The Baron's Governess Bride Read online

  Chapter Five

  How had the girls fared in his absence? Rupert wondered as he drove home after his first week back in the House of Lords.

  It had been a busy one with a good deal of new legislation pending now that the war was over…if, indeed, it was over. There were disturbing rumors circulating that Bonaparte had slipped away from the island of Elba. How on earth the Royal Navy had permitted that to happen, Rupert could not fathom. What confounded him even more was how few people seemed to regard the news as cause for alarm. He certainly did, though for the moment his thoughts turned to a potential conflict of more intimate scale.

  It had not been easy to bid his daughters goodbye when he departed for London. Sophie had clung to him in tears, begging him not to go, while Charlotte had urged him to take them with him. Only Phoebe seemed resigned to his departure, though she bid him farewell with a more affectionate embrace than she’d given him in quite a while. He hoped Miss Ellerby had not let the child run wild, while being too strict with her sisters. During his last week at Nethercross, the new governess seemed more tight-lipped and steely-eyed than ever.

  Once again Rupert questioned whether it might have been a mistake to choose a governess for his daughters based principally on her being unmarriageable. Recalling how much attention the vicar had paid Miss Ellerby, it seemed he could not even rely upon that. Perhaps it was not romantic interest—the man was old enough to be her father. Yet all the more reason the vicar could not afford to be particular if he was looking for a wife.

  Caution had urged Rupert to discourage any closer acquaintance between the two. If Miss Ellerby needed adult companionship, she would do better to cultivate Mrs. Cadmore, who seemed to have taken a liking to her.

  As he stared out at the darkened countryside, a faint scowl tightened Rupert’s features. The Lords had been late to adjourn and one of the carriage horses had picked up a stone near Slough. The delays had sunk his hope of reaching home in time to see the girls off to bed and hear all the news about their week.

  Of course he could always visit with his daughters tomorrow, but he would have a busy day conferring with his steward about the spring planting and riding out to check on the progress of some improvements he was making to the estate. Part of him envied his fellow peers, who could swan off to London for months at a time, leaving the management of their lands entirely to hirelings. That had never been his family’s practice.

  When his carriage pulled up in front of Nethercross, Rupert could not help glancing toward the nursery windows, even though he knew it was far too late. Perhaps the girls had begged to wait up past their usual bedtime to welcome him home.

  But the nursery windows were dark.

  Rupert stifled a pang of disappointment. Had his daughters doubted he would return home tonight? Had they gone to bed feeling he’d let them down? Dependability was a quality he prized in others and strove to cultivate in himself. It would grieve him if his daughters viewed him otherwise.

  As he climbed out of the carriage and quietly entered the house, a more palatable possibility occurred to him. What if the girls had expected him to return tonight but Miss Ellerby had disregarded their pleas, sending them to bed at the usual hour? That seemed far more likely. The new governess struck him as strict and rigid, without a proper appreciation for the sensitive feelings of children. He would have to speak to her about that. At Nethercross, he expected healthy routine and discipline to be tempered with understanding and kindness.

  Rupert mulled over those thoughts as he climbed the stairs and strode down the dim corridor to the nursery. He would not dream of disturbing his daughters if they were asleep, yet he still felt compelled to look in on them.

  With slow, patient stealth, he let himself into the nursery then stood silent, listening for the tranquil drone of the girls’ breathing to assure him all was well. Instead, the first sound he heard was a sniffle from the direction of Sophie’s bed. It seemed to reach into his chest and give his heart a hard squeeze.

  But before he could fly to her bedside, another sound stopped him.

  It was a low, comforting murmur. “I’m here, Sophie. Everything will be all right. You had a bad dream. I know they can be frightening, but I promise they aren’t real.”

  Could that be the child’s stern governess?

  “It f-felt real,” Sophie’s plaintive whimper made Rupert long to wrap her securely in his arms and never let her go.

  But it sounded as if his daughter was being comforted quite well without him.

  “Perhaps it would help if you tell me about your dream,” Miss Ellerby urged her. “Then you might see that it could not possibly be true.”

  Sophie hesitated a moment then began to speak. Already her voice sounded less tearful—as if the effort to recall her dream helped release her from its dark thrall. “I was exploring the house, looking for everyone, but some of the rooms didn’t belong. What should have been the drawing room looked like the inside of the church and Papa’s study looked like a shop in the village. I didn’t know how they could have got into Nethercross.”

  “They couldn’t, could they?” Miss Ellerby sounded nothing like he had ever heard her before…except when she’d sung hymns on Sundays. “That means none of it could be real.”

  “I called for Mamzell and Papa,” Sophie continued. “I thought I heard their voices behind the doors. But when I opened them, the rooms were always empty.”

  He’d had a dream like that. As Rupert listened to what Sophie told her governess, the frustration and disappointment came flooding back to overwhelm him. Wandering through an empty house searching in vain for Annabelle, sometimes he caught a tantalizing whisper of her voice from behind a closed door. But when he opened it, she would always be gone save for a distant echo of footsteps to beckon him on.

  “That must have frightened you.” Miss Ellerby’s voice held a note of deep understanding, as if she too had been lost in that baffling, lonely dream. “No one wants to be all alone without the people we love.”

  Again he sensed Miss Ellerby spoke from painful experience. She was all alone in the world and had been for many years. How old had she been when she lost her parents—Charlotte’s age? Sophie’s? Hard as it had been to endure his own bereavement, the loss had been compounded by his daughters’ grief for their mother. Rupert had faith enough not to fear death on his own account. But he could not bear the thought of leaving his girls orphaned. Even then, at least they would have each other. Grace Ellerby had no one.

  Was it any wonder she seemed so secretive and solitary? Perhaps she was afraid to let anyone too close for fear of losing them. He could understand that self-protective instinct all too well. A pang of regret nagged at him when he recalled discouraging her from visiting the vicarage.

  “But you are not alone, Sophie,” Miss Ellerby crooned. Rupert could vaguely make out her shape, hovering over his daughter, perhaps smoothing back her hair or caressing her cheek. “Your father will soon be home. Charlotte and Phoebe are asleep nearby and I am right here with you. I will stay for as long as you need me.”

  “You will?” Sophie sniffled again. “Mamzell used to get cross with me when I woke her in the night.”

  “I doubt she was truly angry with you,” Miss Ellerby assured the child. “Some people get out of sorts when they’re woken suddenly.”

  “Do you?”

  “Sometimes. But not tonight and not ever when you need me. Now would you like to hear what I do to help me get back to sleep after I’ve had a bad dream?”

  Sophie must have nodded because her governess continued, “I close my eyes and imagine myself back in my dream. Only this time, I am still a little awake, so I can make it come out the way I choose.”

  “You can?” His daughter sounded doubtful. Rupert could not blame her. “But I don’t want to go back to that dream.”r />
  “I know, but if you try, I promise it will make you feel much better. Just listen to my voice and picture what I tell you. I’m certain you can because you are very good at imagining. Think of it like one of your Mother Goose tales. Only this time, the story is about you instead of Cinderella or Puss in Boots.”

  “All right,” Sophie murmured after a hesitant pause. “I’ll try.”

  “Brave girl.” The reassuring fondness in Miss Ellerby’s voice made Rupert smile to himself in the darkness.

  “Now picture yourself in one of those rooms. Which one will you choose?”

  Sophie thought for a moment. “The music room. I’m outside the door and someone is playing the pianoforte. It’s a piece Mamzell used to play. But when I open the door, no one is there.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself now. You are just outside the music room and you hear someone playing. You don’t barge in. You knock politely and wait a moment.”

  “All right. I’ve knocked.”

  “Very good.” A suppressed chuckle bubbled beneath Miss Ellerby’s reply. “Now the pianoforte goes quiet and you hear footsteps coming toward the door. Can you hear them?”

  “I think so.” Sophie ended her answer with a yawn.

  Might her governess’s unorthodox idea actually help Sophie get back to sleep?

  “Are they light, graceful footsteps like Charlotte’s or running steps like Phoebe’s or—”

  “They’re Papa’s steps,” Sophie sounded surprised at the details her imagination could produce. “Heavier than the girls but still quiet and not too fast.”

  That was his accustomed tread, Rupert realized—measured and muted.

  “Excellent.” Miss Ellerby’s voice grew quieter. “Listen to the footsteps. They’re coming closer. Now the door swings open and there is your Papa, looking very handsome in his blue coat and black breeches.”

  The lady considered him handsome? Rupert stood a little taller and his chest expanded.

  “He smiles at you,” Miss Ellerby continued, “and his dark eyes sparkle. He holds out his hand and says, Sophie, thank goodness you are here at last. I was about to come looking for you. We are having a little concert and you are the guest of honor.”

  “I am?” Sophie asked in a drowsy murmur. Rupert sensed she was speaking to her vision of him.

  “But of course.” Miss Ellerby provided his answer. “Come in and sit on my lap and listen to the music. Afterward we will retire to the dining room for cake and punch.”

  “Will Miss Ella sing, too?” asked Sophie. She sounded half asleep.

  “Would you like her to?” The governess inquired, so softly Rupert had to strain to catch her words. Did he detect a catch of emotion in her voice?

  “Oh, yes.” Sophie yawned again. “I like her singing.”

  “Then we must send for her to join us. Phoebe, go fetch Miss Ellerby. Sophie wishes to hear her sing.” When the governess spoke for him, Rupert fancied he could hear the words in his own voice.

  “You take your Papa’s hand and step into the music room. Mademoiselle smiles at you from the pianoforte and begins to play your favorite tune.” As she described the scene, Miss Ellerby’s voice grew quieter and quieter until Rupert could no longer make out her words. Soon, even the low murmur of her voice died away. He had no doubt Sophie must have gone back to sleep.

  Miss Ellerby’s idea seemed to have worked perfectly. Who would have thought the lady had such a capacity for comfort and nurturing?

  Not he, Rupert acknowledged to his chagrin. Instead, he had done precisely what he’d cautioned Charlotte against—judging her governess based on appearances. After tonight, he doubted he would ever look at Miss Ellerby in quite the same way again.

  * * *

  Had she won Sophie over? As Grace perched on the edge of the child’s bed listening to her peaceful breathing, she hoped the process had begun at least. The fact that Sophie had wanted to include her in the dream with her family boded well.

  Grace shivered and yawned. Now that her small charge had fallen back to sleep, it was time she returned to her bed and tried to get some rest. But something made her linger near the sleeping child, savoring the memory of holding Sophie in her arms. Even as it helped to fill a void within her heart, it reminded her that such emptiness existed—something she had tried very hard to deny.

  With the latest upheaval in her life it had been a great while since she’d heard from any of her friends. She had begun writing to them all with news of her new position and where they could reach her, but it was still too soon to expect answers. Now she yearned for any scrap of news of their doings or fond greetings to let her know they still cared about her after so many years apart.

  Gingerly, so as not to disturb her young pupil’s rest, Grace dropped a whisper-light kiss on Sophie’s forehead. Then she rose quietly from her perch to steal back to her own bed. She had only gone a few steps when a large, dark form reared up from the shadows in her path.

  A strangled scream caught in her throat as she jumped back.

  The form started, too, and issued an urgent whisper. “Forgive me, Miss Ellerby! I did not mean to give you a fright.”

  Whether he’d meant to or not, that was what Lord Steadwell had done. Grace’s heart beat at such a wild gallop that she feared it would run away with her. She gasped in shallow snatches of air that never seemed to be enough. She could spare no breath to speak, which was just as well perhaps, for she feared what words might spurt out.

  His lordship seemed to feel obliged to fill the silence. “I just returned from London and wanted to check that all was well with the girls. I should have made my presence known right away, but I was afraid it would only prevent you from getting Sophie back to sleep.”

  It probably would have done, Grace was forced to admit as her jangling nerves began to settle.

  “I regret giving you such a shock. Are you feeling faint?” He must be thinking of their interview at the coffeehouse in Reading. His hand reached out of the darkness, brushed against her arm and latched onto it. “Perhaps you should come downstairs and I will fetch a cup of warm milk to soothe your nerves.”

  Go downstairs into the light, where he would see her without her spectacles, cap or any of her usual defenses? Perilous as that might be at any time, Grace could least afford to let it happen at this dark hour, in her vulnerable state of undress. “No! Er…thank you, sir. That will not be necessary. I am in no danger…of fainting, I assure you.”

  As she forced out those words in a breathless whisper, Grace wrenched her arm from his grasp and stumbled back. Some foolish part of her resisted the necessity of breaking contact with him so abruptly. His touch had not felt the least bit threatening, only concerned and protective. And she had responded to it with something more than panic.

  “You do not sound well,” his lordship countered. “You sound frightened half out of your wits, for which I am to blame. Please tell me what I can do to atone.”

  “Nothing, sir. I mean…it is not necessary.” She had recovered her breath at last and her heart had slowed to something approaching its usual beat.

  Yet her senses all seemed heightened. Even in the darkness she could pick out the contours of Lord Steadwell’s profile. Her ears caught his every breath and her arm tingled with the memory of his touch.

  “I know you did not intend to frighten me. I should have heard you come in, but I was so preoccupied with Sophie…”

  “You were indeed.” His approving tone promised to satisfy a longing within her if she would let it. “And a fine job you did getting her settled. The next time I wake from a bad dream, I must try your trick of going back and making it come out better.”

  “You have bad dreams?” Grace was not certain why that should come as such a surprise. Did she assume because men had so much
more power and choice in their lives that they could never fall prey to baffling, baseless fears?

  “I wish I did not, but I do,” he admitted. “That dream of Sophie’s is all too familiar to me. I roam through this house, searching for what I have lost and can never recover.”

  The edge of that loss was sharp in his voice. He must have loved his late wife very much to still miss her so keenly. Though that knowledge made Grace feel safer in his company, it also troubled her vaguely.

  As flustered by the intimate tenor of their exchange as she had been by his touch, Grace did not know how to reply. Part of her wanted to change the subject—to inquire how his first week back in London had gone. To her surprise, his absence was not as much of a relief as she’d expected. More than once during the week, she’d found herself listening for his footsteps in the hallway at the girls’ bedtime. Now, in spite of the fright he’d given her, she was glad to have him home…for his daughters’ sake, of course. They had missed their father and that feeling seemed to be contagious.

  But duty and caution prevented her from indulging in a late-night chat with his lordship that might risk waking his sleeping daughters. “The girls will be very happy to see you tomorrow, sir. Now, if you will excuse me, I must retire for the night.”

  “Of course, Miss Ellerby. I did not mean to detain you. I hope your dreams will be as pleasant as the ones you helped Sophie to.”

  He backed away, leaving Grace room to get past him and make her way to her adjoining chamber. Once there, she shut the door quietly behind her and debated whether to bolt it. In the end she decided not to. She was satisfied Lord Steadwell had no interest of that kind in his daughters’ drab, aloof governess. Even if he’d managed to see through her disguise, she was beginning to trust that he would not do anything dishonorable.

  * * *

  What was it about Miss Ellerby that made him feel free to talk about Annabelle? When he woke the next morning after a surprisingly refreshing sleep Rupert reflected on their whispered conversation. Could it be because she was a stranger who had never known his late wife? Or was it his sense that she had experienced deep loss in her own life and might understand the feelings that often puzzled him as much as they hurt?