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

by Hamilton, Hanna

  “You…you…” Arthur could not have completed a sentence had his life depended upon it. She was stunning in every possible way, and he did not deserve her. Duncan nudged him from behind.

  “You had better speak up and claim your bride before I do,” he murmured, chuckling.

  Arthur shot him an unamused look and turned back to Eliza. “You are radiant, my love.” He bowed over her hand, turning it to place a kiss on the inside of her wrist. Eliza laughed with joy and caressed his cheek with the palm of her hand.

  The ceremony was lovely, short, and sweet. When Arthur turned to pledge his troth, he felt as if his heart would burst with every word that fell from his lips as he slid the golden band upon her finger.

  “With this ring, I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

  When it came time to kiss the bride, he disregarded decorum altogether and crushed his bride to him in a kiss so passionate that Duncan later told him Mrs. Cole covered little Oliver’s eyes. That night as they consummated their love, Arthur knew a joy he had never before known. As they lay replete in each other’s arms, Arthur played with the ringlets of her hair on his bare chest.

  “My wife,” he murmured, taking her hand in his and kissing the golden band on her ring finger. “My love,” he kissed the inside of her palm. “My Duchess,” he kissed her lips and did not cease kissing her until the light of dawn.

  The End?

  Extended Epilogue

  Curious to read how Eliza and Arthur’s relationship evolved? Then enjoy this complimentary short story featuring the beloved couple!

  Simply TAP HERE to read it now for FREE! or use this link: http://hannahamilton.com/hb6f directly in your browser.

  I guarantee you, that you won’t be disappointed ♥

  But before you go, turn the page for an extra sweet treat from me…

  More sweet historical romance

  Turn on to the next page to read the first chapters of The Secret Life of the Elusive Governess, my best-selling Amazon novel.

  The Secret Life of the Elusive Governess

  Prologue

  The Barley Mansion

  Six minutes—that was what it took to almost shatter the maid, Pauline Hart, who had just popped into the mansion to get a shawl for Lady Josephine Hayward as the evening was getting nippy.

  Never had she imagined that she would go back to find the little girl gone. But she was, inexplicably, undeniably, gone and in her place was a note secured under a smooth river rock. She snatched it up, took one look at the first words, and ran full tilt back into the house with her heart drumming in her ears.

  “She's gone!” She screamed while darting inside. “She’s been taken!”

  It did not take long for the lord of the manor, Moses Hayward, to rush out with alarm on his face, “Wha—?”

  “Your Grace,” the woman trembled and gasped in terror, “Lady Josephine is gone!” The words she had just uttered rocked her and she nearly fell over at the horrible image of the sweet child being held in a dark, cold room, all alone and scared out of her mind. “And the only way you can get her back is to exchange her for Miss Robins.”

  The Duke’s face paled just as the Duchess’ voice came from the stairwell. “Moses, why did that ungodly scream disturb my rest? And what is this about Josephine? Tell me!” Her tone was almost hysterical. “What is happening?”

  “Josephine has been kidnapped, Lavinia.” The Duke winced tightly, as her scream cut through the air, so shrill and laced with desolation it tore his heart in two.

  The Duchess nearly fell from her precarious perch on the staircase. “How could that be?! How could someone just snatch her from the garden? We have eyes all over the place! How did no one see her?”

  Moses grimaced. There has to be another agent here, but who?

  The Duke took the crumpled note from the maid’s lax hand and read. “We have the child...and you can only get her back if you hand over the governess to us in the next twenty-four hours.”

  “But—Miss Robins?” the Duchess stuttered. “She’s gone. You sent our governess away, Moses. She is halfway across the county! How can you get her back in twenty-four hours? It took you three days to get her away! What will they do to my little girl if we can’t get her back?”

  The Duke crumpled the noted with steely determination. “I’ll get her back, Lavinia. I swear on my life, I will get them both back. Tell Oliver to saddle my horse! Hinds, shut the whole estate down, send for the constables, and search for the kidnapper’s accomplice. Do it now!”

  “Yes, Your Grace!”

  Chapter 1

  The Barley Mansion

  Two Years Ago

  “Take care, Lady Josephine.” Miss Caroline Robins, the new governess of the Duke of Barley’s children, was anxiously worrying over her charge, five-year-old Lady Josephine Hayward. The little girl was dangerously close to ruining her lovely blue cotton dress on the oozing fruit of a black mulberry tree.

  It was the height of summer in southeast England and for the past few days, the sun had been at its fiercest. Caroline had to cease from bringing her charges on their daily walks for fear of them being harmed by the violent rays. This day, however—a peaceful Wednesday—had arrived with a benign spirit and carried with it calm blue skies, warm sunlight, and a soft breeze.

  The morning hours had passed by with the governess fearfully watching the sky with doubt running through her mind about the walk. However, by the big and pleading blue-green eyes of five-year-old Josephine, Caroline had relented.

  She was now seated on a warm stone bench amid the secondary garden of Barley Manor, with her hands folded over her simple black skirt. Her dark blue eyes glanced up at the window of a parlor room and saw Lord Nicholas Hayward, Josephine’s older brother, standing there and gazing out silently. There was a worry inside the governess for the boy, as he was too pensive and surly for such a tender age.

  Mayhap he misses his mother.

  Days after she had taken residence at the house, she had wondered why there was no introduction to the lady of the Manor but had not questioned it openly. It was only after a week she had started to ask subtle questions and had received answers even more subtle—the Duchess of Barley was ill and from the reports, she had been that way for years.

  “Miss Robins!” Josephine called excitedly as she rushed over to her with her hands clasped tightly. The child was in such a hurry that she tripped over the edges of her petticoat.

  Instantly, Caroline launched from her seat and caught the child just in time. Josephine’s hands parted and her treasure—a golden butterfly—flew from its corporal cage and flittered away. The governess was happier to see the child safe than the insect and frantically checked her over to make sure she wasn’t bruised.

  She wasn’t physically hurt, but the sniffles Caroline heard told her the child was instantly miserable. Sighing, the governess gently lifted Josephine up, placed her on her lap and tucked her head, crowned with angelic golden strands, into the crook of her neck.

  “Hush, Lady Josephine,” Caroline consoled while rocking her softly, “Hush, hush, now, and wipe your eyes. You will find another one soon, I promise. They are all around us.”

  The sobs kept coming and Caroline felt her anxiety growing. What if the child was so distraught that she didn’t stop crying? How could she present her to her father with a red face and swollen eyes? Three full months had not passed since she had taken up the position with the Duke and Duchess of Barley and during that time, she had walked on eggshells.

  Everything she did was planned out—her lessons, her daily activities, the rare moments where she allowed herself free time, her trips to the town nearby, and never, at any time, did she take any risks. Her position was too fragile for her to be daring fate.

  Caroline swallowed her anxiety and tried to soothe the child even more when a deep baritone broke the uneasy air. Instantly upon hea
ring it, her breath stopped in her chest.

  “Josephine,” Moses Hayward, the Duke of Barley came towards them, his stride assured and strong. “What is the matter, little duck?”

  The Duke, dressed in a dark riding habit, coat and waistcoat of the darkest blue trimmed and embroidered with black, was coming towards them. Caroline lowered her eyes as he came closer.

  To compound his power and air of command, the Duke was strikingly handsome and had a magnetic persona that never failed to draw eyes to him. Broad shoulders crowned a compact torso, that led to long, powerful legs. His face, square and sculpted, held a defined jaw, patrician nose, and deep—so very deep—verdant eyes under hooded brows.

  Caroline’s throat was suddenly dry, and her heart was beating a steady and increasing thrum in her chest. Whenever the Duke was near, she always found herself out of sorts. Her body didn’t follow its normal rhythm, she felt flushed, even as anxiety sent cold shivers through her, and her mind never ceased to stop spinning.

  After the first three times they met, Caroline deduced that her reaction to him was of fear—and rightly so. Anyone who knew their position on the social ladder—especially a governess like herself, a veritable servant—would be fearful to their core. The Duke had such integral power and authority that she felt insignificant near him.

  “How do you do, Miss Robins?” His smooth, velvety but monotone voice flowed over her and her head jerked up in sudden reaction. Her body nearly followed but the weight on her lap prevented her from rising.

  She managed a tiny smile even though her stomach was turning and tying itself in knots.

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace. I am well, thank you. Forgive me for not standing, but how do you do on this fair day?”

  “I am about to relieve you of your burden, Miss Robins. Please hand her to me,” the Duke said, as he reached out with both hands to take his quietly sobbing child.

  Caroline made sure to shift in a way that he could take Josephine without any contact, but his fingers still brushed against the sleeves of her dark dress. The touch was light, but Caroline still felt the fleeting touch run through her clothes into her skin.

  When Josephine was in the Duke’s arms, Caroline stood and curtseyed, “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  Her words did not grant her a reply as, instead of speaking to her, the Duke softly murmured to Josephine. The picture she saw calmed the turmoil in her chest. The Duke held the little girl with such serenity that Caroline could not help but smile.

  For a young aristocrat of five-and-thirty, the Duke spent hours upon hours governing his Dukedom, taking care of tenants, and making sure he balanced his home duties and governmental ones. However, she knew that no matter how tired he was from his daily activities, or how busy he was with matters that dragged well into the night, he still made time to see his children—in lieu of his wife.

  Caroline had seen the Duchess once or twice, at most, in the past three months and even then, the beautiful lady looked like a phantasm. Her hair was more golden and luminescent than her youngest child’s, her face elfin and gorgeous, but the reason Caroline classed her as an apparition was the deadness in her blue eyes.

  “Miss Robins,” the Duke said over his shoulder, “Please notify the cook to make some warm milk and some buttered toast and take them to the drawing room on the second floor. I will carry her inside.”

  Caroline faltered for a moment as she was imprinting the image of the Duke and his child on the shelf of her mind before she nodded and dipped into another curtsey. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Turning on her heel, Caroline took the cobblestone path to one of the numerous back doors and just before she entered, stopped and touched her arm. Her fingers fluttered over the spot and felt the touch again—only this time it felt stronger.

  * * *

  While comforting Josephine, Moses felt the weight of the governess’ eyes in the middle of his back but did not turn to meet her gaze. The majority of his attention was trained on the child resting in his arms. He had come a tad too late to know why his daughter was crying but that didn’t matter. She was upset and, as her father, he needed to take care of her.

  But that did not downplay the presence of Miss Robins. The governess had arrived at his home three months ago. The moment he had seen her in his foyer, his first thought was, how is she a governess? She is stunning…

  Her eyes were so deep a blue they looked black, rimmed with long, dark lashes, and the burnished glint of her dark auburn hair framed a delicate oval face.

  For a moment, he had wondered if perhaps his coachman had carried the wrong person to his home—a debutante instead of a governess. However, she had ended that idea after the cordial introduction.

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace,” she had spoken in a soft, gentle voice, “I am Miss Caroline Robins, the governess.”

  Her soft demeanor, calm words, and kind gestures had made an impression on him and he felt drawn to her. Though she was a governess, she looked so delicate and so gentle that Moses had felt a strange protectiveness towards her.

  There were days after when Moses saw her and noticed a cloak of loneliness around her. He was forced to admit that he felt a kindred spirit in her as he, too, was somewhat isolated.

  At other moments when he found her alone, there was a calm peace around her that contradicted the loneliness, which intrigued him even more.

  However, his thoughts should not be upon the governess, as his child was in his arms—she was his priority.

  “Dry your eyes, little duck,” Moses whispered in her ear. “You are too beautiful for tears.”

  Hushing Josephine softly, Moses plucked a flower from a bush and tucked it behind his child's ear. Kissing her forehead, he carried her back to the house and to the intimate drawing room instead of the formal dining room.

  He entered just as Miss Robins was settling a tray on a small table. A lock of her hair had escaped her bun and was curving a delicate arc over her cheek to her chin, which Moses found enchanting.

  She looked up and their eyes met for a moment before a soft flush trailed over her face as she curtseyed. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

  Moses found himself speechless as she walked away and shifted on his heel to see her leave. What was it about Miss Robins?

  Why do her eyes seem to enter into my soul so much deeper than anyone else? Even my wife…

  But most importantly, what am I going to do about it?

  Chapter 2

  Present Time

  With her hands clasped behind her, wearing a modest dark dress appropriate for a governess, Caroline Robins, the young educator of the Duke’s two children—Josephine and Nicholas, now seven and eleven respectively—looked silently out the massive window of the schoolroom.

  The second storey schoolroom had the perfect view of the stables and the wide pasture beyond. There, in the middle of the large span of land, was the children’s father, Moses Hayward, the Duke of Barley.

  Caroline did not have to look at the massive grandfather clock in the corner of the room to know it was half an hour after one o’clock in the afternoon. Whenever he was home, the Duke always took his powerful thoroughbred for exercise at exactly that time.

  The mount was so massive—his hide as black as the darkest night and his eyes deeper than the abyss—that Caroline privately feared for her master whenever he so much as approached it. Her fears were repudiated, however, each time he mounted with ease.

  Her eyes were trained on the Duke as he expertly maneuvered the black beast over a series of jumps, each one higher than the one before it. The golden rays from above transformed the dark brown of his hair into a mass of dusky russet and played over his dark riding habit. She felt the warm glow of affection lighten her spirit.

  Oh, how much of a ninny I am, Caroline softly scolded herself, while a smile curved her lips. I know he will fly over all of them, but I still worry.

  The governess knew that she should have gone for her midday meal, but she wanted to wait for one s
pecial moment—the moment the Duke would give a rare smile.

  It wasn’t much, merely a soft tilt of his lips that negated the somber expression he usually wore, but it was everything to the young woman. Warmth curled her stomach and she grasped the window sill and looked out further.

  He becomes a different person when he smiles.

  “Miss Robins?” came the sweet sound of seven-year-old Josephine from behind her.

  Turning, Caroline smiled at the little girl, who had a smooth fall of golden hair over her shoulder and bright blue-green eyes, shades lighter than her father’s dark moss-green. “Yes, Lady Josephine?”

  “Nicholas is teasing me again,” the sweet child said, her eyes brimming with tears. “Why is he so mean to me, Miss Robins?”

  Folding her skirts under her, Caroline knelt and gave the child a warm smile, “He’s a boy, My Lady, and a brother. I am sure he loves you but finds it hard to show it. When you grow up, I am sure he’ll become so protective of you that you’ll wonder if he was mean to you at all.”

  The little girl did not know it, but her brother was standing at the door and while speaking to Josephine, Caroline spotted a red streak of shame cross the eleven-year-old boy’s ruddy face as he looked down and scuffed his boot.

  “Do you believe me, My Lady?” Caroline asked softly, and smiled when the child nodded and flung herself into her arms. Hugging her, Caroline smelt the rose-water scent on the child’s clean hair before squeezing her with an assuring touch.