Page 9 of The Governess and the Rogue (Somerset Stories #6)

Chapter Seven

B ea stared at him, stunned. “ That’s what you call ‘a very small act of subterfuge?’”

“You must admit,” Jack said. “It would do the trick.”

“To pretend that we’re engaged to be married?” Bea didn’t know whether to laugh or to spring up from her seat and flee. The latter, she suspected, given the sheer absurdity of the suggestion. Whoever he was, Jack Beresford was clearly insane.

“Just until we reach England,” he said as if it were the most sensible thing in the world.

She moved to stand. “Forgive me. I’m rather overset. I expect you are too else you’d never have suggested?—”

Jack caught hold of her hand. “Wait.”

Bea froze as his fingers engulfed hers. His skin was warm, his grip strong and reassuring. Her heart skipped a beat as he tugged her back downward. She reluctantly resumed her seat.

Jack didn’t release her hand. “Forget how ridiculous it sounds on its face,” he said. “It’s the logic of it that’s important.”

“I dispute the logic,” Bea said. “The mere suggestion is patently absurd, as well as being offensive. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were making sport of?—”

“Listen to me,” Jack said. “If I was your fiancé, I would be responsible for you, not the Dimsdales. I could see that you were comfortable. Looked after. And more importantly, safe. And if you were mine…”

Butterflies fluttered to life in Bea’s stomach. An uneasy sensation, and one she was entirely unaccustomed to. For the second time that night, she felt clammy and breathless.

“I would be off the market,” he continued. “As good as taken. There would be no more point in anyone or their mother chasing me.”

Bea reluctantly slipped her hand from his. As delicious as the press of his fingers felt on hers, this wasn’t a conversation for butterflies and breathlessness. What this discussion required was cold common sense.

“You’re willfully oversimplifying the matter,” she said.

“And you’re forgetting that ladies can be ruthless.

If they want you enough, they’ll find a way.

My existence won’t stop them. Not when I am who I am—a governess with no family or connection.

No truly determined female would think anything of supplanting me. ”

“No one would supplant you,” Jack vowed.

The butterflies batted their wings again. Bea did her best to ignore them. “You mistake my point.”

“Which is?”

“That you could still be trapped regardless,” she said. “Don’t you see? What’s to stop Mrs. Farraday from conspiring to get you alone with her daughter? Or for anyone else on board to do the same?”

“Because you’ll be with me,” Jack replied. “In my company, all the time, from the moment I emerge from my cabin in the morning, until I retire at night.”

“ All the time?” Bea echoed. “It would never be permitted.”

“It would,” he assured her. “If we were engaged, no one could object.”

Bea clasped her hands in her lap. She didn’t want to think of what being engaged to Jack Beresford might be like. Even if it was only pretend.

“And how do you know I won’t trap you, once I have you in my clutches?” she asked.

Jack went peculiarly still.

Her lips thinned in a somber smile. So, he hadn’t thought of everything. It was unsurprising. All the same…

She’d have preferred he didn’t look so horrified at the prospect of finding himself shackled to her in earnest.

“I could, you know,” she said. “Once the engagement has been announced, you’ll find it difficult to break things off without my cooperation.”

“You wouldn’t?—”

“Of course not,” she said scornfully. As if she was so desperate as to trap a gentleman into marriage! “But you have no way of knowing that, do you? There are no guarantees aside from my word.”

“I could do the same to you,” Jack pointed out. “Announce the engagement and then insist that you go through with it.”

She huffed a bitter laugh. “I very much doubt that you?—”

“But you take my meaning. For this to work, we would have to trust each other.”

“ Trust each other? We scarcely know each other!”

“Nonsense. We’ve had several meaningful conversations in the moonlight. One brush with danger, courtesy of your employer. One heroic moment, courtesy of me. And now we’ve made common cause.”

“I hardly think?—”

“Most couples speak for three minutes at the edge of a ballroom and consider themselves very well acquainted indeed, but you and I?—”

“ Must you refer to us as a couple?”

“A make-believe couple,” he amended.

“Who met… where?” she asked in increasing disbelief. “What conceivable lie could we hope to formulate about how this engagement came to pass?”

“We’d tell the truth,” Jack said. “That we met on this ship, in the moonlight. We’ll say you stole my heart away under the stars. Or vice versa. Who would dare to argue?”

His offhand words were possessed of an insidious power.

They settled somewhere in Bea’s heart, warm and deep.

A romance in the moonlight, under the stars.

A product, perhaps, of all those futile wishes she’d made.

Wishes for a better life. A purpose. Something—anything—that would bring her true happiness.

What if this was the answer to those wishes?

But no.

No .

This wasn’t real. This was a deranged jest.

Bea shook her head. “It defies common sense.”

“On the contrary,” Jack said. “It’s logical, as I told you. The only option, really.”

Her gaze returned to his. His ice-gray eyes were blazing with certainty.

Her heart gave another mutinous double thump.

Good heavens. He must be out of his wits. It happened sometimes, didn’t it, with soldiers returning from the wars? Was one supposed to reason with them? Or was it better to humor them?

Bea was at a complete loss.

She swallowed hard. “And if I did agree to this ridiculous scheme… What would happen when we arrive in England?”

“We’d have an amicable parting,” Jack said.

“A broken engagement?”

“By mutual decision, with no acrimony. We would go our separate ways at Southampton with our reputations intact.”

Bea pressed her fingers to her temple. She feared she was losing her mind too. She must be, for Jack’s outrageous plan was starting to sound like a rather appealing remedy to her problem.

But not all of her problems.

“You forget,” she said. “I’ll have lost my reference. Without one?—”

“I can get you a reference,” Jack said with unerring confidence. “A position too, if it comes to it.”

She snorted in disbelief.

“I mean it,” he said. “Do you know how many children my brothers and sister have between them? And those children have friends. Somewhere among them there must be one in need of a governess.”

Bea’s hand fell from her brow. She was suddenly unbelievably weary. “It appears you have an answer for every difficulty.”

“Because there is one,” he said. “That’s how perfect of a solution this would be.”

She forced herself to meet his eyes. Speaking of perfect…

“You’re forgetting the most important thing,” she said.

“I don’t think so. We’ve covered my safety and yours, arrangements for the remainder of the voyage, our amicable breakup, and my finding you respectable employment.

As to money, you need have no concern on that score.

I’m comfortably enough off to reimburse the Dimsdales for your passage and anything else they?—”

“It isn’t money,” Bea said. “It’s Hannah.”

* * *

Jack blinked. “What?”

“Hannah,” she enunciated as though he hadn’t heard her properly. “The lady who wrote the letter you’re constantly rereading.”

Jack stared at her in dawning understanding. “Ah.” His mouth tipped at one corner. “ That Hannah.”

“Quite,” Bea said briskly. “I don’t know about her , but if I were your sweetheart, I wouldn’t appreciate you pretending to be engaged to some ramshackle stranger you’d met on a sea voyage.”

“You’ll find that Hannah is quite understanding.”

“Not about this, surely.”

“Even about this,” Jack said. “And even after being married to my oldest brother for the past fourteen years. James has no sense of humor himself. I’m amazed he hasn’t rubbed off on her.”

Bea’s jaw went slack. “Do you mean to say that Hannah is your?—”

“My sister-in-law,” Jack said. “Hannah Beresford, Viscountess St. Clare. She’s a capital correspondent.”

Bea collected herself with admirable swiftness, but not before Jack spied a glint of relief in her face.

It heartened him.

The fact that she was relieved to discover that he was free of entanglements meant she was considering his proposal.

Or rather, his plan .

Because it wasn’t an actual proposal. Heaven forbid. Jack had never proposed to a girl in his life. And he didn’t intend to start now, with a little sparrow of a starchy governess. No matter how fine her eyes.

“We’re actually related twice over,” he continued as casually as if they were discussing the weather. “My little sister, Kate, is married to Hannah’s older brother, Charles Heywood. As for myself—” He smiled again. “I have no sweetheart.”

“Don’t you?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I’m a lone wolf, me. Always have been. So, you see… There’s nothing on that score that would prevent us from moving forward with our plan.”

“ Your plan,” Bea said. “I’m far too old for such a childish prank.”

“I’m not,” Jack said frankly. “Not if it serves.”

“And you truly believe it will?”

“I do. Indeed, I’m rather impressed at the way it all comes together. Nothing will be left to chance. Nothing can go wrong.”

“Famous last words,” Bea muttered. She abruptly stood. “I’m afraid my answer is no.”

Jack was at once on his feet. He felt an inexplicable surge of panic. “Don’t say that.”

“You’ll be grateful I did in the morning. The whole idea is madness. The mere suggestion of it would send the entire ship into a frenzy.”

“I don’t care about anyone else on the ship,” Jack said with brutal candor. “I care about us. ”

Bea’s rigid face betrayed a raw flash of longing. It softened her eyes and her mouth, making her appear, for an instant, far younger, and far more uncertain, than she was.

She marshaled herself directly. But once seen, it couldn’t be unseen.

This is what existed beneath that hard exterior. A woman of profound loveliness and vulnerability, with a tender gaze and alarmingly kissable lips.

Jack stared at her, feeling oddly off balance. “Beatrice,” he said. “Bea. I?—”

She cut him off before he could finish. “Goodnight, Mr. Beresford. I thank you again for the assistance you rendered me.” She turned to walk past him, the swell of her skirts brushing against his leg.

Jack caught her arm. His voice deepened. “At least say you’ll think about it.”

Bea bent her head. For a long moment, there was only the sound of her breath and his, and that of the crashing sea around them. “Very well,” she said finally. “Only let me go. Please.”

Jack promptly released her. Gripping his cane as she moved to leave, he offered her a bow. By the time he straightened, she was gone.