Page 14 of The Governess’ Unlikely Suitor (The Dashworth Brothers #2)

K ate pulled a heavy book from one of the library shelves. Flicking through the first few pages, she decided against spending the next few hours wading through the dry text and put the weighty tome back in its place.

Edward had sent word that she was allowed in the library.

There was no need for him to come and tell her himself.

Although they had spent some pleasant time together on the first day in his family’s home, they were not friends and her sense of disappointment was unjustified.

Just because Kate didn’t have anyone in her life, it didn’t mean Edward was the same.

His days were probably filled with friends and it probably hadn’t occurred to him she might be lonely.

Why would it? They barely knew each other and there had been no stipulation in the agreement with her brother that the Dashworth family would keep her entertained for the year of his absence.

For all Kate knew, Edward might even be courting someone or have a mistress.

And both of those scenarios were fine, more than fine, they were expected.

Irritated by her introspection, she pulled another book out but put it back before she could even look at the pages, somehow knowing by the feel of it that this one was not for her either.

Emily had shown her the library with an almost zealous regard for the tall leather spines that filled the wall, reassuring her again and again that the Duke of Glanmore would not mind her spending time within its hallowed walls.

Once, the duke had been in the library when she had arrived.

She’d frozen on the threshold, unsure of the etiquette of the moment; he’d been reading something, the book resting on the table in front of him.

He’d lifted his head, nodded at her and within minutes had left her all alone, taking the book with him.

She had half expected someone to come and tell her she had to leave the library after that encounter but nobody had, and so spending a couple of hours every day amongst the rows of books had become one of her daily habits.

Another was lunching with Emily, which was always a joy.

Sometimes her husband joined them, sometimes it was just the two of them, and Kate didn’t remember a time in her life when she had laughed so much with another person.

Other than with Simon in their early years, she probably hadn’t.

Alexander Wright had called on her twice, much to Emily’s delight.

Kate didn’t dislike the man but neither could she picture a life with him.

She’d said as much to Emily, but her new acquaintance hadn’t seemed perturbed, pointing out that it was early days and it had taken Emily nearly fifteen years to realise she loved Freddie.

Somehow, Kate didn’t think that was going to happen to her.

Mr Wright was polite and attentive, but she did not want to touch the soft hair that gathered at the nape of his neck.

She wrinkled her nose. She could not even remember how Mr Wright wore his hair; the only image she could pull to mind was Edward.

Huffing out an impatient sigh, she moved down the row of books, running her fingers along the shelf as she walked; there was not a hint of dust on the polished wood, yet another sign of the wealth needed to maintain a residence like this.

Edward liked things just so. It was one of the details she’d noticed about him: the way he straightened everything after it had been used or smoothed out edges no one else would notice and…

She knocked the wood with her knuckles; it was bothersome, the way her mind kept veering back to one man, especially as, for half of the time she had known Edward, he had not been overly friendly.

Pulling another book off the shelf didn’t help; it held no appeal either.

It was impossible to pinpoint what she was in the mood to read; nothing seemed to fit the restlessness skittering beneath her skin.

Coming to the end of one shelf, she rounded a corner and began a new one, continuing to mull over the ten days she had been living at Glanmore House.

The whole thing had been… pleasant. Gently agreeable in a way she had never experienced and wasn’t entirely convinced she enjoyed.

Oh, there was no denying how lovely it was to eat whenever she was peckish and to climb into a bed with soft, clean sheets but there was no challenge, nothing to work towards and no sense of achievement.

A few times, she’d heard a child’s babbling voice while walking in the long corridors, but she had yet to see the niece the whole family clearly adored.

She was unsure of the reason why. The family knew she had experience of children and they trusted her around their expensive things but not the little girl who held all of their hearts.

Or perhaps she had not been introduced to her because it had not occurred to anyone she might like to meet her.

She would. She would even be happy to act as a governess towards their charge.

The family might not have that expectation, but having had a break from children, Kate now realised how much she enjoyed their company.

The slight malaise that plagued her was probably down to missing being surrounded by their inquisitive minds.

There could be no other reason for it; she had almost everything a woman who had been nearing destitution could want and she had to do nothing in return.

There was no cause for her to feel so… she couldn’t even find the words to describe the strange longing for something just out of reach, the yearning that didn’t seem to be soothed by delicious food, a warm bedroom and more books than anyone could want in their lifetime.

A soft rain fell against the library windows as she climbed up to the mezzanine floor.

She had abandoned her search for the perfect read, but she was reluctant to leave.

Her rooms were lovely, but they were a vast emptiness in which she had yet to feel at home.

The library wasn’t homely either, but there was something otherworldly about the space.

From up high, the bookshelves stretched out in front and below her, the smell of their leather bindings almost intoxicating.

A vase of purple asters stood on a table near the top of the stairs, the colour reminding her of the waistcoat Edward had worn at the only formal dinner she had attended so far.

They’d spoken during the meal and laughed about his aversion to soup, but afterwards, when the men had finished with their port and joined the women in the formal sitting room following the dinner party, he hadn’t joined them.

It didn’t matter, obviously. The connection she had imagined they had formed in their brief hours together had meant more to her than to him.

She was lonely and she had become swept up in the attention given to her by a handsome man.

Not that she found him attractive, only he was well-groomed and obviously not a man who lay about doing nothing, if the way his defined muscles moved beneath his jacket were anything to go by.

Of course, she hadn’t spent time looking for them; they were hard to miss.

Brushing her fingers against the soft petals, she sighed.

There was no one here from whom she had to hide her thoughts.

She could admit to herself that she enjoyed it when his gaze fell on her, that when he smiled, her heart had fluttered.

She was a woman past her first flush of youth but not in her dotage.

Romance was something that had passed her by; at her age, she was unlikely to marry, so it was not surprising that the first man who had made her laugh had turned her head a little, but it was only a tiny bit.

And now she had not seen him for a few days, she had almost forgotten about him.

If she could muster up even a little of the same enthusiasm for Alexander Wright, then perhaps her days would hold some excitement, but her heart didn’t race for the softly spoken gentleman.

Somewhere up ahead of her there was the soft thudding of multiple books falling from a shelf, the sudden noise shocking in the silence. Her heart stuttered, stumbling over itself as she realised she was not alone like she had believed.

There was no sign of anyone scrabbling around to return the books to their rightful place, but Kate sincerely doubted the ducal residence had mice. A minute passed, and then another. No other sound came.

‘Hello,’ she called.

‘Lello,’ came a high-pitched response.

Kate took a few steps forward and discovered a little girl with a halo of blonde curls amongst tumbled-down books. Crouching down so as not to frighten the child, she asked, ‘What are you doing here?’

By way of response, the girl, who had to be Charlotte, showed Kate the doll clutched in her hand.

‘You are playing?’

‘Yes.’ Charlotte stuck her thumb in her mouth and began to suck on it, her cheeks plump and soft.

‘Does she have a name?’ Kate pointed to the doll.

The thumb popped out. ‘Dolly.’

‘Ah.’ That seemed exactly like a name a group of men unused to raising a child would come up with.

‘Did Dolly want an adventure?’

‘We was ‘iding.’

‘We were hiding , ’ Kate corrected gently.

‘Yes.’ The child’s hair might be blonde but she had the same dark eyes as the rest of the Dashworths.

‘Who were you hiding from?’ Kate had lost track of the time, but she guessed she had been in the library at least half an hour as she’d ambled aimlessly around. She had not heard Charlotte enter and so the little girl had probably been in here with her the whole time.

‘Teddy.’

That was not helpful. Kate knew no one with that name, but she guessed whomever she had been playing with was probably frantic with worry by now. ‘Shall we go and find her?’

‘No.’ Charlotte giggled, her whole body shaking. ‘Teddy is a boy .’

‘Let us go and find him.’