The Baron's Governess Bride (12 page)

Well, that was better. At least she recognized his resolve. “Then let us waste no more time in fruitless argument.”

“I wish I could oblige you.” Her mouth settled into a stubborn line. “But I promised the girls I would try and I must keep my promise.”

Hang it all! Mousy Miss Ellerby was nearly as stubborn as he. “Let us get it over with, then. What objections do my daughters have to my marrying Mrs. Cadmore?”

“First perhaps you could explain why you want to make the lady your wife.”

“I do not need to justify my decision to my daughters,” he snapped, “and certainly not to you, Miss Ellerby.”

She shrank back in her chair, making Rupert regret his harsh tone. She was only doing what his daughters had bidden her, after all. “I do not feel entitled to an explanation, sir. But surely your children deserve one. Perhaps if they understand your reasons, they might become reconciled to the idea in time.”

When she put the matter that way, it seemed unreasonable to refuse. “It is not a decision I made lightly. Nor have I considered only my own interests—but those of everyone involved.”

“I would never take you for a selfish man, sir.”

Somehow that meant a great deal to him. “If I had only myself to consider, I would be content to remain a widower to the end of my days.”

Miss Ellerby’s pale brows kit together. “Then why…?”

“Because my daughters need a mother, for one thing.”

When he saw the look of hurt that gripped her features, Rupert hastened to add, “You have done an excellent job with the girls—better than I ever hoped. But they will not remain this age forever. When the time comes for Charlotte to make her debut or Phoebe to give up her pony in favor of a young gentleman, those situations will require something more than even the best governess can provide.”

Miss Ellerby opened her mouth to contradict him, then seemed to acknowledge the truth of what he’d said by shutting it again.

Rupert took advantage of her silence to continue. “There is also the question of who would care for the girls if something were to happen to me before they come of age. They have godparents, of course, but that might make it necessary to split them up.”

“And you think a stepmother would be any better?” The question burst from Miss Ellerby’s lips.

“I do,” he replied. “Otherwise I would not think of remarrying. Finally, there is the matter of Nethercross and what will become of it when I am gone. Unless I have a son to succeed me, the heir to my title and this estate would be a feckless cousin. I would not trust him with anything of value.”

“Oh.” That appeared to be the only reply Miss Ellerby was capable of making just then.

Had he shocked her speechless with his indelicate reference to expanding his family?

After an awkward silence, the governess recovered her voice. “Are those your only reasons for wanting to marry Mrs. Cadmore?”

“Are they not sufficient?” Rupert demanded. “What more do you want?”

“Only the most important reason of all—that you care for the lady and want to share your life with her. Your daughters do not believe you are in love with Mrs. Cadmore and I have seen nothing to suggest otherwise.”

In love with…? The very notion sent a cold trickle of fear slithering down his back. It provoked him to lash out.

“Are you so knowledgeable about being in love that you can recognize its absence? I would not have supposed you knew any more about the subject than my daughters. Have you ever been in love to speak from experience?”

It was not the sort of question a gentleman should ask a lady, but Rupert could not help himself. Besides, now that it was out, he found himself more than usually curious about her answer.

The red spots in Miss Ellerby’s cheeks expanded until her whole face looked badly sunburnt. She hung her head. “I am no expert in matters of the heart, sir. I did fancy myself in love once, but now I am not certain I truly was.”

Her reply surprised Rupert. It had not occurred to him that a woman like her had ever known the stirrings of love. Perhaps it had not occurred to the man she’d cared for, either. Which made them a pair of fools, Rupert acknowledged to his chagrin. Just because Grace Ellerby was no beauty did not mean her heart was incapable of beautiful feelings. He should know, for he had seen and heard the tenderness she lavished upon his children.

Was that the reason she behaved so guardedly—because her tender heart had been injured by a man who judged her too plain and poor to entertain feelings for him?

Before Rupert could summon the words to apologize for jumping to that same conclusion, Miss Ellerby raised her head to skewer him with a challenging glare. “Perhaps I was mistaken in my ignorance, Lord Steadwell.
Are
you in love with Mrs. Cadmore after all?”

* * *

Was
Lord Steadwell in love with the woman he intended to court and marry? Grace wondered what had made her press him on such an intrusive question.

“My feelings toward Mrs. Cadmore are no business of yours or anyone else’s,” he replied at last. “But since you insist on knowing—no, I am not ‘in love’ with Barbara Cadmore.”

His brutal candor surprised Grace. Yet part of her greeted his response with a flicker of relief.

“However,” he continued, “I find the lady attractive and compatible, which is sufficient for me, as I believe it will be for her. We are not a pair of sentimental youngsters seeking the sort of endless romantic idyll in one of Sophie’s Mother Goose tales. We both have children and property and responsibilities to consider ahead of our feelings. I have known love and discovered the high toll it exacts when lost. Even if I believed it were possible for me to recapture that kind of feeling, I would not care to try. I have no desire to plumb that depth of grief again. I doubt Mrs. Cadmore does, either.”

A brief quiver of doubt in his eyes made Grace wonder what part of all that he did not truly believe. Much as it troubled her to hear him renounce love once and for all, she could understand his reasons. Had she not vowed to protect her heart from further injury after Captain Townsend had broken it?

Grace recalled the torment she’d suffered as if it were only yesterday. The engaging brother of her very first employer had spent one winter at his sister’s home recovering from a wound he’d received while fighting in Spain. Fresh out of school and desperately lonely, she had been flattered by the gallant captain’s admiration. Like a naive little fool, she had allowed herself to dream of a future with him—that endless romantic idyll at which Lord Steadwell had sneered.

Only when the captain tried to tempt her into a dishonorable connection had she understood that he did not share her feelings. He’d scarcely regarded her as a person at all, only a pretty bauble to amuse him until he wed a lady of sufficient fortune to keep him in comfort. After that, she had never felt anything but fear and loathing of the men who had pursued her.

Grace stirred from her painful musing to find Lord Steadwell staring at her in expectant silence. Did her face betray as much of her feelings as his had a few moments ago?

“Well?” he prompted her. “Do you not intend to argue me out of my decision?”

Of course she did, though she now realized it would be even more difficult than she’d first believed. She owed it to his daughters to do everything in her power to keep him from making a mistake for which they might all pay dearly.

“I beg your pardon, sir. But what you said reminded me of another man who wed a woman he did not love for similar reasons.”

“Who are you talking about?” his lordship demanded. “I assume his second marriage did not turn out well.”

Grace gave a rueful nod. “The man was my father. A few years after my mother died he married a lady of some fortune, the better to provide for me.”

She forced the words past a barrier of long-standing reluctance to speak about the events of her childhood. Having recently told Charlotte about some of her experiences at school, she found it easier to confide in his lordship that she had expected.

“I sympathize with your father’s motives.” Lord Steadwell’s tone seemed to question why Grace could not do the same.

“I know he meant well, as you do. Nevertheless, that marriage was a mistake. Our home was not a happy one. When I quarreled with my stepmother’s children, she and Papa each took the part of their own offspring. Papa tried to hide his unhappiness and pretend all was well. To make up for my stepmother’s coldness, he doted on me, which only vexed her and made the situation worse.”

Was the cautionary tale of her childhood giving his lordship second thoughts? If so, perhaps it would be worth the heartache that had crawled out of some dark cupboard to gnaw at her again. “I believe the strain of all that frustration and regret was what made him ill. When he died, I was left at the mercy of my stepmother.”

Her voice broke as stinging tears welled up in her eyes.

Old feelings trampled her heart in their fierce delight at being set free. She might have been able to subdue them if she’d believed her painful confession was having the desired result. Instead, she feared his lordship would not be swayed from his decision, no matter how much he pitied her past troubles. Futility threatened to overwhelm her.

Grace bowed her head and raised her hand to her brow. She was concentrating so hard to keep from breaking down that she scarcely noticed Lord Steadwell moving toward her. Suddenly he knelt beside her chair, pressing a handkerchief into her hand.

She started and shrank from him. But besides the usual flare of panic at having a man so dangerously near, Grace also experienced an unaccustomed yearning.

Chapter Ten

H
e could not bear to see Miss Ellerby so upset.

The sight of her hunched over, fighting back tears, tore at Rupert with an intense mixture of pity, helplessness and a jagged shard of guilt. It was his fault she had felt compelled to dredge up all those wrenching memories.

He ached to comfort her, but the nature of their connection made that improper, even if she had not cowered from his sudden approach.

“Do not fret,” he pleaded, offering her a handkerchief. “I am sorry for all you suffered during your youth.”

“You need not pity me!” She snatched the handkerchief from him and tipped up her spectacles to press the cloth to her eyes. “Save your pity for your children if you go ahead with your plan to remarry.”

Deeply as her distress moved him, Rupert refused to believe Barbara Cadmore would behave toward his daughters as Grace Ellerby’s stepmother had toward her. Mrs. Cadmore was a devoted mother to her son as she surely would be to his girls and any future children. It was one of the qualities that had most recommended her to him. Besides, he had no intention of letting any harm come to him until his daughters were grown and he had sired a son to carry on at Nethercross.

Perhaps sensing his resistance, Miss Ellerby gathered her composure and continued. “My father was barely in his grave before my stepmother shipped me off to the Pendergast School. It is a wonder I did not die from grief and homesickness and the wretched conditions there.”

As she told him about the scarce, bad food; the cold and dampness; the harsh teachers and bullying older girls, Rupert’s jaw tensed and his face began to burn. He wished he could go back and whisk her away from that miserable institution. At the same time, he could not help admiring the strength with which she had carried on in the face of such unrelenting adversity. That must have been when she had developed her severe facade to protect the wounded child beneath. Yet everything she’d endured seemed only to have strengthened her character and faith.

“Did you never blame God for what happened to you?” he asked when she finished speaking and slumped in the chair, spent from the effort it had cost her. “Did you never feel He had abandoned you?”

It was an intrusive question, but he knew she might never be willing to confide in him so fully again. And he had an urgent need to hear her answer.

She thought for a moment, perhaps searching her heart for the feelings he had mentioned. Then Grace Ellerby shook her head. “Faith and friendship were all that sustained me during those dark days. I took great comfort from the certainty that our Heavenly Father does not judge by outward appearances, as others do, but can see past that to beauty of the spirit.”

Rupert did not believe she was referring to him when she spoke of people judging by appearance. Yet his conscience troubled him for failing to look deeper to the strong, fine woman she was at heart. He reminded himself that if it were not for her drab appearance, he might never have brought her into his home and permitted the comradeship between them to grow as close as it had. That would have been a grave misfortune for him and for his daughters.

Seeing him grow so thoughtful must have given Miss Ellerby hope. “Has hearing of my experiences persuaded you to reconsider your decision, sir?”

Much as he hated to disappoint her, Rupert could not deceive her. “I am sorry that you have distressed yourself in vain, but I am as determined as ever to proceed with my plans.”

After all she had put herself through, Miss Ellerby deserved an explanation. “You must see that my daughters’ situation is quite different from yours. I believe the potential benefits of my remarriage, to them and to Nethercross, outweigh any risk.”

He spoke in a firm tone to assure her of his resolve in the matter. The sooner she accepted the inevitable, the better it would be for his daughters. At the same time, he strove to infuse his words with warmth so she would know he did not resent her for making the effort.

“I appreciate that you want to protect my daughters from what you consider a threat. But I believe the kindest service you can do is to help them understand why I must remarry and urge them to accept it. Can I rely on you to do that, for their sake and for mine?”

“I will try, sir.” A faint sigh escaped her. “That is the best I can promise you.”

Rupert patted her hand, which had come to rest on the arm of the chair. “That will be good enough for me.”

Would it, though? He sensed that Miss Ellerby was still not convinced he was doing the right thing. He feared that when it came to his daughters’ well-being, their unassuming governess might be almost as stubborn as he.

* * *

“Can you try speaking to Papa again, Miss Ella?” Charlotte pleaded as she and her sisters practiced sketching in the garden on a sunny afternoon late in May.

“He’s been to visit her every week since the end of April.” Phoebe frowned at her sketching pad. “If we don’t put a stop to it soon, I’m afraid he will propose to her. Then there will be nothing we can do.”

Grace gave a rueful shrug. “I would try if I thought it might do any good. But you know better than I, your father can be a very stubborn man. Especially when he believes he is acting in the best interests of those he loves.”

She had kept her promise to his lordship by explaining his reasons for wanting to remarry and trying to persuade the girls to accept the situation. But they seemed no more inclined to heed her than their father was. It could not help that they seemed to sense her misgivings.

“If he won’t listen to you, then we must take drastic action,” said Charlotte.

“I know!” said Phoebe. “Why don’t we invite Mrs. Cadmore to Nethercross while Papa is in London and behave abominably? We could run about and pretend to quarrel at the top of our lungs. Then she won’t want to marry Papa and have to live with us.”

“We could throw food at teatime,” suggested Sophie, entering into the spirit of her sister’s plan, “and slide down the stairs on a big silver tray. I’ve always wanted to do that!”

“No!” Grace burst out before Charlotte could suggest further misbehavior. “You must not think of such a thing! Your father would be very cross with you when he learned what you had done. And you do not want to prejudice Mrs. Cadmore against you in case she does become your stepmother. She could make your lives quite miserable.”

“Let her try,” grumbled Charlotte. “Papa would not allow it.”

“If she stayed at Nethercross through the week while he went to London, you would be at her mercy for five days out of seven.”

Sophie dropped her sketching pencil and ran to Grace. “You won’t let her be cruel to us, will you, Miss Ella?”

It had taken weeks to persuade the child that her future stepmother would not force her to sweep the cinders and sleep in the cellar.

“Of course not.” Grace caught Sophie in a comforting embrace. “But if you behave as badly as you plan, she might persuade you father to dismiss me because I’d let you run wild.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. If we must have a stepmother, we do not want to lose you, Miss Ella.” Phoebe’s features clenched in a look of intense concentration, then after a moment she snapped her fingers. “I know! What if we tell Mrs. Cadmore that Papa drinks a great deal of brandy? I heard our cook tell Bessie no sensible woman would marry a man who drinks.”

Charlotte shook her head. “I can’t tell such lies about Papa.”

Phoebe crumpled onto the grass. “What
can
we do then?”

“We have to keep thinking,” Charlotte tried to encourage her.

“In the meantime,” suggested Grace, “you might as well put your sketching materials away. It does not appear to be holding your interest. Perhaps a game of pall mall would suit you better.”

The girls could take out their frustration on wooden balls with their mallets. It might be less hazardous than Phoebe’s schemes to disrupt her father’s courtship.

A short while later, Grace sat in the shade of a towering old elm tree, watching the girls play. On her lap lay a letter which had arrived that morning from her friend Rebecca. She was still trying to digest the astonishing news it contained.

Rebecca was engaged to be married. And her betrothed was not a humble clerk or curate to which a penniless governess might aspire but a wealthy viscount! The last Grace had heard from her friend, Viscount Benedict had been trying to break an engagement between his half brother and the young lady Rebecca served as companion. Though Grace had suspected her friend liked the gentleman far better than she would admit, it had never occurred to her their acquaintance might blossom into a romantic attachment.

Rebecca deserved all the happiness and security such a fine match would provide for she was one of the kindest, most loyal souls Grace had ever known. She also had the proper background to be the wife of a peer, for she came from aristocratic stock on her mother’s side. Still it was a long way from the Pendergast School to a viscount’s mansion.

“We have set the date for the final week of June,” Rebecca wrote in her familiar neat hand. “It would make me so very happy if you could come to the wedding. I long to see you and our other school friends again.”

Much as Grace wished she could go to the Cotswolds to attend Rebecca’s wedding, and perhaps visit with some of their other friends, she feared it would be impossible. With their father’s courtship moving relentlessly toward a betrothal, her young pupils needed her more than ever to keep their spirits up and prevent them from taking any reckless action to keep his lordship from marrying Mrs. Cadmore.

As she pictured herself in the Cotswold church watching Rebecca’s nuptials, Grace found her daydream changing until the bride looked like Mrs. Cadmore and the groom like Lord Steadwell. The imagined sight provoked an intense pang. That must be on account of what such a marriage would mean for her dear pupils…mustn’t it? Somehow the sensation felt even more personal and painful than that.

It couldn’t be! Surely not! Grace struggled to catch her breath, which that alarming possibility had snatched away. What she felt for Lord Steadwell could
not
be that perilous emotion she refused to name, even in the privacy of her own thoughts. It was nothing like the thrilling romantic fancy she’d once conceived for Captain Townsend.

Upon the stern inquisition of her conscience, Grace had to admit her feelings toward Lord Steadwell ran deeper than those she’d once had for the charming, dishonorable captain. What started out as wariness and fear had mellowed into gratitude, admiration and eventually trust. Because those feelings had ripened so slowly from such an unpromising beginning, she had only dimly suspected they might be straying in a dangerous direction.

Was it too late to root them out, like weeds that threatened to grow into pernicious vines, capable of twining around her heart and strangling it? She must try, for the consequences of permitting them to flourish did not bear thinking of.

For so many reasons, the baron could never return her feelings. Even if their backgrounds and positions were not impossibly far apart, he had told her in plain terms that he wanted nothing more to do with love. His heart still belonged to his late wife and he refused to risk it again. He had decided to select a wife with his stubborn head rather than with his wounded, wary heart.

Grace had experienced the pain of rejection before—by a man who wanted her favors but not her love. Then at least she had been able to go away and start afresh in a place where she’d been in no danger of encountering the object of her affections. Now, she had come to love Nethercross and the baron’s daughters too much to desert them when they needed her most. Unless she wanted to suffer the secret torment of living in the same house as the man she cared for when he belonged to another woman, she would have no choice but to root out these improper feelings for her master.

But first she must take up her pen and write a tactful letter of congratulations to Rebecca, with regrets that she could not attend the wedding.

* * *

If Grace Ellerby presumed she could make him give up his marriage plans simply by acting cool toward him, she was in for an unpleasant surprise.

As Rupert neared home one day in late June, he strove to keep his mind on more pleasant matters, like the excellent news he was eager to share with his family. Somehow, thoughts of his daughters’ governess kept intruding. That was quite the opposite of how the lady herself behaved toward him of late. Though she still maintained a polite, professional manner toward him, Miss Ellerby managed to convey the sense that a barrier had risen between them.

When he joined her and his daughters for dinner in the nursery on Fridays, she made every effort to smooth over any awkwardness between him and the girls. Yet once the children had been put to bed for the night, she always had some excuse not to go out for a stroll with him or to discuss how his daughters had got on that week. It came as an unsettling surprise to Rupert how much he missed those innocent conversations.

Surely once he was wed Miss Ellerby would realize his marriage was not the sort of disaster she anticipated. She and the children would adapt to the new situation and she would warm to him again…so far as she was able. In the meantime, he tried not to resent her behavior toward him and her disapproval of his plans. He knew they both sprang from her concern for his daughters. Misplaced though that concern might be, it still touched him.