An Untamed Governess For The Rogue (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Olivia Bennet

  Edmund watched his brother for a moment or two, noting how fervently he looked upon the governess. It worried him, for it would not do for his brother to fall for such a young lady. That could only come to trouble, and he felt it was his duty to keep the rest of his siblings in line. Whether they listened or not was another matter entirely.

  A sadness moved through him, as he looked to the three youngest, and saw how dearly they clung to the governess. He had never been very skilled with his younger siblings. Luke did not have such an issue. He had an easiness about him that Edmund lacked, which inspired adoration in most of the people who met him. Edmund wished people would adore him as they adored Luke, but he did not think it likely.

  He noted the same dark hair and dark blue eyes that his younger brother and sisters shared with Luke, and their father. He supposed that was why he had always felt closest to his mother and his sister, Felicity. They shared his lighter coloring, and he supposed it was natural to stick by those who more closely resembled one’s own appearance.

  Although, even Felicity had begun to avoid him of late. Then again, she had begun to avoid just about everyone. A facet of her womanhood, brought on by the fears of becoming a spinster. At two-and-twenty, she did not have too many years left to find a husband. He felt sorry for her, and wished she would be lighter of spirit, as she had been when they were children. Indeed, he often found himself longing for childhood, when his relationship with Luke had not been nearly so strained. Even now, he did not quite know what had changed.

  “Must you make doe-eyes at the governess?” Edmund muttered, out of earshot of Miss Dowels. He needed to channel his sadness somewhere, and Luke seemed like the ideal candidate.

  Luke flashed a cold look at him. “I am doing nothing of the sort. Perhaps you are the one who is making doe-eyes. I have seen you looking at her when she is seeing to our siblings.”

  “She is a delightful creature, but I have not looked upon her as you do.” He turned away, as if proving his point. “Speaking of which, you should be careful in future. You should not look at her that way.”

  Luke frowned. “And what way might that be?”

  “As if she were a beast at market, or a cut of tender meat upon your plate.”

  “Desist!” Luke snapped. “I would never look at her like that.”

  “Well, see that you do not. I will not have you cause a scandal.” Edmund held his brother’s cool gaze. He was in constant pursuit of his father’s approval, and he knew that keeping Luke from an improper affection would go some way towards guaranteeing that. Although, it was a source of continual annoyance that their father barely noticed his actions, while Luke could sneeze, and the Duke would applaud him for it.

  What makes him so special? Luke breezed through his existence, without a care in the world, and though Edmund was fond of him, that had always been a cause of friction for him. Luke had no idea what troubles Edmund had to contend with, and yet he always complained that he was the less favored son. If only you knew how blessed you truly are.

  It did not even seem to matter that Edmund had been the one to take up his true duties and fight for their country. After he had returned, and the full extent of his injuries had been revealed, his father had sunk into a despair. Since that day, he had never quite looked at Edmund in the same way, as though he were a decrepit horse that it would have been a kindness to shoot.

  Perhaps that is what I am. Although he tried to hide it, his afflictions persisted in making him feel like less of a man. He had relied on his strength and prowess, and that had been taken from him. The ghosts were worse, though; the ghosts that came in the night and whispered in his ear, reminding him of the horrors he had endured.

  “How can you speak to me in such a way?” Luke replied.

  “It is a warning, that is all. Leave the governess be.” Eager to be away from his brother, he called to the group who walked ahead. “I thought I might take a ride about the grounds, Mother. Will you continue to walk?”

  “For a while, yes,” the Duchess replied. “Do not stray too far.”

  He broke away from his brother and set the horse to a gallop, desiring to clear his head of his painful thoughts. All he wanted to do was make his family proud, and be adored by them, but he feared he had made himself too aloof and too strange to traverse that gap. I will prove myself worthy. I will be lauded throughout England. Then, they would have no choice but to see his worth.

  As he rode, he thought again of his brother. He did not understand why they always had to quarrel in such a way, for they had been close once. Adulthood had altered their relationship, to the point where he no longer recognized it, and he knew there had to be a reason for that. But it was not something Edmund liked to dwell too intently on. It only made him sadder, longing for bygone days.

  Halfway up one of the intersectional paths, he turned over his shoulder and caught sight of Miss Dowels. Her eyes were fixed upon him, an unreadable look upon her face. You would do well to avoid my brother.

  Turning away, he pressed on. Meanwhile, Luke had taken off down the opposite path, disappearing into the distance. Good riddance. I hope that you may fall and make a fool of yourself.

  Twenty minutes later, he found himself at the Northern entrance to the park. Pulling Palaimon to a halt, he let the cool breeze nip at his flushed cheeks. He hadn’t pushed the horse too hard, but the ride had left him with a feeling of exhilaration.

  “You are slow today, Brother,” a familiar voice teased, the sound of hooves approaching at a steady pace.

  Grimacing, Edmund turned. “I had thought to ride so that I might get away from you, Luke. Yet here you are.”

  He laughed. “You will have to ride much faster than that in order to get away from me. Besides, I thought you might care for some company.”

  “As you can see, I do not.” He paused, a grin spreading across his face. “Although, perhaps we ought to have a race—see who is, truly, the more gifted horseman.” Whenever he was around his brother, that competitive streak rose to the fore. He could never find the means to quell it.

  This was his sole means of showing his mother and father that he was deserving of his inheritance, by constantly attempting to prove that he was better than his brother. It was childish, he knew that, especially as Luke was not entitled to the dukedom, but everything else he did flew beneath the Duke and Duchess’ notice.

  “What might the terms be? We cannot race without a prize,” Luke replied, a cheerful glint in his eyes.

  “Whoever the victor may be, the loser must name them the better rider. They must announce it, in Father’s presence,” Edmund said, with a small smile. Luke was an excellent horseman, but so was Edmund, when he put his mind to it.

  Luke nodded. “Very well. First one to the toll gate by the fountain wins.”

  “Excellent choice.”

  “After three,” Luke murmured, gripping Moonstruck’s reins tighter in his hands and adjusting his seat in the saddle.

  “One,” Edmund replied, leaning forward against the pommel.

  “Two.” Luke grinned.

  “Three!” Edmund roared.

  The horses spurred into life with a burst of sudden energy, lunging forward under the instruction of their masters. Edmund kept his head low and dug his heels into the horse’s side, urging Palaimon on as fast as he could go. He thought of nothing but the beat of hooves, and the matching beat of his heart as they tore along. That, and the glory he would receive from his father, when he won.

  Pedestrians hurried out of the way as the brothers raced, some screaming rude things after them, but Edmund did not hear. His focus was solely on the path ahead, and the toll gate that lay somewhere in the distance, behind the towering oaks. He would win this, and relish in his brother’s defeat.

  Indeed, he was so focused on his sure victory that he did not see the figures emerging from the left-hand path until it was too late.

  Chapter 5

  Teresa held the hands of Philomena and Elspeth as they wande
red along the leaf-strewn path, towards the toll gate besides the Moray Fountain. Thomas strolled on ahead, kicking stones. The Duchess had happened upon some of her dear acquaintances and had instructed that Teresa take the children home. It was almost three o’clock, and they were beginning to tire.

  She crouched low as she spotted a goldcrest hopping in the undergrowth of the nearby trees. “Do you see that?” she asked.

  Elspeth nodded. “It is rather colorful.”

  “It is a goldcrest. You do not often see them, for they are so small,” she explained.

  “I cannot see it,” Philomena complained.

  “There, beside that holly bush.” Teresa pointed at the spot, whilst glancing up at Elspeth. The younger girl was intrigued by the bird, a smile on her face.

  “I still cannot see it,” Philomena huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Never mind. We shall have to see what birds we can discover in the gardens at Rowfex. Perhaps we shall be lucky enough to spot one there, too,” Teresa said, taking up the girls’ hands once more. They headed for the gate in the distance, though it was still some way away.

  “Look, I spotted one!” Philomena cried, as they walked out onto the main thoroughfare. She tugged hard on Teresa’s hand, gesturing wildly at a cluster of branches in the distance. Teresa peered at the treetops, trying to discover the creature that the girl believed she had seen.

  “You did not,” Elspeth remarked. “You are cross that I saw the goldcrest and you did not.”

  “No, there is one there. I can see it,” Philomena retorted, with a frosty stare.

  They began to squabble, calling one another names, whilst Teresa did her very best to calm the situation. They were weary, their tiredness piquing their irritation with one another.

  “Enough of this, both of you,” she said sternly, but the girls would not listen. They had been coddled for too many years and had forgotten the meaning of authority.

  “But I saw it!” Philomena snapped.

  “No, I saw the goldcrest. You did not. You are a liar,” Elspeth shot back, with uncharacteristic ire.

  “How dare you call me a liar,” Philomena shrieked.

  “I said, enough.” Teresa grabbed them both by their shoulders and span them around to face her, crouching down to their level. “You must not argue with one another. You are sisters—you are allies. You should not be one another’s enemy. Now, stop this. Let us agree that everyone has seen the bird.”

  They pouted sourly.

  “Apologize,” Teresa urged.

  “You are younger, Ellie,” Philomena said bitterly. “You ought to apologize first.”

  Elspeth shook her head. “No, you are the one who—” The words died on her lips, her eyes flying wide in horror as she looked over Teresa’s shoulder. Her mouth opened and closed, as if she desperately wished to say something, but the little girl could not muster a squeak.

  “What is the matter, Lady Elspeth?” Teresa asked, slowly turning her head.

  Two horses thundered towards Thomas, who was a short way ahead. The beasts were hemmed in by the narrowly packed trees on either side and a small crowd of people who were struggling to get out of the way. In reaction, the riders did their best to weave in and out of the passers-by, unable to see the danger ahead—Thomas.

  They are moving too fast…

  Teresa dropped the girls’ hands and sprinted for the solitary figure of Thomas, covering him with her body as she twisted and raised her arms, in an attempt to scare the horses away. Only then did she see the faces of the riders—Lord Harpington and Lord Luke, heading straight at them.

  “Stop!” she cried, her eyes wide in desperation. Her muscles tensed as she prepared to push Thomas out of the way, using herself as a barrier if she needed to.

  Lord Harpington noticed them first, managing to veer off to the side with his chestnut gelding. Lord Luke, on the other hand, looked to be having some trouble with his spooked horse. The shouts of the other bystanders were terrifying the beast, making it hard to control. He couldn’t pull the horse up, though Teresa could see him straining at the reins.

  “Stop!” she yelled again, putting out her hands.

  With barely a few yards between them, Lord Luke yanked violently on the reins. His eyes met Teresa’s, reflecting her horror. The silver horse reared up with a frightened whinny, kicking out its hooves. They missed Teresa by a hair’s breadth, her body arching back to protect Thomas.

  Landing back down, the horse bucked and tossed, bolting away from Teresa and Thomas. Nothing Lord Luke did could get it to stop. Indeed, Teresa watched the beast go, a sense of dread gripping at her stomach. It tore through the trees beyond, driving Lord Luke into a low branch that sent him hurtling backwards from the saddle.

  He hit the ground with a sickening thud, landing in the undergrowth.

  “My Lord!” Teresa screamed, running towards the fallen man. He lay still, his eyes closed.

  Just then, the two girls and Thomas ran up in fright, the little boy shaking. “Stay back, Children,” she urged, uncertain as to Lord Luke’s condition.

  “Is he well?” Elspeth whimpered.

  “I am making sure,” Teresa replied, speaking with more calmness than she felt.

  Gingerly, she reached out towards his face. Putting her fingertips beneath his nostrils, she waited to feel the damp heat of his breath. At first, nothing happened. And then, to her abject relief, she felt warm air upon her skin. He is alive… oh, thank goodness he is alive.

  “My Lord,” she said softly, shaking his shoulder gently. She did not wish to move him too much, in case a terrible affliction had resulted from the fall. “My Lord, you must awaken. Make a sound if you can hear me.”

  Lord Luke groaned, his face twisting up in a mask of agony. “Cannot… breathe,” he rasped.

  Positioning herself so that none of the onlookers could see what she was doing, she swiftly unbuttoned his waistcoat. She saw the taut muscle of his chest and abdomen, straining for breath beneath his thin shirt and felt her heartbeat quicken suddenly, her own breath matching his short, sharp gasps. She felt a sudden urge to touch him, to feel that hard muscle, but she held her hand back.

  Instead, a painful memory exploded in her mind. Her father, bleeding on the ground, coughing violently. She had done the same thing then, with her father’s waistcoat, though it had not mattered. Now, however, her quick-thinking had given Lord Luke’s ribs the space they needed for his lungs to expand. A split-second later, he clawed in a deeper breath, dragging it down as his eyes flew open.

  “My… horse?” Lord Luke spluttered.

  “I will send men to find your horse, My Lord. At this moment, however, we must get you home, so that a physician may be sent for,” she said hurriedly. His hand reached out for hers, gripping it tightly. At first, she did not understand, but then another wave of pain crashed over his face.

  “Is he well?” Lord Harpington’s voice interrupted her confusion.

  She nodded. “He is awake, My Lord, and he is alive. Are you able to take him back to Rowfex upon your horse?”

  “I am,” Lord Harpington replied, his brow furrowed in concern.

  “A physician must be called for immediately.”

  He glanced at her curiously. “I will see it done, Miss Dowels. You were quick to free his chest from constraints—is your father a military man? Did he teach you this?” He gestured to the open waistcoat.

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  “You may well have saved his life, Miss Dowels.”

  She dipped her head. “Then I have only returned a favor. Although, he will not survive if he does not reach home soon, where he may be better cared for.”

  “You are quite right.” Lord Harpington turned to the inquisitive onlookers and called to the younger men, gesturing for them to come and assist. As the two of them gathered Lord Luke into a standing position, and carried him over to the waiting chestnut, Teresa stood back. Her part in this was done.

  “We will follow after,”
Teresa said, returning to the children. They were frightened, and trembling like new-fallen leaves, tossed in a summer breeze.

  “The carriage should be waiting at the toll gate,” Lord Harpington replied, as he leapt up into the saddle. Teresa could not take her eyes away from Lord Luke’s shirt, sweat-drenched and clinging to his athletic physique. Let him be well. She could not bear the prospect of putting such a gentleman, in the prime of his life, beneath the earth. Nothing so beautiful deserved to be destroyed. She watched as Lord Luke leant back against his brother, whilst they rode off towards the far gate.