Page 10 of A Loving Governess in Disguise

Chapter 10

Edward had expected to be accosted that night, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

He felt strange greeting his guests. His household had not been so full in years, and it made the ballroom come alive. Even so, he pitied Ella for not being able to join in the festivities. The change was too sudden from a household of two (newly three) to a household of dozens, and once the guests had all arrived, he was quite tempted to play the role of surveyor rather than actively engage.

And then came Miss Victoria Wilkinson.

Edward had heard of her, of course. Everyone had. She was tall, slender, and beautiful. She was the very definition of beauty and perfection, but that was all that was truly known about her. She had been with her parents when she arrived, curtseying deeply and smiling girlishly as though she had practiced it a thousand times. It was stilted from rehearsal, but Edward did not hold that against her; he knew what it was to play pretend.

As she rose to her feet, however, she stumbled forward, falling into his arms. He caught her instinctively, and a few people applauded politely as she looked up at him with big green eyes, her fan gently sweeping across her cheek. This had been no accident, he quickly realized. This was where he was meant to offer her a dance, the opportune moment to sweep her off her feet.

He almost had to admire her determination. He had to find a wife eventually, he reminded himself, and she would not be too unbearable. And so, with a bow, he asked for her first dance. She blushed, smiled, and nodded, leaving her parents to wait.

She danced well, and Edward knew of the Wilkinsons. They were a wealthy and respectable family, well-liked to his knowledge. For all intents and purposes, if he wanted the perfect wife, she was right there.

And yet, something told him it was wrong.

“Do you get lonely, Your Grace?” she asked as he twirled her. “I do not mean to pry, but you do live here alone, don’t you?”

“I do not, no. I have my niece in my care, and she never fails to keep the household lively.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Do you like children, Miss Wilkinson?”

“Doesn’t every lady?”

Edward was quite certain that meant no.

“Are you marriage-minded?” he asked, not wanting to discuss the matter too deeply.

“Of course. I have been out in society for a year, and I will admit that I want only the best. It is not for my sake, of course, but for that of my family.”

“A noble cause.”

“Indeed,” she nodded, twirling once more, “though I must say, it is proving to be more difficult than expected.”

“Perhaps you have simply not been looking in the right places?”

He hated flirting. It wasn’t something he was any good at, not in his opinion at least, and it felt awkward doing so. Not only that, but he pictured Ella’s face screwed up at the knowledge that she would soon have a mother figure again. She did not want one, and Edward knew that, and though he knew it had to be done, he did not feel any less guilt about the matter.

“Do you suppose this is the right place?” she asked.

The dance came to and, but as he bowed, he saw a shift of pink satin in his peripherals. He turned to see that it was, indeed, Miss Pembroke speaking with Lord Cavendish. His blood turned hot in an instant, and so he forgot to answer Miss Wilkinson entirely, instead marching over to the two of them.

“Cambridge!” Lord Cavendish greeted. “It is wonderful to see you. Miss Pembroke and I were–”

“Cavendish, go and find another lady to leave with. My guest will not do so.”

He towered over Cavendish, and though he was not threatening him outright, his presence most certainly did. With a quick bow, he disappeared. Edward was quite proud of himself until he saw Miss Pembroke. She was furious with him, her eyes ablaze.

“Just what do you think you are doing?” she asked.

“Protecting you.”

“How is turning away an interested gentleman protecting me? You asked me why I never married, but the moment I meet a gentleman, you send him away. How am I ever to find a husband if you do that?”

Edward sighed. For all her intellect, she was very naive indeed.

“Cavendish will never marry,” he explained. “You couldn’t have known this, but he made a vow to his father that he would not. Instead, he became a very well-known rake. You wouldn’t have received a marriage proposal, and your status would have been in pieces.”

Her brow furrowed as if trying to understand what he was saying.

“I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions, Your Grace.”

“Not when your decisions affect my household. Miss Pembroke. You are my governess, and you ought to behave accordingly. It is a privilege that you were invited tonight, and I am not blind to the fact that you are in want of a husband, but that does not mean you can ruin your reputation, and therefore mine, in the process.”

“Nobody here knows that I am your governess.”

“No, but they know you are my guest, which is even worse. They are holding you to the same standard they hold me to, so you must meet them.”

He had insulted her; he knew he had, but even so, he did not expect her to turn away without another word. Instinctively, he took hold of her wrist, and he swore he could feel her pulse quicken beneath him in his grasp. He never knew that grey eyes could look so fiery.

“Who is being improper now, Your Grace?” she asked, looking at her wrist in his hand.

When she looked back at him, flushed from anger, all Edward could truly think about was how beautiful she was. It had been his fault that she was upset, and his anger was his fault, too. He wanted it to have simply been because his niece’s governess could not behave so nonchalantly, but he was not a fool. He knew it had been jealousy flickering inside him, even though he could not have her for himself.

“If you wish to dance this evening, you could dance with me,” he offered, but she laughed.

“I would hate the others to think anything untoward has passed between us.”

“They would not. It is perfectly reasonable to–”

“If I cannot speak with a gentleman, then I certainly cannot dance with one. Now let me go.”

He realized he was still holding her in his grip, and though it wasn’t too tight, he suddenly felt as though she was burning him. He released her at once, and she walked away.

He did not see her for the rest of the event, and when Miss Wilkinson came to see him, she was almost scowling.

“It is improper to leave a lady like that, Your Grace.”

That was when he remembered the other thing about the young lady. She wanted her own way at all times. He danced with her a second time as an apology, and the rest of the evening blurred together from there.

When his guests left, he gave himself a real moment to think. The way he had acted was foolish at best, and Miss Pembroke had not deserved that. He had wanted to protect her, even if there were other motives alongside that in doing so. Now, she was angry with him, and it was entirely his fault. He would have to find a way to make her forgive him, though he did not know just what that would be.

Then it came to him.

He went to her room at a quick pace, hoping that she was still dressed. He knocked on the door, trying not to do so too energetically.

“Yes?” came the reply.

“Miss Pembroke, are you still wearing your gown?”

“I do not wish to speak with you.”

“Very well, you may mumble a response. Are you still wearing it?”

The door opened to reveal her in the same pink gown, looking at him accusatorily with an eyebrow raised. Her hair had been pinned back at the ball, but she had taken it down, and it was flowing down to her waist. There would be no time for her to do it all again, but he didn’t mind too much.

The musicians were still there, and that was what mattered.

“Come,” he said brightly, taking a few steps away before turning back to see if she was following him.

Against all odds, she was. She did not seem best pleased, but she was at least accompanying him. When they reached the ballroom, he went to the musicians and asked them to play the second song again before asking her to dance with him.

“Your Grace, I–”

“Already told me that you do not wish to dance with me, yes. I know, but I feel dreadful for what happened. The fault was entirely mine, and it was because of me that you did not enjoy your evening. I wish to change that.”

He bowed, and with a faint and uncertain smile, she curtseyed. He took her in his arms to dance a waltz with her, and at once, he realized just how different she was from Miss Wilkinson.

Her steps were not perfect, but after a while, her anger melted away and was replaced with enjoyment. There was no strange and stilted movement with her, no overly rehearsed turns. It was clumsy, but he found himself enjoying that.

Stray chestnut strands brushed the back of his hand as he held her waist, and it felt as though they scorched him.

“I suppose I should thank you,” she sighed after a while. “You may not have done it correctly, but you were only trying to help.”

“I was, truly I was.”

“Perhaps, next time, you might warn me if you have invited a rake?”

“I was unaware of his invitation. I believe Theodore sent him one. A few gentlemen I do not know very well are in attendance tonight. I can only assume that that was for your benefit?”

“It may well have been. I am friends with his cousin, as you know, and it is likely that she has told him of my want for a husband. I simply wish that the two of you would inform me of your plans.”

He spun her, noticing that for those few brief seconds, he wanted his hand to return to her waist.

“I shall ensure that happens in future.”

“Thank you.”

A silence fell for a moment before she cleared her throat, looking up at him nervously.

“So, how was your dance with Miss Wilkinson?”

“Which one?”

It was, he realized, not the correct thing to say.

“I– I mean,” he stumbled, “we danced twice. I felt I had to after leaving her so abruptly.”

“Both, I suppose.”

“Fine enough. She is talented, there is no question, but I wonder if she would be any good as a wife. She did not seem too thrilled about taking care of Ella, which to me makes her ineligible.”

“You had as much luck as I did, then.” She laughed gently.

“Do you know her?” he asked, hoping that Miss Pembroke would somehow give him some glimmer of hope about the girl.

“She is … well, we do not see eye to eye.”

“She is younger than you, is she not?”

“Yes, yes of course, but people talk, and from what I have heard, she is not very pleasant to those she views as beneath her.”

That was all he needed to know. She was a beautiful girl, but if she was unkind to others and was not enthusiastic about caring for Ella, then she could not be his wife.

“I shall not stand in your way again,” he promised after a moment, the dance coming to an end. “If you meet a gentleman you truly like, then that choice is yours to make.”

She nodded in gratitude, and the two stood there momentarily before Edward realized she was still in his arms. He released her, and she left for bed once more. He did the same.

When he awoke, he went to his study to see a pile of letters on his desk. They were all addressed to him, of course, and he opened them one by one. He almost sighed after the fifth because they were all practically identical.

They were all from gentlemen, and each one was asking after Miss Pembroke. They did not know her name, only that she was staying with him, and they wanted his permission to call on her. Lord Cavendish had even written one, which he threw into the fireplace without opening. He opened each one besides that one and made a note of all the names.

He then wrote rejections for each one.

He did not want strangers calling on Miss Pembroke. He had promised Miss Pembroke that he would not stand in the way if a gentleman pleased her, but that did not mean he would fill his drawing room with any man who expressed interest without them having spoken to her first. She was not some prized pig; she was …

She was his niece’s governess, he reminded himself.

He piled the letters on his desk before turning to leave, but as he did so, he noticed another letter on his desk. This time, it was from a lady, Miss Charlotte Fletcher. He recognized the name, though he could not remember why he did, and he left it unopened, telling himself that he would look at it when he had sent his other responses away.

Except he did not do that. Instead, he was met in the hallway by his butler, who appeared to be on his way to find him.

“You have visitors, Your Grace,” he explained.

“Mister Swanson, I assume?” he asked.

“Yes, but he is accompanied by Lady Wilkinson and her daughter.”

Edward almost locked himself away again instinctively.