Page 10 of The Governess’s Absolutely Impossible Wish (The Notorious Briarwoods #8)

G iselle was throwing away all the safety she had found since being taken in by Miss Abelard and it was terrifying. She stood, waiting in the music room. Zephyr had already slipped out. He had not seemed completely happy, of course, but his entire demeanor had changed. And she had been a part of that.

She was transformed too.

There was no question about it. He had been vulnerable with her in a way that no one else had been in her entire life. And she with him. It was rare, unique, different. And for a moment, she could believe that this family was capable of love. And after several moments where she barely felt like she could breathe, she slipped out into the hall, determined to go to her room and decide exactly what she needed to do in the face of this calamity.

For a calamity it was. She felt as if she was rattling apart, two parts of her at war.

What was she to do? Could she trust Zephyr? Could she give her heart and soul to him? And could she truly turn her back on her own promise, her vow?

She already had. She had chosen him over what she’d been so certain of—that she would never succumb to a man.

There was no way to deny it. She never should have gone into the music room if she had wished to maintain her vow. But the truth was that vow had already begun to slip the moment they had talked in the library. She had not shunned him as she should have.

She did not want to. If she was honest with herself, she never had wanted to.

Giggles filled the hall. “Ah, Mademoiselle Abbot,” a girl called, as two figures in pink and yellow romped into the hall.

Suddenly, Giselle was grabbed by two sets of delicate hands and hauled into a room. She did not know what to say at first. The French Comte, Jean-Luc, though she barely knew him, and his sisters were part of the Briarwood family.

They had escaped the horrors of Paris.

The girls had never wanted to go out into society again. They had been far too traumatized by what had happened in Paris, and they had stayed largely with each other here in the country, away from prying eyes and questions.

But Giselle’s ability to speak French had amused them terribly, and they’d all gotten along very well. And now Camille, who had dark hair like the duke, and her sister, Delphine, who had soft blonde hair, were looking at her as if they were a pair of cats that had got the cream.

“Amour!” Delphine exclaimed.

“Parfait?” chirped Camille.

“Non!” Giselle exclaimed, realizing that somehow the two of them knew.

“No love?” Camille stared back at her with doe-like eyes that filled with disappointment.

“I do not believe it,” tsked Delphine, waving her arms, which caused the silk of her gown to flutter.

“I understand what the two of you think, but you are mistaken,” she said swiftly.

“We saw him come out of the music room and he looked as if he had seen the stars,” Camille all but purred, linking arms with Giselle. “Please tell us that you have given in to love. We have all been waiting and praying for it for weeks.”

“What?” she gasped. “All? Who is all?”

“Everyone,” Delphine cried, taking her other arm. With the help of her sister, they pulled Giselle to the fire. “We have all been waiting for you to come to your senses and see that love is waiting for you in this house.”

Camille nodded, “Exactement. You are going to embrace love, no? You kissed him, didn’t you?”

She wanted to resist confidences regarding this. After all, she could hardly admit to herself that this was all occurring.

For goodness’ sake! She was the governess. She was not supposed to be loved by the brother of the duke or having such conversations with aristocratic ladies about it!

“Life is so short, my friend,” Delphine said, beaming. “We are so glad to see you seize life.”

She wanted to reply to them that she wasn’t seizing anything.

And that they could not say anything about seizing life because they had hidden themselves away, but she would never say something so cruel. Not when they had, despite outward appearances of luxury, suffered so much.

But they also said something that was quite true. Life was short.

Her own mother’s death had proven that. But still, a vow mattered, didn’t it? She glanced back towards the door, aching for Zephyr, aching for the vulnerability and intimacy that they had shared.

“Oh no, you are not going to be foolish, are you?” Camille said, bringing a pale hand to her pink cheek. “You are not going to try to continue to be the serious governess because you are not a serious governess.”

“I am a serious governess,” Giselle returned, straightening.

“Of course, you are a wonderful teacher,” said Delphine, squeezing her hand. “The children adore you. Everyone in this house adores you. But you must not throw away a chance at this family just to maintain a position! In your heart of hearts, you are an artist, a rebel like the Briarwoods. Do not let your heart go cold!”

“A cold heart would be the worst for you,” Camille added passionately. “And we want you to be part of our family. It’ll be much better.”

She swallowed. Part of the family? The insinuation being that Zephyr would ask her to marry him, but such a hope was surely too much.

He had said that his intentions were good, but could she hope for such a thing? Dare she wish it? She had in her secret heart of hearts, of course, but now standing here on the precipice, having kissed him twice, having been so close to him, having shared his fears and his sorrows and having let him see hers, well, she felt terrified… And also completely alive.

The vow.

“You don’t understand,” she said to them both, trying to pull herself together into the firm, capable woman she usually was. “I made a promise, a very important promise, to someone who I care about that I would not become involved with anyone in this family.”

Delphine let out an impatient sound. “Ridiculous. Is such a vow more important than love?”

“Aren’t all vows more important than love?” Giselle asked.

Camille rolled her eyes, folded her hands over her chest, and let out a dramatic sigh. “The English. No, of course not. You cannot think a vow that you would behave appropriately, and frankly boringly, means more than Lord Zephyr.”

She paused at that. Did her vow mean more than his happiness? His wellness? Did it mean more than her own? Was her vow just something she could hide in to keep herself safe?

She thought of Estella. It was true. She was trying to be safe. She was trying to avoid the life her mother had known. She thought the vow was the right thing to do. The promise. She did not know if she could live with herself if she gave it up entirely.

But she also did not know if she could live with herself if she cast aside a human being for something so rigid, and that’s what she would be doing. She would be casting Lord Zephyr aside and all that he had made her feel and all the goodness in his heart, for he was good.

She sucked in her breath.

“I see it. You are going to allow it,” Delphine cheered, happily clapping her hands.

“I shouldn’t,” Giselle whispered. “You don’t understand. This is very dangerous.”

“It is better than a novel.” Delphine beamed.

She scowled. “This is not a novel. This is real life. And if something happens, I could be cast out.”

“Not by this family,” Camille assured swiftly. “His mother would make certain you were quite taken care of.”

She groaned and covered her eyes for a long moment. “Do you hear what you’re saying? You realize it is possible that he could refuse to marry me.”

Camille huffed out a breath. “Well, you are the one who said it. I only thought to assure you about that fear. But he will not refuse to marry you. He is a Briarwood.”

“He hasn’t asked me,” she reminded tartly.

“Yet,” Camille said, waggling her brows. “Have you given him reason to?”

She felt her cheeks flood with heat as she thought of their kiss.

Both sisters let out a cry of happiness.

“Now what are you going to do?” demanded Delphine.

Camille’s eyes widened and she rushed, “You should go tell him at once that you love him.”

“Love him,” she whispered. “I don’t even know if I’m capable of love.”

“Capable, ha,” Delphine replied, rolling her eyes. “We have been watching you this entire time.”

The two sisters exchanged glances.

“Jean-Luc says it too,” Delphine blurted. “We have all been waiting for you to realize that you adore Lord Zephyr. Don’t deny it.”

“Are you a liar?” queried Camille, batting her long lashes.

“I don’t know,” Giselle said softly, more confused than she had ever been. “If I break a vow, doesn’t that make me a liar?”

Delphine frowned. “You are too serious. The English are too serious.”

She laughed at that. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps she was too serious. Perhaps over the years, she had let rules and rigidity and safety wrap her up and steal away all her joy.

For she had not felt joy in a very long time. And she had not felt like herself in years. She thought she had, but no, she had only felt like herself with Zephyr, in his arms and underneath the harpsichord after she had shared her song with him.

“What are you going to do?” Delphine asked.

“I’m going to find out something I have always been afraid of.”

“What?” Camille whispered, clearly excited.

“If love is real or if it is all a lie.”

And then she squeezed the girls’ hands, squared her shoulders, and headed out into the hall as they called “bonne chance” behind her.

The night was sinking in fast. The halls were darkening, and her heart began to vault up into her mouth. Each footstep seemed to pull her to Zephyr’s chambers like the tide rushing to the shore.

That’s what it felt like. It was impossible to turn away. She was compelled to go to him, compelled to find out if she had been lying to herself all these years, if she had told herself a falsehood that women were always betrayed and their hearts were always broken.

Estella told her that protecting herself was perfectly good, and she surely would, but did that mean she had to be cold as ice?

She was certain Estella did not think so. In fact, Estella seemed to think very little of her choice to remain safe.

She had to give Lord Zephyr a chance. She had to see if he was worth this feeling bubbling up inside her. If he was worth breaking the vow that she had all but already broken.

And now that she had broken parts of it, she was going to risk breaking all of it. Damn the consequences. Because for the first time in her entire life, she felt there was a chance that she could have love—something she had not believed in for a very, very long time. And suddenly she understood why ladies risked everything for love, because the promise of it, from what she could see all around her, was worth any price.