeding me spoonfuls of beef tea. Drawings of flowers and tigers and pirate ships all over the walls.” He gestured angrily. “For Christ’s sake, Alex. When are you going to give this up?”

  She stood still for a moment, and then set the teacup down with a clatter. “‘Why would a sea captain’s daughter be afraid of boats?’ You asked me that the day you left. Recall it?”

  Chase was dizzied by the swift turn of conversation. “I suppose.”

  “I’ll tell you why I’m afraid of boats. I lost my father when I was twelve years old. The Esperanza foundered in a storm. He threw a blanket over my shoulders and forced me to leave in the little captain’s gig. Told me to row as hard as I could. He promised to call me back to the ship once it was safe, but the ship was breaking apart already. My father ordered the crew to the jolly boat. He kept trying until the end, making certain all his men were safe, but . . .” She swallowed hard. “As they say, the captain goes down with the ship.”

  God Almighty. How terrified she must have been.

  “I tried to reunite with the rest of the crew.” She shook her head. “But it was too dark, and the waves were too high. We were separated within moments, and I couldn’t reach them. I called and called until I was hoarse. Perhaps they, too, foundered and perished. When the morning came and the sky cleared, I was alone. Drifting in the middle of the ocean. A crewman on an English brig happened to see me, and they came to my rescue. Ask me how many days I waited.”

  “Sweetheart, you don’t need to—”

  “Eight,” she said. “Eight days.”

  Jesus.

  “No provisions. Only a bit of rainwater. I can’t describe it. The slow crawl of time when you’re dying of thirst. Every breath, every swallow. It’s all you can think of. Toward the end, I grew delirious, and that was a mercy. I still find myself back there in dreams. I don’t imagine the boat, the storm. I only feel myself drifting in the dark, and when I wake, I’m desperate for water.”

  “So that night when you came down to the kitchen . . .”

  She nodded.

  “Alex, I’m so sorry.”

  “You don’t need to pity me. I’m here. And I’m alive. So there’s your answer
, Chase. When am I giving up? I’m not. I did not give up on myself then. I am not giving up on you now.” She smoothed her apron. “Now I’m going to tidy myself up, take the girls for ices, eat two of them myself, and not bring you any. When we return, I’ll send Rosamund and Daisy in to visit you, and you will behave. Treat me as you like. But you will not belittle those girls for loving you. I won’t allow it. And do not ever waste your breath again with more of that ‘lost cause’ nonsense. Consider yourself found.”

  “Wait.” He tried to push himself to a stand again, but he’d wasted what strength he had in the first attempt. “Don’t go. Give me a chance to—”

  “Oh, and by the way.” She stopped at the door. “While you were ill, you pissed yourself. Twice. Just so you know.”

  The pirates held Chase captive, and this time there was no slipping the knots to escape. Over his days of slow recuperation in bed, he was indoctrinated in the Pirate’s Code, fitted for a peg leg, and given a gold hoop earring. (God only knew where Rosamund had pilfered that from.) His tea and broth were served in ship’s rations, on two-hour bells.

  Alexandra had taught her sailors well. So well, in fact, that she never needed to join the work at all. Chase had the feeling he was being punished. And he had the feeling he deserved it.

  What she’d given him, however, was an excellent motivation to recover.

  By the fourth day, he’d had enough. If he had to listen to Daisy read that book about girls climbing towers and boys picking flowers one more time, he would go mad.

  When the girls came in that afternoon, they found him out of bed, bathed, properly attired, and ready to do something, anything, other than convalesce.

  “Oh, boo.” Daisy pouted. “You shaved. You made a better prisoner when you were scruffy.”

  “It’s just as well,” Rosamund said. “Now that you’re presentable, you can come with us to tea.”

  “Tea?”

  “We’re going to tea at Lady Penny’s house,” Daisy said. “We’ve been two weeks in a row now. She’s Miss Mountbatten’s friend, and she has a hedgehog. And an otter named Hubert, and a goat named Marigold, and a two-legged dog named Bixby, and a heap of other animals.”