Page 13 of From Governess to Bluestocking (Love in the Shadows #8)

Thirteen

“ S tephen, will you accompany me into the gardens this morning?” the Dowager Duchess set down her tea cup with finality at breakfast the next day. Her request was more of an order, and Stephen could see it.

He nodded. “I would love to, Aunt. I shall clear my morning.” He looked across the table at Miss Selwyn, who was unusually quiet this morning. He thought of the night before — how slight and trusting she had felt in his arms as they danced about the drawing room.

She had seemed so open as they spoke, and he could not forget the thrill of delight he'd felt when she’d told him she was thinking of him. The delight had quickly faded, of course, when she clarified that her thoughts had been of his business and not his person.

Still, Stephen felt there was something between them. His feelings were confirmed this morning, when Miss Selwyn had appeared downstairs with her eyes averted and her answers distant. Does she feel it too? Is she as frightened as I?

“I shall retire to my chamber to dress for the walk,” his aunt said, rising quickly from her chair. “It’s lovely out, but I think a cloak will help to take any chill out of the air.”

Miss Selwyn stood as well. “I shall come assist you.”

“You only just came downstairs and haven’t eaten a thing,” Aunt Cecelia frowned. “No, the maid will be able to help me. It is not a difficult task.” She left the room in a rush, hardly pausing to see that her orders would be carried out.

Miss Selwyn hesitated a moment, and then sat slowly back down. Stephen noticed that his aunt was right — she’d hardly touched her food. He wondered if he had been too forward the night before, and felt miserable that he would have made her uncomfortable in any way.

“My aunt looks very lively these days,” he said, trying to break the tension between them.

Miss Selwyn raised her head and smiled, relief touching her features. “She does,” she answered. “I think she is progressing very quickly. The doctor was right, after all — he said that all she needed was reliable companionship.”

“I believe your influence on her has been most beneficial,” Stephen added. “When she began to play the pianoforte last night I was quite encouraged. It seems she is taking an interest in things again.”

“Indeed,” Miss Selwyn said. Stephen saw a blush of color appear in her cheeks. “She played well.” She looked up at him with a question in her eyes. “Will you be going back to London now that your aunt is doing better? You have spoken about your family’s expectations on your time.”

Is she trying to get rid of me? He thought with amusement.

“She is certainly recovering,” he acknowledged, “but I am not yet ready to leave.”

He thought: I am not yet ready to leave you .

She took a spoonful of sugar and added it to her tea, stirring gently before adding, almost under her breath, “I am glad.”

It was a significant concession from one as guarded in feeling as Miss Selwyn, and it thrilled Stephen. She is not trying to be rid of me, he thought. She wants me to stay. He knew he ought to think of the future — of the impossibility of a romance with someone from such a disparate station — but his heart could only rejoice in the present. He loved to be near her. He loved her wit and her beauty. He loved that she had just conceded to wanting him around for a little longer. For now, a little longer was all he would think about.

His aunt came back down just as the two were finishing their breakfast, dressed in a fine green gown with a light brown cloak over top.

“Are you ready to step out?” she asked.

“I am.” He offered her his arm and bid Miss Selwyn good day.

The lady’s companion smiled and walked upstairs to her chambers, leaving Stephen and his aunt to make their way outside into the bright sunshine.

“It is almost too warm for a cloak,” Aunt Cecelia said, turning her face towards the light.

“I’m sure there will be a breeze by the creek,” Stephen said. “But if you come to regret the garment, I will carry it, happily.”

They walked a few more moments in silence, and then, quite suddenly, his aunt said, “There is something bothering you,” she said. “What is it?”

Stephen had not had such a direct conversation with her before. He shook his head. “I am quite happy to be here with you, Aunt.”

“That is not what I mean,” she answered. “I can see that there is something weighing on your mind — you have come here to March Manor to escape your troubles. What are those troubles?”

Stephen was impressed. She sees more than she lets on, he thought.

“Would you like to sit?” he asked, pointing to a bench in the garden.

She frowned at him. “You will not distract me from the topic so easily, young man.”

“That is not my aim — I only desire your comfort.” He led her over to the bench and they sat together. She arranged her skirts around her and then looked up at him with expectation.

“Well?” she pressed.

“I am not sure you will approve,” he began. “But I shall tell you anyway. You can see that I am a man of marriageable age. My parents can see that too. They want me to settle down with a girl from a noble background.”

“You are not so old,” she said with a frown. “Surely you have years ahead of you yet?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “But I am six and twenty, and my parents believe that I should at least have prospects. I can say that I made some genuine attempts at finding love earlier in my life. I went to the balls as they asked me to. I danced with the ladies they recommended.”

“And none of them caught your fancy?”

“Not even a little.” He frowned. “I fear I have lost hope that I will find a love match amongst the flowers of London. I have said as much to my parents, but they are not overly concerned. They believe a love match is nearly impossible anyway. They want me to concede to a marriage of their own arranging.”

The words hung in the air between him and his aunt for a long moment. She looked out into the distance, her gaze turning towards the pond far away and the willows bending there.

“It is a bad thing,” she said after a long moment. “A very bad thing.”

“What do you mean, Aunt?” he asked. “A bad thing that I have run away from my problems? That I refuse to respond to my parents’ continuous requests that I return home and settle down?”

She shook her head. “It is wrong that they are forcing you to marry,” she said. Stephen looked at her and was startled by the sheen of tears there in her eyes. Her voice shook as she spoke. “I know how you feel,” she said. “I also endured an arranged match, and it nearly destroyed me. Some people find happiness on the other side of such loveless beginnings, but often that is not the truth. I never found peace. I regret agreeing to my parents’ wishes.”

He turned to her, his heart hurting to see her pain. “Why did you agree?” he asked. “What convinced you to give up in the end?”

She stared at him for a long moment and then shook her head.

“I cannot say,” she said dully. “I will only say that I know the sadness that accompanies such a choice, and I will not let it happen to you.”

He shook his head. “You may not have much choice in the matter, Aunt.” He sighed. “At times, I hardly feel I have a choice in the matter.”

She reached over unexpectantly and patted his hand with her cool, papery ones. “We always have a choice,” he said. “We will find a way out of this together — you are no longer alone, nephew.”

Stephen smiled, wanting her to know how blessed he was by her thoughtfulness.

“You are kind to me, Aunt,” he said. “I have been greatly encouraged by coming here to see you.”

“I do not think it is only I who have been encouraging you,” his aunt said, a wickedly mischievous glint coming into her eye. “There is also our dear Ruth.”

“Ruth?” Stephen said in confusion.

“Yes, dear.” Aunt Cecelia gave him a stern smile. “You do not think Miss Selwyn was christened without a proper first name, do you?”

Ruth. He had of course seen her full name on documents of employment, but Stephen realized his boundaries of propriety had kept him from thinking of the flaxen-haired lady’s companion as anything but “Miss Selwyn. ”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I suppose Miss Selwyn’s companionship is also of benefit.”

“Of benefit?” his aunt laughed, “You may think of me as an old woman with my head half gone, but I see more than you credit. I can see the way you look at her.” She raised her eyebrows. “As my mother would say, you two seem…compatible.”

Stephen was a little shocked at his aunt’s forthright manner. In a world of unspoken words and implications, she had addressed the truth of his heart in a few pointed sentences. He winced. And here I was thinking I was hiding my feelings rather well, he thought. I had nearly deceived myself on the subject.

The truth was, Stephen did care about Ruth. He cared about her more and more, and found it increasingly difficult to remind himself that they were from different worlds; that they had no proper future together. He did not want to complicate things with emotions that could have no bearing on the real world. His aunt’s intelligence on the matter could be dangerous. She could say something to Ruth, and then things might be destroyed. She might leave. He could imagine losing her any more than he could imagine having her as his own.

He forced a laugh.

“Dear Aunt,” he said. “You must be overtired from our exertion.” He put an arm gently around her. “You are confused as regards myself and Miss Selwyn.”

“We barely walked,” his aunt said peevishly. “I am not tired in the least.”

“And yet you are still speaking of things that cannot be,” he said quietly. “Let us go inside and find some refreshment.”

“With Miss Selwyn?” she looked up at him with a coy smile.

He kept a straight face, trying to appear disinterested. “With your lady’s companion, yes.”

They walked inside together. Stephen hoped they would leave all such discussion of the beautiful Miss Selwyn in the garden. He thought he could distract his aunt from speaking about it with her. He wasn’t sure he could distract himself.