His Unusual Governess (14 page)

She knew she must tell him of her suspicions concerning Sir Roger, but now was not the time. All she could think of for the moment was the look in his eyes and what his lips would taste of if they touched hers.

‘You must excuse me,’ Rupert said. ‘I am stained from the journey. I must change and then speak to my uncle’s agent before tea. I shall leave you to continue with whatever pleasures you have planned for this afternoon.’

‘I think we may take a turn round the gardens as it is so warm. I shall take a book of plays, which Francesca has gone to fetch … and here she is now. I am sure she will be so pleased to see you.’

‘Rupert … It is so good to have you home,’ she said and then blushed. ‘We’ve missed you, haven’t we, Sarah?’ Sarah nodded, noticing the blush and slight hesitancy. John had rushed to embrace his mentor, but Francesca merely dipped a little curtsy and smiled. She was growing up, Sarah thought.

‘You look well, Francesca,’ Rupert said, going to greet her. He leaned forwards and kissed her cheek. ‘I am pleased to tell you that I have invited some friends for this weekend. I believe you will find companions that will bring excitement and pleasure to your life. I have a gift for you, as well as John—I will give it to you this evening. Now, if you will both excuse me …’

Rupert glanced at Sarah before walking away. She was confused by the signal he was giving her. Before he left he had shown her plainly that he meant to keep his distance, but now … having seen her home and realised that she was not a lady despite her education and wealth … did he now feel it was permissible to seduce her?

What could he be thinking of? It was quite out of the question, even if her body did clamour for his and her nights were disturbed by the feverish longings he’d aroused in her.

She could not but think that he was a dangerous flirt, a rake who could not help exercising his powerful charm on the ladies, even if he were not serious about pursuing them.

A part of her mind told Sarah that he was no such thing—that he was decent and honest and misunderstood—but she knew that he had had several mistresses, because Mrs Brancaster had warned her of the fact.

She had visited the housekeeper in her parlour one afternoon, taking a dish of tea with her when Francesca had been practising at the pianoforte. Mrs Brancaster had given her a particular look and she wondered if the staff had noticed something about Rupert’s manner towards her. They must think it odd that she continued in the house since she was not a governess and no longer in the marquess’s employ.

‘Such a pleasant gentleman,’ the housekeeper had said as she passed a cup. ‘Good-looking and in possession of a handsome fortune, so they say—but it will be a clever woman that catches that particular fish. I’ve heard he’s broken a score of hearts in his time.’

‘Well, I dare say he’s like most gentlemen,’ Sarah said, outwardly calm. ‘He has enjoyed being single and may settle once he’s married. Do they not say that reformed rakes make the best husbands?’

‘I’ve heard it said, miss,’ Mrs Brancaster said, pursing her lips. ‘But as I said, it will take a clever mind to trap that one—and he would never marry out of his class. His family is very proud. I suppose if he were desperate for money—but from what I hear of it, he has done very well for himself since he left the army.’

‘I expect he will fall in love one day, Mrs
Brancaster. Who knows—perhaps he has done so already.’

‘He’s more likely to marry for property and rank than love,’ the housekeeper said darkly. ‘You mark my words, his sort always do.’

Sarah had not argued, for her mind told her it was the truth—though sometimes her heart whispered a completely different story.

Sarah was surprised when she went up to her room and discovered that her trunk had been taken up without her being aware of it. She’d sent most of her things home in this trunk, but when she opened it, she discovered that it had been repacked, probably by her maid. Indeed, she found a short note from Tilly, asking if she should join her mistress at Cavendish Park.

Sarah considered and then decided against it. Francesca was aware of her true standing, but she had not told the housekeeper or the maids that she was an heiress, only that she had come here to escape from an importunate suitor, and thought it best to keep things as they were. After the trip to London, she would never return here and no one need know about her masquerade.

Looking at some of the gowns that Tilly had packed for her, Sarah was tempted by one in particular. It was a yellow silk that she’d never
worn. She hadn’t taken it with her on her business journey, but it was lovely and would look very well for an informal evening. However, since Rupert had invited guests to stay she would save it for a special occasion.

Sarah’s own gowns were all simply cut, but the quality lay in the fit and the material. Most of them were far too elegant for a governess and would occasion comment if she were to wear them here.

When they left for London, she would send for her maid to join her and ask for some of her best evening gowns to be sent to her—though it was the chance of a lifetime to buy herself a new wardrobe. Most of her gowns had been made in Newcastle, by a wonderful French seamstress, who had somehow found herself in the northern city and established her business there. However, it would be pleasant to have a new stylish wardrobe made in London.

She dressed for the evening in her usual gown and was just putting the finishing touches to her
toilette
when someone knocked at the door. With one last glance in the mirror, she went to answer it, feeling a shock as she saw it was Rupert.

‘Forgive me, I wanted to give you this in private,’ he said and handed her a parcel. ‘I’ve brought gifts for Francesca and John, which I
shall give them before dinner—but I wanted you to have yours first.’

‘A gift for me?’ Sarah was surprised. It was most unconventional for a man to offer someone like her a gift. ‘Really, you ought not—I’m not sure that I can accept … .’ But she wanted to and her heart skipped a beat.

‘It is merely a token of my appreciation. Perhaps not what I should have liked to give you, but a simple gift like this should not bring censure on you for accepting it.’

‘Perhaps …’ Sarah breathed deeply. ‘Thank you, I shall accept it in the spirit it was given.’

‘Then I am in your debt. I shall leave you to come down in your own time. I must see John and Francesca.’

Sarah nodded and retreated into her room, closing the door behind her. When she could breathe properly again, she untied the string holding the brown paper in place. Inside the package was a small prayer book in white leather chased with silver and set with what looked like a diamond clasp. Not a small gift by any means, but not an intimate gift—not the kind of gift a man might give to his mistress.

Of course, Sarah wasn’t his mistress yet. Now what had put that thought into her head? It was never going to happen!

She ran her fingers over the smooth leather,
thinking how much she would like to use this when they went to church on Sundays. It was a thoughtful gift and just the kind of thing she liked—the kind of gift her father had often given her for birthdays and Christmas. Mr Hardcastle had not often given impromptu gifts and Sarah wondered why Lord Myers had chosen to do so; he’d only been away a few days, even if they had seemed like a lifetime to Sarah.

‘Look what Rupert bought for me,’ Francesca said, glowing with pleasure as she showed Sarah the pretty fan she’d been given as her gift. The sticks were pierced ivory with gold chasing and painted with French pastoral scenes. ‘Is it not lovely?’

‘Yes, very pretty,’ Sarah agreed, pleased to see the girl so delighted with a simple gift.

His gift could hardly have been more appreciated, for it was something the girl had lacked. She spent most of the evening fanning her cheeks and peeking over the top at them, as if she were practising how to flirt.

Sarah found her innocent pleasure most attractive and a little amusing and, her eyes seeking Rupert’s, she saw the glisten of laughter there, as if he shared her thoughts. Then his eyes met hers and his expression changed, becoming so intense that it burned her. He half
raised his glass to her and then turned away to speak to John.

Sarah looked down at her plate. Just what was in his mind? She was finding it difficult to judge because the signals were mixed. Rupert seemed so gallant, so kind and considerate at one moment and the next he was the charming rake, intent on making a conquest.

And if she did not stop thinking such foolish things and pay attention to what was being said, they would all wonder what was the matter with her.

John had been given a pair of York tan riding gloves and a sturdy whip made of good leather, but without embellishment. He had worn his gloves to table, but a nod from his mentor made him remove them in order to eat his dinner.

Looking about her, Sarah thought she had never been so content. She’d always regretted the lack of a sister or brother and this was the family she would always have wished for had she been given a choice. The only thing that could make things better was if Rupert actually cared for her … but that was dangerous territory and she pushed it from her mind as the talk turned to a discussion of their guests.

It appeared that they were to have four ladies and six gentlemen, all of whom were Rupert’s
particular friends, and, Sarah was certain, handpicked for their reliability.

At least with guests in the house, Rupert was unlikely to start an affair with his charge’s companion.

M
rs Brancaster had had the maids polishing and cleaning like fury ever since Rupert’s return. It was obvious that she was delighted at the prospect of having guests and fussed over every detail.

‘It’s always awkward when the house has no mistress,’ she told Sarah in confidence when they were sharing a dish of tea. ‘I know what the master likes so it’s easy to prepare the menus for Christmas, but it is a long time since we had ladies to stay in the summer. They will want ices and a lobster mousse and an iced soup, besides all manner of sweet trifles… .’

‘I am sure you will get everything just right,’ Sarah said and smiled.

‘Would you mind taking a look at what I’d
planned—just to give me an idea whether I’m doing right or not?’

‘Yes, of course, if you wish, though you always give us a varied menu.’

Mrs Brancaster had seemed pleased with her interest, especially when Sarah approved all the menus, but added one or two fancy puddings for the ladies. She wasn’t sure whether or not she’d imagined it, but of late the housekeeper had seemed more respectful … as if she had recognised that Sarah was more than just Francesca’s companion. She was aware that Sarah had money, but of course she had no idea that she was a wealthy heiress.

‘I think you’ve planned everything perfectly,’ she said and returned the neatly written menus.

‘I’m glad of your advice, miss, for I think you understand the running of a big house and we’ve lacked a mistress for a long time. A lady’s touch makes all the difference.’

‘I am used to the direction of a large house, though nothing as splendid or important as this,’ Sarah told her. ‘I am respectable, Mrs Brancaster, but I was not born a lady.’

‘You’re as much a lady as any I’ve met,’ the housekeeper said. ‘I know it isn’t right, but if I’m to call you Sarah—would you call me Dorothy, in private like?’

‘I should be delighted to,’ Sarah told her.
‘Honestly, I’ve no wish to be put on a pedestal simply because Father left me some money. I am a very ordinary person.’

‘Respect is what you’re due, miss, and respect is what you’ll get—or I’ll want to know the reason why. I was honoured when you told me your story. It’s understandable you should run away for a while if that man was making himself unpleasant.’

Sarah had not identified the man who had pursued her so relentlessly, giving the housekeeper just the bare bones of her story. She could not cast aspersions on a man’s character, even though Sir Roger made her squirm every time he visited the house and did his best to ingratiate himself in her favour.

‘Well, you may ask me for help whenever you need it.’

‘I was wondering what we should do about the flowers, miss? You’ll need more than usual, for the ladies’ bedrooms and all the parlours.’

‘Yes, we shall. Leave it to me. That is something I can do with pleasure.’

Sarah had spoken to the gardeners herself, requesting more flowers than normal for the house, and on the morning the guests were to arrive she was up early so that she could have them properly arranged. Rupert came into the
front downstairs parlour while she was putting the last touches to a large vase she had placed on a table by the window.

‘Very pretty,’ he approved. ‘I’ve certainly noticed a difference of late. It must be your influence, Sarah.’

‘Oh, no, I do very little,’ she said, her gaze going over him. She hoped that she was managing to hide the hot sweep of longing that had surged through her. He was so very attractive in those tight-fitting riding breeches. ‘Did you take your horse for a gallop?’

‘Yes. I like to ride early, before most people are about. I think you have not been riding much of late?’

‘We went out twice while you were away,’ Sarah replied. ‘There doesn’t seem to be time for the moment. Mrs Brancaster has been so busy that I’ve tried to help where I could.’

‘It isn’t your job to care for the house. We have plenty of maids for that, I think.’

‘Yes, of course. I didn’t mean it that way …’ Sarah blushed as his gaze narrowed. Impossible to explain that a house that was to receive guests for the first time in an age needed a lot of attention. The maids had been working hard and Sarah had merely advised on what furniture should be moved to more advantageous positions, chosen silver and porcelain, inspected
linen and checked that the guestrooms were all as they ought to be. Mrs Brancaster was efficient, but she liked her work to be noted and approved, and Sarah had been playing the part of the mistress of the house for the past four days in the flurry to prepare everything to the highest possible standard.

‘This is your home, Sarah, for as long as you choose to stay,’ Rupert said, giving her a brooding look that made her toes tingle. ‘You are my guest and you must join the company while they are here. I do not want you to hover like a spectre at the feast.’

‘I’m sure I should do no such thing!’

He smiled at her spark of defiance. ‘I meant that I wanted you to enjoy our guests and feel a part of things.’

‘Yes, my lord. I shall of course enjoy having guests.’

‘Back to that, are we?’ His eyes gleamed. ‘One of these days I’m going to make you so sorry for this, Sarah. Why do you find it so impossible to say my name?’

Because she needed to keep her distance, lest she fall into a heap at his feet? Her knees were decidedly unreliable and she felt a need to put her arms about him, kiss that wonderfully soft yet firm mouth and run her fingers through his dark hair. What else she might wish
to do was completely out of the question for a respectable unmarried lady and brought a hot flush to her cheeks. She fought the need, forcing herself to speak coolly and ignore the heat coursing through her entire body.

‘Forgive me, Rupert. I do find it difficult sometimes.’ Especially when he looked at her with dark eyes that seemed to burn into her soul. His breeches moulded to powerful thighs, his shoulders were broad and seemed almost to strain the seams of his immaculate coat—just right for a woman to lean on in times of trouble… .

Was she mad? Sarah was suddenly amused by her wandering thoughts. She had never dreamed that she, Sarah Hardcastle, would ever meet a man she would lust after to such an extent that her wits were scattered every time he came close.

‘Just what is going on in that beautiful head?’ Rupert’s voice had dropped, become intimate and husky. Sarah tingled with anticipation as he moved closer. He was going to kiss her and she would simply melt into a puddle. ‘I could almost think—’

‘My lord, a carriage has drawn up in the courtyard.’ One of the footmen entered the room and Rupert moved away with a muffled snarl of frustration.

‘Thank you, Hodges. I shall come at once. We shall continue this interesting conversation at another time, Sarah.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Sarah dropped her gaze, her cheeks warm, but her heart was pounding. Had she given herself away? She rather thought she might have. The question was: would he take advantage? ‘I must find Francesca. She will want to meet your guests.’

She hurried after him from the parlour, hearing him greeting someone called Freddie as she ran quickly up the stairs. Francesca was just emerging from her bedchamber. As Sarah had anticipated, she looked nervous at the prospect of meeting people she did not know.

‘What shall I say to them?’ she asked, her eyes on Sarah’s face. ‘I’m not sure what I ought to do… .’

‘Just be yourself, Francesca,’ Sarah said. ‘People will not expect you to be witty or clever, so there is no need to try to think of something interesting to say. Just greet everyone—as you would the friends you know—and tell them you are pleased to have them here, welcome them to Cavendish. When everyone has settled in we shall meet and conversations will begin. Make your contribution if you have something to say—but always think before you say anything controversial.’

‘I haven’t forgotten what Rupert said to me at dinner that night.’ Francesca smiled and reached for her hand. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Sarah. I should have been terrified if I’d been alone.’

‘Everyone will love you, as I do, dearest.’

Francesca nodded and linked arms with her. ‘I feel much better now.’

‘Good. Remember this is an experience to enjoy, not one to dread. Just because these people have come down from London, it doesn’t mean they will be different from your neighbours. I am sure they will all be delighted to meet you.’

The shadows had lifted from Francesca’s face. She looked beautiful and happy, and Sarah’s own mood lightened. For the next few days she would forget her problems and do her best to see that all the guests were content.

‘I am not sure I understand your position here.’ Lady Foxton looked down her long nose at Sarah. ‘You are Francesca’s companion—but you are also the daughter of a wealthy mill owner. Is that correct?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Sarah’s head went up slightly as she met the look of disapproval in the older woman’s eyes. Lady Foxton had a lovely daughter of a similar age to Francesca and the two
had become friends immediately. The girl was open and charming, radiating friendliness to everyone she met, but her mother was another matter. ‘I came here to be with Francesca—and I have helped her with her studies.’

‘What are you—a governess or a companion?’

‘Sarah is a friend,’ Rupert said, coming up to them. ‘Are you quite comfortable there, Lady Foxton? Would you permit me to show you the long gallery before dinner?’

‘How delightful,’ the lady cooed, bestowing a warm smile on him. She got up as he offered his arm and walked away without another glance in Sarah’s direction.

Sarah was unruffled by the lady’s interrogation. It was not the first time she’d come up against barely concealed hostility when mixing in society. Lady Foxton was one of the haughtiest she’d met, but others had been even ruder, if not to her face then behind her back. She was well aware that while the gentlemen seemed ready to accept her for what she was and even to admire her, some ladies found her company not to their taste. As a young girl staying at the home of one of her friends from school, Sarah had come up against prejudice and she no longer allowed it to disturb her. She had friends enough amongst the lower echelons of society
and the daughters of rich merchants. To imagine she would ever be universally welcome in the drawing rooms of London would be to deceive herself—and Sarah was not her father’s daughter for nothing.

‘I say, was that old trout giving you the third degree?’ Sir Freddie Holloway came up to her. A man of about Rupert’s age, he was not exactly handsome, but he had a nice smile and Sarah liked him. ‘Take no notice of her, Miss Hardcastle—she’s buried three husbands and they say they were all glad to go.’

‘Oh, no,’ Sarah said and laughed. ‘You really must not, you know. I don’t mind at all. I’m not Lady Foxton’s equal and I would not presume to think it.’

‘A damn sight better, if you ask me, m’dear,’ he said. He sipped his wine. ‘One thing about Merrivale, he keeps a good cellar. Pity he couldn’t be here, but I suppose the place has too many memories.’

‘Yes, I dare say. Francesca and John have missed his company, but it is better now that they have Lord Myers.’

‘Myers is a good fellow. Bit of a dasher with the ladies, don’t you know. He manages to find the sweetest little fillies … but I ought not to say. Reformed character, he tells me.’

‘I dare say Lord Myers is no different from
most gentlemen,’ Sarah said and smiled, though her heart caught with pain.

‘Has more luck than most,’ Freddie said. ‘I remember when we were both after the same charmer—an opera dancer, she was. Thought I was in with a chance, but as soon as he looked her way …’ He rolled his eyes and laughed. ‘Wouldn’t say this to Francesca, of course, but you’re a lady of sense. She’s a beauty, ain’t she?’ He sighed and looked across the room at the two young girls laughing together. ‘I’d make a stab at fixing my interest with her—but I need an heiress. Pockets to let, don’t you know. Suppose you wouldn’t be interested in taking pity on me, Miss Hardcastle?’

‘I believe you are teasing, Sir Freddie.’

Sarah wondered if Rupert had invited him for her benefit. He was a personable man and she liked him. She thought they might become friends in time—but would she be able to trust him with the management of her empire? He seemed the perfect fop, a man of fashion without a serious thought in his head—but of course she did not know him well enough to judge.

‘Of course, m’dear. What else is there for a man to do? Life is boring enough as it is—not when in delightful company, of course.’

‘Do you have no ambition, sir?’ Sarah looked at him in amusement. He was pleasant company,
but such an attitude would drive her mad in a week. She was accustomed to hard work and would expect it of the man she married.

‘Ambition?’ He raised his brows in mock horror. ‘Terrible word that, Miss Hardcastle. I had it once, I think, but somehow it just drifted away like mist on a summer morn. Should I take up poetry, do you think? I dare say it would serve me as well as that Byron fellow.’

‘I imagine Lord Byron works hard at his poems. They are very clever, you know.’

‘Another avenue closed.’ Sir Freddie laughed. ‘Yes, dear lady. I know I am incorrigible. Excuse me, I must talk to Morrison. He has a filly I’m interested in—of the equine variety.’ He winked at her and strolled off.

Sarah’s gaze passed over the assembled company. Mr Norris was only a year or two older than Francesca and seemed pleasant. Lord Phillips was a little older than Rupert and of a serious disposition; Captain Francis was a dashing fellow and talked endlessly of the
regiment.
Mr Stevens and Sir Andrew were both in their early twenties and looked handsome, pleasant young men—the kind that might become suitors for Francesca. The other two ladies were Mrs Carter and her daughter Helena. It was Helena who came to Sarah and took a seat beside her next.

‘Lord Myers told me that he was thinking of giving a small dance while we’re here—nothing grand, just an impromptu affair. He said he was going to send out invitations to his neighbours. I prefer the balls in London, because country affairs can be so boring, do you not think so? There are never enough personable men to go round.’