Page 6 of The Governess’ Unlikely Suitor (The Dashworth Brothers #2)

E dward’s mood darkened yet further when he stepped into the Blue Lounge to find only Christopher, settled on a deep blue settee, his arms flung wide across the back, as if he were entertaining a whole gallery of people.

‘Where is Emily?’ The two of them could not be alone with Miss Hornel; they had to have another woman in the room and not just for propriety. Their guest was a woman adrift in their world, a woman who had fear lurking in her eyes, fear he did not want to make worse.

He hadn’t wanted to know anything about Miss Hornel, not because he was a cad but because she was the embodiment of his ideal woman and he was worried he’d make a cake of himself.

The last thing he wanted was for her to write to her brother asking him to come home because she was living with a moon-eyed fool who couldn’t stop staring at her.

Edward had only just managed to convince the man to travel to America; it would not do if he came straight back again because Edward was a half-wit.

Despite his promise to himself that he would keep well away from her during her stay with them, he’d been drawn to the front windows of Glanmore House from early morning.

Even knowing she wasn’t due to arrive until ten, he’d seemed unable to stop himself from watching for her arrival.

Every fifteen minutes or so, he’d tut at himself and walk away, trying to busy himself in something different, but he’d soon find himself back at his post as vigilant as a hunting dog waiting for its master.

His heart had thundered erratically when she’d appeared under the flower archway.

She’d stopped, taking a moment to steady herself, and his lungs had tightened.

He was painfully aware of the enormity of what she was doing.

He’d turned away then, not used to feeling emotion for someone he did not know.

Hell, he did not react to people like that when he did know them.

It was empathy for her difficult situation, he had promised himself.

He often cursed his brothers, but he had lots of them; they were around even when he didn’t want them and now he had his niece Charlotte, who brought him true joy.

He was never truly alone. Miss Hornel had one relative, her brother Simon, and because Edward had pursued him relentlessly, refusing to take no for an answer, her brother had left the country.

A woman with no money and no relatives had no options.

So he’d watched her gather herself, straighten her spine and walk towards Glanmore House.

He could not imagine the strength of character it had taken for her to knock their door and wait while no one answered it.

When she knocked again, Edward decided he was not going to wait for the butler to answer it; leaving her standing there when he was perfectly capable of using a handle was unnecessarily cruel.

When he’d pulled open the door, her gaze had raked over him, her facial expression like an open book.

It had seemed like she could see right through him, into his soul, and what she saw there did not please her.

Their social situations were vastly different and yet it was he who had felt like an inferior, as if he were not fit to breathe the same air as someone so perfect.

But then he had looked closer and realised it was not disdain in her eyes but fear.

She was afraid of him, for reasons he did not understand, did not want to understand, because then he would have to know what had hurt her.

He knew he wasn’t mistaken. He’d seen that look in his brothers’ faces when confronted by Miss Dunn.

Admittedly, it had been when they were small children, but it was something he would never forget.

He’d faltered then, either his upbringing or his natural personality creating a barrier between them. Instead of being open and warm, his unease had made him far gruffer than he’d intended. She’d retreated even further into herself as he had made the situation worse.

He needed Emily to be in this room, needed her as a buffer between him and Christopher, and Kate, because he could not bear to see the guarded look in her eyes.

The more fear she showed, the gruffer he would become, because he did not know how to deal with it.

He could explain this to his brother; he was sure Christopher would understand.

Unfortunately, it would reveal how closely Edward had been studying Kate, and he wasn’t keen for anyone to become aware of his burgeoning fascination.

‘Where is Emily?’ he asked again, because in all the time he had been pondering this morning’s disaster, his younger brother had said nothing.

Christopher smirked at him. ‘Hello, my dear brother. How are you on this fine morning?’

‘Do not be mutton-headed, Christopher. It does not suit you.’

Christopher ignored him, then adopting a slightly prissy voice, he answered, ‘Why, I thank you, Christopher, I am well. And you?’ Reverting back to his normal voice, he said, ‘Thank you for asking, Edward. I was enjoying a little peace and quiet away from my overbearing family when a thunderous cloud burst through the door yelling a question to which I do not have the answer.’

Edward was not in the mood to deal with his youngest brother’s annoying behaviour. ‘You could have begun with that.’

‘And miss out on the joy of watching you struggle not to punch me?’

Some days, Edward wished he had been born an only child, most days, in fact. Tobias wasn’t so bad, although that was mainly because he kept to himself, but the other two… ‘It was a simple question and I did not shout.’

‘Emily will be here for tea and cake and to keep you safe from Miss Hornel. Do not fret.’

Had his brother always been this insufferable?

Probably. ‘Do not be ridiculous. I am not worried about whether or not Emily is here for me. I do not want Miss Hornel to be uncomfortable.’ Christopher raised a knowing eyebrow, pushing Edward into honesty.

It was that or throttle him, and Edward was too busy to deal with a murder charge.

‘I can see what you are all doing. I am not an idiot. You think because Miss Hornel resembles a perfect Botticelli heroine, I am going to fall desperately in love with her and make a fool of myself over her. Much like Freddie did when he was trying to win over Emily. But that is not going to happen. Firstly, I am not the least bit attracted to her.’ A lie but a necessary one.

‘Secondly, she is a guest in our home, one I promised her brother we would keep safe. And thirdly, she does not like me.’ The look of horror on Miss Hornel’s face when he opened the door to her would haunt him forever, fool that he was.

‘Does anyone like you?’

Edward ignored Christopher’s facetious question. Plenty of people liked him, perhaps not as much as people adored Freddie but definitely more than they liked his older brother, Tobias.

Christopher shifted in his seat, his smile fading.

‘You know, it might not be you she dislikes. Maybe she does not like men; perhaps she has had a bad experience in the past. Lud knows we are acquainted with enough men who think a governess working in their house gives them certain rights.’ His brother grimaced, a small shudder showing what he thought of that sort of behaviour.

Edward’s world turned black as Christopher voiced his own fears.

‘Or,’ continued Christopher, oblivious to Edward’s dark rage, ‘perhaps she prefers women in every respect. Nothing wrong in that, in my opinion. Not that you asked but…’

Edward grunted. He didn’t think that was the problem.

As they’d climbed the stairs, he’d watched Miss Hornel’s face in the highly polished mirror placed at the head of the staircase.

It was a complete coincidence he was wearing his favourite jacket today.

He had only given a fleeting thought as to the previous compliments he had received while wearing it, and if he had asked his valet to dig it out of his closet, then no one need know but him and the man who worked for him.

He’d been rewarded for his effort by the sight of her gaze straying to his back with enough frequency to suggest she didn’t hate what she saw.

Although, he supposed ruefully, maybe she’d been imagining a target on his back.

It didn’t matter what she thought of him.

He would have very little to do with her during her stay.

Glanmore House was large. It was unlikely they would cross paths much.

His rooms were on the other side of the place to hers and so he would be able to go days without accidentally bumping into her.

It was only today he need speak with her.

He decided to ignore the voice that told him he did not need to be here at all, that Emily was more than capable of dealing with their guest alone.

He glanced at his pocket watch. It was only half past the hour.

There was not enough time for him to go and do anything meaningful, so he settled into another settee opposite Christopher.

He tried to focus on reading a newspaper, but a report on the riots at Peterloo unsettled him further.

He folded the paper neatly, smoothing out the creases and sharpening the corners before placing it back on a table.

Seeing Kate had somehow triggered the nervous energy that sometimes swirled around inside him.

He often felt he should be doing more with his existence, but he could never quite put his finger on what the more was.

Right now, he felt he should be out chasing down whoever had put the haunted look into Kate’s eyes and making the world safe so when his niece grew up she would not have to face unpleasant men.

‘What is wrong, Edward?’ asked Christopher, his tone softer and kinder than earlier.

Edward ran a hand down the front of his shirt.

He did not know how to explain the strange sensation crawling around under his skin.

The closest he could come to it was restlessness and even that did not truly explain it.

‘Do you ever think we are wasting our time? That everything we do is pointless before our inevitable death?’

Christopher leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘Goodness, you went deeper than I was expecting. I thought you were going to confess to your pantaloons being too tight after your indulgence last night.’

Edward had drunk too much during dinner, hoping just one more glass would rid him of visions of fiery red hair.

Not one of them had. ‘My clothes are exactly the right size.’ Even though he knew it had been his brother’s intention to get him to question his outfit, Edward still ran his hand over the perfectly fitting waistband.

He rolled his eyes when he caught Christopher’s smirk.

‘In answer to your question,’ said Christopher, leaning back in the chair, ‘no, I do not ever feel that way. Maybe it is because you are vastly older than me and beginning to question your mortality.’

‘I am two years older than you, you widgeon.’

‘You really are in a foul mood this morning, Brother.’

Edward grunted, glancing at the time again. Only ten minutes had passed since the last time he’d looked. He shook the device; maybe there was something wrong with it and the minute hand was moving slower.

‘Edward.’ He looked up.

Christopher’s smile had faded, his eyes serious. ‘I realise I am being a bore, teasing you, but if you do want to talk about what ails you, I can be serious.’

‘I know.’ He looked at his watch again. There was definitely something wrong with it, because no time had passed at all now.

He dropped it so it fell against his chest. ‘It is nothing. I am sure it will pass.’ It wouldn’t.

The sensation had been creeping up on him for years now, sometimes leaving him for months at a time, but always coming back.

His aunt had a penchant for locking him and his brothers in their bedrooms if she thought they had done wrong.

The feelings had started then; looking back, he realised they were caused by the need to do something, anything to make the loneliness stop.

The problem was, now he was free from his aunt, he still didn’t know how to stop the worry.

Maybe talking with Christopher about it would help, but they had not been brought up to be close friends, and although that was slowly changing, he did not want to come across as someone whose brain sometimes tortured him with thoughts that were not suitable for a public airing.

‘Do you have the time?’ he asked instead.

‘There is still twenty minutes left until it is time for tea.’

‘That is impossible.’

Christopher only smiled at him, reaching forward and swiping the newspaper from the table, before undoing all of Edward’s work in making it neat. ‘Check the carriage clock behind you,’ he said from behind the wide paper.

Sure enough, the clock told the same story as his watch. Time really had started to slow down.