Page 8 of A Loving Governess in Disguise
Chapter 8
The duke was insufferable, but at least he knew to apologize.
He was handsome too, Euterpe thought, though she scolded herself for thinking that. He was not her priority; Isabella was, and she knew that, no matter how happy the little girl had been to play instead of learn, it had been unfair.
She found her in her room after the walk in the garden and knocked gently on the slightly opened door. There was only a mumble in response.
“Are you awake, Isabella?”
“I am now that you have knocked,” she grumbled.
“My apologies. I can leave you be if you wish.”
“No, come in,” she sighed, sitting up.
“I wanted to apologize for missing our lesson,” she said gently, entering the room and taking a seat.
“There is no need. Everyone has to do as my uncle says, after all.”
“Be that as it may, I am here to take care of you, and that is what I would rather have been doing.”
“Nonsense.”
“What?” Euterpe asked clumsily, noticing that the little girl’s scowl had returned.
“No lady your age would ever say no to a walk with a duke.”
“Well, I could not, for he had instructed me to do so, but it was hardly my choice.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to spend time with him? You want him to be your husband.”
The words echoed emptily in her ears. She decidedly did not want him as her husband, but something must have happened to make Isabella think so.
“Why would you say that?” Euterpe asked, unable to look at her. “I have never said any such thing, have I?”
“You do not need to. This has all happened before. A young lady sees that a duke is looking for someone to care for his niece, a mother, and one appears hoping to entrap him.”
She had said the word mother like it was venom she had to spit out. Euterpe pitied her greatly, but she did not pry. It was not the time, not when she was so upset.
“That exact scenario could have happened eight times over for all I care,” she replied gently, smiling kindly. “The truth of the matter is that I have no such intentions. I have little interest in being a wife, not when more pressing matters are at hand.”
That was, at least, partly true. She had to find Eloise and ensure her safety, and then she had to find a husband to ensure her own. In any case, the duke did not make the faintest difference to her plans. He was simply there to provide her with a place to stay in the meantime.
Her words seemed to satisfy Isabella, whose expression softened, and she nestled back into her bed.
“I would like to work tomorrow rather than play. I do not like to play very much. I love to read and write, play the pianoforte, and learn everything I can.”
“Then we shall do nothing but learn tomorrow, and I fear you shall come to regret those words.”
“Not a chance,” she replied firmly. “I could have my lessons for hours.”
“Then consider it done.” Euterpe nodded, rising to leave.
“Miss Pembroke,” Isabella asked, causing her to pause, “I wanted to thank you.”
“Whatever for? I am only doing what I am supposed to.”
“Yes, and that is why I am grateful.”
Euterpe smiled, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.
Even at her tender age, Isabella had faced too much difficulty. It was no wonder that she wanted to learn everything she could as quickly as she could; she spent her life not knowing if that day could be the last. It was a terrible thought for a child to have, but with what had happened to her parents, it was to be expected.
But it was the other part that had played on Euterpe’s mind. Why did she expect each governess to try and entrap her uncle into marriage? It was a reasonable fear, to some extent, but there had been a look of pure terror in her eyes when she had said it as if she truly did believe it.
Regardless, it was not the time to ponder that. She had to sleep, especially if they were to spend the entirety of the following day learning. She climbed into her bed, placed Eloise’s locket beneath her pillow, and closed her eyes.
She was running through a forest, the trees as tall as castle towers. She kept running in what she thought was a straight line, but it was all so familiar that she had to have turned at some point. The branches scratched her skin and tore her gown, but she paid that no mind. All that she cared about was getting away, no matter the cost.
“Euterpe!” Eloise screamed after her, but it was only faint, given the distance.
That was her destination: her sister. She had to get there before he did. That was why the pain went unfelt, and her blood went unnoticed; nothing mattered except for the repeated ringing in her ears.
Eloise. Eloise. Eloise.
But footsteps were gaining on her. A man a foot taller than her was right behind her, and she swore she could see his wicked grin even with her back to him. She continued to run, but then she felt strong hands on her waist, dragging her backwards.
“Euterpe!”
“Eloise!” Euterpe screamed into the darkness, her hands on her chest as she threw herself bolt upright.
She was in her bed still, panting breathlessly. It was but a dream, a terrible dream, but that did not change the fact that she had woken up covered in a cold sweat, and she knew perfectly well that returning to sleep was not possible. It was always the same when she had a nightmare. They were too realistic, too vivid to simply brush from her mind.
And so, without giving it a second thought, she walked barefoot to the terrace, vaguely aware of the possibility that someone had heard her scream. Stepping out into the cool air, however, she saw a shadowy figure, and her heart stopped. Was it him?
She turned to run, but a calm and quiet voice soothed her in an instant, only to make her feel quite irritated that it had done so.
“Stay if you wish,” the duke called out to her. “You need not leave simply because I am here.”
“That is not why I was leaving.”
“No? Then why?”
She laughed softly, joining him. The moon was full, casting a white glow across the gardens. The cold air helped her to breathe deeply and slowly, and at last, she felt herself returning to normal.
“I really should be sleeping now,” she said at last.
“As should I, but I find myself unable to.”
“As do I.”
Despite the fact that she had gone out onto the terrace for the air, the cold made her shiver. As if without thinking, the duke noticed this and removed his coat, placing it over her shoulders.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“There is no need to thank me. It is likely my fault that you cannot sleep in the first place.”
Nestling into the warm and thick fabric, she considered asking him if he thought that because she was the reason he was awake, but she decided against it.
“It isn’t that,” she explained. “It is because … because Isabella said something interesting this evening.”
“Oh? What is that?”
“It is silly, really.”
“It is not, I assure you. She doesn’t say silly things.”
“Well, she told me she was afraid that I only wanted to be her governess so that I could become a duchess. I know she is only a child, and it could well have been her imagination, but the way she said it made her sound truly frightened of it.”
He sighed into the darkness, and she wondered if she had overstepped. Then, he turned to her with sorrow etched into his features.
“Miss Pembroke, I was not entirely honest with you about why I am so careful in choosing a governess.”
A moment of silence passed between them, and Euterpe did not know what to say. She did not want to prompt him to continue, not if he did not want to. Fortunately, he cleared his throat and continued.
“She was the first governess that I had found. She had heard of my sister’s death through gossip and came of her own accord. She claimed that she would care for Ella as if she were her own and take charge of her education. She was an educated lady herself, and so I saw no harm in it. However, unbeknownst to me, she had instructed Ella to call her ‘Mama’ and called herself the Duchess of Cambridge.”
Euterpe was horrified by this. It was an insidious thing to do to a child that had just lost her mother. Suddenly, everything made sense. Isabella hated her governesses because she feared each one would either abandon her or take her mother’s place, and she did not want either of those things to happen without her approval, so she scared each one off before she could grow attached.
“What happened to her?”
“In truth, I do not know. Ella led a trail of ants into the house and directly into her things, which caused an infestation. She left promptly after that, declaring to me that even the title of duchess could not make her enjoy the company of ‘that spoiled little wretch’.”
He gestured as he said those final words, and Euterpe felt nauseous. She could not fathom how anyone could say that about a little girl, especially one like Isabella.
“Well, Your Grace, you may rest assured that I have no intentions of doing such a thing.”
“I know, and I am most grateful for that. Ella is, too; I know it. She simply does not know how to say it at times, which, given her vocabulary, is quite bizarre.”
“Indeed. In any case, I have no intention of stealing her uncle away. I hope she sees that for herself soon enough.”
She nudged him playfully, and this time when he looked at her, he did so deeply. Her heart thudded, though she could not for the life of her understand why.
“So, it has been a week,” he said, looking back at the moon but stealing glances at her. “How would you say your life here is?”
“Well, the house could be bigger,” she teased, and he chuckled. “No, I am only saying that in jest. Everything is lovely, and I feel more and more at home. Then again, I do not even know where my home is.”
She sighed, looking out at the stars. It was true; her childhood home was no longer a place that brought her comfort when she thought of it. It only served as a reminder that Eloise was missing, and if she ever set foot in the household herself, she would be married off to a horrid man almost twice her age. Should that happen, she was certain that the Duke of Somerset’s estate would never feel like her home.
“I know what you mean,” the duke replied. “This estate has never felt like mine. It’s strange, isn’t it? You can live somewhere all your life and still think of another place entirely.”
“Where do you think of?”
“My family’s summer home by the sea. I have not been there in years now, but when I imagine home, it is by the water, the waves lapping at my feet.”
“I have never been to the sea.”
He looked at her, mouth agape.
“You simply must! There is no feeling like it. We shall go ourselves. We shall–”
He stopped himself before he could say too much. He cleared his throat again and returned to looking at the stars. Euterpe thought about his offer, though he hadn’t allowed himself to ask her completely. It was tempting to run away to the sea and to start anew once more, but she knew it was impossible.
She was not there to start a new life with a duke; she was there to find Eloise, and thus far, she had not done so. She had missed her own wedding, though she was pleased about that, but she still had to find another suitor if she wanted to rid herself of the Duke of Somerset permanently.
She did not have time to daydream about picnics on the sand, not when she was living in a nightmare.
“We are lucky that you came our way,” the duke said absent-mindedly into the darkness.
“Because your niece, at last, has a good governess?” she asked, and after a moment, he nodded.
The duke was a strange man. He only ever did things based on whether or not he considered it the right thing to do, and he never broke the rules, but there was a sensitivity about him. He did not love his niece out of duty. He loved his niece because he was a loving man, and had Euterpe not known their true relationship, she would have assumed they were father and daughter.
His coat was heavy on her shoulders, and as she noted that, she thought about how he was a selfless man. He was not obligated to take Isabella in nor give her a chance as governess, but he had.
That meant that sometimes, at least, his feelings did come before the rules. She liked that about him a great deal, but she did not want to. She did not want to like the duke beyond thinking he was a nice man, yet as she was being warmed by the remnants of the body heat in his coat, she had to admit that already that plan of hers was a failure.
“I shall do what I can not to disappoint her,” she said at last. “If she chooses to trust me, then I will not make her regret it.”
“I don’t think you could. She likes you. I could tell from the moment she saw you. Perhaps that is why I was so wary of you.”
“What do you mean? Is it not a good thing that she likes me?”
“Yes, but I would be lying if I said I did not envy you for it. She was not like that with me, not at first. She hid away in her room, refusing to speak to anyone and crying if someone so much as spoke to her. It took so long for her to accept me, but with you, it was instant.”
“That says nothing about me and everything about you. It is through you caring for her so well that she now dares to trust others. You should be happy about that.”
It was as though he had not considered that, and he brightened at once, his eyes shining more than the moon.
“That is true.” He nodded. “Which makes me feel like even more of a fool.”
He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, and eventually, his arm brushed hers. She expected him to jump away as if her touch burned him, but he did not. He stayed perfectly still.
And Euterpe, against her better judgement, did the same.