Page 29 of The Governess and the Rogue (Somerset Stories #6)

Bea could feel every twitch of the creature’s back as she settled herself into the saddle. “She’s excessively tall, isn’t she?” she remarked breathlessly.

“She’s fifteen hands,” Jack said. “Rather smallish.” He was dressed for riding in Bedford cord breeches and a blue broadcloth coat. “Here, take the reins. No, don’t pull on them. And don’t use them to hold on. That’s not what they’re for.”

Bea followed his instructions, all the while aware that she had absolutely no control over the animal.

It was only the illusion of control. And in a borrowed riding costume besides.

The dark green habit that Meg had lent her was fashionably elegant, with a smart little jacket that nipped at Bea’s waist and a heavy drape of skirts that flowed over her legs in a graceful sweep of fabric.

“Seven miles each way, did you say?” she asked as Jack went to his own horse. It was a blood bay gelding, much larger than Bea’s mount, with a wild light in its eye.

“About that much,” Jack replied.

Maberly assisted Jack into his saddle, with the aid of a wooden mounting block. Jack’s jaw was tight, his face flinching as he bent his injured leg to set his boot in the stirrup.

Bea found herself wincing in unison. “It can’t be good to bend your knee so much.”

“I’m supposed to bend it. It’s the only way it will heal properly.” Gathering the reins, Jack turned his horse toward hers. “Shall we set off?”

“Are you entirely sure it’s a good idea?” Bea asked. “What if something should happen along the way? What if you need to dismount or?—”

“There are grooms at the Priory stables.” Jack paused, frowning. “And Maberly is coming with us.”

Bea’s brows lifted. This was the first she’d heard of it.

Across the yard, Maberly disappeared into the stone stable block. He emerged seconds later on the back of a dun-colored horse.

“He’ll follow behind,” Jack said. “If something happens?—which it won’t—he’ll be on hand to assist us.”

It was a relief, though Bea was reluctant to show it.

She had the impression that Jack wasn’t pleased to have his batman’s assistance.

Doubtless it was a blow to his pride. He was an independent sort of gentlemen, as evidenced by his long career in the army, and his equally long period of bachelorhood.

He didn’t want anyone looking after him or interfering with his life.

He circled his horse around Bea’s mare. “Loosen your reins a notch,” he told her. “And follow me.”

At first, Bea did just that, keeping a horse’s length between them as she’d once heard a riding master tell one of her young charges to do. But that was the wrong thing, apparently.

“You needn’t hang back,” Jack called to her. “Nudge her with your heel. Bring her up on my right side.”

“So close?”

“We can ride two abreast for most of the way. The horses won’t object. Copper and Nightshade are old friends.”

“Very well.” Bea pressed her heel against Nightshade’s side. The mare picked up her pace, advancing quickly to walk alongside her stablemate.

Jack’s mouth tipped at one corner. “Not so difficult, is it?”

Bea huffed. “Speak for yourself.”

“I won’t say it’s particularly easy at present, but I’ll get there again, never fear.”

“You love riding as much as the rest of your family?”

“The Cavalry would have been a dreadful trial if I didn’t.”

Together they rode down the drive, and through the gates that led to a tree-lined country lane. Maberly followed a distance behind them, close enough to be on hand if anything dire should occur, but far enough away to assure their privacy.

Soon Beasley Park faded into the distance. Trees closed around them, their branches curving over the lane in a graceful arch. The horses’ hooves clip-clopped steadily on the hard-packed earth.

“So,” Jack said at length, “what do you make of my family?”

Bea didn’t hesitate. “I like them.”

“Do you?”

“I do.” She readjusted her reins between her gloved fingers. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I knew you would,” he said. And then: “I hoped.”

A resurgence of butterflies tickled Bea’s stomach at the husky note in Jack’s voice. “They’re easy to like,” she said. “So very kind and genuine. I’m amazed that—” She stopped herself.

Jack flashed her a glance. “What?”

“That they don’t mind my being a governess,” she said.

He smiled, as though something had amused him.

Bea resumed looking straight ahead. The road was on a gentle incline, heading toward a small rise in the distance. “But I suppose they do mind. They’re just too polite to show it.”

“They can be polite,” he said. “But if they disliked you, you’d know it.” He slowed his horse when Bea began to fall behind, waiting for her to catch up. “As far as your being a governess… We Beresfords aren’t as high in the instep in that regard as people might think.”

Bea brought Nightshade back alongside Jack’s horse. The little mare boldly stretched out her face to nuzzle the gelding. He bumped her nose in return.

“The family of an earl is expected to have certain standards,” Bea said.

Jack scratched his horse’s withers. A thoughtful line etched his brow.

“My father wasn’t always the earl. He wasn’t always the heir to an earldom either.

For a time, when he was a lad, he had no knowledge of his true lineage.

For quite a few years, actually. He spent them working as a stableboy at Beasley Park. It’s where he met my mother.”

Bea couldn’t conceal her surprise. “You’re not serious?”

“As the grave.” Jack guided his horse up the rise.

“It’s our family secret. Though not much of one, if you ask me.

Not when there are some blackguards out there who still whisper that my father’s claim to the earldom is illegitimate.

Which,” he added darkly, “would mean that St. Clare’s claim is illegitimate too.

It’s why he’s so sensitive about anything that might tarnish the family name. ”

Bea kept pace with Jack on her mare as they crested the hill. She didn’t know what to say. It was all too astonishing.

Jack gave her a wry smile. “So, if St. Clare looks at you askance, you can chalk it up to that. He’s always on his guard for adventurers and the like. It’s nothing personal.”

“Does he think I’m an adventurer?” Bea asked.

“I wouldn’t take it personally.”

Bea’s heart sank. “I see.”

“You don’t,” Jack said.

“But if he?—”

“It has nothing to do with you. It’s about him. And about his propensity to listen to meddling busybodies whose only purpose in life is to stir up trouble.”

Her brows notched. “What do you mean?—”

“It doesn’t matter in any event,” Jack interrupted. “St. Clare is already warming to you.”

She gave a snort of disbelief.

“He is,” Jack said. “After your valiant effort to save his daughters’ tea cake? The way you complimented Hannah’s vegetarian dishes at dinner, and the way you jumped right in with us at charades? If ever he did think you an adventuress, he knows better now.”

“Yet, I am lying to him,” Bea said. “To all of them.”

“No more than I am.”

“That doesn’t make it any less despicable.” Bea guided Nightshade closer to Copper. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have told me.”

“About my father?”

“You said it’s a family secret.”

“So I did.” Jack squinted up into the sun. “By the by, my sister took me aside this morning and posed me a question. I said I’d put it to you.”

Bea tensed. Of all the Beresford relations she’d met, she was most wary of Lady Kate. Jack’s younger sister was hot-blooded and unpredictable, with a propensity for speaking her mind. One never knew what she was going to say.

“What question?” Bea asked.

“She, Meg, and Hannah want to take you to a dressmaker’s shop in Maidenbridge to help you choose a few things. A gown for the ball and so forth.”

Bea’s mouth went dry. “I suppose it’s obvious that I’m in dire need.”

Jack’s gaze swept over her. “When was the last time you bought a new dress for yourself?”

“What does that matter?” she asked. “I can’t afford a new one regardless.”

“You wouldn’t be paying,” he said. “I would.”

Bea opened her mouth to object.

Jack forestalled her. “As your fiancé?—”

“But you’re not my—” Bea broke off, remembering Maberly’s presence behind them. She dropped her voice. “You can’t buy me clothes . It’s entirely inappropriate.”

“It’s costuming for your role,” Jack said. “Remember?”

She had to exert herself not to clench hard on the reins. “What can I say to that?”

“I don’t know. Thank you?”

She glared at him in silence.

His mouth quirked. “My sister and sisters-in-law are determined. I find it best to acquiesce to their wishes. I advise you to do the same. The expense won’t bankrupt me.

My brother informs me that my estate is earning handsomely.

” His smile broadened. “You may be pleased to hear that your fiancé is on his way to being a very rich man.”

“How fortunate for my fiancé,” Bea said stiffly. Sensing her precarious mood, Nightshade commenced an anxious jig beneath her. Bea’s hands immediately tightened fearfully on the reins. “What is she doing?”

“You’re making her anxious,” Jack said. “Loosen your reins and relax your seat.”

“Relax my seat? How in the world?—?”

“Don’t sit so rigidly. You can be straight in the saddle without pokering up.”

Bea grudgingly followed his advice. Once again, it proved effective. Nightshade ceased her jig and resumed walking at Copper’s side.

“Horses feel what we feel,” Jack said. “If you’re tense, they become tense. And if you’re relaxed, they’ll relax. Why do you think Copper is so happy right now, prancing along through the woods, without a care in the world?”

Bea’s brows knit doubtfully. “Because you’re happy?”

“Exactly,” Jack said.

She exhaled. “Because you’re riding again.”

He didn’t reply, only smiled at her.

Her pulse fluttered. Everything within her told her that he was happy being with her. But she dared not believe it. She was already in far too deep. Meeting his family. Learning his secrets. Charging new dresses to his account. Where on earth would it end?

But it would end, she knew.

Bea refused to lose sight of the fact.

“Isn’t it dangerous for me to go into the village?” she asked.

“Dangerous how?”

“The more people who meet me, the greater the chance of gossip. And the greater the gossip, the more risk to my reputation as a governess.”

Jack’s smile faded. “You’re not intending to be a governess here in Maidenbridge, are you?”

“Of course not. But?—”

“Then it won’t matter. Not when you’re employed in Yorkshire or Northumberland or…or Inverness.”

“Inverness!” A horrified laugh bubbled in her throat. “You’re not intending to seek a position for me in the Scottish Highlands?”

He chuckled. “It’s the farthest from Somerset I could think of.”

“Is that the goal, then?” she asked. “To get me as far away from you as you can?”

Jack’s eyes held hers. There was a look in them that was hard to read. “On the contrary,” he said. “I mean to keep you close.”

Bea’s heart thumped hard. For now , he should have said. It was what he meant, surely. What he was implying.

Yet it wasn’t what he’d said to her.

She moistened her lips as they rode on through the trees and along the edge of an open field.

She debated asking Jack about their fake engagement and how it must necessarily end.

But the words wouldn’t come. The day was too beautiful.

And she was too happy—yes, happy—here in her borrowed habit atop her borrowed horse, riding with Jack beneath the shimmering sun. It felt like where she belonged.

It was a dangerous feeling to indulge. Normally, she wouldn’t allow herself to. But what was one morning of make-believe in the grand scheme of things?

“When you’re more confident,” Jack said. “We can canter through this stretch. We might even race if you’re up for the challenge.”

“And let you beat me?” Bea laughed. “No thank you.”

“How do you know I would?”

“Because you obviously arm yourself to win. You have a bigger horse. A younger horse. You’re also a better rider than I am. It would be no contest at all.”

“Funny,” Jack remarked. “I’d have said we’re rather well matched.”

Bea flashed him a speaking look.

Jack grinned, changing the subject before Bea could make a tart reply.

He told her about the history of Marston Priory.

He spoke about how it had been built in the late fifteenth century, and about the Hamstone used to construct it.

He described the ancient gateway to the property, the vast simplicity of the great hall, and the recently refurbished tenant cottages and farms.

A beguiling picture of the place began to form in Bea’s mind. But when, many miles later, the Priory at last came into view, Bea realized that her imagination had failed to do it justice.

It stood upon a rise, surrounded by a low wall, all honey-colored stone and stately elegance. A huge house, but not a cold one. The roof was partially thatched, the gardens flourishing, and the rolling lawns emerald green amid the trees.

Bea stopped her horse to stare at it, her breast swelling with longing. What would it be like to be mistress of such a house? To live here with Jack? To be the recipient of his affection? His love?

Jack was silent on his horse beside her. When at last she turned to him, she found that he was staring, not at the house, but at her. “Would you like to go inside?”

Bea smiled. “Can we?”

He smiled slowly in return. “We can do whatever we like,” he said. “All this belongs to me.”