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

by Hamilton, Hanna

  “Yes,” The Duke’s tone was dry.

  She still didn’t believe it, “Completely honest?”

  “Yes, Miss Robins.”

  She blinked, “Even to the point where the truth might be…brutal?”

  “Brutality is needed sometimes,” the Duke added, with a smile that Caroline had never seen before. It was a combination of amused, knowing, and teasing. “Miss Robins, there are many things and many people that I deal with every day, but there is one rarity. I cannot calculate the number of people that have the bravery to be candid with me. However, you, Miss Robins, must be in that fraction.”

  Something funny was happening in her stomach, all the muscles were pulling in and tightening as the two walked back to the house.

  “Good evening, Miss Robins,” he smiled at her silence as they parted at the foyer.

  “Same to you, Your Grace,” Caroline replied as she curtseyed, then walked off. Halfway to the corridor, she turned to look at his retreating figure and eagerly drank in the sight of his dignified profile.

  Hurrying to her room, she closed the door quietly and then sank onto the edge of her bed. She felt flushed and pressed a hand to her cheek. From there she slipped her fingers to her neck and felt the throbbing of her pulse.

  Finally coming to a conclusion—one that she did not like as it was the definition of insanity—Caroline dropped her head into her hands and covered her eyes. There was no basis for her sudden attachment to him—none whatsoever. However, even with no solid ground, she felt the emotion soar.

  What have I gotten myself into? I cannot do this. I cannot fancy him. His kindness is not an indication of anything more than his generosity. I cannot fancy him.

  Her strident mantra grew fainter and fainter every time she tried to remind herself until it had no strength at all. Her words were powerless.

  She went to bed with a single thought looming through her mind.

  I do fancy him and by doing so I have doomed myself. How can I look him in the eyes without betraying myself? What will I do now?

  Chapter 4

  After Moses had spoken with Miss Robins in the garden, three days ago, a curiosity about her had claimed his mind. The Duke found himself wavering about his perceptions of the governess—and this certainly was not his first time doing so.

  Miss Robins…why is it that you never fail to overtake my thoughts?

  When the necessity of hiring a governess had come about two years ago, he had placed his housekeeper—Mrs. Harriet Kudrow—on the task to find one, and two weeks later she had reported to him the information on two. The first one was over sixty years, a matron with a long line of references from the noble families and years of tutoring experience.

  And then there was a young woman, three-and-twenty, and newly appointed in the profession, with only one reference from Mother Superior Agnes from the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Stockton, Wiltshire. The letter was short but poignant—the head nun had lauded the candidate with prodigious praise.

  The Duke had pondered for days on which one to appoint to the post and came to the conclusion that the older woman had had her time and it was only fair to allow someone else to prove herself. He had then ordered Mrs. Kudrow to make all the preparations for the newest addition to his household.

  And prove herself she did.

  He had not gone into much detail about her with his wife as he knew she would be testy about an orphan child turned adult governess in their home. Lavinia had been raised with the boundary lines of class sealed in her mind as law and she was no stranger to using the social cut.

  Thanks be to God that she had not inquired too deeply about the governess and had only nodded when he had told her that one had been appointed.

  Sighing, Moses went through the tax records of his tenants with a half a mind. The other half was contemplating if it was worth getting to know the governess at all. She was smart, he knew that but exactly how smart was she?

  “Out of all the people in the house… she is probably the only one who I might carry a conversation with…” Moses outwardly mused while twiddling his quill. His half-open door was knocked on.

  “Your Grace,” Hinds, the butler spoke from the doorway, “You summoned me?”

  “Yes, Hinds,” Moses uttered as he dropped the quill into the inkpot, “Please come in and close the door.”

  Knowing the man had learned his various tones over his ten years of service, Moses gestured for him to sit. “Hinds, Miss Robins has been with us two years, correct?”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” the butler replied, “And if you do not mind me offering my opinion, I believe she is doing a wonderful job.”

  “I concur. Lady Josephine is rapidly progressing in French and young Lord Hayward is advancing in his Greek and Latin,” Moses replied. “Which is why I am considering giving her a bonus. Nothing too big, mind you, just a token by which she will know that she is appreciated. Remembering my old governess, I know that they are overlooked sometimes, and it can be a good thing to let them know their efforts are appreciated. Your thoughts on this matter, Hinds?”

  The searching look on the butler’s face was one Moses chose to blithely ignore, but when the appraising look turned to a knowing one the Duke felt exasperated.

  “I cannot say, Your Grace,” Hinds replied, “She is a quiet and contained soul and does not share much. I cannot readily assume what piques her fantasy at all.”

  “Hinds, your words are sober but the light in your eyes tells me another story…just as the smirk I can see you are valiantly holding back.” His words prodded Moses to consider the one action he had been trying to avoid—asking her in person. “But then…. I suppose it is best to ask her directly.”

  “I believe she would appreciate a direct exchange, Your Grace,” Hinds spoke. “I truly think so.”

  Circling two fingertips on his forehead to massage out a sudden tension, Moses nodded. “I agree and thank you for your… reticence.”

  “My pleasure, Your Grace,” Hinds bowed where he stood. “Should I summon her for you?”

  “No,” Moses sighed, while reaching out for his quill and a sheet of paper, “I’ll do that in my own time. You are dismissed, Hinds.”

  “Good day, Your Grace.”

  The door closed before Moses started scribbling his ideas of how to approach the governess and halfway through them he stalled his hand and stared at the lines on the paper.

  “Am I…” He wondered while looking at his handwriting, “How old am I that I am scripting my conversation for a woman? Twelve, fourteen… a nervous lad? God forbid.”

  Snorting at his ridiculousness, Moses crushed the sheet. He then went back to balancing the accounts on the reports his steward had collected, and resolutely ignored it when his eyes strayed to the crumpled paper.

  * * *

  While Josephine was working on her penmanship and Nicholas was struggling through his advanced arithmetic, Caroline had her primary sketchbook open and was idly making outlines of the two children.

  The lesson was about to end in thirteen minutes and she was passing the time while the two children worked. Her eyes were shifting between the clock and her pencil as the time clicked away.

  She had just added some whimsical tufts to Nicholas’ hair when the time stuck twelve. She dropped her pencil and cleared her throat.

  “It is time, Lord Hayward and Lady Josephine, please close your books. You are free to go to your midday meal,” Caroline announced evenly.

  “Thank God,” the boy muttered under his breath. Caroline pretended to not hear it.

  “I am finished, Miss Robins,” Josephine said sweetly, as she stood up and straightened her cornflower blue dress.

  “Lord Hayward, please accompany your sister to your meal and we will reconvene in an hour,” Caroline added sternly, while she held the door open.

  “Come on,” Nicholas grunted under his breath but his hold on Josephine was gentle. Caroline smiled as her suspicions about Nicholas were right—he d
id care for his sister.

  After collecting the children’s workbooks, Caroline smoothed her skirts and sat. She opened Josephine’s and saw with growing satisfaction how her handwriting was coming along, though her cursive letter ‘W’ needed some work.

  She then opened Nicholas’s book to check his math and, to her surprise, noted that his answers were all correct.

  “Hm, from his sour attitude you would suspect he was performing the twelve labors of Hercules,” Caroline noted to herself.

  A brisk knock was then accompanied by the Duke’s polite inquiry, “May I come, in Miss Robins?”

  Without fail, the tone of the Duke’s voice sent her heart into palpitations. She looked up and allowed a gentle smile to cross her face while she stood, “Of course, Your Grace, you are always welcome.”

  He strode in and she reflected how his simple, casual dress was as luxurious as his formal clothes. His morning attire was a lovely combination of buckskin breeches and clawhammer coat, with the edges of his starched shirt showing at the neck in addition to his tucked-in cravat.

  “How may I help you, Your Grace?” Caroline added as she gestured for her employer to sit and then softly retook her place. Every intention of marking the children’s’ work vanished away.

  “This morning I was musing on how you have accomplished so much with both my children and I was wondering what I could do to personally thank you.” The Duke spoke in an expressive undertone.

  Caroline felt dumbstruck. Was the Duke offering her…a gift? Her heart started pounding even more and she felt heat rush to her cheeks.

  “That is not necessary, Your Grace,” Caroline answered humbly, “I am not in need of anything at the present.”

  He shook his head and the unruly strands of his hair coiled over his collar, “I refuse to accept that, Miss Robins. There must be something.”

  The warmth grew stronger in her cheeks and Caroline felt that she was turning scarlet under the heat of his stare. “I am assured, Your Grace, nothing is needed.”

  A soft silence hovered between them while an evaluating look was on the Duke’s face. Caroline stilled when he sat forward and silently reached over to the right side of her arm. Her breath was slowly drawn in at his proximity and her throat felt so tight that she knew trying to speak in the next moments would be an embarrassing mistake.

  His fingers landed on her sketchbook and he slowly slid it towards him. “I’ve seen you with this book many a time, but I have not had a chance to see your work….” Her breath was burning in her stilled lungs when the Duke dropped his eye to the page and his eyebrows lifted, “Are these…my children, Miss Robins?”

  It was a miracle how Caroline found her voice, “Yes, Your Grace, but they are only simple sketches, captured while they were working this morning.”

  “By Jove,” the Duke remarked, as his eyes traced over the drawings, “These are wonderful. I believe that I must now add virtuoso to your list of talents.”

  If he is this astonished with mere outlines, he must not see my other book! Caroline swore to herself. I might just die if he sees the other one with him as the primary subject.

  She sat quietly as the Duke flipped the book to the front, started from there, and examined every drawing without saying a word. As the book was fairly large with most of its pages filled with sketches, it took a while to do so with his in-depth inspection. Caroline felt her skin flush even more as his fingers traced over some that were deeply ingrained.

  “I am amazed, Miss Robins,” the Duke murmured, and his low voice evoked a tight swallow from her.

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Caroline laughed quietly. “But if I may be so bold, I doubt that I rank in the category of the Master, Leonardo DaVinci, to be awarded the honor of being a virtuoso.”

  “Modesty is a grace, Miss Robins, but you must accept praise when it is due,” the Duke reprimanded softly. “And this work merits praise.”

  Feeling slightly abashed at his soft censure, Caroline did not dare meet his eyes until bravery overcame her fear and she looked up.

  Ut imago est animi voltus sic indices oculi, she immediately thought about Cicero’s proverb, Eyes are truly the windows to the soul. And she felt trapped in the Duke’s. An eternal second of met gazes ripped her forced calmness apart and sewed it back together with the threads of anxiety.

  “Father?” Nicholas’s animated voice cut in suddenly and the spell broke.

  Caroline snapped her head up to look at the clock that was now creeping closer to one o’clock. Where did the time go?

  “Father!” Josephine’s voice joined the chorus as the child ran to her sire and clambered—in an unladylike manner—onto his lap.

  “Lady Josephine!” She called out in alarm, “It’s not proper for a young lady—”

  “I will allow it,” the Duke overruled, “She is still a child, I can allow her a few liberties for now.”

  But then again, she is a Lady. I hope she can enjoy her childhood for as long as she can and be happy…I will thank every angel in heaven if her youthful years are nothing like mine.

  Unbidden, a memory of her childhood years came to her and her eyes dimmed. Her life right before the orphanage, a mere stint of days, had been dark and she tried to not remember them—days of hunger and darkness on the streets—but they flashed before her eyes, nonetheless. Memories of dark and cold nights and bleak days surged before her and she felt a residual shiver at the remembrance.

  “Miss Robins?”

  She snapped out of her reverie to see the Duke staring at her with a furrow between his eyes. She feared that he would ask questions that she was not prepared to answer and waited with bated breath. Their gazes met once more but this time Caroline feared he had seen something which she did not want him to see.

  “I will be leaving now,” the Duke replied evenly, even though his tone was laced with regrets, and nodded, “Good day, Miss Robins. Children, be on your best behavior.”

  Smiling weakly at him, Caroline uttered her farewells and then hid the book in her desk drawer. Calling them to order and carrying on the lessons tasked her as most of her mind was centered on trying to figure out what the astute Duke had seen by her moment of inattention.

  By the end of the day, and half into the night, Caroline had run her mind into the throes of a headache. What if her inattention had given the Duke reason to question her right then and there? Caroline knew that she could have never answered his questions and was grateful that he had not asked.

  But if he does…what can I tell him? His eyes can see right through me…what if he does ask?

  Want to know how the story ends? Tap on the link below to read the rest of the story.

  https://amzn.to/2HcY7gO

  Thank you very much

  Also by Hanna Hamilton

  Thank you for reading The Defiant Governess of Rosenhill Manor!

  I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, may I ask you to please write a review HERE? It would mean the world to me. Reviews are very important and allow me to keep writing the books that you love to read!

  Some other best sellers of mine:

  The Secret Life of the Elusive Governess

  The Hazardous Gamble of the Alluring Duchess

  The Salvation of the Deceived Lady

  Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta

  The Scandalous Deal of the Scarred Lady

  Charity Falls for the Rejected Duke

  Also, if you liked this book, you can also check out my full Amazon Book Catalogue HERE.

  Thank you for allowing me to keep doing what I love!

  Hanna Hamilton

  About the Author

  Hanna Hamilton has been fascinated with the regency era ever since she was a young teen, first discovering historical romance novels by famous authors such as Jane Austen and Lisa Kleypas. She believes that love was just so much more magical back then, more like a fairy tale. She always daydreamed about finding love herself that way, but since that is impossible in the twenty first centur
y, she decided to write about it instead!

  Born in Texas, Hanna Hamilton obtained a degree in Creative Writing, and had worked as a literature teacher before becoming a novelist. When she isn’t writing, Hanna likes to explore the countryside with her husband and two children, gaining inspiration from the natural world around her.

  So, come on a journey into love, confusion, and redemption all within the regency era. Hanna hopes that you will enjoy immersing yourself into her novels, and that you too will find a love for old fashioned romance, just as she has.

  Let’s connect

  hannahamilton.com

  hanna@hannahamilton.com