Temptation of a Proper Governess

by Cathy Maxwell

  This is what Carter had done. The legacy he had left behind.

  Michael was determined to see it end here.

  “It’s always a challenge when you believe one thing, then you discover you had been told a lie.”

  “My father wouldn’t have lied to me.”

  “No, your father wouldn’t. And I like to think the brother I once had would not have done so either. But life changes us, Jeremy. Like the heroes in those Greek myths your tutors force you to read, each of us is given a set of challenges. We are tested and expected to face those tests with courage. My brother failed in many ways to meet the challenges he was given, but not in what he felt for his sons. Both of your parents loved you very much.”

  There had been a time when he would not have used that word “love.” Now he knew how important it was.

  “If he had truly cared for me,” Jeremy said, “he would not have disgraced his name. And my mother would not have—” He broke, unable to finish the sentence.

  “Your father left her no choice,” Michael said. “I know it is hard to understand. I don’t completely grasp all of his reasons. I do know a challenge is before you. Someone must take up the family mantle. Someone must lead us through this.”

  His nephew looked at him with doubtful eyes. “You are the earl. It’s in your hands.”

  Michael waited, hoping he’d said the right words.

  “I don’t know if I can,” Jeremy admitted. He was so bloody young.

  “I will be there to help you, and so will your mother. She believes in you. She knows you will be a fine earl. A great one.”

  “I’m not good at my studies,” Jeremy confessed.

  “You can change that,” Michael assured him.

  His nephew considered the matter a moment, then said, “I can.”

  Michael smiled, and Jeremy gave a shy smile back.

  “Your mother would like to see you. We need to speak to your brother and want you to come with us.”

  This time, Jeremy didn’t hesitate. “I want to see her, too.”

  The reunion between mother and son was heartfelt. Michael knew it would take a great deal to steer his family through this crisis, but at least the healing had begun.

  The funeral was held as soon as the boys reached London. It was a somber affair and poorly attended. Isabel thought that a shame.

  Michael had said the final prayer over his brother’s body. All hearing him speak were deeply touched. Then he and Carter’s sons threw the first handfuls of dirt on the coffin.

  A trust was set up for the boys, financed mostly by Michael. He told Isabel his brother’s estate was worse than he had even imagined. However, with sound management, he hoped he could turn it around.

  Wallis closed the London house and retired to the country. She had become a very somber woman. She stopped by to see Isabel before she left.

  The two of them had never spoken about the events of that afternoon. Their talk always centered around Jeremy and Wallace and other safe topics, and so it was that day.

  However, as she was leaving, Wallis said, “I sold my emerald earbobs. I wanted to pay for my husband’s headstone myself.”

  “Wallis, Michael and I would have covered that.” They had paid the other funeral expenses.

  “I told Michael no,” Wallis said. “It was my way of forgiving Carter. Michael understood.”

  Isabel put her arms around her sister-in-law’s shoulders. “Please, Wallis, forgive yourself.”

  “I will.” The older woman stepped back. “In time.” She took Isabel’s hand. “You haven’t said anything, but I want you to know how blessed you are to have a child on the way. My sons mean everything to me.”

  “You know about the baby?”

  Wallis nodded. “Michael does, too. I didn’t know if you knew that or not. It came up during the scene with Carter.” She gave Isabel a quick kiss on the check and left.

  Thoughtfully, Isabel walked to her husband’s study. Since that afternoon, he did most of his work at home. The door was half-open and she could see him bent over his ledgers. Alex wanted to buy another ship and it was up to Michael to handle the details.

  Sunlight fell across his desk from the window that overlooked the garden. He appeared thoroughly frustrated by the numbers.

  “I didn’t say anything because I wanted to be certain,” Isabel said without preamble.

  Michael looked up. His hair was mussed where he’d run his hand through it. He didn’t pretend to mistake her meaning. “I know.”

  “But you wondered?”

  His lips curved into a rueful smile. “Every man would wonder such a thing. But I trust you, Isabel. I knew you would say something when the time is right.”

  “I worried about that opium Carter gave me.” She walked into the room and around his desk to where he sat.

  He pushed his chair back, inviting her to sit on his lap. She covered his hand with hers and pressed it against her stomach. “I think the baby is still there. I spoke to Mr. Talmadge.” He was a physician. “He thinks all will be fine, but we will have to wait until the baby begins moving.”

  Michael nodded, his expression sober. “It will be all right, Isabel.”

  “I pray it is so.”

  They were interrupted by Bolling. “I beg your pardon sir, but a gentleman from Higham in Lancaster has just delivered this package for Mrs. Severson.”

  Higham was her village, the one where she’d grown up. Isabel rose and took the cloth pouch the size of her palm and letter from the butler. Her name was addressed on the outside. “Is he still here?”

  “No, ma’am. He said he was delivering for a friend and left.”

  Isabel nodded. She knew who the friend was. She recognized her stepfather’s handwriting. “Thank you,” she said to Bolling, dismissing him.

  Michael waited until after the door was shut. “Do you know who it’s from?”

  “My stepfather.” She walked back to the desk and stopped, staring at the package.

  “Open the letter,” Michael instructed.

  Isabel broke the seal. It was a short note. Her stepfather was not one to waste words, but what he wrote touched her deeply. Her lower lip started to tremble, and she struggled to keep back tears. Without a word to Michael, she yanked open the strings of the pouch and poured the two pearl hair combs onto the desk.

  “What are those?” Michael asked.

  “They were my mother’s. Oh, Michael, I have been so wrong.”

  “About what?”

  “Him.” She held up the letter. “He sent those two combs to me. I thought he wanted to keep them for himself. I thought he didn’t care for me. Now…?”

  “What did he write?”

  She read to him, “My dear stepdaughter, I have heard of your marriage. May you find much happiness.” It sounded so perfunctory. But then the tone of the letter had changed.

  “I know in my grief for your dear mother I wasn’t much of a father to you. I spoke hastily and have regretted my words many times these past years. I pray you can find it in your heart to forgive an old man who was foolishly in love. These combs were my wedding gift to your mother. I held on to them after she died, but now you can make better use of them. Think on her when you wear them and of your stepfather, who tried in his fashion to be a parent to you all these years. Your brothers wish you well and perhaps someday our paths will cross again.”

  He’d signed it “Papa.”

  Isabel swiped a tear away from her cheek with the heel of her hand. “I feel silly.”

  “Why?” her husband wondered.

  “Because”—she took a moment to collect herself—“all these years I thought he didn’t care at all, and I was the one who kept us from being closer. I knew he wasn’t my real father.”

  “You were waiting for the marquis,” Michael said, understanding.

  “Yes, even while this man clothed me, sheltered me, and taught me what I needed to know in life. I see now that when I left, we were both so lost in grief over my
mother’s death that we allowed ourselves to misunderstand each other.”

  “I will take you to see him,” Michael offered.

  “Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “Perhaps the time has come.” She picked the combs up off the desk. Her husband’s money could buy her anything she wanted, but nothing could be more precious than these.

  “Let me go write him,” she said, and left the room. Upstairs, at her desk, she pulled out pen, ink, and paper. The afternoon was sunny, not dreary as it had been that last time she’d attempted to write him. She set the combs on the corner of her writing desk.

  This time, the words were not so difficult to find. All she had to do was start with “Dear Papa, thank you…”

  Epilogue

  January 1804

  What miracles a year could work!

  They had just come from church.

  Michael stood in the hall, his daughter in his arms, and let Bolling help him remove his coat. Diane Isabel Severson was still red-faced from her crying fit.

  His wife took the baby from him. “She hasn’t liked anything this morning, from getting dressed in the lace and ruffles of her christening gown to having the waters of baptism poured over her head. Poor baby.”

  Diane pouted prettily for her mother.

  From the moment Isabel had felt the baby stirring in her womb, she had taken on a radiance that only made her more lovely every day. Their baby had been born healthy and strong, a circumstance for which Michael thanked God every day.

  “I thought the bishop went far too long,” Michael said. “I’m not so certain he wasn’t more worried about my soul than Diane’s.”

  Isabel laughed. She wore her mother’s pearl combs in her hair. “He thought nothing of the sort. Come along, baby, let us go see your grandpapa.”

  Michael followed them down the hall to the dining room, where everyone had gathered.

  When he’d purchased this house, he’d not even been able to imagine it brimming with love and good wishes as it did now.

  Mr. and Mrs. Oxley had traveled from Rutland. The vicar had stood beside the bishop and added his blessings on the baby’s head.

  Alex poured wine for Wallis, who looked relaxed and at peace. Her sons stood close by. Alex had promised to take them—and Isabel’s half brothers Terrance and Roger—sailing on the morrow. All four boys were of the same age, and Alex would have his hands full with such a group. Michael had no doubt his friend could handle such a motley crew. All four boys were more than a bit in awe of their uncle Alex, who seemed to relish the role.

  Alex’s path had yet to cross his infamous father’s, but Michael knew it would happen. His friend had confided that the night of Diane’s birth he’d had a dream of seeing his father again. It was destined.

  Isabel’s stepfather was there, too. They had visited him in the summer, and he and Isabel had become regular correspondents. All grudges had been buried. It was good to know Diane would have a grandparent.

  Alex cleared his throat, gathering everyone’s attention. “Since I am the godfather, I shall propose the toast,” he said. He looked around to make certain everyone held a glass except Isabel and Michael.

  “To Diane,” Alex said. “The most beautiful baby in the world.”

  “Hear, hear,” Mr. Oxley said.

  “May her future be filled with happiness, prosperity, and love.”

  “To love,” the others echoed.

  “And to Isabel,” Alex continued. “A woman of good sense and grace.”

  “Hear, hear,” Michael said, and kissed his wife.

  “And to you, Michael. My friend. May you always be as happy as you are at this moment.”

  Michael put his arms around his wife and child. Isabel leaned back against him, and he knew in that moment he was the richest of men. Life had meaning.

  He had come home.

  About the Author

  Cathy Maxwell spends hours in front of her computer pondering the question “Why do people fall in love?” The question remains for her the great mystery of life and the secret to happiness.

  She lives in beautiful Virginia with children, horses, dogs and cats.

  Fans can contact Cathy at www.cathymaxwell.com or PO Box 1532, Midlothian, VA 23113.

  Don’t miss the next book by your favorite author. Sign up now for AuthorTracker by visiting www.AuthorTracker.com.

  Romances by

  Cathy Maxwell

  TEMPTATION OF A PROPER GOVERNESS

  THE SEDUCTION OF AN ENGLISH LADY

  ADVENTURES OF A SCOTTISH HEIRESS

  THE LADY IS TEMPTED

  THE WEDDING WAGER

  THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT

  A SCANDALOUS MARRIAGE

  MARRIED IN HASTE

  BECAUSE OF YOU

  WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE

  FALLING IN LOVE AGAIN

  YOU AND NO OTHER

  TREASURED VOWS

  ALL THINGS BEAUTIFUL

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  TEMPTATION OF A PROPER GOVERNESS. Copyright © 2004 by Cathy Maxwell. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of PerfectBound™.

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  Microsoft Reader August 2004 eISBN 0-06-078397-4

  First Avon Books paperback printing: September 2004

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