Timeless Regency Collection
To Love a Governess
Josi S. Kilpack
Heather B. Moore
Julie Daines
Copyright © 2019 Mirror Press
E-book edition
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No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles. These novels are works of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialog are products of the authors’ imaginations and are not to be construed as real.
Interior Design by Cora Johnson
Edited by Kristy Stewart, Donna Hatch, Kelsey Down, and Lisa Shepherd
Cover design by Rachael Anderson
Cover Photo Credit: Martha Keyes
Published by Mirror Press, LLC
To Love a Governess is a Timeless Romance Anthology® book
Timeless Romance Anthology® is a registered trademark of Mirror Press, LLC
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
To Love a Governess (Timeless Regency Collection, #14)
Timeless Regency Collections:
Table of Contents
Til’ All the Seas Gang Dry | By Josi S. Kilpack
The One-Year Governess | By Heather B. Moore
Chapter 1 | 1815
Chapter 2 | Six months later
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Visible | By Julie Daines
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
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Timeless Regency Collections:
Autumn Masquerade
A Midwinter Ball
Spring in Hyde Park
Summer House Party
A Country Christmas
A Season in London
A Holiday in Bath
A Night in Grosvenor Square
Road to Gretna Green
Wedding Wagers
An Evening at Almack’s
A Week in Brighton
To Love a Governess
Table of Contents
Til’ All the Seas Gang Dry by Josi S. Kilpack
About Josi S. Kilpack
The One-Year Governess by Heather B. Moore
About Heather B. Moore
Visible by Julie Daines
About Julie Daines
Til’ All the Seas Gang Dry
By Josi S. Kilpack
CHAPTER ONE
Dina knew it was him. Not because the door leading from the house to the yard opened differently under his hand than it would someone else’s or because his boot step sounded different on the gravel path than another set of boots would. She knew it was him because the air around David Macarthur had always been different. At least for her.
“What comes after ten, Elizabeth?” She asked the three-year-old currently seated in her lap. She pointed to another clover blossom in the patch they were counting. Rebecca and Olivia were playing a bit farther down the lawn.
“Leven,” Elizabeth said with a confident nod, her feathery braids bouncing with the movement as David’s boot steps came closer.
“Aye,” Dina said, putting an arm around the girl’s slight shoulders and giving her a squeeze. “E-leven. Very good.”
She opened her mouth to prompt the next number in sequence, but the footsteps stopped a short distance behind them, and she breathed that David air all the way into her lungs. Held it.
Elizabeth turned her head to look up at the man who would be a stranger to her and immediately shrank into Dina. Dina kissed the top of Elizabeth’s head, “It’s all right, love. This is David Macarthur; he is yer mother’s cousin and a guest for th’ house party.”
Dina could not see if David reacted to her knowing it was him without having looked. She stood, hoisting Elizabeth on her hip as she turned to face him and grateful Mary had warned her he was coming so that she’d had time to prepare for this first encounter after so many years of wondering what it would be like. As her eyes traveled to meet his, she took in the Hessian boots, the tailored coat, the perfectly knotted cravat, and the shorter hair—he looked much more the English gentleman than he had six years ago. No more hair to his collar, tartan waistcoats and open shirts. Did he still have that lovely brogue? Did he still sing the auld songs sometimes, low and soft like the wind on the moors of a summer evening?
The rust-colored hair was the same. The slope of his nose. The deep set of his eyes and full lips that lit the room when he smiled and turned those green eyes up at the corners. The polite smile planted on those lovely lips right now wasn’t the same thing, and she hoped that she would see it full bright before this fortnight was through. Likely not directed toward her as it once had been, but she thought she could still find joy in seeing it bestowed elsewhere.
“Mr. Macarthur,” she said politely, dipping a slight curtsy that also allowed her to look at the ground a moment and shore up her reserves.
“Cullodina.”
She suppressed a shiver. No one called her by her full name, a name that hailed the battle of Culloden where Dina’s great-grandfather had fought the English army with a sharpened plowshare and unloaded bayonet. He’d lost an eye and both of his brothers but retained his fierce Scottish pride, which was handed to her grandfather, then her mother, and finally herself for safe keeping as the world he’d fought for wavered and faded into the world she now knew. She tried to pass what she could of that pride to her charges, the daughters of her cousin Mary. David was also Mary’s cousin, but on Mary’s father’s side and therefore no relation to Dina, though they’d been raised closer than many blood cousins were.
“’Twould be best if you would call me Miss Cameron.”
David’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Miss Cameron,” he amended with a slight nod of apology. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”
Is it? she wondered, keeping her eyes on his face in hopes of finding a clue as to what he thought of her these days, assuming he thought of her at all. She’d watched from a distance as his life unfurled the way it had been meant to with no expectation that he thought back at the dirty-kneed girl who had become a Scottish lass he’d prattled with for a few months’ time in London before she disappeared almost overnight. Did he know why she’d left? Was he angry with her?
“Th’ pleasure is all mine, I’m sure.”
He cleared his throat, then glanced between Dina’s face and that of Elizabeth, who watched them cautiously. “Might I speak with you alone for a moment, Miss Cameron?”
She could still hear Scotland in his voic
e, but like it had with everything else, England had taken its majority with him. She mourned the changes as she bent to set Elizabeth on the ground. “Why don’t you pick eleven clovers we’ll then feed to Bruce.”
Elizabeth nodded, her eyes bright at the prospect of feeding the rabbit Mrs. Tyre kept behind the garden. As soon as Elizabeth crouched over the clover blossoms, David took a few steps away from the girl. Dina followed.
He looked at the ground a moment, then clasped his hands behind his back and raised his chin like a boy who had practiced his lesson a dozen times and was now ready for his recitation. “I do not wish to waste time on small talk. I only want to know the level of difficulty between us so that I might make this visit as comfortable for you as possible.”
Oh, bless him. “There is no difficulty.”
His eyebrows came together.
She smiled and spoke with calm measure, so different from the rambunctious girl and free-spirited young woman he’d once known. She’d grown up these last six years, become wise, and learned to control her reactions and expressions and words. “I have nothin’ against you, David, never have. Unless you have a trespass on my part to bring about, I consider all well between us.” She’d left a note—a single line explaining that she missed Scotland and did not foresee a return to London. All was true, she’d just not shared the whole truth.
He blinked. She kept her polite smile in place and counted slowly in her head so as not to be overcome by the emotion beginning to roil. David was here. Standing before her. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and feel his arms around her.
He dropped his voice. “You left London so . . . suddenly. I have always feared that I offended you somehow.”
Aye, so he did not know the reason for her sudden departure, then. His mother’s words, however, still rang in her ears. Mrs. Macarthur, Mary’s aunt, had asked to speak with Dina alone following an afternoon tea at Mary’s to which Dina had been invited to attend. Dina had always gotten on with David’s mother and expected questions like, “How is your grandfather faring without you?” “Are you enjoying London?” “Does the position of nurse for Mary’s baby suit you, then?”
Instead, Mrs. Macarthur had explained her concerns for the growing connection between Dina and David in a very level and sincere way: When he is old enough to marry, David will marry an English bride so as to have the right English future. He has known this all his life. You have become a distraction and will be his ruin if you stay.
Dina had gone to her room after that, stared at the ceiling and repeated the words that reflected her own growing fears that what existed between her and David was more than either of them knew what to do with. More and more he was avoiding the society events in favor of an evening at Mary’s home. More and more it would be just the two of them by the end of those evenings. Affection had turned to intimacy, touching had turned to seeking, and desire for his company had become an ache for more. Her self-pity at being revealed a burden to David’s future had eventually moved aside enough for her to do the right thing.
The next morning, she had sent round a note to Mrs. Macarthur and asked that she help her return to Scotland. David’s mother hired a carriage and helped Mary understand without revealing the true reasons. She did not know how to tell you how very much she missed her homeland and her grandfather. I shall help you find a good English nurse to take her place.
Six years had passed. Two more daughters had blessed Mary’s marriage to her English husband. So much had changed, and yet the effect David had on her had not changed a wit.
David spoke, bringing her back to this patch of clover behind Mary’s country house. “You did not answer any of my letters.”
Dina hadn’t even read his letters, fearing that if she did she would go back to London. Back to him. Never mind the ruination of either of them. His letters—five written over the course of that first year she’d spent stewing in self-pity and regret—remained in the bottom of her trunk. All these years later she still didn’t trust herself to read them.
“What is done is done.” The flippancy would hurt him, and yet some hurts were better than others. “Congratulations on yer engagement, by the by. Mary says that Fiona Johansson is a lovely young woman and a good match—th’ right English bride. I wish you both happy. Beannachd Dia dhuit.”
“God be with me,” he translated, his expression softened by the blessing. “I have not heard Gaelic in ages.”
In London, speaking Gaelic between them had been part of building a secret world that could not be. Her once-fluent Gaelic was now relegated to sharing phrases here and there with Mary or teaching them to Mary’s daughters. It was a fledgling connection to their heritage, but it was something. Something was better than nothing. Mary’s children instead of her own. A fine house to live in that she had no claim on. Standing here with David even though he would never be hers.
His smile fell again, and a pleading entered his bright eyes. “What happened, Dina—I mean, Miss Cameron? Why did you leave as you did? I have waited six years to know the answer.”
“I was not ready to live outside of Scotland, and Grandfather needed me.”
He looked back at her skeptically.
“I knew if I told you what I was thinking you would want me to stay, even though what existed between us would only ever be folly. When I came to fully know it, I had to go and knew you would try to stop me if I confided. I am sorry if that confused you, but I have no regrets, David. Truly.” The shadow on his face settled into something else when she said his name, and she dug through the caverns of her usually quick mind for something that would bury the informality. The ambition was lost within the weight of his gaze.
“You are happy, then?” he asked with all the sincerity she remembered from their long evenings before a dying fire, then hungry kisses after Mary went off to bed. Was absolution what he wanted? Release from any responsibility he might claim for unhappiness on her part?
“I am happy.”
Rebecca and Olivia laughed from their place several feet away as they threw handfuls of grass into the air. Dina smiled at them before looking back at David, ready to end this conversation in which she had said enough without sharing too much.
His shoulders had relaxed slightly. “I have worried it would be awkward for you, having Fiona and I here.”
She shook her head. “I shall primarily be busy with th’ children. Aside from that, I have outgrown our childish fancy, as I’m sure you have.”
“Childish fancy,” he repeated.
“Surely you know that was all it ever was,” she said. “Two fish out of water finding wee comfort in sameness with one another. We both had so much growing to do, but we were getting ahead of ourselves.”
The image of this full-grown man before her, wizened and comfortable in his place, fell back to the memory of David at nineteen years old, vibrant, young, ignorant of the demands of this new society he had entered. He held himself in check now, careful and cautious.
“I had best return to Elizabeth,” Dina said with a polite nod. “Good to see you again, Mr. Macarthur. Good day.”
“Good day,” he repeated as she sat beside Elizabeth, who had picked far more than eleven clovers and arranged them in a straight, pink line across the grass.
“Let’s count them before we give them to Bruce,” Dina said, then pointed to the first clover on the left while David retreated. The air changed back to normal, and the tension that had been settling in her chest throughout their conversation eased.
She took a deep breath and complimented herself on her poise. The victory was a hollow one, but she’d not expected anything different. Sometimes the right thing was not the least painful one, and sometimes you took all the pain upon yourself to spare someone you cared about from having to feel it too.
CHAPTER TWO
The other guests of the house party would continue arriving over the next few days, but knowing David was already here put Dina on alert. The morning after he’d found her in
the yard, she’d watched from the nursery window as the men went off to shoot. David’s dark red hair made him easy to track even from a distance. As children in Scotland, the three of them had only ever ridden bareback. It seemed that David had mastered the skill of saddle riding in the years since.
After dinner that evening, Dina brought the girls into the drawing room so that they could perform some Scottish folk songs she’d taught them. Mr. Jennings, Mary’s husband, was supportive of Mary’s desire to teach their daughters about her homeland, provided it did not interfere with their other education. During the performance, Dina felt David’s eyes on her several times, but she did not let herself look at him.
Once out of the room, Dina chased the girls up the stairs so that their giggles and squeals would push every other thought from her mind. Or, well, most of them. She had not managed to forget about David over the last years of separation, therefore it was foolish to think she would be able to push him from her thoughts now that he was under the same roof.
On Friday, the girls had their weekly riding lesson at the same time that Mr. Jennings took the gentlemen of the party on a tour of his stables—there were five men in the party now. Dina caught several glimpses of David as the group made their way through the outbuildings, but she did not think that David noticed her. She had heard Mary telling Mr. and Mrs. Donning that the last of the guests would arrive today, including Miss Johansson and her mother, Lady Clairmont.
Saturday afternoon, Dina and the girls joined Mary and the other women of the party for tea—Dina’s first time in Miss Johansson’s company. Dina’s attention was primarily focused on making sure the girls displayed their manners correctly in the presence of these fine ladies, but she unobtrusively studied Miss Johansson too. The woman who would become David’s wife in a few months’ time sat between Lady Clairmont and the odd Mrs. Donning on the other side of the ring of chairs and wore a beautiful pink dress with cream accents and four-inch lace at the end of each sleeve. Her dark hair reflected the light from the tall windows of Mary’s parlor, contrasting with the bright blue of her eyes. She was absolutely beautiful, and though it hurt to admit it, there was no denying that she and David would make a striking couple.
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