Capturing the Governess’s Heart by Sally Forbes
Chapter Ten
Robert hardly dared turn around, as if Miss Emma might disappear like Eurydice behind Orpheus. They traversed the Great Hall in single file, with the children and the dowager watching them curiously. There was nothing amiss in the duke wanting to discuss their education with the governess!
It was merely a business matter, though Robert’s heart was beating faster than normal. He told himself it was simply the effect of the governess’ obvious nervousness. As if to prove to himself no one could possibly notice his speeding heartbeat, Robert turned and bowed to his mother from across the hall.
Then, he opened both doors of his study wide, and led the demure governess inside. There, he hurried to open the curtains and make the room bright and comfortable. When he finally did turn around, Robert found Emma standing stock still in the center of the room.
He was struck all in an instant at how delicate she appeared. The olive-green of her new linen dress was fresh and light, as was the curve of her neck to her upswept hair. In contrast, the heavy, dark bookshelves, studded leather chairs, and sturdy side furniture all looked so vital. Robert had never noticed how masculine his surroundings were until he saw Miss Emma in their midst.
On the other hand, she appeared like a fragile spring bloom, shivering out of place amongst thick tree trunks. Her light fingers twined together nervously, and the sweet curls on either side of her face trembled. As her green eyes flitted over the manly room, Robert stood helpless, thinking any move he made would feel clunky and overbearing and only serve to upset her nerves more.
“Thank you for your help with the children at breakfast, Miss Emma,” he said as quietly as possible.
She nodded but kept her petal-pink lips pressed tight together.
Robert cautiously turned a large, high-backed chair towards her. “Please, be seated.”
Emma acquiesced with a soft rustling of her skirts. It was difficult for Robert not to notice the way the olive-green dress enhanced the pearl-coloring of her skin. She all but shone in the warm morning light. The auburn of her hair was made redder by the apt color of the dress, and she looked so particularly handsome, he could not help but comment:
“You look very well this morning, Miss Emma. I do hope that Dalwater is agreeable to you?”
Her jewel-toned eyes swept up to his face. “Very agreeable, Your Grace, thank you.”
The glance and the soft reply were enough to make him smile as if it were Christmas morning. She was a shy and pleasing creature, and he quickly covered his reaction lest it shock her. Miss Emma was artless when it came to speaking with men, Robert decided, and he would not for anything in the world offend such beautiful innocence.
With great regret, he moved away from her and walked around his large mahogany desk. For the first time in years, Robert remembered how intimidating he used to find his father’s desk, and he sat down behind it reluctantly.
The impressive piece of furniture separated him from Emma by nearly four feet, and Robert disliked the distance. He was trying to make the new governess feel welcome, not on trial! The duke recalled how many times he had been seated in just that chair and upbraided by his own father.
Unfortunately, he could not rectify the situation without making Miss Emma uncomfortable by his movements, so they sat in an awkward silence for several moments.
So, it was with great relief that they both greeted Lucy Brown. The housekeeper swept in with a tray of hot tea, took one look at them both sitting so stiffly, and deposited her burden on a low table closer to the soft settee by the fireplace.
“Thank you, Lucy Brown,” the duke said. He stood quickly and motioned for Miss Emma to join him over the tea service. “I believe that is all.”
“Yes, I believe so, Your Grace.” Lucy Brown curtsied, then smiled at them both. “I’m certain Miss Emma can serve the tea with more elegance than my old hands.”
Robert watched as Emma’s emerald green eyes flashed at Lucy Brown, but luckily, his housekeeper simply smiled back as she sailed out of the room. Back down went the governess’s eyes, and Robert wondered just what he could do to get her to look up again. There was a moment when she was as still as a statue, then Emma moved forward and began pouring the tea. He noted how her hands were steady despite her timorous appearance. If only she would relax and look up!
“Not too much sugar for me, Miss Emma,” he said politely.
Her cheeks warmed as if just the timber of his voice affected her whole body. The thought gave him pause, and, in the interval, he let her pour too much cream into his cup. Robert had to take the pale tea before he could study her delicate touch any closer.
He then leaned back and studied her openly. No, she wasn’t afraid, just shy of her station and unsure of how to act in his company. Robert had seen women stumble all over themselves at the sound of his title, but none with such impeccable etiquette.
The thought occurred to him that they could sit for hours, and Miss Emma Fletcher would not allow herself the audacity of broaching a single topic. She would sit serenely with her eyes downcast and never know how fascinating he found her.
And to think he had knocked this pillar of modesty and grace right onto the hard ground of the road! Robert berated himself for such brutality. Now faced with the angelic aspect of Miss Fletcher as his wards’ governess, he felt truly awful for smiling throughout the entire afternoon after their mishap. In penance, Robert forced himself to sip down the pale tea.
True, the act allowed him to further look at Miss Emma without having to speak. She was a fascinating creature. Each glance seemed to reveal more of her beauty; he had never noticed the shine of her hair before. She wasn’t as fragile as he thought, with her clear skin and glowing good health. Thank goodness the fall hadn’t caused her any injury.
He longed to ask her what had long been bothering him: had she been hurt but in too much of a hurry to mention it? Robert knew the intimate question would further mortify the new governess, and he had to swallow back all his solicitations before they were said.
At long last, the governess looked up. “Have I added too much cream for your liking, Your Grace?”
Robert rushed to sit forward and assure Miss Emma that his tea was delicious. “No, I’m enjoying it, thank you. How about you? Are you enjoying Dalwater Manor so far? I do believe my wards have taken quite well to you.”
The mention of the children brightened Emma’s face. She replied: “I like it here, very much, Your Grace. I’m simply rather uncertain that I fit in as I am.”
Robert watched her pick at her dress, then smooth it down nervously. “The dress was a simple welcome gift, Miss Emma, not a suggestion that you need change at all. The Lady Abigail picked it out herself. We merely want you to be comfortable here with us.”
She met his eyes and gave him a brisk smile. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
True, Robert had persuaded his niece to choose the green dress for Emma. And it had been his suggestion to provide her with something pretty. But no one thought it amiss that he wanted the governess to be well-dressed. If there had to be such a fuss about the exact shade of roses, then why shouldn’t the governess be given a suitable wardrobe?
And the olive-green dress did suit, Miss Emma, very well. She sat poised on the edge of the settee, her shoulders perfectly straight, and Robert thought her a picture of elegance. The governess did not slouch or fidget, and his only complaint was she did not smile at him enough. He thought again to tease her, ever so slightly, and, this time, Robert could not resist the urge.
“That color suits you so well, Miss Emma. What would you say? Is that shade of green more olive or, say, apple?” Robert tipped his head and gave her an innocent smile.
He was rewarded by an alarmed flashing of her emerald-green eyes. Emma looked up at him, then back down to her hands, then hurried to put her teacup back on the tray lest she upset it. Her cheeks blazed crimson, despite her attempt to hide it by tipping her head severely down to study her knotted handkerchief.
Robert was immediately contrite and reached out to console her. The offered touch was even more outrageous to Miss Emma than his attempt at a shared joke. They were not close acquaintances who could banter back and forth so easily!
“I do apologize, Emma,” he began.
She interrupted him: “I am the one who is sorry, Your Grace! To have accosted you so in the street and then expect you to keep me on as governess is, I’m sure, a grievous offense. I beg your forgiveness.”
“I’m sure you must have had your reasons for hurrying,” he said. He was determined to hear more because now she was gazing directly at him when she spoke. “I recall you said something about being late.”
“You recall?” Her eyelashes fluttered in surprise, but then she refocused. “Yes, I was late. I was hurrying to the agency, the same agency you employed to hire me. I had an interview with Mr. Easton there for a governess position.”
“For this position?” Robert wondered. He knew the count of the days didn’t quite tally, but he wanted her to explain more.
Emma shook her head and bit back a smile. “No. I was a little late, and I missed that chance.”
Robert chuckled. “You mean our little run-in caused you to lose a job, and that left you available for this position?”
They both sat with that fateful fact for a while. Robert couldn’t help but wonder if the coincidence somehow justified the magnetism he felt towards Emma. Was the universe determined they should be thrown together?
He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid all that means is that I must apologize again, Miss Emma. I certainly did not mean to make you lose employment over my silly stunt in Covent Garden.”
She reached a gloved hand nearer to his leg but immediately withdrew the reconciliatory touch. It hung in the air between them as she said, “As I recall, you were chasing down a thief who had just stolen the dowager’s reticule. You were acting gallantly, whereas I was merely rushing without looking where I was going.”
Robert laughed again. “Gallantly, is it? Me playing the hero! Oh, no, Miss Emma, you give me far too much credit. It turns out my coachman was much better suited for heroics that day, while all I was good for was knocking down innocent young women.”
“Oh, how embarrassing!” Emma whispered. She pressed her hands to her cheeks.
“Embarrassing for us both.” Robert caught her suspended hand in a light touch. “There, we shall be equals.”
The clumsy words jolted Emma out of her reverie, and she quickly pulled her hand back. “I understand if our previous meeting makes it awkward to keep me in your employ.”
“Nonsense,” Robert announced. “I asked you to meet with me so we could discuss the areas of study in which you can best serve the children. You are employed to serve them, but as I am not a child who needs supervising, I may continue to treat you as I would any other worthy guest in my home.”
He wished so vehemently that Miss Emma would consider them equals, but her obvious shock at the notion plunged her into a deep silence. Finally, she must have decided it was worse for her to offend him by refusing such an honor. Then, Emma sat forward, poured herself more tea, and looked Robert directly in the eyes.
“I believe your nephew would benefit from work on his mathematics,” she said.
Robert grinned, thinking of her clever quip to Henry over breakfast. “Yes, sums would do him a world of good. Though I believe he also needs proper exercise and greater attention to improving his eating habits at the table. He tends to overeat when he doesn’t know what else to do.”
Emma nodded. Then, her expression grew serious. “I must confess that I only draw. I do not paint with any great talent.”
“Paint? Oh, yes, Lady Abigail. Her swirls and strokes can be improved with the right guidance, and I believe learning to sketch will help her discernment,” Robert said.
“A vital skill for a young woman about to debut to society.” Emma looked down at her hands again.
“Not your area of expertise?” Robert found himself somehow delighted to discover that polite society had not yet seen her.
Her blush returned but she soldiered on. “Lucy Brown mentioned that farming was a favorite subject of yours as a child. Perhaps we can begin with horticulture?”
Robert studied her again with an amazing smile. “An excellent suggestion for our future landowners. I am so thankful to have someone to help me decide on the direction of their education.”
Encouraged, Miss Emma began a comprehensive list of her lesson plans. It gave Robert the pause he needed to consider what really made her so fascinating. Emma Fletcher was the only woman he had ever met whom he found entirely likable. Others had often struck him as opportunistic or overbearing, shallow or willfully ignorant, or fussy and impossible to please, like Lady Beatrice. Emma, on the other hand, presented nothing he did not want.
Emma had no coy arts, she knew when her opinion was wanted, and she was quite intelligent on a wide range of topics. In fact, as they sat and discussed education, Robert found he could imagine them having such talks regularly without any feeling of burden.
Could that be a tenet for a successful marriage?
Robert’s brief brush with matrimony had made him imagine only the onerous expectations, never the pleasant possibilities. Now, one conversation with the new governess was enough for him to rethink his banishment of the subject.
Still, he did not think the dowager would approve of his sudden change of heart. Robert was aware that his behavior was above reproof, but he was glad when Emma brought his thoughts back to the children.
“May I ask how long it is since Lady Abigail lost her mother?” It was Robert’s turn to look up in surprise at her blunt question. Emma was quick to explain: “I saw her at breakfast and wondered if she may have been sad.”
“Yes, of course,” Robert said. “There was a family tragedy about six months ago.”
Emma was too pained to pry anymore, but her concern for Lady Abigail overcame her hesitation. “They lost both parents?”
He commended her for the herculean effort posing such a personal question must have cost her. Her fingers were now fidgeting with her handkerchief, and he was glad to have at least some effect on her. He cleared his throat, getting her rapt attention, and then spoke.
“Both parents were lost in a tragic carriage accident. No-fault, no blame; just an accident that left two children bereft. The will was only read recently, and your hiring is my very first official act as guardian.”
He couldn’t tell if Emma’s ears reddened at the overly generous amount of personal information he had shared or from his further remarks on their relationship. She was really only comfortable or courageous when it came to discussing the children, and he admired that, no matter the frustration it caused him.
The young woman struggled to decide on the most appropriate way forward and clearly chose a sensible, straightforward approach. “I only ask because the mourning period needed can be hard to gauge. There must be time allowed for it amongst their studies.”
Robert nodded at her words while thinking how Miss Emma was truly spectacular when she forgot her prim façade and spoke passionately about her job. “I agree. Whole-heartedly.”
Satisfied that the awkwardly personal part of their meeting was now over, Emma took a sip of her tea and almost smiled at Robert unbidden. He grinned and, for a moment, relished the idea of overseeing his wards’ education. As a child, Robert himself had wanted for nothing, and his education had been the best money could buy. One conversation with the new governess, and his eyes were wide to the gaps in his knowledge that needed to be filled.
Emma had just set down her teacup when Robert slapped a hand on his knee. “I know! Proper riding lessons. Nothing soothes the soul and aids in mourning better than a good horse. Tomorrow we will visit my friend’s stables. You must come with us, Miss Emma.”
She looked apprehensive. “I have; I have nothing suitable to wear.”
Robert considered her suddenly pale face and knew there was more to overcome there than simply wardrobe deficiencies. “Of course not; riding was not part of the curriculum until now. You were never expected to have brought riding clothes. They will be provided.”
Emma’s eyes rounded with absolute horror. “I never meant to imply you should do so! Your Grace, I do not need charity.”
“Staff is regularly issued uniforms, and guests would never think twice to accept my offer if the chance of riding came up unexpectedly.” Robert rubbed his hands together, excited for the upcoming venture. “Riding has always been Lady Abigail’s favorite treat. Now it shall be her exercise and outlet. Same for Henry. It’ll be good for him to learn how to care for a horse and really do the work.”
He was so pleased with the idea that he took Emma’s hand and bowed over it with a flourish. “You will, of course, attend the children tomorrow. And I shall be happy to accompany you on the ride and lend you any assistance that may be needed.”
That brought sudden color to Miss Emma’s face, and Robert delighted in seeing her out.
