The Baron's Governess Bride Page 12

  The spring daylight was quickly fading when she and Lord Steadwell emerged from the house.

  “As I recall, I promised you a drive under the lindens, Miss Ellerby. But I fear by the time a gig is harnessed, we may be too late to see much. Would you mind if we went on foot instead?” He offered her his arm.

  Grace hesitated, but her inclination overcame her misgivings. With the lightest of touches, she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “I would not mind at all. If we walk, it will give us more time to savor the experience.”

  “Very sensible.” His lordship set off down the lane at a stiff pace, forcing Grace to scurry to keep up. But once they reached the tree-lined avenue, he slowed to a leisurely stroll. For several moments, Grace became less aware of his nearness and the light, chaste contact between them. For the past several days, she had seen the blossoming trees from a distance. But that was nothing compared to walking beneath them

  Gazing up at the vault of white and yellow blossoms, she gave a gasp of wonder. That intake of breath carried the scented air deep into her lungs. The aroma of the linden blossoms was one of the sweetest she had ever smelled, yet it had a mellow warmth and freshness that prevented it from cloying.

  Her fears were no match for this banquet for the senses. Her lips blossomed into a smile of profound enjoyment.

  “Do you suppose this is a foretaste of paradise?” The question came straight from her heart, without conscious thought.

  “I hope so.” His lordship gave a soft sigh that whispered of loving sorrow untainted by regret. “It would comfort me to think of Annabelle in a place like this.”

  “You still miss her very much.” Grace wished it were in her power to restore what he and the girls had lost. Even though it would diminish her position at Nethercross. Even though it would mean she could not be here with him like this, tasting a flavor of happiness unlike any she’d known before.

  Grace did not expect him to answer, but he did.

  “Miss my wife? Oh, yes. Sometimes more than I did at first, when disbelief numbed the worst of it. When I experience something that might have pleased her, I would give anything to share it with her. When I see our daughters growing and learning, I want her to share my pride in them.”

  Grace’s hand pressed against his arm in an attempt to offer comfort, though she knew it would be in vain. At the same time, her heart ached with a hollow pang almost like grief. She wished someone could care for her the way Rupert Kendrick loved his late wife, with tenderness that survived longer than life itself.

  “And yet,” he mused in a voice that seemed to come from deep within him, “those feelings are not so raw and bitter as they once were. I do not know how it came about, but it is a blessing for which I am grateful beyond measure.”

  The words had scarcely left his mouth before a shudder ran through his frame. “Forgive me, Miss Ellerby. I did not invite you here to depress your spirits with such sad talk. Tell me, how are my daughters enjoying your history lessons?”

  For his sake more than hers, Grace went along with his abrupt change of subject. “They seem to like it very well. They ask many questions that are quite perceptive for their ages. By the time we are finished, I reckon they will know at least as much history of the past few centuries as any boy from a good school.”

  “And a great deal more than most.” Lord Steadwell gave a rumbling chuckle. “Myself included. Once Parliament recesses, I may have to join my daughters in their history lessons to learn what I missed at school.”

  Though Grace knew he was only in jest, she could not help imagining with pleasure what it might be like to have him as her pupil. “As a practice in composition I asked your daughters to write down those family stories so they can be preserved for future generations at Nethercross. I wonder if you might look the compositions over to make certain the information is accurate?”

  She had thought her project would please him, but his reply sounded preoccupied. “Yes…of course. I should be happy to assist you in any way.”

  Having strolled to the end of the tree-lined lane, they turned and started back toward the house in the falling darkness. The lights in the windows beckoned Grace with a promise of home and belonging she had not known for many years.

  Though she and Lord Steadwell continued to talk about his daughters, Grace could not help feeling his thoughts were elsewhere. What could she have said to affect him so? Was it her mention of paradise that had provoked thoughts of his late wife? In spite of his claim that the anguish of his grief had eased of late, she sensed his heart would always belong to the mother of his daughters.

  * * *

  When Saturday evening arrived, Charlotte, Phoebe and Sophie were all dressed, groomed and on their best behavior. Despite the short notice, the cook had risen valiantly to the occasion and prepared a fine dinner. Mrs. Cadmore and Henry seemed pleased with the invitation and determined to enjoy this family evening out.

  Yet even as Rupert strove to make polite conversation and put everyone at ease, he found himself preoccupied with thoughts of the previous evening. Watching Miss Ellerby’s wonder as they strolled beneath the arch of blossoming trees, he’d felt almost as if he were experiencing it for the first time. Why had he spoiled it by raising the morbid subject of his grief? Could it have been a qualm of guilt that for the first time in four years, he had enjoyed a pleasant experience without immediately wishing Annabelle was there to share it?

  Perhaps that was a natural development, fostered by the kindness of time. Rupert knew he should be grateful for anything that made it easier for him to move on with his life and fulfill his duty to Nethercross and his daughters. Yet it still felt disloyal to the memory of his late wife and the love they’d shared.

  Talking about Annabelle to Miss Ellerby had helped soothe his conflicted feelings, though he regretted casting a shadow over what was meant to be a pleasant outing for her. His attempt to recapture their initial enjoyment had worked for a while, until she mentioned handing down the history of Nethercross to future generations. Her words reminded him that if he failed to produce a male heir, his title and estate would go to distant cousins who knew nothing of country life or the proud traditions of his family.

  With a start, Rupert roused from his abstraction to realize Mrs. Cadmore had just spoken to him. “I beg your pardon, ma’am?”

  “I was saying what a credit your lovely daughters are to you.” She practically shouted down the table. “You have done an excellent job of rearing them. I look to you as a model of how to bring up children without a spouse.”

  It irked him that she should raise the subject in front of the children. His girls had been without their mother long enough that this reminder of their loss might not trouble them greatly, but her son had been without his father for little more than a year.

  “I have been fortunate to have such able assistance in raising my daughters. Their governesses deserve more credit than I for how well they have turned out.” He looked around the table at his girls, casting a warm smile to thank them for their exemplary behavior.

  Mrs. Cadmore chuckled as if he had made a jest. “However excellent a governess, they are surely no substitute for a mother. When I think how that French chit up and deserted you without—”

  “That was regrettable,” Rupert interrupted. Her mention of their late mother might not bother his daughters, but Mademoiselle Audet had only been gone a few months. Somehow it seemed a great deal longer. “But I have no fear of a repetition with Miss Ellerby.”

  “I should think not!” The lady laughed again, even louder. “You were wise to hire such a plain mouse who would pose no danger of attracting secret suitors.”

  What Mrs. Cadmore said was perfectly true, yet Rupert could not suppress a surge of defensiveness that rose within him.

  Before he had a chance to say something he m
ight regret, Sophie burst out, “Miss Ella isn’t a plain mouse! She’s—”

  “What my sister means,” Charlotte broke in, “is that Miss Ellerby is a fine governess and we do not judge her upon her appearance.”

  “Of course you don’t, my dears.” Mrs. Cadmore beamed at Charlotte and her sister, clearly unperturbed that they had intruded upon an adult conversation. “How charitable of you. That is not the sort of virtue a child learns from a hired teacher, no matter what other accomplishments she instills.”

  Just then, Rupert wished he was up in the nursery eating an informal meal with his daughters and their governess. But duty demanded certain sacrifices and this was not such an onerous one.

  Not prepared to abide any more subtle jabs at Miss Ellerby, he changed the subject to crops and weather, matters of mutual interest to their neighboring estates. After dinner had concluded, he and the girls bid their guests a good night. Then Phoebe ran off to visit the stables, as she had been promised as a reward for her good behavior. Sophie’s eyes were growing heavy so Rupert carried her up to bed while Charlotte walked along beside him.

  “Papa,” she asked “are you certain you only invited the Cadmores to be neighborly?”

  His daughter’s question made Rupert uneasy, as if he were planning something shameful, when he was doing this for her benefit.

  “There is another reason.” He glanced down at Sophie who had already fallen asleep in his arms. “The fact is…I should like us all to become better acquainted with the Cadmores because…I believe it might be in everyone’s best interests to…unite our two families…eventually.”

  “Unite?” Charlotte stopped abruptly. “You mean—?”

  At that moment, the nursery door swung open and Miss Ellerby peeped out. “I thought I heard voices. Charlotte, what is the matter? You look ill!”

  “It’s Papa.” The child dodged past her governess into the nursery. “He’s going to marry Mrs. Cadmore!”

  Miss Ellerby’s mouth fell open and she stared at Rupert over the tops of her spectacles. Her air of disapproval made him more determined than ever to do what he must.

  Chapter Nine

  “Married!” Charlotte groaned and rested her head upon a page of the book she was supposed to be reading during Monday morning lessons. Clearly the child had too much on her mind to concentrate on her studies. “Why does he have to get married again? We’re perfectly fine as we are.”

  Since Saturday evening, the girls had talked constantly of their father’s plans whenever he was out of earshot. When he was nearby, they’d been stiff and guarded, as if expecting him to announce more bad news.

  Now that he had returned to London, they seemed determined to give the subject a thorough airing. Grace sensed that any attempt to turn their attention back to their studies would only prolong their preoccupation. It might be better if she let them vent their feelings then do her best to calm their fears. Not that it would be easy. She had her own misgivings about Lord Steadwell’s marriage plans.

  Charlotte’s abrupt announcement of her father’s intentions toward Mrs. Cadmore had hit Grace like a hard blow to the belly. Perhaps it was because the situation reminded her of all the unhappiness her father’s remarriage had caused. She could not bear to think of her young pupils having to endure what she had. That must be why her heart ached a little with every beat.

  In answer to Charlotte’s outburst, Grace set aside the story she’d been copying for Sophie and replied, “I know you dislike change. So do I. But it comes whether we like it or not. Each day we grow older. People are born, marry…die. Governments come and go. Wars are won or lost. Nothing stays the same forever except God’s love. All we can do is pray for strength to make the best of whatever comes.”

  It was sound advice, learned from years of bitter experience. Yet even as she spoke, Grace felt her words rang hollow. It would be wrong for his lordship to marry Mrs. Cadmore, and all the prayers in the world could not make her accept such a great mistake with patient resignation.

  “Besides,” she added before the girls could challenge her sincerity. “I thought you liked Mrs. Cadmore. You were so eager to visit Dungrove a while back, remember?”

  “I didn’t want to go because I like that woman.” Charlotte gave a mutinous scowl. “I wanted to get out for a visit. Anywhere would have done just as well. I wish I’d known she only invited us to worm her way into Papa’s affections.”

  Though Grace knew it was her duty to deny the child’s suspicions, she could not for she had entertained the same doubts.

  “I don’t know why Papa wants to marry her.” For once Phoebe seemed to care about something other than her pony. “I don’t believe he likes her very much.”

  Grace could not dispute that, either. “It is best when people marry for love. But sometimes there may be other reasons they believe are more important.”

  “What other reasons?” Phoebe demanded.

  “You would have to ask your father about that.”

  “I tried,” Charlotte muttered. “He said I was too young to understand and he didn’t wish to discuss it with me. He seems to think this is none of our business.”

  Phoebe slammed her book down. “If he marries Mrs. Cadmore, we will be the ones saddled with a stepmother. I should say that makes it our business.”

  “Will Mrs. Cadmore be our stepmother?” Sophie’s lower lip began to quiver.

  “Of course she will,” Phoebe snapped. “What did you suppose we’ve been on about all this time?”

  Before Grace could reproach Phoebe for taking out her frustration on her little sister, Sophie wailed, “I don’t want a stepmother! She’ll make me clean the cinders and never let me go to parties!”

  The child threw herself into Grace’s arms, sobbing.

  “Hush now.” Grace stroked Sophie’s hair as she cast the two older girls a warning look. However anxious they might be about their father remarrying, it was no excuse for upsetting their sensitive little sister. “You know Mother Goose stories aren’t true. Pumpkins cannot turn into coaches nor mice into footmen.”

  “But stepmothers can be cruel,” Charlotte insisted. “Yours said horrid things to you and sent you away to that dreadful school. That was much worse than cleaning cinders!”

  What Charlotte said was true, Grace acknowledged as she tried to comfort Sophie. How could she tell the girls not to worry about something that troubled her so deeply?

  “Will you talk to Papa, Miss Ella?” Phoebe pleaded. “He listens to your advice more than anyone else’s. He won’t be able to claim you’re too young to understand.”

  “I couldn’t.” Grace fished out a handkerchief to wipe Sophie’s dribbling nose. “It is not my place to interfere in your father’s personal business.”

  “Phoebe’s right,” Charlotte declared. “Papa does listen to you. He did about Phoebe and her pony. He did about me even when I tried to persuade him otherwise. He told me he trusts your judgment.”

  Had he said that? In the midst of Grace’s turmoil a flicker of satisfaction stirred.

  “That is not the same.” She dared not encourage the girls. “He only followed my advice about matters that affect your upbringing because that is the job he hired me to do.”

  “Does Papa inflicting a stepmother on us have no affect on our upbringing?” demanded Charlotte, her voice shrill.

  The girls were far too persuasive—Sophie with her tears quite as much as the other two with their words. Grace could not deny their father had listened to her advice in the past. She might persuade him to think more carefully about the consequences of his proposed actions. At the very least, she could listen to his reasons for wanting to marry and explain them to the girls in a way that might calm their fears.

  “Very well.” She raised her palms in surrender. “I can see no m
ore work will get done until I agree. If I promise to speak to your father on the matter, will you all try to put it out of your minds and concentrate on your studies?”

  “Yes, Miss Ellerby.” Charlotte and Phoebe looked as if they were swearing a blood oath.

  Sophie gave a loud sniff and an emphatic nod.

  All three girls gazed at her with glowing confidence. They seemed to believe she had only to speak to their father and he would immediately abandon his plans to remarry. Though she appreciated their faith in her, Grace had no such optimistic hopes.

  * * *

  For the first time since he had returned to Parliament, Rupert was grateful to have had a week away from his beloved daughters. He had not expected them to react with such hostility to the news of his marriage plans. He might have been wiser to keep them to himself until the girls had a chance to become better acquainted with Mrs. Cadmore.

  Ah well, there was no going back now. He would simply have to be firm with the girls and make it clear his mind was made up. He was doing this for their benefit and he knew best. Still, he feared the next few days would be awkward between them.

  When he arrived home, he found the girls out riding in the paddock. Phoebe cantered about on Jem, natural and confident in the saddle. Charlotte was riding a full-grown mare at a sedate walk, her posture stiffly erect. It was clear she considered riding a necessary skill she must master, rather than the joy her sister found it. Sophie perched on the back of a smaller pony being led around by her governess. She looked a bit unsteady but excited to be taking part in an activity with her elder sisters.

  “Welcome home, Papa!” Phoebe spotted him and rode swiftly to the paddock fence. “How was your week in London?”

  His daughter’s eager greeting came as a vast relief.

  He gave a cheerful shrug. “Well enough. Plenty of debates to listen to. I went out to the theatre on Wednesday evening. The play was rather good. How was your week?”