The Rags-to-Riches Governess--A Cinderella Regency Romance

by Janice Preston

  ‘Wolf! Where are your manners?’

  Leah’s head snapped up. She had been lulled by the repetitive action of stroking...the sense of peace it induced...and had failed to notice Dolphinstone’s return. He towered over both her and Wolf, who turned his head to gaze up at his master adoringly, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth. Leah shivered as she glimpsed his teeth—if she had noticed them earlier she doubted she would have drifted into that state of unawareness while stroking him. But she was glad she had not. He seemed sweet-natured, despite his size.

  ‘Please do not reprimand him. I do not mind.’

  Dolphinstone’s smile relieved the harshness of his face. ‘Most ladies are too afraid to be anywhere near him,’ he said. ‘And plenty of gentlemen too. But he really is a gentle giant.’

  ‘Then why do you call him Wolf? Is it meant to give people a fear of him?’

  ‘No. Of course it is not.’

  Dolphinstone flung himself down on the opposite sofa, surprising Leah, as this was the first time he had appeared relaxed.

  ‘Wolf is short for Wolfgang.’

  ‘Oh! That is an unusual name for a dog. Is he named for Mozart?’

  ‘He was, yes. But not by me. His former owner died, and I adopted him. In Vienna. Wolfgang—or Volfgang, as Herr Lueger pronounced it—is, in my opinion, too much the mouthful for a dog. So I shortened it. Didn’t I, old lad?’

  Wolf padded across to Dolphinstone and laid his head on his knee, grunting his pleasure as his master fondled his ears. Dolphinstone appeared much more at his ease with the dog than with his own children and he appeared to forget Leah’s presence as he stroked. A frown marred his brow, and the urge to soothe it—to soothe him—crept over Leah as she watched and waited. Finally, his hypnotic stroking, the silence and that inexplicable urge became too much, and Leah cleared her throat. His gaze snapped to her face.

  ‘My apologies, Miss Thame. I am afraid it was my turn for wool-gathering.’ His frown deepened. ‘I admit I am uncomfortable with the idea of someone in my employ who is keeping secrets from me, but I cannot fault you when you declare it is your private business that also involves other people.’ He smiled at her, and her heart gave a funny little leap. ‘Your point of view was cleverly argued, by the way... I suspect you would make a good solicitor yourself!’ He sobered again. ‘I cannot force you to confide in me but...’ He paused, his gaze roaming her face, and she felt her colour rise, yet again, under his scrutiny. ‘If I am correct that what you learned today has left you with a conflict of emotions, and if you wish to discuss the matter—in general terms, without compromising the others involved—please know I shall be happy to oblige.’

  A conflict of emotions. That perfectly described her feelings. But she would not confide in anyone until she had helped Dolphinstone rebuild his relationship with his children.

  ‘Thank you. I shall bear that in mind.’

  ‘Very well. You may go.’ He stood, and Leah did likewise. ‘Miss Thame...’ He hesitated, and she sensed a tussle going on inside him, although he gave little outward sign. ‘I wonder...would you care to join myself and Lord Hinckley for dinner? I am aware in some households the governess dines en famille and, due to my absence, that is a custom we have yet to establish.’

  Leah could think of nothing worse, especially tonight when she had so much on her mind and she craved time and peace and quiet to think. On the other hand, it would be foolish to miss this opportunity to practise her social skills when she would no doubt be invited out to dine when she moved to London.

  ‘Thank you, my lord. I appreciate your thoughtfulness and I shall be delighted to accept, although I should prefer to dine in my parlour tonight, as usual. I am weary after today and I fear I might nod off over the soup.’ She smiled at him, hoping not to sound too ungrateful.

  ‘As you wish. I shall bid you goodnight, Miss Thame.’

  Leah bobbed a curtsy. ‘Goodnight, my lord.’

  * * *

  Dolph scratched his jaw as the door closed quietly behind Miss Thame. That final smile was strained, and he did not believe it was solely due to weariness. She might believe herself to be unreadable but, as they had talked, he had picked up on her unconscious signals that she was troubled. Her reluctance to confide in him was understandable but, although he had accepted her silence, he had an instinctive dislike of secrets and mysteries, especially within his own household. If Rebecca had not so successfully concealed her inner torment, he felt certain she would not have reached the stage where she could see no solution other than to take her own life.

  Why could she not confide in me?

  Guilt and regret swelled yet again. He sat down, fondling Wolf’s ears when the great head again settled on his lap, and his tension slowly seeped away as his mind cleared. The sound of the door opening eventually interrupted what had slipped perilously close to a doze.

  ‘Dolph! This house is amazing!’ George strode into the room, waving his good arm. ‘Palmer has been telling me all about the secret passages and hidden doorways.’

  Dolph straightened, his friend’s enthusiasm jerking him fully awake. George was only four years younger than Dolph but, at times, it seemed more like a fourteen-year age gap. ‘I know... I did grow up here, after all.’

  George’s excitement was undaunted. ‘Well, of course you did. But why did you never tell me you live in such an intriguing place? My country estate is modern and utterly boring—but now I plan to build a folly in the park, and to have a secret passage dug.’

  ‘A passage leading to where?’

  George waved his hand dismissively. ‘Does it matter? Just think, when I have sons, we will have such fun.’

  Dolph flinched at his words. When had he ever considered simply having fun with his sons, even before Rebecca died? His family had been a copy of the family he had grown up in and he had modelled himself on his father—stern and remote, his word law. Rebecca had been raised in a similar family, although she had been closer to the children. Dolph’s experience of childhood fun had come from his sister and, later, from his school friends.

  ‘I was fortunate, I suppose.’ He was referring to the house rather than his family life. ‘You can imagine the thrill of exploring it as a young boy. My sister and I loved to play tricks on our governess when we were young.’

  ‘I am thrilled enough as a grown man—I’d have been in my element as a schoolboy. Have I your permission to explore tomorrow?’

  ‘Of course. There are no secrets here. There is even a tunnel that supposedly once led to the church. I suspect it was used to transport smuggled goods in days gone by, but no one knows for certain.’

  ‘The church, you say?’ George said, with a telling smile. ‘Now, that will be worth exploring.’

  ‘Well, you will be out of luck, George, for that tunnel has been blocked up for as long as I can remember.’

  ‘That is a pity. How far is the church from here, did you say?’

  Dolph eyed his friend. ‘George...’

  George raised an innocent brow at Dolph’s warning tone. ‘Dolph?’

  ‘Miss Strong is the vicar’s daughter. She has lived in the village her entire life. Do not, I beg of you, raise expectations with one of your flirtations—she is far too innocent to understand that sort of game.’

  ‘What do you take me for?’ George laughed. ‘I shall be as discreet as...well, as discreet as I can possibly be.’

  ‘That,’ said Dolph, ‘is what I am afraid of.’

  * * *

  It was late when the two men retired for the night after a few hands of speculation and a game of billiards. Dolph bid goodnight to George on the first landing and, with Wolf at his heels, he headed to his bedchamber, where his valet awaited. After settling in bed, however, he found sleep elusive and, after a good half-hour of tossing and turning, he threw aside the bedcovers and reached for his banyan and slippers. H
e paced to the window and pulled back the curtain, but there was only a black void beyond the windowpanes. He leaned his forehead against the cold glass and closed his eyes, a jumble of images and snatches of conversation whirling through his thoughts. He made no attempt to pluck any one of those fragments from the spinning mass to examine it more closely but allowed them to come and go as they pleased.

  A distant noise tweaked his attention. A noise from inside the house—the creak of a floorboard and the click of a latch. He turned and saw Wolf, too, had been alerted. The dog still lay on the rug before the hearth, but his head was up, his ears pricked. All the occupants of the house ought to be asleep. Even George had been yawning widely as they came upstairs. So, who was awake, and what were they doing creeping around in the dead of night?

  Dolph lit his bedside candle with a taper from the smouldering remains of the fire before walking softly to the door and easing it open. He strained his ears. He could hear nothing and see nothing, the landing and stairs swallowed by the dark shadows beyond the halo of light cast by his candle. Wolf pushed past him and trotted across the landing to stand, head cocked, at the foot of the upper staircase, which led up to the second floor, where there were a couple of smaller guest rooms and the children’s rooms.

  The children!

  He ought to have thought of them first, not last. Dolph strode to the stairs, protecting the flickering flame with his cupped hand, and ran up them, before pausing to listen. Again, he could hear nothing, but Wolf did. His attention was fixed on the boys’ bedchamber door, standing slightly ajar, his ears pricked as he whined low. Dolph trod quietly now. If the boys were asleep, he had no wish to frighten them by startling them awake. He put his ear to the door. Silence. And it was dark within. He reached to push the door open but, as he touched it, it suddenly opened.

  To give her credit, Miss Thame quickly stifled her squeak of alarm, her hand clapped around her mouth. Her eyes, though...they were huge, his candle flame glittering in those dark, dark pupils, the irises a deep green-blue, like the sea on a bright day. Dolph felt his heart turn over in his chest as his breath caught. He tore his gaze from hers. And his pulse rocketed. Her hair was no longer severely scraped back, but lightly caught in a thick plait draping over one shoulder. Loose, glimmering strands—russet and gold, the colours of autumn—framed her freckled face.

  Her gaze dropped to his chest and then snapped up again, a telltale blush washing her pale cheeks and her forehead puckering, jolting Dolph out of his sudden paralysis.

  ‘I—’

  His jaw snapped shut as Miss Thame sucked in a breath, placed one hand squarely on his chest and pushed him, gently but firmly, back. She exited the bedchamber and turned to quietly ease the door shut.

  ‘What—?’

  ‘Shhh.’

  Her long, slim forefinger pressed to her lips in a hushing motion, and his mouth watered as he focussed on her full lips. No longer pursed in disapproval, they were lush and tempting.

  For God’s sake, man. She is your sons’ governess. You’re lusting after her as though she were a comely barmaid.

  Not that he had lusted after any woman, let alone a barmaid, for more years than he cared to recall. He beckoned to her to follow him, pivoted on his heel and strode for the stairs.

  ‘Wait!’

  He halted mid-stride at her command and pivoted to face her. He raised his brows, remaining silent as she glided towards him. A blue and gold paisley shawl enveloped her from neck to...almost...foot. Both shawl and nightgown fell a few inches short of her feet, which were bare and thrust into embroidered slippers that had seen better days. Her ankles were as fine and as well turned as any he had ever seen. Again, he wrenched his gaze away, but there was nowhere to look other than at her, and every part of her enticed and intrigued. He fought to keep any hint of his feelings from his face as she halted in front of him, telling himself he was simply unsettled by his return to his marital home.

  ‘We will not wake Stevie if we talk in my sitting room. Nicky—’ her smile flashed ‘—will sleep through almost anything. No fear of waking him.’

  Stevie! Nicky! As if Tilly is not bad enough.

  Poking at his irritation as though it were a fire in need of rekindling, Dolph strode to the door she indicated, thrust it open and stood aside as she preceded him into the room. He noticed her shiver and draw her shawl tighter around her shoulders, but a glance at the grate revealed a bed of cold grey ashes. He closed the door—after Wolf padded in—and took a stance by the fireplace, one elbow resting on the mantelshelf. Miss Thame sat on a wooden chair next to a table by the window, ignoring the solitary wingback chair next to the hearth. He noticed she avoided looking directly at him.

  He came straight to the point. ‘What happened? I heard movement and thought we had an intruder.’

  Rattled by his visceral reaction to the governess, he knew he must control this conversation, get the business done and remove himself from her presence before the unthinkable happened. She was not even particularly beautiful but, somehow, he found it hard to tear his eyes from her as his body responded in entirely inappropriate ways.

  ‘Stevie...that is, Steven—’ she spoke to the fireplace, flags of colour still highlighting her sculpted cheekbones ‘—suffers from occasional nightmares. If I hear him cry out, I go to him. I can usually soothe him straight back to sleep, but if he awakens fully he becomes distressed, and it’s much harder to settle him back down. And then Nicky is more likely to wake as well.’

  Her voice and her expression were exactly those of a governess reporting to her employer, but her failure to meet his eyes suggested she was embarrassed, or maybe even offended, by his state of undress. Shame washed through him as he accepted his earlier irritation with her was totally unfair. Any anger ought to be directed at the person he was actually angry with—himself, for his inappropriate response to her.

  And Rebecca.

  The whispered thought rocked him to his core. Was he angry with Rebecca? The thought had never occurred to him. It seemed heartless but, yes...there was anger there. Deep inside. He would think about that later.

  ‘I see. Yes, of course,’ he said to Miss Thame. ‘I understand now.’ He tried a smile. ‘I dare say I must accustom myself to having children in my life again.’

  ‘Indeed.’ She finally looked at him, her voice frosty.

  ‘You disapprove of my having been away all this time?’

  Her chin tilted. ‘I believe it was not the wisest...’ She hesitated, her fine eyes narrowing. She shook her head slightly, and her chest rose as she inhaled. ‘I believe it was neither the wisest nor the kindest decision for your children’s sake.’

  The fact she was right hurt more than if she’d accused him unfairly. ‘What about for my sake?’

  She eyed him in silence, before shaking her head again. ‘It is not for me to say.’

  ‘Oh, come, Miss Thame. You have given your opinion most freely. Do not hesitate to speak your mind now.’

  He read the doubt in her eyes before she bent her head. He softened his voice. ‘Do not think I shall hold it against you. I am not so petty as to dismiss an employee because they dare to voice a criticism of me. Please believe me when I say that, from now on, my sole purpose is to do what is best for my children. If my absence has injured them, then I need to know before I can begin to make amends.’

  ‘Very well. Since you ask, I shall tell you my opinion. I make no doubt your wife’s death was painful and shocking for you and I understand your need to get away from the place where painful memories dwell. But you were not only a husband. You are a father, too. And the children were—and still are—too young to fully comprehend death. All they knew was their mother left them, and then their father disappeared, leaving them with a houseful of servants and a new governess. A stranger to them. I could have been a dreadful governess—and a monstrous person—for all you knew. You did not even
wait to find out.’ Her voice rose, shaking with strength of feeling. ‘You ran away and you did not return for sixteen months! Your daughter has already spoken her first words, and she has started to walk.’

  Her words stung, even though they were no different from the words with which he had castigated himself. Many times.

  ‘I had my duty to do for my country.’

  ‘That, with the greatest respect, is a weak excuse. There are plenty of other men who could have taken over your role, and you must know that. There was no other man to fill your shoes here at Dolphin Court. Those children only have one f-f-father.’

  Her voice cracked over her final word, her eyes sheening over.

  ‘What is it, Miss Thame? What is wrong?’

  She flicked her hand in a dismissive gesture.

  ‘It is nothing. I am tired, that is all.’

  She was lying but, as she’d pointed out earlier, everyone was entitled to a certain amount of privacy. As long as it did not interfere with his children’s well-being, he would not pry.

  Dolph pushed away from the mantelshelf. ‘In that case, I shall bid you goodnight, Miss Thame. Come, Wolf.’

  He went down the stairs to his bedchamber, shrugged out of his banyan, kicked off his slippers and climbed into his now cold bed. Shivering, he huddled under the covers, but sleep continued to elude him as he pondered Miss Thame.

  When had he last experienced such a physical desire for a woman? Certainly not since long before Rebecca’s death...in fact, since she had known she was with child again. Maybe that was his trouble—it had been over two years since he’d enjoyed intimacy, and returning to Dolphin Court had revived his natural male desire for a woman. His marriage to Rebecca might have been arranged—the result of a long understanding between both their families—but he had remained faithful to her throughout their marriage. Somehow, his subconscious linked home with lovemaking, and poor Miss Thame had become the unwitting object of his reawakened sexual urges.