Capturing the Governess’s Heart by Sally Forbes
Chapter Five
After the mysterious young miss left with her sister, Robert returned to his carriage. He wished to sit back and enjoy the ride back to Dalwater Manor, but his mother desired conversation. Unfortunately, the dowager’s idea of a suitable topic was the number of successful marriages amongst his peers.
“The Earl of Batford was married in the early spring, and his brother in late summer,” she informed Robert.
He ignored her pointed look but nodded politely. “Yes, Mother. How felicitous for them both.”
“They both met their brides during the first month of the season,” the dowager said.
“I’ve never considered winter to be a romantic season,” Robert said. “All the rain and cold. Seems an unwise time to dash about town going to parties.”
For the past few years, Robert had avoided the London Season all together by hiding out at his country estate. True, there was no hunting at that time of year and very little to do, but he enjoyed the peace and quiet. Both his country estate and Dalwater Manor had superb libraries, and he often spent the winter months in the study. Last winter, he had endeavored to learn all he could about irrigation, and his tenants’ fields had flourished over the dry summer.
“Enough of your hiding out.” The dowager rapped her cane on the floor of the carriage.
Robert assured the coachman they did not actually require anything and then turned to his mother. “You yourself have spoken against the idle time of the Season.”
The dowager narrowed her eyes at her son. “I am an old woman and have no need of balls and concerts. It is for the youth, the marriageable, and that is exactly what you are.”
“I’m not so young, and I am no longer foolish.” Robert wished his mother would take the hint and let the conversation end there.
“You mustn’t dwell on the past, Robert. No one blames you for first doomed match. Now is the time to think of your future.”
Robert ground his teeth and turned his attention back out of the carriage window. “There is nothing wrong with a man in my position choosing a solitary future. We know many happy bachelors who have bettered themselves and England by remaining unattached and focusing on their work.”
As Robert had hoped, the dowager launched into a lecture about peerage and their new obsession with employment. It seemed all manner of dukes, earls, and lords of all sorts were seeking to excel in work. Some had taken to farming improvements, some to scientific pursuits, and some invested in strange and precarious inventions for the future. She disapproved of such silliness and thought a gentleman’s job should always be attending to his land, his family, and his name.
She began a litany of those who had failed or made fools of themselves, and Robert’s thoughts were finally able to drift. He liked the idea of work, but it would mean coming into London more often and he had barely been able to stand Covent Garden that day.
Until the incident.
Robert could still feel where the young woman’s body had bounced off his chest. She had been so slight, like a feather, and had tumbled backward too quickly for him to catch her. What if he had seen her?
The apples may have still gone flying, and he could have scooped them up for her, though he thought she probably would have run off if he had done so, so demure had she been in his presence. As it was, he could still see her clearly in his mind, sprawled on the hard-packed dirt of the road, and he berated himself again for causing her any pain.
Then, he remembered what it had been like to lift her up from the ground. She had been so light, and he had exerted himself too much in the effort and thrown her off balance. That had allowed him to take her in his arms. He couldn’t very well have let her fall again, could he? Robert’s hand curved as he recalled exactly how her waist had fit so perfectly into his hand.
The young miss had been pleasingly modest, all rosy cheeks and downcast eyes. Those eyes! Robert called them up in his memory again and again, bright and clear and emerald green. Eyes worth more than the jewels they put to shame. If only she hadn’t been so anxious to escape him, so conscious of the impropriety of their meeting, he could have gazed into those depthless pools all afternoon. As it was, though, she had left without giving him anything more than a second glance. He didn’t even know her name, and he was certain she would be lost to him in the crowds of London.
“Robert! You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.” The dowager lifted her cane to rap it again and then thought better of the gesture. “Are you still dwelling on that incident this afternoon?”
He started at the accuracy of her perceptions and then realized she was talking about the pick-purse. They had been returning to their carriage when the sly youth had run by and snatched the beaded reticule right out the dowager’s hands.
Robert had given chase but lost the pick-purse in the crowd. He had just slowed down to look around when the young woman ran into him.
“There’s no need to worry. The coachman apprehended him. See?” The dowager held up her reticule. “Please, tell me you are not silly enough to be upset that it wasn’t you who was the hero on this occasion.”
Robert had forgotten all about his mother’s stolen accessory, but he said smoothly, “I’m simply happy it was returned to you in one piece.”
“The coachman did say some young ladies delayed you. Something about a silly miss taking a fall?”
“It was nothing, Mother. Nothing of consequence.”
They enjoyed a few moments of silence, enough for Robert to wonder why he could not forget about such an inconsequential moment. He could go back to the apple seller and ask if he had caught the young woman’s name, but Robert realized the futility of that. If by some miracle, he could find the exact fruit vendor, there was but a slim chance the man would remember one customer out of a crowd. And the likelihood of the modest young woman trumpeting her name and personal details to a London costermonger was even more of a fantasy.
“So, what then do you have on your mind?” The dowager could stand the quiet no longer and broke her son out of his thoughts again.
“I’m merely grateful you were not hurt when the thief ran by,” Robert said.
“Nonsense,” the dowager sniffed. “I may be old, but I’m not frail.”
Robert smiled. “Had the pick-purse not been so fleet, I am certain he would have felt the strength of your cane.”
The dowager smiled at that but quickly put the improper thought out of their heads by changing the subject back to her immediate plans. “Now, Robert, you really must think about ordering some new clothes before the Season is truly underway.”
“Mother, please,” he begged, but his entreaties fell on deaf ears.
“You’ll be living at Dalwater Manor, and your presence will be duly noted. You shall be expected to go out, and you must look your best.”
“Why does my presence at Dalwater necessitate my participation in the Season’s events?” he asked.
“You are no longer living for yourself alone,” the dowager explained. “You must think of your wards, Robert. Think of Abigail and Henry before you resign yourself to the life of a recluse. What would your sister think?”
“She never once bothered me about joining her at a ball, concert, or afternoon tea.”
The dowager gave an exasperated sigh. “Your sister would not want her children chained to a confirmed bachelor intent on avoiding all of society.”
“I do not avoid everyone,” Robert grumbled. “I attend my club; I see the Duke of Elsby often. I am not as reclusive as you suggest.”
“The point is, Robert, you must think of the children. They must have a mother, and that means you must find yourself a wife.”
Robert gave a rude bark of laughter. “Oh, so there it is! You intend to use your grandchildren to bring me to heel finally. I’m beginning to wonder if you did not bribe our monotonous barrister to add that clause into the will yourself.”
The dowager fumed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Robert. You are meant to marry, and I intend to see you fulfill that duty. If not for yourself, then for your wards.”
“I tried to take a wife once, remember, Mother? It seems not to be my fate.”
It was painful, but the memory of Lady Isabel surfaced in Robert’s mind. He had never liked dancing, but she was grace personified and they had often been seen on the dance floor together. He had proposed to her under his favorite oak tree on Dalwater’s grand front lawn.
They had planned a late summer wedding and a honeymoon on the coast. If only he had known the true character of his bride-to-be, Robert would not have gone smiling into the eve of their doomed wedding.
“Please, Robert. Do not dwell on Lady Isabel. Everyone except you forgets that matter,” the dowager told him quietly.
“I simply do not believe the welfare of my niece and nephew depends on me finding a suitable wife this year,” Robert declared.
“They are children; they need a mother.”
Robert frowned at his own mother. “Abigail is seventeen; she is almost an adult herself. And Henry is no mere child. He is ten years old. Besides, I’ll have you to help me turn him into a fine, young man.”
“And watch you form him into a stubborn man like you?” The dowager lifted her nose in the air. “No, thank you.”
“See? You guide me already. The children will be fine; no wife needed,” Robert said.
The dowager lifted her eyebrows and employed the tactic she had been saving. “You’re right about one thing, Abigail is seventeen, and that means she will be coming out this year.”
Robert closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, fearing his mother had gotten the best of him yet again. “Have you asked her? What about her mourning period?”
“It has been six months and, besides, your sister always planned Abigail’s debut to be at seventeen.”
There was no possible way in which he could contradict his mother. All he could do was make one more effort. “Then she will need the very best hand to guide her, and thank goodness, she has the Dowager Duchess of Dalwater to be her chaperone.”
“When the duke himself is available? I think not. It is your solemn duty to escort Abigail and dissuade all but the best suitors for her. Yes, exactly … use that fearsome scowl of yours to keep the cads at bay.” The dowager beamed at Robert, victorious.
“Surely it is better for Abigail to be seen with your impressive personage.”
“Nonsense. You will chaperone your niece this Season, and that is the end of it.”
Robert bit back a groan and refused to speak until they reached Dalwater Manor. The Dowager happily accommodated his desire for silence, as she had nothing more to say. Instead, she looked out of the window with the clear and twinkling eyes of one with the upper hand. Her son could not help but glance in her direction every few minutes, opening his mouth slightly as if he had another argument, then pursing his lips as he realized he’d already lost.
When they finally pulled through the gates and up to the circular drive, Robert could not wait to quit the carriage. He helped his mother down, escorted her inside, and bellowed for Williams.
The butler, no doubt, was due for some lengthy instructions from the dowager, after which Robert intended to make his escape.
The butler was longer in coming to him than usual, and the delay gave Robert the chance to notice the state of the Great Hall. Fresh cut flowers overflowed from every vase, the rugs had been shaken out and replaced, and every inch of the room gleamed from a recent cleaning. Williams arrived, already in his best livery, and carried an air of energy and anticipation with him.
“What are all these preparations for?” Robert asked.
Williams, as usual, deferred to the dowager. He gave her a low bow and announced, “Your instructions were followed to the letter, Your Grace. Five courses, fourteen dishes on the table, eight removes per course.”
“Six dishes to remain available to our guests throughout the dinner.” The dowager nodded. “Thank you, Williams.”
“What lavish dinner plans are these?” Robert demanded.
The dowager gave him a serene smile. “I’ve invited the Duke and Duchess of Irrisoll to dine with us tonight. Don’t worry, Robert. You have plenty of time to rest and dress before they arrive.”
His valet arrived at that moment, holding a pair of his freshly-polished shoes.
Robert fought to keep a scowl off his face. “And what if I already have plans for the evening?”
“You have no pressing engagements, Robert, and you must eat,” the dowager said.
“Should I not be spending this time with my wards? The children and I need time to be together,” Robert said.
“The children always dine separately. Now, our guests should arrive in two hours, and we shall greet them in the Yellow drawing room.”
“Very good, Your Grace,” Williams intoned.
Robert opened his mouth to argue again but knew that anything not echoing the butler’s acquiescence would go unheard. No matter what objections or obstacles he attempted to mount, it seemed the dinner party was already planned. If he failed to attend, it would be seen as the height of rudeness.
As much as he despised his mother’s lengthy menus and the task of entertaining his guests, Robert knew his role all too well. He was a duke, and there was nothing he could do about that or the duties such a title entailed.
He could do nothing but climb the staircase to his rooms, trailed after by his valet, and prepare to greet their dinner guests.
It wasn’t until he was dressed in his best jacket, his cravat tied neatly, that he thought of the mysterious young woman he had rerun into, finding a few moments of respite from his station. His valet had left after delivering a restorative glass of port, and Robert had a few moments to reflect over the memories that had not in any way faded. Still those emerald eyes glimmered on, and her rose-petal lips curved in the hint of a smile. She had been flustered and disheveled and a beautiful sight to behold. He was loath to let it go when the knock came announcing their guests had arrived.
Robert sensed his mother was up to more than simply entertaining with her dinner party plans, but he could not conceive what it might be until he descended the staircase. Through the arched front windows of Dalwater, he glimpsed the duke and duchess alighting from their carriage, followed by their daughter.
His mother joined him on the landing and smiled. “Her name is Lady Beatrice.”
Robert refused to speak but gave his mother his arm and escorted her to the Yellow drawing-room. Once inside, he grumbled to the dowager in low tones. “So, you are a matchmaker now? I warn you, Mother, I will not have suitable ladies thrown in my path.”
His thoughts flew to the young woman who had run directly into him, but his mother soon chased the pleasant memory away. “Lady Beatrice is quite beautiful. You will not be sorry for the introduction once you have seen her up close.”
He had no time to be sorry or not, as the drawing-room doors opened, and Williams announced the duke and duchess. He bowed to Lady Beatrice, who was indeed beautiful, and they were all soon seated near the fire.
First, there were the mandatory comments about the passing of time and the gladness at meeting again. Then, there were opinions shared about the weather and the winter to come. Finally, the topic of Robert’s recent guardianship came up.
“Noble of you to take on your sister’s children,” the Duke of Irrisoll declared.
The duchess agreed, but Lady Beatrice wrinkled her nose. “Children are such a nuisance. I cannot imagine dealing with them. They must disrupt your life beyond repair.”
“They are a blessing, I’m sure.” Her mother tried to smooth over Lady Beatrice’s ungenerous comment.
“I love my niece and nephew very much,” Robert told the company.
The real blessing was how Williams arrived a moment later and announced dinner was served. Robert was sure he was supposed to be delighted to escort the lovely Lady Beatrice to the dining hall, but he had to grit his teeth against her vapid conversation.
“Such lovely roses,” she said. “At Irrisoll, we make sure the colors match with our curtains and tapestries. It has a much more pleasant effect.”
At dinner she criticized the firmness of the jellies, the crispness of the greens, and the flavor of the fresh-caught game. Lady Beatrice went on to turn her nose up at the dowager’s favorite preserves, and then complained about a footman standing in her line of sight. Her father ignored her sulky conversation, and her mother smiled serenely as if her daughter’s comments were examples of elegant discernment.
Robert was uncertain how much longer he could sit politely across from her, and he was very glad for the distraction when the children came in to say goodnight.
“Let me present Miss Abigail and Mister Henry Allernach,” Robert said.
Lady Beatrice’s nose rose higher in the air as she looked over Abigail. She then, contrary to Abigail’s obvious beauty, said, “Quite a plain child. I hope she will not prove a difficulty for you to marry off.”
Robert watched his niece’s face turn ashen and felt a fit of rising anger he found hard to swallow. On the other hand, Henry opened his mouth to retaliate at such an insult against his lovely sister, but luckily, he was removed by the housekeeper just in time.
At long length, the dinner was concluded, and Robert was more than happy to escort Lady Beatrice outside to the waiting carriage. He bowed to the Duke and Duchess of Irrisoll, sincerely hoping he would not have the displeasure of seeing them again for a long, long time. With that in mind, he quickly ushered the dowager back inside Dalwater before she could issue another invitation.
“Now, Robert, I wanted to speak with the duchess about their plans for next month. We shall endeavor to see them in London as often as we can,” she told him.
“Why ever would we do that?” Robert asked, aghast.
“Really, Robert, you cannot be so obtuse. Lady Beatrice is an excellent match. I will concede her conversation is slightly lacking, but that is a trait you can easily remedy with your instruction.”
Robert pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please, Mother, tell me you do not have designs on her becoming your daughter-in-law. After the way she spoke of Abigail?”
“That is, again, something you can easily correct. Lady Beatrice is a beauty with the finest of lineages, and she would be a credit to Dalwater.” The dowager insisted.
Exhausted by the evening and by his mother’s machinations, Robert headed for the stairs. He could not escape the dowager’s opinions, but he could not agree with her first choice for his wife. He did not wish to marry at all! The thought haunted him all night, and Robert rose early the next morning in the hopes of going out before seeing his mother.
It was ridiculous for Robert, Duke of Dalwater and head of the household, to creep down the stairs like a wayward child, but that is exactly what Henry caught him doing. “Good morning, Your Grace,” Henry called.
Robert hastily gestured for the child to lower his voice. Then, in a whisper, he replied: “We don’t wish to wake the entire household now, do we?”
Henry grinned and followed his uncle down to the door leading to the stables. Once he was certain he could speak without censure, he asked: “Are you avoiding Grandmother?”
“I simply wanted to go out for the morning without waking anyone,” Robert replied.
“You didn’t want Grandmother to lecture you about the pretty lady anymore,” Henry guessed.
Robert stopped. “You thought Lady Beatrice beautiful?”
Henry looked at his uncle, scrubbed his chin, and then decided he could be truthful. “She is beautiful to look at, but she speaks meanly.”
Robert squeezed his young ward’s shoulder. “I’m glad to hear you have developed an excellent sense of discernment, Henry.”
The boy decided his uncle’s compliment gave him an opening to ask, “May I come with you? Where are you going so early?”
“I’m going out for some exercise, fencing with the Duke of Elsby, and, no, you may not come,” Robert told him.
Henry frowned. “Then, I may have to tell the dowager you have secretly stolen out.”
Robert laughed, then remembered he did not wish to wake anyone and slapped a hand over his own mouth. The boy’s bright eyes and stubborn chin reminded Robert of his dear older sister. “I’ll tell you what, my would-be turncoat, we shall do. You will remain quiet about my whereabouts until after breakfast, and we will begin your fencing instruction this week.”
Henry grinned again and followed Robert to the stables. There they found Abigail restlessly stroking her dappled grey and feeding the spoiled horse apples. She curtsied when she saw Robert, but there was not so much as a trace of a smile about her lips.
He knew instinctively what had caused his lovely niece to droop. He greeted her gently and then told her: “Anyone with eyes will never doubt your beauty, niece, and false words have a way of blowing by when we know the truth.”
Abigail gave Robert a tremulous smile, and Henry delighted to see his sister cheered, gave their uncle a clumsy hug. “The duke is going out, but he promised he would teach me to fence this week.”
Abigail’s smile warmed, and she dropped a low, graceful curtsy. “Thank you, Your Grace. It is wonderful to see Henry excited about something again.”
Robert shooed the children back up to the house and soon galloped through the gates of Dalwater. He did not know why, but the children’s smiles stayed with him on his ride, and he arrived at Elsby’s estate with a grin on his face.
“You’re certainly in good spirits,” The Duke of Elsby remarked as his friend alighted. “You must have enjoyed dinner with Irrisoll, his wife … and beautiful daughter.”
Robert handed a stable boy the reins to his stallion and set Theo right immediately. “Lady Beatrice is as cruel and thoughtless as she is beautiful. The dowager plans to make her my wife, but I could not disagree more with her choice.”
They walked together to Elsby’s fencing pavilion while Theo chuckled. “Poor Lady Beatrice. She and her snobbery have gone two seasons without finding a suitable match and seem destined to do so again. I hope I do not follow her fate.”
“I cannot believe you wish for a wife, Theo, though I am certain you will have none of her impediments.” Robert heaved a sigh as they pulled on their fencing gear. “I only wish I could dissuade the dowager from giving up her matrimonial plans for me. She is determined to see her grandchildren have another mother.”
Theo brandished his foil. “What about a governess? My eldest sister has just hired a most excellent woman. She would recommend the agency she used to anyone. With a suitable governess in place, your mother would surely have significantly fewer worries about the children’s welfare.”
Robert took his position and raised his foil in the traditional salute. “Theo, that is such wonderful advice, I may actually let you win this round.”
The two friends laughed and then began their bout.
