The Governess Club: Bonnie (12 page)

But he didn’t join her right away. He used the candle to restart the brazier that had died out at some point, stoking it until Bonnie could feel the heat spreading through the chilled room. He replaced the candle on the washstand and blew it out before returning to the bed. Lifting the covers, he crowded in beside her until he tucked her into his side, giving her another tender kiss.

Moments later she felt his quiet snores rumble through his chest and soon joined him in a satisfied slumber.

B
onnie slowly became aware of being watched. She shifted, turning her face into the warmth cushioning her head, taking a slow, deep breath through her nose. Sandalwood and sweat filled her nostrils and she let out a sigh.

The feeling of being watched did not dissipate. She let out another sigh and opened her eyes. Four brown eyes stared back at her.

Four? She lifted her head and blinked.

The four eyes blinked back at her.

She looked down where she was sleeping. Or rather, on whom.

The four eyes looked down as well. She lifted her gaze and met the eyes.

She cleared her throat as quietly as she could. “Henry, Arthur, go into the nursery, please.”

Henry leaned in. “Miss Hodges, Uncle Stephen is in your bed.”

“I am aware of that, Henry.”

“Mama,” Arthur whispered.

“Boys, go into the nursery. I’ll be there in a moment.” Her voice brooked no argument and the young lords shuffled out.

Bonnie bit her lip and raised her eyes to Sir Stephen’s sleeping profile. He looked less contained than when he was awake, his hair rumpled from sleep and his mouth slack. She could see faint lines around his mouth and eyes, showing a history of smiles and laughter that she hadn’t yet experienced from him.

Holding her breath, she pushed away from him, separating their bodies. She slid off the bed and tiptoed to her wardrobe. Glancing over her shoulder at the man in her bed, she pulled on her unmentionables and selected a dress, draping it over the chair. She moved to the washstand and used the candlestick to break the thin layer of ice.

“Hm?”

Bonnie glanced back again to find Sir Stephen pushing himself up into a sitting position. He gave her a sleepy look and reached out for her. “Bonnie lass, come here.”

She turned away from him and splashed cold water on her face. “You need to leave, sir.”

“Soon. Come here.”

“It’s later than you think. You really must leave now.” She pulled her dress on and unraveled her braid, grabbing the brush and raking it through her hair.

The bed creaked as he rose. “Now that’s a shame, covering yourself up like that.” He moved up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. “I like you wearing fewer clothes.” He nudged his head into her neck, kissing her.

Bonnie flinched away from him. She put down the brush and began tying her hair into an appropriate bun.

“Is it always this cold in here in the morning?” Sir Stephen asked, fingering a loose tendril of her hair. “I will have your brazier restocked with fresh coal. And more than that measly pile. Is that Renard’s doing?”

“Sir Stephen—”

“Stephen.”

She sat on the chair to lace her boots. “You must leave. The boys are in the nursery. They were in here when I woke and they saw everything.”

He chuckled. “I’m starting their education young.”

“This is not humorous.”

“Bonnie lass, are you upset?”

Bonnie stood and made some final adjustments to her dress and hair. “Regretful is the word I would use, not upset.”

“Regretful?”

She faced him for the first time. “You need to leave, Sir Stephen. If the boys are up, then others will be, some for hours already. You will need to be cautious when you go down the stairs.”

Sir Stephen stood still, staring at her. After several long moments, he moved to the pile of clothes and pulled on his trousers. “Ye regret wha’ happened?”

“I regret our lack of discretion, sir.”

He pulled on his shirt and tucked it in. “Ye are quite th’ diplomat, lass.”

Bonnie didn’t reply. His sarcasm bit.

Sir Stephen buttoned his waistcoat and shrugged into his coat. “The boys will be fine. Ye don’t need to tell them anythin’.” He stuffed his socks and cravat into one of his boots and picked them up.

“I don’t need more coal, sir. No special treatment.”

“Jus’ pretend this dinna happen, aye?” He moved to the door.

“Sir Stephen—”

“Dinna concern yourself, Miss Hodges. I will improve upon my discre’ion.” The door closed on his retreating back.

S
tephen stood at the study window, staring outside. The gray clouds were increasing, threatening snow, and the trees were blowing in the wind. He could feel the cold through the glass.

He had sent a footman for the magistrate and constable. The other servants he needed had their orders. He had all the evidence lined up. Everything was prepared.

Except for Miss Hodges and the boys.

He had sent a note, but she did not come. He had summoned her via a footman, but she did not come.

She was avoiding him.

And if he were honest with himself, he was glad. He didn’t want to see her either.

So he left her alone. He took meager comfort in knowing that she had taken the boys outside, despite the weather. He hoped she kept away long enough for Renard to be removed.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Enter,” he called out. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a maid enter with the tea tray. She placed it on the table between the sofas, curtseyed, and left.

“Ah, damn it,” Stephen said when he approached the table.

“Sir?” Renard looked up from his work.

“Mrs. Dabbs sent up two cups with the tray.”

“Well, I’m—” Renard was at a loss for words for a moment. “Is it an inconvenience?”

Stephen shook his head. “No. I’m sure she is merely being a sentimental woman. Would you like a cup? I suspect she would be offended if I send back half of an unused tray.”

Renard smiled. “Hell hath no fury.”

Stephen threw him a commiserating glance. “Indeed.”

The other man stood and made his way to the opposing sofa. “I am sure she was merely trying to be considerate. She didn’t mean to overstep.”

“There is little else that binds men so thoroughly than problems with the fairer sex.”

“Indeed.” Renard prepared two cups, one according to Stephen’s preferences. He put two biscuits on a plate. “Mrs. Dabbs—Betty, if I may, sir—makes the best biscuits I have tasted. I recommend them.” He took a generous bite.

Stephen sipped his tea. “The incident with Miss Hodges has made me recently cautious.”

“Oh.” Renard looked at the biscuit in his hand. “Betty is being cautious as well sir. She is putting the King’s Guards to shame at the moment.”

“Are you certain it is Mrs. Dabbs’ diligence that is giving you confidence?”

“What else could it be?”

Stephen stared into his tea. “You spent some time studying chemistry, did you not?”

“Sir?”

Stephen gave him a direct look. “Chemistry. At the University of Glasgow.”

Renard sat back and crossed his legs, taking out his pocket watch to smile at it. “At least you gave me the courtesy of not delaying this.”

Stephen raised his brows in questioning surprise. “I beg your pardon?” He blinked to clear the dizziness that had begun to build. Why was he dizzy?

Renard sipped his tea. “I won a scholarship to Glasgow on my own studies and merit. I changed my identity. I managed to be hired to a position of prominence for the title that destroyed my family. I embezzled for years without raising suspicions.” He met Stephen’s gaze. “Did you really believe you could hide your investigation from me?”

Stephen cleared his throat. “I uh . . .” His mind was feeling slow.

“I mean, you didn’t even notice the laudanum I put into your tea.” He took another sip of tea, his gaze never wavering.

“Laudanum?” Stephen’s throat felt thick.

“Yes.” Renard put his teacup down and stood, straightening his coat. “I have no wish to harm you, but I do need time to leave without being pursued.”

Stephen’s head began to fall back, his limbs slackening.

“Careful,” Renard said, taking Stephen’s half-full teacup from his increasingly limp hand. “You don’t want to make a mess.”

Renard moved back to his desk and put some papers into his satchel. “You know, your mistake was underestimating me. That has been the secret of my success for my entire life. People tend to overlook me, which allows me to do what I need to do undetected.”

Stephen tried to stand, but only succeeded in falling off the sofa. Renard stepped over him on his way to the door. “It may best if you simply allow the laudanum to runs its course. I did put in a tad more than usual, but it will not be toxic.”

The door closed.

Stephen groaned and rolled over onto his stomach. Dear Lord, he felt as though a large boulder was sitting on his back. With great effort, he pulled his hand up to his mouth and put his fingers in his mouth. Grimacing, he repeated the process until he felt his stomach empty and that he could control his body again.

Sweat glistened on his forehead as he crawled to the door. It took two tries, but he opened the door. “Burdis!” he called out.

The butler came out, saw Stephen on the floor and rushed over with a footman. “Renard? Where did he go?” Stephen demanded.

“He just left, sir.”

“Get me to the door.”

Burdis and the footman dragged him to the door and opened it up. Stephen saw Renard making his way to the stables.

“Renard!”

The villain turned, saw Stephen, and ran into the stable.

B
onnie held Arthur’s hand, the boy starting to drag.

“Miss Hodges, it is so cold.”

“Henry, I’m cold too.”

“I’m tired, Mama.”

“We’re almost home, Arthur. And remember, I am not your mama.”

“Why did we have to walk to the town?” Henry whined. “The coach would be warmer. We didn’t even do anything there.”

Bonnie’s level of exasperation was increasing. “Henry, whining is not an appropriate form of communication.”

“But Miss Hodges—”

“Henry,” she snapped. “I made the decision to walk. I cannot control the weather and we are almost back at the manor. There is not much else I can do.”

She had needed to get out the house. She couldn’t walk in the corridors without feeling the stares at her back. It didn’t matter that whenever she glanced back, no one was there; she felt them all the same.

Contrary to Henry’s opinion, the trip to the town had not been for nothing. While there, she had surreptitiously studied the schedule for the posting coach, memorizing the timetable for the coaches going in the direction of Ridgestone.

It was time she left and joined the Governess Club.

Arthur pulled his hand out of hers and sat down. “Mama, I don’t wanna walk no more.”

“Arthur, we must continue. Sitting on the cold ground is not going to help you get warm.”

“Miss Hodges, I’m cold.”

Arthur started crying. “Henry, we’re almost home. Arthur, stand up.” She bent down and tried to pick him up, but he fell onto his back and rolled away.

“You said that before and now the crybaby is slowing us down.”

“Henry, that is inappropriate. Arthur, stop crying and stand up.”

“Miss Hodges—”

“Henry, I have had enough. Your complaints are not helping me with your brother.”

“Why is Mr. Renard riding so fast?”

“What?” She looked up and saw the man riding towards them at a breakneck speed. He was bent over the horse’s neck, urging his mount to flat out run.

Dear heavens, Sir Stephen must have confronted him and he managed to escape. Why hadn’t he warned her he was going to do so?

“Henry,” she said quietly. “Run into the trees. Go where they are thickest.”

“Why?”

“Just do it, Henry,” she cried. He spun on his heel and did as he was told. Bonnie crouched down to pick up the still protesting Arthur, but he resisted. “Come now, Arthur, we must run.”

“No!”

“I’m going to carry you, sweetie. You won’t have to walk anymore.”

“No!”

Bonnie grasped him under his arms and swung him up. He struggled, making it difficult to carry him, but she held onto him and began to run. Arthur continued to scream.

The thundering hooves grew louder. Bonnie risked a glance behind her to see Renard approaching closer and closer. He had adjusted his course to head straight for them.

“No, Mama, Mama, Mama,” Arthur wailed in her ear.

“Hush, Arthur.” She tried to soothe him. Her chest was constricting with the effort of running in skirts while carrying a child.

Bonnie couldn’t hear anything but the screaming child and pounding hooves; not even her own panicked heartbeat could drown them out. She tried to see where Henry was, but he had thankfully disappeared into the trees.

The horse and rider entered her peripheral vision. Bonnie swung to the side to avoid Renard.

Arthur was jerked out of her arms. One moment he was there, the next he was not. The force of his removal and the proximity of the large running animal threw her to the ground. She raised her head to see the boy hanging in Renard’s grip, shock having silenced him.

“No!” Bonnie screamed. She scrambled to her feet and chased them. Renard lifted Arthur in front of him on the saddle.

“Miss Hodges?” Henry’s head popped out of the trees.

“Go to the manor,” she shouted at him. “Get Uncle Stephen!” Where was he?

Bonnie crested the hill several minutes after the horse. Looking ahead, she could see Renard approach the new stone bridge. From her vantage point, she could see a coach approaching the bridge from the other side of the river.

The two started crossing the bridge at the same time. The coach, being larger, took up the most of the space; Renard was unable to pass. He reined in the horse, whirling around in a circle. The coach horses slid to a protesting stop. Bonnie could see Renard shouting and gesturing at the coach.