Page 30 of The Governess and the Rogue (Somerset Stories #6)

Chapter Twenty-Four

“I think she’s rather perfect for you,” Kate said, walking alongside Jack in the Beasley Park rose gardens.

Jack strolled at her side, with the aid of his cane. It had been two days since he’d taken Bea to the Priory. She’d loved the place, just as he’d hoped she would. And he’d been giddy as a schoolboy showing it to her, seeing it with new eyes because she was with him.

No longer had the estate seemed something to settle for.

A provincial prison where he would unwillingly retire after leaving the army.

It had instead seemed to be filled with possibility.

A place that could be a home. That could one day lodge a family.

A place where—with the right person at his side—Jack might be happy.

They’d walked through most of the house, until his aching knee had forced them to stop for tea. After that, they’d ridden over the grounds. He’d even managed to coax Bea into a trot. The picture of her face, illuminated by a radiant smile, had been plaguing him ever since.

“She has a tart tongue when she dares use it,” Kate went on. “She’s bold. Some might say fearless. She’s good with the children, but not too rigid. She rides.”

“She rides,” Jack agreed. “She’s gaining more confidence every day.”

“And she’s not a spendthrift. We had the devil of a time convincing her to charge anything to your account at the dressmaker’s yesterday.

In the end she could only be persuaded to a new riding habit, a dinner dress, and a gown for the ball.

I tried to explain to her that she would need much more than that.

There are day dresses to think of, as well as her wedding clothes.

She had better purchase those in London.

Unless…” Kate hesitated. “And I may be speaking out of turn, so do feel free to stop me.”

“What?”

“It’s only that… I have the distinct impression that this is all something of a ruse.”

Jack stopped where he stood. He failed to conceal a wince. He already knew that James suspected something was amiss. But no one else had had the temerity to express their qualms to Jack directly.

It figured that it would be Kate. She knew him too well.

Jack nevertheless affected a not-very-convincing tone of indignation. “A ruse ? Are you serious?”

Kate sighed. “So, it’s true, then,” she said. “The engagement isn’t real.”

Jack made one final effort to deter her. “You’re talking nonsense.”

“Not only me. James is suspicious. So is Ivo. Both of them asked me outright?—”

“If my engagement is a fake one?”

“Which it is,” Kate said. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of telling either of them. They never did understand our little schemes.” Her brow puckered. “Not that I understand this one any better.”

“Kate—”

Taking his arm, she directed him to the bench beneath the arbor. “You may as well confess, Jack. The whole affair reeks of one of your larks. There’s only one thing wrong.”

Jack scowled at her as he sank down on the bench. “Which is?”

She sat down beside him, resting a hand on her belly.

“The two of you are too dashed compatible. Which either means that Miss Layton has agreed to this escapade—which is already enough to persuade me that she’s your earthly ideal—or that somewhere along the way the two of you have unwittingly fallen in?—”

“ Enough ,” Jack snapped. “Enough, Kate. I won’t hear a word about her.”

“Don’t bite my head off,” Kate shot back. “I like the girl!”

“So do I,” Jack said. “But things are delicate.”

Kate’s brows elevated nearly to her hairline. “You’re not saying that you have…? But that she hasn’t…?” She looked at him with an expression of complete incredulity. “I don’t believe it.”

Jack supposed he should be flattered that his sister had so much faith in him. But it was poor consolation given his present predicament. “Believe what you will,” he said. “So long as you say nothing to Bea—or to James or Ivo.”

“You’re forgetting someone else,” Kate said. “ Two someones.”

Jack grimaced. He didn’t need his sister to remind him.

Kate reminded him anyway. “Mama and Papa are arriving tomorrow. They should be here just in time for the opening of the ball. And if you think James and Ivo and I are alert to your larks, you should know that Mama and Papa have not lost a step, even though they are old, the dears.”

Jack’s mother and father were in their late sixties. It was old, Jack conceded, but their enduring love for each other, along with a lifetime of physical activity, had kept them strong in body and young at heart.

“I’m not afraid of our parents,” Jack said. “They accepted Meg into the family, didn’t they? If they’ll welcome her, they’ll welcome anyone I choose.”

“But Jack…” Kate searched his face. “ Did you choose Miss Layton?”

Jack thought of that night on the deck of the Pera when he’d first revealed his presence to Bea as she’d been staring up at the stars. No one had made him do it. He had acted of his own accord. He’d been drawn to her even then.

He gave his sister a solemn smile. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

* * *

Bea stood in front the cheval mirror in her bedchamber as her borrowed French lady’s maid put the finishing touches on her evening ensemble.

The elegant creature who stared back at Bea in the glass might as well have been a stranger.

She scarcely recognized herself in her fashionable gown of amber-colored silk glacé, with its daringly low-cut neckline and its three skirts trimmed in matching amber lace.

It had been one of Hannah’s. One she’d ordered that had yet to be completed. The village dressmaker had modified it for Bea, shortening the hem and taking in the bodice. It was the only way a ball gown could be finished in so short a time.

That it hadn’t originally been made for Bea scarcely mattered in the end. It was the finest garment she’d ever worn, and by far the most flattering.

There was a knock on the door.

“Yes?” Bea called.

The door opened a crack. Meg peeked inside. “M-May I come in?”

“Please,” Bea said.

Meg entered, closing the door behind her. She was already in her ball gown—an airy confection of pink gauze and lace. An opal-and-diamond brooch glittered at the neck of her bodice. “I came to see if there was anything you require?”

“Oh no,” Bea said. “And you’ve already done so much, lending me your maid.”

Meg smiled. “Is she n-nearly ready, Louise?”

Louise gave one final adjustment to the slim, amber silk covered belt at Bea’s waist. “All finished, madame.”

“Excellent, Louise. You m-may go.”

“Thank you,” Bea said to the maid as she withdrew. “Your mistress spoke truly. You have performed wonders.”

Louise curtsied to both ladies before departing.

Meg stepped back to admire Bea. “The color suits you,” she said. “So does the dress. You look beautiful in it.”

Bea wouldn’t go that far. Pretty, she’d have called herself. And to someone who had felt plain all of her life, to be pretty was no small thing. “You’re very kind,” she said. “Am I the last one down? I’m sorry if I’ve taken too long.”

She’d had a late start getting ready. Around the Beresfords, time was a commodity in very short supply.

There was always something afoot—another game, another outing, another unplanned romp with the children.

Over the past several days, Bea had had little time to herself.

Indeed, most nights she’d scarcely been able to make her wish on the evening star, let alone write in her journal, before falling into her bed exhausted.

Pearl would be amused. She’d often remarked that Bea spent more time documenting her life than actually living it. But not now. Not during Bea’s brief idyll with Jack in Somerset. However short, this had been time for living.

“Not at all,” Meg said. “Your timing is perfect. Lord and Lady Allendale have just arrived.”

Bea started. “Oh!” She turned from the mirror, skirts swishing about her legs. “Should I go down now? Or?—”

“No need,” Meg said. “You can m-meet them at the ball.”

Bea pressed a hand to her midriff. For a moment, her courage failed her. She could scarcely justify lying to Jack’s siblings as it was. But to lie to his parents? An actual earl and his countess?

“They’d expected to arrive earlier in the day,” Meg explained.

“But their t-train was delayed. They went straight to their room to change. Kate and Ivo have already gone in to speak with them. And St. Clare, I presume. I don’t know about Jack.

I haven’t seen him since our game of croquet on the lawn. ”

Neither had Bea. There had been no chance to speak with him privately. No opportunity to strategize. They’d yet to go over the plan for their amicable breakup.

Meg collected Bea’s painted fan from the dressing table. She handed it to her. “You’re anxious, I can tell. You needn’t be.”

Bea slipped the cord of the fan over her wrist. “I’m not accustomed to meeting earls and countesses,” she confessed. “I daresay I’m a little frightened of disgracing myself.”

“I was afraid of Lord and Lady Allendale once too,” Meg admitted.

“My father didn’t get on with them.” She gave a short laugh.

“An understatement. Our two families loathed each other. When Ivo and I m-met, neither of them was very happy about it. But Lord and Lady Allendale accepted me in the end. They’re doting grandparents, and they’ve been a great solace to me since m-my father died. ”

Bea’s heart twinged with compassionate understanding. She knew what it was to lose the ones you loved. “I’m sorry to hear of your father’s passing.”

Meg smiled. “I thank you. But it was a long while ago. Ten years, in fact. And it was n-not unexpected. My father had been ill for some time. My point is… Lord and Lady Allendale welcomed m-me into their family.”

Bea’s mouth tipped briefly. “Yes, but you weren’t a governess before you married your husband, were you?”