An Untamed Governess For The Rogue (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Olivia Bennet

  The Duchess came to sit at Teresa’s side. “Did I not say it was too soon, after the trauma we have all suffered?”

  “You did, Your Grace.”

  “I admire your bravery, but sometimes we must admit defeat, and allow ourselves to rest,” she urged gently. “I expect you hoped my sons would bring that villain here, so you might have your justice? What happened to you… it was a terrible thing. It is not something that can easily be forgotten. As strong as we may believe ourselves to be, there will always be wretches who prey upon our weaknesses.”

  Teresa nodded. “I wanted to look him in the eyes and see him punished.”

  “As is your right,” the Duchess replied. “And I am sorry that this Sphinx has taken that from you, as well as my darling son. We are all distraught. Indeed, it took all the determination I possessed, just to rise from my bed this morning.”

  Teresa glanced at the Duchess, noting her pale face. “I must seem rather selfish.” The Duchess did not know of Teresa’s relationship with Luke, and so could not understand that her grief ran deeper than her desire for revenge. At least, Teresa hoped the Duchess did not know, for that would only add insult to injury.

  “Not at all, Miss Dowels. You were cruelly besmirched in the most vulgar way, and my son was your savior in that. It makes perfect sense that you feel so overwhelmed by recent events, as we all do.”

  “May I speak frankly, Your Grace?”

  The Duchess nodded. “As you please.”

  “Might I ask that you show less severity towards Lord Harpington? He has suffered a great deal, and I do not believe he is managing to contend with the circumstances well. He did not name you specifically, and I am certain you have shown compassion, but he is wounded by His Grace’s coldness. Indeed, I think Lord Harpington believes that His Grace wishes he had been lost instead of Lord Luke.”

  The Duchess sighed sadly. “I tried to mediate, when Edmund first broke the news, but the Duke has always favored Luke. I know I should not admit that, but I have so few acquaintances hereabouts, especially with all of this highwayman nonsense, and I am eager to relinquish some of the weight on my shoulders. I hope you do not mind taking the part of temporary confidante?”

  “I do not, Your Grace.” Teresa offered a reassuring smile. As a rule, Teresa was sensitive and attuned to other people’s emotions. She felt it was her role in life.

  “I always tried to shield Edmund from that favoritism, and assure him that it did not exist, but he is not foolish, and he is not blind. I can see, in his eyes, that he feels his father’s preferential treatment so very keenly. It wounds me, too, to witness it.”

  Teresa frowned. “But why, if I may ask, does His Grace feel that way? Lord Luke is certainly the more amenable and humorous of the two, but Lord Harpington is not without his charms. He is, perhaps, more stern, but I imagine that is because of his duties as the eldest son and heir. He has more responsibilities.”

  The Duchess fell strangely silent, a haunted look in her gaze. Teresa did not understand this peculiar shift in her demeanor, nor did she feel it was her place to pry. Evidently, the Duchess knew more than she was willing to reveal. Which begged the question—what did she know that she would not, or could not, say? Immediately, Teresa thought of that dusty book, which had been so swiftly snatched from the drawing room table. She had seen the same haunted, frightened expression in the Duchess’ eyes then, too.

  “Your Grace?” Teresa prompted.

  The Duchess blinked, as though she had only just remembered she had company. “I have never known why. I suppose the Duke sees more of himself in Luke. Edmund has always been more like me. Perhaps that is the reason for the divide between them.”

  “I was just on my way to speak with Mrs. Dolan, to see if she might take care of the children for a while. Would that be suitable? I can continue if you ask it of me.”

  The Duchess shook her head. “No, you ought to take a day or so to rest. We have all been struck with a nasty surprise. Even the children may benefit from a reprieve, though I do not want them to know the reason why.”

  “I have said nothing to them, aside from what we agreed upon,” Teresa assured. “They are curious, but I am certain that will subside.”

  “Thank you, Miss Dowels. Please, go on your way. I am sure Mrs. Dolan will be only too delighted to take care of the children.” She paused, casting Teresa an earnest glance. “And let us both hope that my son returns soon.”

  * * *

  Luke stirred at the sound of muffled voices approaching. Wincing as pain shot up his side, he struggled into a sitting position, just as the screech of scraping metal pierced through the silent, stagnant air. The door burst open and two men entered, their faces half-covered with black cloths.

  “At least yer awake,” the first one said. Luke recognized the voice immediately. This was Stuart Bollands.

  “Where am I?” Luke replied.

  “That’s fer us te know.” Stuart laughed coldly.

  “What do you want with me?”

  Stuart took a step forward. “What do ye think?”

  “I offered to keep your family safe, Stuart. Why would you do this, after the promise I made to you?” Luke strained to sit taller, his entire body throbbing.

  “He knows who you are?” the second highwayman muttered.

  “Well, he definitely does now, don’t he?” Stuart rolled his eyes. “What can I say, M’Lord—the Sphinx gave me a better offer.”

  “But how did you escape? We had guards watching over you at all times.” Fear fluttered in Luke’s heart as he tried to put the pieces together.

  Stuart chuckled. “Anyone can be bought, M’Lord. Ye should know that. Even them guards of yours, fer the right price. It weren’t so hard.”

  “Do you work for Lord Fontaine?”

  Stuart’s eyes flashed with amusement. “Lord Fontaine be locked in his tower, with no way out. He’s a lunatic, M’Lord. Ye were chasin’ after the wrong fella, though it led ye nicely into the trap we laid, didn’t it?”

  “Please, Stuart—no matter what the Sphinx has offered you, I will double it. But I cannot do that from here. Release me, and I will see that you do not receive any punishment for your part in this.”

  “Yer used te gettin’ yer own way, ain’t ye?”

  “This is not about me, Stuart. This is about my family.” Luke narrowed his eyes at the two cretins, wishing he had the strength to leap up and force his way past them. But even the slightest movement made him short of breath.

  “And that lass, no doubt?” Stuart’s tone softened for the briefest of seconds, but Luke heard it. “I’ve got me orders, M’Lord, and I ain’t goin’ to mess them up for the sake of someone like ye. The Sphinx has told us what he plans te do with ye, so ye won’t be seein’ the light of day, I’m afraid.”

  Luke gasped as Stuart drew a knife from his belt. He tried to stagger to his feet, but his right leg buckled beneath him, prompting him to collapse in a heap on the ground as Stuart drew closer. The second highwayman grabbed him roughly, wrenching his head back to expose his throat. And the next thing he knew, the blade was descending, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  Chapter 26

  Edmund took his horse along the road that led away from the Rowfex Estate, his heart heavy and his mind distracted. A day had passed since the tragic events, and part of him wished he had never returned from Lidderdale Castle, for it had only strengthened the knowledge that he would always be secondary to his brother. It did not matter that he was the heir to the dukedom.

  Although even that may not be certain. If his father continued to punish him for leaving Luke behind, then he did not know what may happen in the future. He already deemed his position to be fragile, thanks to the whispering ghosts who incited his deepest, darkest fears. In truth, the only person who had showed him any true hint of compassion was Miss Dowels. It had surprised him and pleased him in equal measure.

  Perhaps something good may come of Luke’s loss. He had admired
Miss Dowels from a superficial perspective ever since her arrival at Rowfex, but that had started to change. Indeed, it had begun to change before the Duchess’ ball, though he had not admitted that to anyone. He knew he would never be allowed to feel affection for someone of such low birth, but the heart wanted what it wanted.

  Maybe, they could find solace in their mutual distress. Edmund was no fool—he knew what sort of relationship had been blossoming between Miss Dowels and his brother. But with Luke gone, and no idea when he might find his way back to them, an opportunity was beginning to present itself.

  My father already despises me—why not incite further disdain. The only thing that continued to restrain him was the knowledge that he would certainly lose his right to the dukedom if he displeased his father more. And attempting to wed a governess certainly crossed that line. Perhaps I do not need to wed her. Many of his acquaintances had mistresses, who lived good lives and were well taken care of. Why could he not enjoy the same luxury?

  Then again, he did not know of Miss Dowels’ feelings towards him. He sensed kindness and a sweet friendliness, but he feared that might be all there was to her regard for him. Friendship. Ever since they were children, Luke had always been the one to get whatever he wanted, regardless of the consequences. And it seemed as though little had changed.

  If you did not return, Luke, perhaps that would be for the best. His reasoning was clear, though he felt a twist of guilt that he thought such a thing. But he figured he was not the one to blame. His father was the truly guilty party. If the Duke had only shown him more affection, and treated him as he deserved, then perhaps he would not be having these untoward feelings about his brother.

  With Luke out of the way, however horrible that might be, Edmund knew that some of his obstacles would be removed. The Duke might even treat him with more dignity, once he realized that he only had one adult son to put his energy into. All the competition he had experienced in his life would be swept aside, leaving only him. And who could turn their back on a son who wanted nothing more than to heed his duties, and do what was expected of him as the heir to a dukedom?

  Yes, perhaps this was for the best, after all.

  * * *

  Unable to rest, Teresa pottered about her bedchamber and tried to find something to do, to take her mind off current affairs. Her heart physically ached for Luke and she had lost count of the tears that had spilled down her cheeks, in missing him. The worst part of it all was not knowing where he was, or if he would ever come back to her.

  I love you… wherever you are, just know that I love you. She fought back another torrent of tears as she settled down at her desk. A few papers were strewn across it. She had wanted to write down her emotions, in order to stop them from overcoming her. However, her eyes were drawn to one particular leaf, near the top of the closest pile. It was the list that she had made of potential suspects, the ink smeared.

  Picking it up, she read down the short list, an idea coming into her mind. She remembered the Duchess’ haunted expression, and the dusty book that had so alarmed her. It was not the expression that she fixated on, as whatever secrets the Duchess had belonged to her. No, it was the book itself that made her think. They had barely managed to get through half of the names within it, but perhaps the Sphinx was still somewhere inside its yellowed pages. Just because it was not Lord Fontaine does not mean the Sphinx’s true name is not in there, somewhere.

  Knowing it was the perfect solution for her agitation, she scraped back her chair and hurried from the bedchamber. The house lay silent in its collective grief. The Duchess had taken to her chambers, whilst the Duke had taken the guard back to Lidderdale Castle to scour the area once again. Lady Felicity had not emerged from her bedchamber since hearing of the tragedy, and the children were in the nursery, in the safe hands of Mrs. Dolan.

  It was the perfect opportunity to do some investigating of her own. Indeed, she reasoned she might not have a chance like this again. However, there was the problem of where the Duchess had hidden the book, after she had taken it from the drawing room.

  I will look in her study first, and work from there. Moving stealthily, she headed down the landing and along the narrow corridor, pausing beside the door that led to the Duchess’ private study. Leaning closer, she listened out for any sound within, but only silence echoed back.

  Turning the handle, she opened the door and slipped inside. The room was neatly kept, with a desk on the far side, and bookshelves lining every wall. A chaise stretched out in front of the fireplace, with a portrait of the family hanging over the mantle. Teresa looked up at it, pausing upon the oil paint that showed Luke’s likeness. How she wished he would spring from the canvas and hold her in his arms again.

  I will find you, Luke. I swear it. For if she could figure out who the Sphinx was, then it would surely lead her to Luke.

  She hurried over to the desk and began to search through the drawers, careful to be as quiet as possible. They were all filled with old correspondence and half-written letters, but there was no sign of the book anywhere. Undeterred, she reached for the bottom drawer and pulled on the brass handle, only to find it locked.

  A flutter of excitement struck her in the chest. There was only one reason the Duchess would have such a drawer, and it looked to be the right size for hiding away the tome in question. Taking two pins out of her hair, she jammed them into the lock, using a trick that her father had taught her, many moons ago.

  Feeling out the metal teeth that held the lock in place, she forced the pins under it and pushed upwards until she heard the telltale click of the lock opening. Keeping one hand on the pins, she used the other to pull the drawer outward, the wood sliding effortlessly now that there was nothing to hold it back.

  Teresa’s eyes widened as she stared into the drawer. The book lay on top of several papers, and some expensive-looking jewelry that glinted in the low light. Without hesitation, she took the book and stowed it under her arm. She was about to put everything back the way she had found it, hoping she could replace the book after she had read it, when a letter caught her eye. Luke’s name was written on the front and there was a smaller stack, tied together with a ribbon, that had been pushed to the very back of the drawer.

  Unable to resist, though she knew this was prying at its very worst, Teresa took the letters and put them with the book. With her heart racing, she closed the drawer and turned the pins, hearing the lock click again to signal that it would not budge.

  Holding tight to her pilfered goods, she headed out of the study and glanced up and down the corridor beyond, to make sure nobody was watching. Satisfied that she was alone, Teresa closed the door behind her and hurried back to her bedchamber. There, she took her seat at her bureau and set out the book, with the letters beside it.

  I will leave the letters for now. She did not quite know what impulse had possessed her to take them in the first place, and she was not sure if she dared to read them. It was only Luke’s name on top of the freshest letter that had driven her to snatch it up. As for the smaller, older stack—she decided to put that theft down to a moment of madness.

  With trembling hands, she reached for the book and opened it to the last page they had read together—her, Luke, and Lord Harpington. Sure enough, the Duchess appeared to have made notations about a number of the families on each page, updating them as scandals and deaths and births and marriages made themselves known. But there was nothing, as of yet, that gave Teresa hope.

  She had been reading for the better part of an hour, making her own notes on a leaf of paper as she went, placing asterisks beside the names that might be of interest: one for a “maybe” and two for a “very possibly.” However, none of the scandals she had read about were devilish enough to be aligned with the actions of the Sphinx. A few torrid affairs, another kidnapping—which had turned into an elopement—and several other misdemeanors.

  A small smile crept onto her lips as she turned the page to find the “M” section of the book. This was w
here she would find the Morton family. Reading through the first two pages of entries, she found nothing to intrigue her. However, as she turned the page over, a small piece of card tumbled out and fell to the floor. Terrified that it might get dirty, she stooped to pick it up. Holding the small scrap in her hand, two words glared back at her, bold and black: He knows…

  “What could this mean?” Teresa said aloud, her chest gripped with anxiety.

  Setting it on the surface of the bureau, she began to read over the entries in the book, pausing as she came to the Morton family, otherwise known as the Rowfex dynasty. On the first page were names she did not recognize; a list of all the Dukes who had come before the present one, and their wives and children listed alongside.

  Meanwhile, the Duke and the Duchess were at the very top of the second page: Archibald Morton, the Duke of Rowfex, and Louisa Morton, née Jarrow, the Duchess of Rowfex. Beneath it, Edmund Morton, the Marquess of Harpington. An asterisk beside his name made her heart lurch. Scanning down to the very bottom of the page, she found the corresponding star: Borne of a tragedy and fair of hair, was all it said.