The Baron's Governess Bride (21 page)

The child was in particularly high spirits that evening because Grace had allowed her to wear her hair up. Nearing her fourteenth birthday, she looked quite the young lady.

They were all growing up, Grace acknowledged, stifling a sigh. Even little Sophie had sprouted a full inch since last winter. The time was slipping by happily but all too quickly. That was a bitter dram in her overflowing cup of happiness. One by one the girls would grow up and leave for homes of their own.

Then she would have to depart Nethercross, too. And Rupert would be left all alone.

Would he take the opportunity to remarry then? Grace wondered as she and Charlotte threw open the doors. That thought brought her a pang, though she told herself it was selfish to wish him lonely. Even in the company of his daughters and her of late she sensed an air of loneliness that he took care to hide from the girls. Had he mistaken his feelings for Mrs. Cadmore? Were they deeper than he had realized…until it was too late?

“Now you can open your eyes, Papa!” Sophie fairly vibrated with excitement, her red-gold curls bouncing around her glowing face.

“What do you think, Papa?” asked Phoebe, in a voice that betrayed her pride in their efforts.

His lordship’s gaze swept the interior of the old building, taking in the bright swaths of bunting, the sheaves of corn and barrels of apples tied up with vibrant lengths of ribbon. Baskets of colorful vegetables studded the trestle tables, trimmed with golden autumn leaves and fat brown acorns. Candles and torches cast a warm, welcoming glow over the scene of rustic plenty.

“Think?” Rupert beamed. “Why, I think it puts Almack’s fussy assembly rooms to shame! It will be the talk of the county to be sure!”

He wrapped his arms around his younger daughters in a proud embrace, then Charlotte.

Caught up in the joyful moment, he turned toward Grace and seemed about to embrace her too. At the last instant he caught himself and only clapped her on the shoulder. “Well done, Miss Ellerby! You quite amaze me.”

“Thank you, sir.” Grace felt as if tiny torches had begun to burn in her cheeks. Her shoulder tingled at his touch, so different from the tentative brush of their fingers at the masquerade. “The girls all worked very hard. Charlotte has a fine eye for decorating.”

She would have liked to remain there basking in his admiration, but they were quickly overwhelmed by a flood of guests eager to take advantage of his lordship’s hospitality. While the girls and their father gathered at the entryway to greet their guests, Grace retreated into the shadows, the better to go unnoticed by any men. It also provided an ideal vantage for her to gaze at Rupert all she liked.

Her scrutiny intensified when Mrs. Cadmore arrived in the company of a ruddy, robust gentleman who she introduced as Admiral DeLancey, newly retired from the Royal Navy. Rupert shook hands with the admiral and professed himself delighted to welcome any particular friend of his good neighbor. Yet Grace thought she glimpsed a hint of wistful longing beneath his cordial greeting. She could not be certain, however, for at that moment he cast a glance in her direction. Hurriedly she looked away, not wanting to be caught staring at him.

When the feast commenced, the girls insisted Grace must join them and their father at the head table with the vicar and his sister and the local magistrate’s family. Cook and her helpers had outdone themselves with a fine feast—great joints of beef and lamb, game pies, succulent sausages and roast potatoes, all washed down with cider from the Nethercross orchards. But Grace’s appetite could not do any of it justice. The more she dwelled upon Rupert’s recent demeanor, the more she feared he might be pining for his lost chance at happiness with Mrs. Cadmore.

If so, she was responsible for his unhappiness. Had she truly tried to keep them apart for the sake of the children—or as Phoebe had suggested, because she wanted him all to herself, if only as governess of his motherless daughters? Had Rupert been right in believing the girls would have accepted his remarriage if she had encouraged them rather than poisoning their minds against
wicked stepmothers?

After everyone had eaten and drunk their fill, the floor was cleared and a group of local musicians struck up their pipes and fiddles for a lively evening of country dancing. The girls were excited to have their father’s permission to stay up long past their bedtime. Unlike the night of Lady Maidenhead’s elegant masquerade, Rupert took an active part in the dancing, drawing partners from among his tenants’ wives, the vicar’s sister and Mrs. Cadmore.

When the vicar invited Grace to dance, she was about to decline out of habit, then realized she had nothing to fear from a man of the cloth on such an occasion. She enjoyed the opportunity to dance more than she ever expected. It diverted her thoughts from regrets about her actions and the growing conviction that she did not deserve any of the blessings she now enjoyed. Once the ice was broken, she accepted an invitation from Rupert’s valet, then the admiral.

She was about to sit out the next set when a familiar voice from behind made her heart beat wildly. “Would you do me the honor of a dance, Miss Ellerby?”

“L-Lord Steadwell,” her voice emerged in a nervous squeak. “I did not think you cared for dancing.”

Immediately she chided herself for referring to their encounter on the night of the masquerade. That was best forgotten…if only she could. She also hoped Rupert would not take her reply as a refusal to dance with him. The prospect of being his partner, even for one brief dance, delighted her.

To her relief, Rupert gave a low chuckle. “As I believe I mentioned, I have no objection to socializing in small numbers and more familiar surroundings. I also enjoy less formality.”

Perhaps he was only asking her because he felt it was his duty as host to dance with as many of the ladies as possible. Yet a flicker of eagerness in his dark eyes suggested something more.

She acknowledged his invitation with a curtsy. “In that case, I should be pleased to accept, sir.”

“Capital.” He offered her his hand and they hurried to take their places as the music commenced.

Until now the musicians had played lively tunes with quick tempo, well suited to the high spirits of the guests and the rustic setting. But the melody for this dance was slower with a faintly wistful air. The steps were an easy succession of siding, back to back and turning, with the head couple gradually moving down the line of dancers. Grace particularly enjoyed the turn, when she and Rupert joined both hands and circled with a skipping step. Every time they came to that figure, her heart seemed to skip along with her feet. When the music faded at last, she made her final curtsy with a pang of regret that it could not have gone on longer.

At that moment Mrs. Cadmore and the admiral passed by conversing in a flirtatious tone. Rupert’s smile faltered and he excused himself abruptly to seek out the next partner on his duty list. Grace was soon besieged with invitations but declined them all with the excuse that she must keep watch on the girls, all three of whom were enjoying the festivities immensely.

Sophie raced around the edge of the dance floor in some sort of game with a few of the tenants’ children. Meanwhile Charlotte was dancing with Henry Cadmore and Phoebe with her old nemesis, Peter the stable boy. As she watched them, Grace sipped cider and tapped her toes to the music, often scanning the crowd for a glimpse of their father. All evening the baron kept up a convivial facade. But every now and then his crisp features would settle into an expression of restless sadness. Whenever she glimpsed that look, it brought Grace a sharp pang.

As the evening wore on, Sophie came and snuggled on Grace’s lap. Later Phoebe sat down beside them.

“I believe Sophie has gone to sleep, Miss Ella.” The child yawned and rested her head against Grace’s arm.

“So she has,” Grace murmured. “And so will you soon, I expect. I wish I’d thought to take her back to the nursery while she was capable of walking on her own. She is too heavy for me to carry all that way but I fear she will put up a fuss if I wake her now.”

“Give her to me, then.”

Grace gave a start when the children’s father appeared, as if summoned by her need for assistance. A sleepy-looking Charlotte followed him.

“I know it is far past their bedtime,” he continued in an apologetic tone, holding out his arms to receive his youngest daughter. “But they all seemed to be enjoying themselves so much.”

“An occasional late night should not do the girls any harm.” Grace hoisted Sophie into her father’s arms with a faint pang of envy. How pleasant it must be to rest safe in his strong arms, head lolling against his broad shoulder. “I shall let them sleep in tomorrow morning.”

“Come then, girls.” Rupert glanced at Charlotte and Phoebe and nodded toward the door. “Before you two fall asleep, as well.”

To Grace’s surprise neither of them protested but followed along on either side of her, yawning now and then. Once they reached the nursery, all three were tucked up and asleep in no time.

“I should get back to the party—” Rupert made a vague gesture in that direction “—to bid my guests good-night.”

The guard on Grace’s tongue seemed to have fallen asleep along with the children. “Before you go, sir, there is just one thing, if I may.”

She must speak now, while they had a bit of privacy, a rare occurrence of late. Besides, if she waited any longer, Grace feared her feelings for him would grow too deep to let her say what she must.

“I should not linger.” He seemed uncomfortable in her presence and eager to escape, yet he responded to her beseeching look. “Go on, then. What is it?”

Grace steeled herself and plunged ahead. “Sir, I could not help noticing that you seem…unhappy of late. I know it is not my place but I beg you to tell me what is wrong. Perhaps I can help.”

“You are mistaken, Miss Ellerby.” He backed away from her shaking his head. “I assure you I am quite…content.”

Before he could make his escape, Grace tried again. “So you say, but your tone contradicts you. Sir, I promised I would be honest with you. Pray do me that same courtesy.”

He froze as if pulled in two different directions at once by equally strong forces. His tongue seemed paralyzed, too.

“Is it Mrs. Cadmore?” Grace prompted him. “Was I mistaken about your feelings for her? Do you care for her more than you realized? Do you pine for her company and wish I had not forced you to give up your marriage plans?”

Rupert seemed to be trying to muster a reply but could not yet manage. Perhaps he needed to know her thoughts in the matter.

“If that is the case, I am very sorry to have come between you.” She struggled to keep her voice low so as not to disturb the children while still infusing it with sincere conviction and concern for him. “Perhaps it is not yet too late. If you want to ask Mrs. Cadmore for her hand, I will do everything in my power to persuade the girls to accept her. It was wrong of me to do otherwise!”

The tension within Rupert seemed to break under pressure like a bow string suddenly released.

“I don’t care for
her!
” The words erupted from his lips as if propelled by a force much greater than his will—a force that his will had perhaps struggled to contain. “I care for
you,
Grace Ellerby!”

His abrupt, unexpected declaration made Grace’s heart bound in a mixture of elation and disbelief. At the same time, past experience made her shrink from his fierce tone.

Chapter Sixteen

H
e should have held his tongue and kept his feelings to himself as he’d promised Grace he would.

Rupert’s spirits plummeted as he watched the woman he cared for cower from him. He had tried so hard these past weeks to resist his growing feelings for her. When that became impossible he had hidden them instead, which proved equally difficult.

This evening had been worse than ever, for it reminded him of the one they had shared at Lady Maidenhead’s masquerade. In so many ways his harvest feast was better. At the masquerade ranks and titles had been concealed but taken for granted. Tonight they were acknowledged but set aside as everyone celebrated the harvest that crowned a year of common endeavor. On such an evening, the master of Nethercross might dance with a farmer’s wife or his daughters’ governess and no one would think it amiss.

No doubt he should have resisted the temptation to dance with Grace Ellerby. But seeing Mrs. Cadmore and her new beau so happy together had eroded his resolve. Their dance had brought so many buried emotions closer to the surface. Later, when they’d brought his daughters back to the nursery and put them to bed, Rupert could not escape the overwhelming sense that they were a family…or should be.

Grace’s tender show of concern for his happiness had strained his composure to the breaking point. It had made him do and say the very things he’d sworn he would not. But now that he had, the only possible way to undo the damage was to press forward and hope for the best.

He snatched a deep breath and summoned his voice, trying to keep it low and calm. If Grace felt threatened, he knew he might lose her and so might his daughters. “Forgive me for startling you. I know I promised not to subject you to attentions of this sort and I swear I will not speak of my feelings again if they distress you. But I cannot permit you to assume I care for Mrs. Cadmore when I do not and never could. I repent ever thinking I could wed a woman I do not love. You were right about that and I only wish I had heeded your excellent advice sooner.”

“It was not good advice,” she replied with a stricken look. “It was selfish advice masked as concern for your daughters. I never should have meddled in your life as I did.”

Why? Because if she hadn’t he might be safely married to another woman and not pestering her with his unwelcome attentions? Rupert shuddered to think of the terrible longing and guilt he might have suffered if he’d finally awoken to his feelings for Grace after he had wed Barbara Cadmore.

“Please hear me out, I beg you.” Fighting his deepest inclinations, Rupert took a step backward so she would not feel cornered. “I have tried to root out my feelings so as not to distress you with them, but they have proved even more stubborn than my will. Is there any hope I can persuade you to trust and care for me in return?”

Her gentle blue eyes widened. In them, Rupert glimpsed far too many emotions he did not want to see…fear, sadness, regret.

“I
do
trust you,” she admitted in a furtive whisper as if it were something shameful. “More than I have any other man. And I have come to care for you far more than I ought to.”

“Why more than you ought to?” Rupert asked, not certain whether he should be encouraged.

“Because you are my employer, of course.” Her voice took on a sharp edge as if she were vexed with him…or herself. “Besides, you only think you fancy me on account of my looks. I have encountered that enough over the years to know it is not love.”

There was a tiny grain of truth in what she said. How could he convince her of the depth of his feelings when he had given no sign of caring for plain Miss Ellerby?

“Our positions should not affect how we feel about one another,” he argued. “If I ever thought otherwise, I was a fool. As for the other, even before I became aware of your outer beauty, I had grown to admire the beauty of your heart and character. I became closer to you, Miss Ellerby, than to any other woman since my wife, though I could not acknowledge it. Not even to myself.”

Would she believe any of that? Or would she assume he was only the latest in a disreputable line of men who would say or do anything in order to possess her?

“When I met you at the masquerade,” he continued, “I cannot deny the immediate attraction I felt. But I truly believe that owed less to your beauty than to the ease I felt in your company. I am certain my heart recognized you that night even though my stubborn mind refused to.”

“It did?” Her voice trembled. “But you told me you could never care for another woman as you did your wife. Even if you could, you swore you did not want to risk your heart again.”

“I said a great many foolish things,” Rupert admitted with a rueful shrug. “I will gladly recant them all if only you will give me hope. Before I met you, I thought grief was the penalty I must pay for having loved. The cost was so dear I feared it would bankrupt my heart.”

His voice grew husky with emotion. “But you have made me see that love is not like gold, to be hoarded and doled out a miserly piece at a time. Love is a bottomless well that will never go dry as long as we keep drawing from it. The more we give away, the faster it refills, so we will never run out.”

She looked as though she desperately wanted to believe him, yet something held her back.

“As for my being your employer,” he continued, “I would never abuse that power to impose upon you. I want to make you an offer of marriage. If you truly care for me as I do for you, please agree to be my wife.”

“Wife?” One trembling hand rose to her throat as if she could not catch her breath. “I…I…”

Her frightened gaze swept around to his sleeping daughters. Was she afraid that only by accepting his proposal would she be able to remain with the children she loved?

* * *

Marriage to Rupert Kendrick? Even the possibility of it made Grace fairly swoon for joy. To think that all this time his restless dejection had grown out of his repressed feelings for
her
. It seemed too good to be true. And perhaps it was—too good for her compared with what she deserved.

She glanced around at her sleeping pupils. If she had feared the opportunity to stay on at Nethercross was a blessing she did not deserve, the prospect of wedding their father was a hundredfold more so.

And yet, deserved or not, she ached to accept his proposal. She felt pulled so hard in opposite directions she could not frame a coherent reply. “But…the girls.”

Rupert clearly did not understand what she was trying to say—and who could blame him? “I am certain you would make a wonderful mother to my daughters. But if you feel you must refuse me, I want the next best thing for them—to keep you as their governess. I swear to you, I would never speak of my feelings again. We could continue on as we have been. But please do not refuse me for the wrong reasons. Reject my offer only if you are perfectly certain you do not and cannot love me as I have come to love you.”

Grace’s legs threatened to give way beneath her. She stumbled to the nursery settee and sank down on it. Sophie’s storybook lay within arm’s reach, full of impossible tales of talking cats, fairy godmothers and scullery maids who captured the hearts of princes. Those stories also told of something Grace had encouraged the children to believe in—cruel, uncaring stepmothers.

“There is more to marriage than love.” She sighed. “You said so yourself, and you were right about that at least.”

Her collapse upon the settee brought Rupert flying to her side. Grace was reminded of their very first interview at the inn in Reading and the unwarranted kindness he’d shown to a fearful, dowdy governess. Looking back she wondered if she had begun to fall in love with him that very day.

“Have we exchanged outlooks, you and I?” His gaze searched her face in a fond caress as he eased himself down beside her. “Tell me, then, if there is more to marriage than love, what else can possibly compare in importance?”

“The happiness of your children, of course.” Grace lowered her gaze, afraid she would falter and give in to her selfish desires if she stared into his compelling dark eyes for too long. “You know how bitterly opposed they are to your remarrying. And I have done more than anyone to foster that uncharitable attitude. This is my just punishment. Much as I want to, I cannot marry you and risk having the children I love so much grow to resent me.”

Perhaps she should not have confessed her desire to accept Rupert’s proposal for it seemed to encourage him in a way she could ill afford.

Gently he took both her hands in his, as they had clasped during the dance that evening. “Dearest Grace, you know my daughters care for you quite as much as you do for them. Whether you are their governess or their mama, I cannot believe that will change.”

Perhaps he could not, but she could all too easily. She shook her head and tried to pull her hands from his grasp. “You did not hear what they said when I told them what happened at the masquerade. Sophie was aghast at the thought that I might become their stepmother. They will never accept me—I am certain of it. And there will be gossip in the neighborhood about such an unsuitable match, which will only make things worse.”

Her fears were running away with her, whipped up by the potent consciousness of all the wrong she had done since coming to Nethercross. She could not bear to do more simply to get what she wanted.

“Hush now, hush,” Rupert clung to her hands with tender but steadfast resolve. “I will talk to the girls and persuade them they have nothing to fear. All will be well, I promise you.”

How could she resist her feelings for such a man, whose presence promised her security, protection, understanding—everything she craved? But how could she give in to them when the result might be the kind of strife that had blighted her family? She cared too much for Rupert and his daughters to let that happen.

“Don’t you see? They may
pretend
to be resigned to a marriage between us for fear of losing your regard. If they cannot truly accept me, it could poison your feelings for them and theirs for you. That is too great a risk. I cannot take it. Please do not ask me to!”

Hard as she tried to maintain her composure, hot tears rose in her eyes.

“So much fear.” Rupert’s whisper enfolded her with its fond sympathy. “After all you have suffered over the years I reckon it is no wonder you always expect the worst. I have no right to talk, for I was every bit as fearful of giving my heart away again at the risk of losing it forever. But even if I were to lose you, I could never be sorry to have loved you. You brought me to life again and gave me back my heart. Having you here at Nethercross has been a blessing for which I shall always be grateful.”

He disengaged one of his hands from hers and wiped away a tear that slid down her cheek. Much as his words touched her and his gesture brought comfort, Rupert’s reference to a blessing reminded her why they could not be together. “You and your daughters have been a blessing to me as well but one I do not deserve. I kept secrets from you and spoiled your plans. Even worse, I made the girls a party to my actions. I encouraged them in believing that all stepmothers must be horrid. Now I must reap what I have sown. It is a judgment upon me.”

“Is that why you will not accept my proposal?” he asked. “Because you feel you do not deserve to be happy?”

Blinking back the rest of her tears she gave a slow nod.

“We all make mistakes,” Rupert replied. “I hired you for the wrong reasons. I refused to acknowledge my feelings for you and planned to marry a woman I did not love in spite of my daughters’ objections. Does that mean I should never know happiness?”

“Of course not! It isn’t the same thing at all.”

“Are you certain?” Rupert nodded toward his peacefully sleeping children. “You cannot deny the girls have their faults, yet you care for them just the same and would do everything in your power to make them happy.”

“You know I would.” That’s what she was trying to do, if only he would not let her.

“Even Charlotte who made things so difficult when you first came here?” he persisted.

“She didn’t mean to,” Grace protested. “She didn’t understand in the beginning and once she did she was so remorseful.”

“And you forgave her, just like that?” Rupert sounded skeptical. “Even though she might not have deserved it?”

“I…” At last Grace understood what he was trying to say. “That is…”

“Then why do you find it so hard to believe God would forgive you as you forgave Charlotte?” Rupert took her left hand and lifted it to his lips. “Please trust your heart to my love and to the Lord’s grace.”

Could it truly be as simple as that? Simple, perhaps, but not easy.

From dark closets of Grace’s memory the voices of her stepmother and her teachers emerged to recite a long litany of her faults that justified their hostility and harsh treatment. The men who had pursued her joined in, claiming she had invited their dishonorable attentions.

But then the voices of Rebecca and her other friends rose in protest, saying she was worthy of their support and affection. Charlotte, Phoebe and Sophie joined in her defense. So did their father.

Grace lifted her eyes to meet his. “Perhaps…”

That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. Every shadow of the frustration and sorrow she’d glimpsed in him of late vanished. More than any words it assured her that the feelings he professed were entirely sincere and that her love could help him find the happiness she so wanted for him.