Read The Governess Club: Bonnie Online
Authors: Ellie Macdonald
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General, #Regency
The Governess Club: Bonnie (14 page)
“Yes, thank you.”
“You left without a word. We did not know if you were safe or not.”
She looked down at her hands. “I thought it best. I did not want to put the boys through seeing me leave.”
“You are in breach of contract.”
That surprised her. “Excuse me?”
He pulled out a sheet of paper from his coat pocket. “Your contract states that you must give appropriate notice of resignation, which includes time to find a suitable replacement. You did not do so.”
Bonnie’s ire raised its head. “Are you here to drag me back in chains, then? To throw me in jail or to force me to return to Darrowgate?”
“No.” His voice was quiet. “I would not force you. I have come to ask you to return of your own free will.”
She shook her head. “I cannot. As much as I enjoyed being their governess, I cannot.” No matter how much she wanted it.
Stephen cleared his throat. “I am not askin’ ye to be a governess. I am askin’ ye to be my wife.”
Bonnie stared at him in shock. He did not actually just say that, did he? “Could you . . .” she squeaked and cleared her throat. “Could you repeat that please?”
“I want ye to be my wife.”
“That’s what I thought you said,” she replied weakly. Good heavens, her legs were numb. She sat down.
“The boys need a mother,” he was explaining. He had regained control of his accent. “I am not foolish enough to think we could ever replace their parents, but we can do our best. You already have an established relationship with you and they adore you. They have been inconsolable since you left.”
Bonnie found her voice. “You honor me, Sir Stephen, but I cannot.”
He was silent for several heartbeats before he asked, “May I ask why?”
“We are not compatible.”
“I believe we have already proven that to be false. We enjoy each other socially and intimately.”
Bonnie flushed but persevered. “I am a governess and you are a peer.”
He dismissed this argument as well. “A lowly peer, one without his own estate. We will not be moving in the lofty circles that may condemn such a match. The difference between us is not so great.”
“You are merely feeling guilty over what transpired between us. You are being honorable.”
“If that were true, I would have married the first woman I tupped.”
Her flush deepened with his crude language. “Is it not enough that I have said no?”
“No.” He sat down and crossed his legs, facing her. “I have yet to hear an adequate reason preventing us from marrying.”
Bonnie licked her lips. She would have to tell him. It was the one guarantee to make him withdraw his offer. She took a deep breath. “We cannot marry because I am a bastard.”
Stephen was silent. Hearing the words out loud put Bonnie into a sort of panic. She couldn’t take them back, but she could explain them. “My mother was a governess who became the mistress of her employer. All my life, people have judged me based on my birth and judged my mother as well. That is why I have not told anyone; even my friends do not know. She warned me against falling in with a man. What happened between us was a mistake, but it does not necessitate marriage.”
Sir Stephen spoke. “My father was a bastard.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “I beg your pardon?”
“My father was a bastard.”
She was confused. “But—he was a baron He inherited.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand.”
Stephen took a deep breath. “His was a legitimate birth, but he was a bastard by nature. He married my mother’s money and proceeded to drain it all within the first years of the marriage. He threw it away at gambling and mad schemes. My mother had to scrape by to make ends meet. Every week my father would promise that this next scheme would bring in loads of money, but of course, nothing ever succeeded.
“He was a bastard because he broke promises and failed to meet his responsibilities, thus subjecting his wife and son to genteel poverty. To finish it, he chose to commit suicide rather than face the final round of creditors. My mother died of a fever months later because we could not afford the doctor. I have spent the last three years unraveling the mess my father left. It is the reason why I hadn’t been to visit George in so long.”
He gave her a direct look. “There are two kinds of bastards in this world, Bonnie lass. I prefer your kind.”
Well.
She had not expected that, nor the warm flush that filled her body at his words. Her kind of bastard indeed. How could he make it sound like an honor?
Bonnie said, “I still cannot—”
“I heard your arguments,” he interrupted. “Will you allow me to speak mine?”
“Of course.”
He moved to sit closer to her, his arm resting on the back of the sofa behind her. Bonnie resisted the urge to lean into him as she had in the study at Darrowgate.
“I am a simple man, Bonnie lass. I have never learned the intricacies of relationships with the fairer sex. I cannot give you romance, I cannot give you pretty words. I will try, if that is what you desire, but it is not my forte.
“But I can give you a home, ensure you have enough food and clothing and coal for the winter, and will do the same for our children. I can give you my respect, my fidelity, and my devotion; I firmly believe in marriage vows and will not stray from my wife.
“For what it is worth, I do love you. I am not entirely sure what that means, but I cannot explain how I felt when you left. I do not have the words. I want you, Bonnie lass, I want you in my life in every possibly way I can imagine. My soul aches to have you in my life.”
He leaned away from her, removing his arm from the back of the sofa. “That is all I have to offer. If you cannot accept that, if your answer remains no, then I will leave and not bother you again.”
Good heavens, there was that warmth in her body again. This time it was everywhere and it was more of a fire than a mere warmth. Her skin tingled as though he had tattooed his words onto her body.
She swallowed. “That was quite verbose for one who lacks in conversation.”
“I may fall into a prolonged silence after I leave this room, if only to give my vocal chords a chance to recuperate.”
Bonnie looked at him. “Did you mean it, when you said you love me?”
“Aye.”
“Well, that is the one argument I cannot refute for I love you too, Sir Stephen.”
“Is that so?”
She nodded. “I fully understand when you say your soul aches. I have been in a state of agony since leaving Darrowgate.”
He reached out and cupped her face. “I dinna lie to ye, Bonnie lass. I do love ye and want ta wed ye.”
She smiled and leaned into his hand. “Your accent makes it all the more convincing.”
“Is tha’ a yes, then?”
She nodded.
Stephen’s face split into a rare grin. “Ye have jus’ made three men verra happy indeed.”
“Three?”
“Henry and Arthur. They tol’ me I mun get ye back for them. They dinna ken tha’ I wanted ta bring ye back for myself.”
“Sir Stephen—”
“Stephen, lass. Jus’ Stephen.” His thumb traced her cheek.
“Stephen, would you do something for me?”
“Anythin’.”
“Kiss me.”
“Aye, lass, I was wantin’ ta do tha’ since I walked inta the room.” Stephen leaned in and obliged her.
“J
acob Knightly, you are incorrigible.”
He pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh, I’m listening.” He returned his ear to the door.
“I can see that,” Claire replied with mild exasperation. “Shouldn’t you be giving them some privacy?”
Jacob shot her a look. “Are you telling me you are not curious?”
“No, but I am respectful enough to subdue that curiosity until they are ready to share their news.”
He pushed away from the door. “Well, I think they will be sharing their news shortly. Miss Hodges just accepted Sir Stephen’s proposal.”
“Truly?” Claire rushed to the door and pressed her ear to it. She frowned. “But I can’t hear anything.”
Jacob took her hand and pulled her away. “That is how I know she accepted.”
“What do you—oh!” Claire understood his insinuation. “I see. Well, I do hope they take care to close drapes. I have never been so embarrassed in my life.”
They walked away, hand in hand, Jacob’s chuckle bouncing off the walls.
Want more of The Governess Club?
There is so much more to come!
PART THREE
Coming Soon
ELLIE MACDONALD has held several jobs beginning with the letter T: taxi driver, telemarketer, and, most recently, teacher. She is thankful her interests have shifted to writing instead of taxidermy or tornado chasing. Having traveled to five different continents, she has swum with elephants, scuba dived through coral mazes, visited a leper colony, and climbed waterfalls and windmills, but her favorite place remains Regency England. She currently lives in Ontario, Canada. The Governess Club series is her first published work.
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The Ether Chronicles continue when Kalindi MacNeil retreats to a desolate, deserted island after surviving the devastating enemy airship attack that obliterated Liverpool. Kali soon discovers she’s not alone. Captain Fletcher Adams, an elite man/machine hybrid—a Man O’ War—crashed his airship into the deserted island, never expecting to survive the wreck. But survive he did.
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er heart climbed into her throat. Edging along the gravel-covered base of the hills, she moved slowly onward, telling herself stories of goddesses who’d braved hordes of demons without fear.
Yet she was no goddess. Only a woman, completely on her own.
A shape appeared out of the mists. A large, dark shape. Heading right toward her. It moved noiselessly over the gravel in spite of its size.
She grabbed her revolver, aiming it at the shadow.
It immediately stopped moving. Then it spoke.
“You’re not from the Admiralty.”
A man. With a deep, rasping voice. As if he hadn’t spoken in a long time.
Even through the heavy mist, she saw that he didn’t hold up his hands, despite the gun trained on him.
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was
from. She had no idea who this stranger was.
“Anyone with you?” he demanded. He spoke with an air of command, as though used to obedience.
Despite the authority in his voice, she kept silent. Telling him she was alone could endanger her. At least she was armed.
He didn’t seem to care about the revolver in her hand. He moved closer, emerging from the fog.
Oh, God. He was big. Well over six feet tall, with shoulders as wide as ironclads. His body seemed a collection of hard muscles, knitted together to make the world’s most imposing man. He had black hair, longish and wild, as if he hadn’t seen a barber in some time, and a thick beard, also in need of trimming. He stood too far away for her to see his eyes, but she could feel his gaze on her, dark and piercing, hyper-vigilant, like a feral animal’s.
And he stepped still nearer to her.
“My father was in the army,” she said, her voice clipped. She raised her gun. “He was a crack shot. He trained me to be one, too. Stay where you are.”
She thought a corner of his mouth edged up in a smile, but the beard hid his expression. “I’d knock that Webley out of your hand before you could pull the trigger.”
Words poised on her lips that no man could move that quickly—he was still ten feet away—but those words faded the more she looked at him. His massive hands could likely crush a welder’s gas tanks. But more than the raw strength he exuded, a palpable but unseen energy radiated from him, something barely contained.
She couldn’t tell whether she was fascinated or terrified. Or both.
“You’re doing a poor job of putting me at ease,” she answered.
Again, that hint of a smile. “Never said I wanted to put you at ease.”
“Not another step,” she snapped. Instinctively, she moved back, out of striking distance. But as she did, her left boot caught in the rocks, and she stumbled.
Unseated, the stones tumbled down in a small rockslide. They knocked her down, twisting her leg at an unnatural angle. She sprawled on the ground.
Instantly, the stranger darted forward, a frown of concern between his brows.
She kept the gun pointed at him, despite lying awkwardly upon the rocks. “Back. I’m fine.”
“Your leg—”
Her skirts had come up, revealing both her limbs.
The stranger must have been civilized at one point, because he quickly turned his gaze away.
“Go ahead and look,” she said. “I gave up on modesty months ago.”
He did, and when he saw her leg, he cursed softly. “Mechanical.”
