The Baron's Governess Bride Read online

  His lordship had not mentioned any such thing, but surely it was worth making the most of Phoebe’s gratitude.

  The child nodded eagerly. “That won’t be hard. You make studies more interesting than Mademoiselle ever did with all that tiresome needlework and music practice. I enjoy ciphering figures and learning about faraway places.”

  “Mademoiselle did a fine job.” Charlotte muttered as she pulled on her gloves. “She taught us the sort of accomplishments young ladies require, not all that arithmetic, history and geography nonsense. Gentlemen do not admire dowdy bluestockings.”

  She looked up long enough to flick a dismissive glance from her governess to her sister. “Nor hoydens.”

  The child’s barb stung Grace, though not because of the suggestion that no gentleman would ever take an interest in her. She could imagine no greater blessing than to be ignored by every man she ever met. What troubled her was the claim that learning must be a detriment to women. Most of her former employers would have agreed with Charlotte. If Grace’s previous pupils had not included a few boys, her teaching skills might have been little challenged.

  “Surely there must be some gentlemen who prefer ladies capable of clever conversation as well as the more conventional accomplishments.” She tossed off the comment lightly as she looked the girls over to make certain they were properly dressed and groomed for church.

  She did not want to be drawn into an argument with Charlotte, who seemed to enjoy contradicting her at every turn. Hard as she tried to focus on the child’s good qualities, which were numerous, Charlotte seemed resolved to dislike her. Worse yet, she was encouraging Sophie to follow her example.

  “Mademoiselle didn’t think so.” Charlotte fussed over Sophie, fastening the buttons on her pelisse. “And she managed to get herself a good husband, so she must know.”

  Though the girl’s tone made it sound as if she were not addressing anyone in particular, Grace felt the stab of her insinuation. Once upon a time, she had hoped that marriage might rescue her from the drudgery, indignity and insecurity of being a governess, the way the prince in Sophie’s story had rescued the servant heroine. To her dismay and heartbreak, she had learned that men attracted by her appearance did not have honorable intentions toward a young woman without fortune or connections.

  The pain of those memories made it impossible for Grace to let Charlotte’s remark pass without rebuttal. “Your father seems to think otherwise. Besides our discussion about Phoebe, we also talked at some length about what manner of instruction I should give you girls. He feels you would benefit from more rigorous instruction and I reckon you are all clever enough to manage it.”

  Invoking their adored father seemed to silence Charlotte on the subject. But her features settled into a scowl of such ferocity that Grace feared she might have won the battle only to lose the war.

  “How did you get Papa to agree, Miss Ellerby?” asked Phoebe as Grace retied her hair ribbons. “He hardly ever changes his mind once he’s made it up.”

  “Indeed?” Grace recalled something his lordship had said during their interview in Reading, about being stubborn. Was that why he had insisted on hiring her in spite of their mutual misgivings—because he had made up his mind and would not—or could not—change it? “I have found him to be a reasonable man who would do almost anything for the benefit of you and your sisters. I simply appealed to his reason and his affection for you.”

  It sounded so easy put that way. Grace recalled it had taken considerable persuasion on her part to overcome considerable reluctance on his. She was not certain which surprised her more—Lord Steadwell’s willingness to reconsider his decision or her forceful insistence that he do so. She had never spoken out like that to any of her previous employers. Why had she risked it with him?

  And what was it about her that had made him change his mind? Certainly she had not employed any feminine wiles, as she’d often seen women use on their husbands. Whatever the cause, Grace could not help feeling rather flattered that she had accomplished a feat few others had attempted and fewer still succeeded.

  “If we don’t get going soon, we’ll be late for church.” Charlotte’s crisp pronouncement crashed upon Grace’s musing, prompting a guilty start.

  It was she who should have been watching the time and hurrying the girls along, not the other way around. In future, she must take care not to let her thoughts wander like that.

  “You are quite right, Charlotte.” She beckoned Phoebe and Sophie toward the door. “Come, girls. We do not want to keep your father waiting.”

  If she hoped her concession would soften Charlotte’s aversion to her, she was mistaken. The girl grasped Sophie by the hand and flounced off, leaving Grace and Phoebe to follow.

  “There you are.” Lord Steadwell tucked away his pocket watch when the four of them came trooping down the stairs. “I thought I might have to attend the service on my own.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir.” Glancing at his lordship over the top of her spectacles, Grace could not help but notice how handsome he looked this morning in a well-cut blue coat that complimented his tall, spare figure and distinguished features. “I shall be more attentive to the time after this.”

  He opened the door to usher her and the girls out. “Do not fret, Miss Ellerby. I realize this was your first Sunday morning getting all three of the girls ready to go out. I am willing to make allowances.”

  “We were ready in plenty of time,” Charlotte grumbled as they walked toward the carriage and climbed in. “At least Sophie and I were. Phoebe made a mess of her ribbons, as usual. Then Miss Ellerby stood there staring off until I reminded her of the time.”

  As Grace settled in the seat beside Phoebe, she braced for Lord Steadwell’s rebuke.

  Instead his lordship cast Charlotte a warm smile as he sat beside her and took Sophie onto his lap. “That was good of you to help Miss Ellerby out.”

  Grace could barely contain a sputter. Did he not realize that assisting her was the furthest thing from his daughter’s mind?

  “Thank you, Papa,” Charlotte replied with feigned sweetness and a triumphant smirk. “You can always rely on me.”

  That much was true, Grace reflected bitterly. They could rely on Charlotte to undermine her authority at every turn and report every mistake she committed.

  * * *

  It seemed his daughters were as divided in their opinions of their new governess as he was. Rupert reflected on that thought as they drove to church.

  Sophie still clearly missed Mademoiselle Audet and clung to Charlotte, who seemed to resent Miss Ellerby’s presence. Would she have felt the same way about anyone he’d hired, or had the new governess done something particular to provoke his daughter’s aversion? Phoebe, however, seemed to have taken a liking to Miss Ellerby after years of giving Mademoiselle nothing but trouble.

  The child sat beside her new governess looking thoroughly pleased with herself and the world. “I want to thank you, Papa. Miss Ellerby told me what you decided about my visiting Jem. I will do everything you asked, I promise. I’ll prove I can be responsible.”

  “I shall be happy if you do.” He now understood what had placed Miss Ellerby in Phoebe’s good graces. But the reason did not trouble him. This was such an agreeable change from the usual rebelliousness of his middle daughter. He only hoped it would last. “I cannot deny I had some reservations. But I thought it was good of you to speak up on Miss Ellerby’s behalf the other evening. That demonstration of character persuaded me you deserve an opportunity to prove yourself further.”

  Phoebe’s eyes glowed with affection, the likes of which she usually reserved for her pony. Since her mother’s death, she and Rupert had been at odds more often than he cared to recall. She was so different from her sisters—so impulsive and willful. He did not love her any less for it. But he feared
for her and felt compelled to protect her from her own recklessness. Had she mistaken that for disapproval or oppression?

  Much as he disliked being wrong, Rupert hoped Phoebe would rise to the occasion and justify Miss Ellerby’s faith in her. For now, he was pleased to enjoy the prospect of renewed closeness with his daughter—a blessing for which he had her governess to thank.

  Rupert stole a brief glance from Phoebe to Miss Ellerby, for he sensed the governess did not like being stared at. He glimpsed a softening in the usual tight severity of her features, similar to her fleeting smile the previous night. Why did she seem to guard against such displays when they made her appearance so much more agreeable?

  He had no time to ponder that puzzle, for just then the carriage pulled up in front of the parish church. “It seems we will not be late after all. The bells have not begun to toll yet.”

  They climbed out of the carriage and headed across the churchyard with Sophie and Charlotte clinging to his hands while Phoebe strode along beside their governess. Rupert bowed and nodded to the neighbors and tenants who greeted him.

  He detected a number of curious, disapproving looks cast in Miss Ellerby’s direction and found himself growing indignant on her behalf. Was that why she projected such a grim, forbidding air—because she was accustomed to people judging her harshly on account of her plainness? Now that she was a member of his household, he could not suppress an urge to defend her, even from the silent censure of his fellow parishioners. Christians, of all people, ought to recall that beauty was vain and favor fleeting.

  “Yoo-hoo, Lord Steadwell!” A breathless feminine voice jarred Rupert from his thoughts.

  He turned to see Mrs. Cadmore and her son hurrying to catch up with his family. The Cadmore estate bordered Nethercross and Rupert had been on cordial terms with its late owner.

  “Good morning.” He bowed. “Why, Henry, I believe you have grown an inch in the past fortnight. Soon you will tower over your mother.”

  “I fear he is outgrowing his strength,” Mrs. Cadmore declared in a tone of anxious fondness. “That is why I cannot think of sending him back to school next term. Speaking of schooling, I see you have found a replacement for your French governess. I always thought there was something altogether too worldly about her. I hope you were able to engage a proper English governess this time.”

  Though Rupert doubted Mademoiselle Audet’s nationality had anything to do with her elopement, he hastened to introduce Miss Ellerby.

  Mrs. Cadmore regarded her with a stiff little smile and a rather critical gaze, but in the end she gave an approving nod. “Welcome to our quiet little corner of the kingdom, my dear. You seem just the sort of person his lordship’s delightful daughters require. If you ever find yourself in need of a woman’s advice on child-rearing, I should be only too happy to assist you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Miss Ellerby murmured.

  “I doubt she will require much help of that nature.” Rupert was not certain what compelled him to speak as if he were defending her. “Miss Ellerby has been teaching children for nearly as long as you and I have been parents.”

  Mrs. Cadmore laughed as if he had made a deliberate jest. “I have no doubt she is well-qualified, but one can scarcely compare the experience of a paid governess with that of a devoted mother.”

  His pretty neighbor seemed prepared to hold forth on the subject at some length. Fortunately, the peal of the church bell summoned them all to worship.

  During brief moments between the various parts of the service, Rupert found his thoughts turning to Barbara Cadmore. Her husband had passed away a little over a year ago, yet she seemed to have put her grief behind her and moved sensibly forward with her life. Part of him envied her peace of mind. A year after Annabelle’s death, the gaping wound in his heart had tormented him even more than in the beginning. Yet, he could not help wondering if his neighbor had recovered much faster from the loss of her husband because she had not cared for him to such a perilous degree.

  Rupert shoved that thought to the back of his mind as the congregation rose for one of his favorite hymns.

  “I sing the mighty power of God, that made the mountains rise.” The familiar words poured out of him. Truth be told, he often felt closer to his Creator when he watched the first green shoots of corn rise from the earth, or listened to the song of a nightingale on a still spring evening, than in this handsome old building of stone and glass. The parts of the Bible that most stirred his soul were those that spoke of the glories of nature.

  As the second verse began, Rupert became aware of a pure, sweet voice trilling the meaningful words of the hymn. As he listened to Miss Ellerby sing, something stirred within him, just like when he heard a nightingale. For a moment it struck him as ironic that such beautiful music should issue from such a drab source. Then again, he reminded himself, it was not the magnificent peacock or the elegant swan that produced the loveliest songs in nature but little brown larks and thrushes.

  That thought made him smile to himself. For a moment, his heart felt whole and lightened in a way it had not for a very long time.

  * * *

  Lord Steadwell had a fine singing voice. Grace secretly admired it as they joined in the hymn. It had a warm, rich depth that lent the words special meaning. Somehow, it drew her closer to him and his daughters, making her feel more a part of the family than she had in any of her previous positions.

  Then the final chords of the hymn died away and that fragile illusion shattered. Phoebe and her father seemed willing to accept Grace, and Sophie might give her a chance…if not for Charlotte. Thinking back over her earlier exchange with Lord Steadwell’s eldest daughter, Grace silently implored the Almighty to give her more patience and help her find a way to gain the child’s respect, if not her affection.

  No brilliant revelation came to her, yet she left the service feeling strengthened and encouraged. As the closing words of the hymn had assured her—everywhere she would be in the coming week, God’s presence would be with her.

  On the way out of the church, Lord Steadwell introduced her to the vicar, who greeted her cordially. “Ellerby? Not by any chance related to the Reverend Jonah Ellerby, late of Witney?”

  “His daughter, sir. Did you know my father?”

  The vicar beamed. “We were at school together. He was a fine man and a most inspiring preacher. His passing was a sad loss for the church and his friends. But it is a pleasure to meet his daughter. I must ask my sister to invite you to tea at the vicarage so we may become better acquainted.”

  A rare sensation of happiness swelled in Grace’s heart. She could imagine few things more agreeable than the opportunity to converse with an old friend of her father’s.

  “Why, thank you, sir!” Grace forgot all about her resolution not to smile in Lord Steadwell’s presence. “I would welcome—”

  “That is very kind of you, Vicar,” his lordship interrupted. “Perhaps once Parliament recesses next summer, Miss Ellerby will not have her hands quite so full with my daughters in my absence.”

  “Yes, of course.” The vicar offered an apologetic smile. “I should have given thought to your duties, Miss Ellerby. When you are less occupied, perhaps.”

  Though she agreed meekly enough, in her heart Grace bristled. Why had his lordship broken in on her conversation in such an imperious manner? Was he trying to imply that one brief visit to the vicarage would interfere with her duties?

  She maintained a frosty silence as they crossed the churchyard, but his lordship appeared not to notice or care that she was vexed with him.

  Most of the other parishioners had departed for home but Mrs. Cadmore and her son lingered at the gate. She was a handsome woman who looked a few years older than Grace, with abundant dark hair elaborately styled. Her lavender-colored pelisse and elegant grey hat suggested that she h
ad recently emerged from the traditional period of mourning. Her son looked a good deal like her.

  Though Mrs. Cadmore had been polite enough, in a rather patronizing way, her manner reminded Grace far too much of her stepmother. She sensed that his lordship’s neighbor only approved of her because she appeared so unattractive. If Grace had attended church that morning without her cap and spectacles and wearing fashionable clothes, she had no doubt Mrs. Cadmore’s response to her would have been very different.

  “Oh, Lord Steadwell.” The lady raised one grey-gloved hand and waggled her fingers in a flirtatious wave. “I had a most delightful idea. Now that you have hired a governess, you should bring your daughters to Dungrove for a visit. I know Henry would be pleased to have some company, wouldn’t you, dear?”

  The boy nodded, though without any great enthusiasm.

  “Can we go, please, Papa?” asked Charlotte.

  Lord Steadwell shook his head. “I’m afraid I must go to London next week and I have a hundred tasks to attend to before then. But Miss Ellerby is welcome to take the girls for a visit whenever you wish.”

  “That would be…delightful.” Mrs. Cadmore sounded no more pleased at the prospect than Grace felt.

  Clearly Lord Steadwell was the guest for whom her invitation had been intended. That notion irritated Grace, though she could not decide why. She had never considered the possibility that his lordship might remarry at some point. Prudence told her such an event would be to her advantage. Yet she was becoming accustomed to serving in a household with no mistress and found it suited her better than she’d expected. Hopefully once Lord Steadwell returned to Parliament, her situation would improve even further. For several days a week, she would have sole charge of the girls. Perhaps that would encourage Charlotte and Sophie to accept her as an inevitable part of their lives.

  Besides, having suffered a most disagreeable stepmother in her youth, she would not wish such a trial upon Lord Steadwell’s daughters.

  Not even Charlotte.