The Defiant Governess of Rosenhill Manor: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hamilton, Hanna

  “I would have done it for anyone,” she replied.

  “Well now that ye are awake and appear tae be out o’ danger, I will leave ye in the capable hands of Miss Bolton. If ye will excuse me, Yer Grace, Yer Grace.” Dr. Burns bow to both dukes in turn. “Miss Bolton, it was a pleasure.” He kissed her hand, then departed.

  “I should go and get the children,” Eliza stated as she started to rise from her chair.

  “I will go and retrieve them.” Duncan stopped her and left the room.

  Eliza settled back down and turned to inspect the Duke’s features for any sign of fever. Laying her hand upon his cheek, she found none. His skin was cool, and his eyes were clear, as brilliant a blue as the night they first met. His eyes met hers and held them. Eliza had meant to pull her hand away, but found herself unable to do so for he had captured it in his own. He pressed a kiss to it, then released it.

  “Thank you for all you have done for my family and me.” He opened his mouth to say more, but his words were broken off by the arrival of his siblings.

  “Arthur!” they exclaimed as one.

  “Be gentle children,” Eliza warned.

  “Yes, Miss Bolton,” they replied.

  Gabriel and Charlotte each sat on the edge of the bed and gently hugged their brother. “Hello,” their brother greeted with affection. “’Tis glad I am to see you both.”

  “We came with Uncle Dunc’s driver before Mother could wake and stop us,” Gabriel informed him.

  “A wise choice,” the Duke replied, hugging his little brother.

  “Mrs. Philips said she would take care of everything at Rosenhill and that you were not to worry about anything,” Charlotte relayed the message.

  “She is a good woman,” the Duke nodded his approval.

  “How long will we be staying with Uncle Dunc?” Gabriel asked.

  “Until Arthur is feeling better,” Duncan answered, ruffling the boy’s hair. “How would you like that?”

  “Very much,” Gabriel grinned. “Will Miss Bolton stay here with us too?”

  “Yes, she will,” Duncan confirmed meeting Eliza’s eyes. Eliza nodded in affirmation.

  “How long will it take for Arthur to get better?” Gabriel asked.

  “It is going to take quite a bit of time. He was hurt badly and needs to rest. In the meantime, you will be able to spend time with him as long as you are gentle,” Eliza warned.

  “I am sorry that you are hurt, Arthur, but I am glad that we are all here at Uncle Dunc’s together,” Gabriel admitted.

  “As am I,” the Duke answered, chucking his little brother under the chin affectionately.

  “Can we sleep in here with you?” Gabriel inquired.

  “No, your brother needs his rest to be undisturbed while he heals. We will find you your own rooms to sleep in,” Eliza answered looking to Duke of Durton for answers as to where that might be.

  “Yes, I have rooms that are being readied for you both as we speak,” Duncan assured them.

  Eliza noticed that Charlotte was being very quiet. She watched her brother with big blue eyes on the verge of tears. “Are you well, Lady Charlotte?”

  Surprised that she had been noticed, Charlotte turned questioning eyes to her governess. “Is he going to die as our father did? Father’s body was covered in bruises and cuts, too.”

  “No, he is not going to die,” Eliza reassured her, coming around the bed to wrap the poor scared girl in her arms. She herself had been worried about that very same thing but moments before. She knew all too well the heavy weight of worry. “He just needs time to heal.”

  Eliza moved Charlotte over to the chair beside the bed and gathered her young charge to her lap. Charlotte might be a lady of noble birth, but she was still just a frightened little girl in need of love and security. Charlotte curled up against Eliza’s chest laying her head on her shoulder. Gabriel, not wishing to be left out, crawled up onto Duncan’s lap and did the same.

  The Duke smiled at his siblings. “It does my heart good to know that they are being looked after by the both of you. I can rest easier knowing that they are safe and cared for while I recuperate. I cannot thank either of you enough for all you have done for my family and me. Truer friends a man could not ask for.”

  “Think nothing of it, my dear fellow, and rest assured in the knowledge that all will be well in time,” Duncan responded. “For now, what would you children like to do today while Miss Bolton is tending to your brother?”

  “Can we go riding?” Gabriel asked.

  “Of course.” Duncan looked at Eliza and inquired, “Will you be alright without me for an hour or two?”

  “Yes, we will be fine,” Eliza answered. “Go and enjoy yourselves.”

  “I will send in Mr. White to assist you. He is my most trusted and loyal manservant. He will serve you well in my absence,” Duncan stated.

  Eliza and the Duke waved the trio off. Once the children were gone, the butler, Mr. White, entered the room and offered to assist the Duke in tending to his toiletry needs. Eliza left the room to give the men some privacy. She turned back at the door out of curiosity and asked, “What is the last thing you remember?”

  “I remember you.”

  Chapter 9

  Arthur could hear voices. Through the fog of pain that tormented him, he struggled to regain consciousness. He could feel the hard, jagged rocks beneath him, the blood leaving his body.

  Help me! He silently screamed in agony. A cool, comforting hand touched his face, and for a brief moment, he could make out the voice of Miss Bolton. Miss Bolton, how… his thoughts faded away into nothingness as darkness reclaimed him once more.

  The next time he resurfaced, someone was holding his hand. He squeezed it. He could hear voices again, a man and a woman’s.

  Miss Bolton…She was here with him again like an angel of mercy bringing comfort in times of woe. He vaguely remembered hearing her scream at some point. He squeezed the hand once more and groaned.

  “Arthur?” Duncan’s voice called to him.

  “Duncan?” Arthur replied, attempting with all his might to form the word. Every breath was painful.

  Arthur could hear Duncan explaining that he had been in a carriage accident, and calling for the doctor, but at that point, he was too befuddled to care. The next several minutes were filled with discussion of how Miss Bolton had been the one to find him and why she had come looking for him. A doctor appeared and examined him from head to toe causing a great deal of discomfort.

  When the children came to see him, he was so very pleased to know that Duncan had kept his promise to act as their guardian should anything happen to him. Arthur loved seeing their little faces though they were full of concern. He hated to be the cause of their worries. When Duncan took them from the room to allow him to rest, Arthur turned his gaze upon Miss Bolton.

  I am alive because of this woman’s bravery, intelligence, and faith in honor. How does one repay such a debt?

  Arthur studied her features memorizing each line until he was interrupted by Duncan’s butler, Mr. White. Arthur felt heat rise in his cheeks when the servant asked if he could assist him in relieving himself. He attempted to push his embarrassment away. According to the doctor, she has seen every inch of me bare as a newborn babe.

  He longed to reject his body’s needs and keep her here with him holding his hand as she had been when he awakened, but knew to do so would be foolish. When she turned around in the doorway to ask him what he remembered about the accident, all he remembered was her. The comforting touch of her hand that had let him know he was not alone and that he might still yet survive. Arthur knew without a doubt that it had been her touch that had saved him and kept him from giving up hope.

  “I remember you,” he answered honestly. “You are the reason I live.”

  She turned around and left the room to allow him some privacy, but he felt a sense of loss as she did so. He fought the urge to call out to her summoning her back to his side. It was as if her prese
nce made the pain that he had endured more tolerable somehow and with her absence was much harder to bear. He longed for her in a way that defied logic.

  How can someone I barely know have such an impact upon me?

  Once Mr. White had finished assisting him, the butler left the room and Miss Bolton returned. Arthur felt relieved to have her near and reached out his hand for hers. She took it and sat down next to him upon the bed. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but I need to check your wounds to ensure that you did not break them open while moving about just now.”

  Arthur nodded his consent, and she reached out her hands to lift the bandages from around his torso. He watched her as she worked. She was gentle and compassionate doing everything within her power to not cause him excess pain. The light from the window glowed behind her causing the loose curling ends of her hair to glow.

  She is beautiful in every possible way. If a man were not careful he could lose his heart.

  Her soothing hands brushed gently against the bare skin of his abdomen as her hair fell forward to tickle his chest, intertangling in his chest hair. The moment was so intimate he scarce dared to breathe for fear it would end. He longed to reach out and touch her. Oh, to run my fingers through her silken strands. His thoughts took a turn he was not accustomed to, and he chastised himself for conduct unbefitting a gentleman.

  “Your wound is seeping again. I will have to rebandage it,” she informed him. She didn’t appear to be the least bit discomfited by their close proximity or the intimacy of her hands against his bare skin.

  “Do as you wish. I am yours.” The words belied his true feelings. He was smitten and could not deny the truth of it.

  “Can you sit up? If not, I can call the butler in to assist me,” she asked.

  “I believe I can do it if you will help me just a bit,” he answered.

  Arthur took her hand once more for support and pulled himself into a sitting position. The pain that shot through his body was unbearable. He felt as though he had been beaten severely. She rebandaged his wound quickly and helped him to lay back down upon the pillows. “Now, Your Grace, lay still,” she commanded.

  “Yes, Miss Bolton.” He smiled in spite of the pain at her authoritative tone.

  “Shall I read to you or do you wish to sleep?” she asked.

  “I think I have had enough sleep for a while,” he answered.

  “Reading it is then,” she replied sitting down in the chair beside the bed. She picked up a book from the side table and began to read. Arthur watched as her features came to life with the story, her voice and face changing with each character.

  In spite of his claims to have slept enough, Arthur found himself being lulled to sleep by the enchanting cadence of her voice. When he awoke again, it was to find she herself had fallen asleep with her head on his hand. He reached over with his other hand and caressed her hair. The sound of a man’s footsteps caused him to see who had entered. He found Duncan looking at them both from the doorway.

  “I envy you, Arthur,” Duncan said as he walked over to take a seat near the bed.

  “Oh? What do you envy most, my beautiful purple bruises the color of grapes in the sun or my delightful roguish scars in waiting? If it is the pain you desire, I am all too happy to share,” Arthur jested, embarrassed to have been caught showing such affection toward his siblings’ governess.

  “I envy you her,” Duncan answered, his eyes telling Arthur he spoke the truth.

  “She is not mine,” Arthur informed him, “and she never will be. She is a governess under my care. There can never be anything more between us.”

  “Then you are a fool, my friend,” Duncan answered matter of factly, crossing his arms over his chest. The muscles of his arms strained the fabric of his shirt nearly causing it to burst.

  For a brief moment, Arthur felt a sense of jealous protectiveness toward the woman who lay sleeping next to him. The notion occurred to him that he may not be able to have her, but that did not mean he wanted anyone else to. That is unfair and unkind, he chastised himself. You are a better man than that.

  “You know it is impossible,” Arthur retorted.

  “I knew that you would feel that way about it, but I must tell you that I disagree,” Duncan stated meeting his eyes. “You would allow your father’s legacy and society’s rules deny you the happiness that such a love would bring to your life? For the sake of honor? It is a mistake, my dear fellow. A grave mistake indeed.”

  “I disagree,” Arthur argued from a place of logic, but in his heart, he knew his friend was right. As his father’s son, he could not afford to follow his heart. It was his responsibility to restore the family honor. That meant all areas of his life must be found to be beyond reproach. A love scandal was out of the question. He must wed a lady of noble birth or not at all. He would gladly remain unmarried, but it was his duty to produce heirs.

  As he looked down upon the tempting dark tresses of Miss Bolton, the idea occurred to him that it would be better if he were to marry sooner rather than later to avoid further temptation. He knew it was not a fool-proof plan as many a man fell into disreputable extramarital affairs, but Arthur’s conscience would never allow him to behave in such a manner.

  In truth, there is no reason to rush, but to avoid the allure of an ill-fated match. Once I marry, that is it; therefore, it is imperative to make a wise choice. Aloud he said, “Neither of us should ever contemplate such a union, Duncan. Our stations in life simply do not allow it. Perhaps we should both consider appropriate matches this season. It is about time we procured our respective families’ legacies. You should go up to London and seek a bride.”

  “I believe that bump to your head has addled your wits, Arthur,” Duncan shook his head at his friend in exasperation. “If you do not have the good sense to pay court to her, then I shall. Society and the ton can hang.”

  “Leave her be, Duncan, and see sense,” Arthur chastised.

  “You, my dear fellow, are the one not seeing sense,” Duncan argued. “You could marry a hundred Duchesses and not find one of capacity for bravery and compassion among them.”

  Arthur frowned at his friend. Does he truly not see the error in this? “Her virtues are many, I agree, but I cannot, nor will I ever marry a governess. It simply is not done, Duncan, and I will not hear another word about it.” He wasn’t sure if it was his guilty conscience or an actual sense of true obligation that fueled his passionate response.

  “Well, I would not have you either.” Arthur looked to find Miss Bolton awake, and her eyes filled with an indignant fire.

  Chapter 10

  Eliza awoke to find herself the topic of discussion. At first, she was flattered to have been considered at all by two such men as the Dukes of Rosenhill and Durton, but she quickly became angry upon hearing that her employer found her to be inferior in spite of all she had done to save him.

  How dare he! He may be a Duke and far above my station, but that does not give him the right to speak of any woman thusly.

  “I will have you to know that I am not in the market for a husband, but were I, I would not be so foolish as to consider the pomposity of nobility as a viable matrimonial source.” She glared down at him, all sense of compassion had fled her.

  I cannot believe that I held his hand!

  “Miss Bolton, I…” the Duke of Rosenhill stammered.

  “Do not attempt to apologize, Your Grace. After all, I am but your humble servant, am I not?” Eliza stood up, turned her face away, and stormed out of the room in search of the children.

  They, after all, are my true responsibility.

  She was angrier than she had cause to be. She knew the Duke was right about his obligations, but it had upset her that he would feel the need to speak of her so. She had felt bonded to him somehow after the accident as if she had been meant to find him and care for him. There was no need for him to be so callous.

  Eliza’s sisters would have swooned at the mere idea that a nobleman of any sort – especially
a Duke – would have conversed about them, but Eliza had never been excited by such ideas. Were she to marry at all, she would have preferred a nice quiet life with an educated man such as a tutor or professor. Someone like her birth father who cared more about a person’s intellect than their pedigree.

  Eliza found the children playing hide and seek in the garden hedge maze. A person could get lost in all of its twists, turns, and dead ends supplying endless delights for the young. She entered the maze following their giggling voices. Every time she turned a corner believing she had at last come upon them, she was disappointed to find no one there. She had hoped to surprise them by not alerting them to her presence, but it was beginning to look as if she were going to have to call out to them to find her way out again.