Page 12 of The Governess and the Rogue (Somerset Stories #6)

Chapter Ten

B ea didn’t know whether to laugh or to weep at Jack’s wry directive. She’d never been in love with anyone, let alone wildly in love. How on earth was she to pretend to such a condition?

Naturally, there had been gentlemen she’d liked before. One couldn’t reach the exalted age of nearly seven and twenty years without having encountered one or two of them. Though none stood out particularly in her memory. And certainly, none had inspired anything like butterflies.

They were all vague, faceless figures from days long gone by.

The handsome young sailor who had shouldered her trunk for her at the docks when she’d first arrived in India as a girl of seventeen.

The officer who had danced with her at the garden pavilion in Delhi.

Or the bespectacled shopkeeper who had been so kind to her when she was struggling with her young charges during a trip to the bazaar in Calcutta.

What about him? she’d often thought during such fleeting encounters. Could he be the one?

Yet none of them ever had been. And soon—alarmingly soon—the day-to-day struggles of simply getting by had supplanted any fleeting romantic dreams of girlhood. Time had weighed against her, as had circumstance, leaving her older, harder, vastly more cynical.

During the last several years, had Jack crossed her path, Bea doubted whether she’d even have noticed him. But now that she had…

No, she supposed, it wouldn’t be difficult to pretend.

Regrettably, there was no time to perfect her performance. The other passengers were already bearing down upon them. Among them were Mrs. Dimsdale, Mrs. Rawson, and Mrs. Farraday and her daughter.

They advanced on Jack and Bea with all the resoluteness of an invading army.

Bea’s stomach trembled so she feared she might faint. Indeed, if not for the strength of Jack’s hand holding hers, she very well might have done.

Gathering her courage, she forced herself to smile. Doubtless it looked more like a rictus of pain.

“Colonel Beresford! Upon my word!” Mrs. Farraday came ahead of the others, wearing an expression of forced cordiality. She curtsied in greeting. “What a sly trickster you are, sir. Mrs. Dimsdale informs us that you have been a passenger on the Pera this entire time!”

Jack inclined his head to her. “Mrs. Farraday. And Miss Farraday,” he added as the younger lady joined her mother. “Always a pleasure.”

Miss Farraday curtsied in turn. She was dressed all in pale yellow, a color that complemented her fair skin and dark hair to an exceptional degree. “Colonel Beresford.”

Bea counseled herself not to be jealous. Miss Farraday wasn’t her enemy, simply because she was younger, lovelier, and more prettily dressed. All the same…

What woman wouldn’t feel the burden of her own failings in the face of such unmarked perfection? Mere proximity made Bea conscious of every one of hers—the plainness of her features, the coarseness of her gown, and the redness of her ungloved hands.

“When did you board?” Mrs. Farraday demanded. “In Alexandria, I gather. Though I didn’t see you on the docks. And I was keeping particular watch, so that I might be of assistance in your time of need.”

Mrs. Dimsdale and Mrs. Rawson joined them before Jack could reply. The former examined Bea down the length of her nose before turning her attention to Jack. “Colonel Beresford,” she said rigidly.

“Ma’am.”

“You have met Mrs. Rawson?” Mrs. Dimsdale inquired, gesturing to the portly woman.

“We were introduced in Delhi,” Mrs. Rawson reminded Jack as she tucked her little white Maltese dog, Benjamin, more securely under her arm. “It was when you visited camp with General Havelock. You may recall I’m acquainted with your brother, Viscount St. Clare.”

“Of course.” Jack acknowledged the lady with a bow. “I presume you’ve all met my fiancée, Miss Layton?”

Mrs. Rawson spared not a glance for Bea. “Then it’s true? You are engaged?” she asked. “You have shocked us twice in one day, sir!”

“I told Mrs. Rawson that it must be one of your larks,” Mrs. Farraday interjected.

Like Mrs. Rawson, she pointedly avoided looking at Bea.

“What else can it be? For I am informed that Mrs. Dimsdale’s servant has been employed by her since leaving India.

If you were in Cairo, how could the two of you have met?—”

“I was in Cairo, ma’am,” Jack said. “Recovering from another surgery. Since boarding the Pera, Miss Layton has been my only comfort.”

Mrs. Farraday’s mouth sagged. “But that was but six days ago!”

“Indeed, ma’am.” Jack raised Bea’s hand to his lips. Meeting her eyes, he brushed a kiss over her knuckles.

Bea’s heart fluttered madly. If this was Jack’s idea of pretending, then he was far more adept at the exercise than she was. The way he looked at her, she might almost believe that he meant it.

The other ladies observed Jack’s tribute with varying degrees of dismay. All except for Miss Farraday herself who wore her perpetual mask of ladylike composure.

“Then Mrs. Dimsdale has spoken truly,” Mrs. Rawson said. “You and Miss Layton are engaged to be married?”

“We are,” Jack affirmed.

Miss Farraday was the first to offer Bea a smile. Unlike her mother’s, it appeared to be genuine. “I congratulate you, Miss Layton.”

“Thank you,” Bea replied.

“And you, Colonel Beresford,” Miss Farraday said to Jack. “I hope you will be very happy.”

“Yes, yes,” Mrs. Rawson said dismissively. “But do your parents know of this, sir? Surely Lord and Lady Allendale?—”

“My parents are certain to be overjoyed, ma’am,” Jack said. “They have long wished for me to be settled.”

Bea wondered if that was true.

“They will surely be surprised,” Mrs. Dimsdale pronounced darkly.

Mrs. Farraday stepped forward. A rigid smile graced her features. Only her eyes betrayed her lack of good humor. They were exceedingly hard. “We must act in their stead,” she said, “as both companions and chaperones.”

Bea felt Jack’s hand tighten on hers.

“For though you might be engaged, you are not yet married,” Mrs. Farraday continued. “It wouldn’t be seemly if you were left too much alone with each other during the remainder of the journey. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Rawson?”

“Too right,” Mrs. Rawson agreed as Benjamin squirmed under her arm. “Your parents will be grateful to us, I wager, for delivering you home without the taint of scandal marring your good name.”

“A generous impulse, to be sure,” Jack said. “But I have no fear of scandal at this late stage. I’m a man of four and thirty, not a stripling lad.”

“And I am six and twenty.” Bea was amazed by the steadiness of her voice. “I know my own mind.”

“As do I.” Jack tucked Bea’s hand in his arm. “Miss Layton will be ample company for me. You may trust that we will observe all proprieties.”

“But Colonel—” Mrs. Farraday began.

“Which reminds me,” Jack said, addressing Mrs. Rawson. “I understand you have a maid you might be willing to hire out for the purpose.”

“Pearl?” Mrs. Rawson resettled her now thrashing little dog. “Why yes, sir.”

“But I have been given leave to make use of her,” Mrs. Dimsdale objected. “The girl is looking after my children since Miss Layton—” she broke off. “That is to say… since I find myself without a?—”

“Naturally it would be my honor to loan Pearl to you for what remains of the sea voyage,” Mrs. Rawson interrupted. Benjamin gave a plaintive yap. “And may I say, the very least Lord and Lady Allendale might expect from one whom I hope might dare to call herself their friend.”

Bea had never witnessed such an outright display of toadying. Then again, she’d never before been in company with anyone so exalted as the son of an earl. Perhaps this sort of behavior was normal? If it was, it went a long way to explaining why Jack had been pursued so relentlessly.

“Excellent,” he said. “My batman will be arranging a stateroom for Miss Layton. You may direct your maid there once all is settled.”

Mrs. Rawson beamed. “I shall, sir. With my compliments.”

“Ma’am.” Jack inclined his head to her. “Ladies.” Having effectively ended the conversation, he steered Bea away.

“But what about the children?” Mrs. Dimsdale’s plaintive query sounded shrilly behind them. “Who is to look after them?”

Bea descended the stairs with Jack, unable to hear the answer to Mrs. Dimsdale’s question over the roar of the wind and sea.

“I trust you’ve regained your appetite,” Jack said cheerfully. “Because I’m famished.”