An Untamed Governess For The Rogue (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 3

  Hearing a movement in the hallway beyond, Luke leapt to his feet and hurried out. Doctor Partridge stood in the entrance hall, ready to receive his coat from the butler, Lewis. He had spent the last half-hour with Miss Dowels, checking on her welfare.

  “How is she?” Luke asked.

  Dr. Partridge turned in surprise. “Oh, My Lord, I did not see you there.” He straightened up in a rather comical fashion. “Miss Dowels will recover in due course. The cold does not appear to have affected her lungs too much, and the knock to her head is not considerable. I have prescribed rest, and a tincture to help her breathe much easier. There is no cause for alarm.”

  “That is good news.”

  “Yes, quite.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  He waved Luke’s praise away. “Think nothing of it, My Lord. It is simply my occupation. By all accounts, you were the one who rescued her. So, it ought to be you who receives thanks.”

  “Nevertheless, I thank you.” The day somebody praised him for an act of heroism would be the day it began to snow in Hell. Still, he had the news he had hoped for. Miss Dowels would make a full recovery, and for that he was glad.

  Now, if only he could come up with a means to punish the fellows who had done this to her. That would be a sure way of regaining her favor, though he still did not know why it bothered him so much.

  I will find these highwaymen, Miss Dowels, and I will make them suffer for the pain they caused you.

  Chapter 3

  A week after she had been brought to the manor, Teresa awoke to a figure sitting in the armchair beside her. The past seven days had been plagued with coughing fits and headaches, which had made even the simplest of tasks almost impossible. Even having the drapes opened had made her feel as though an explosion had gone off in front of her very eyes.

  Maids had come and gone, attending to her. On several occasions, Louisa Morton, the Duchess of Rowfex, had come to visit with her, though she did not remember much of those meetings.

  So it was a surprise to see the Duchess sitting there that very morning. She watched Teresa closely.

  “You are awake at last,” she said, her voice kind.

  “My apologies, Your Grace. Have I slept too long?”

  “No, no, I merely hoped I would catch you in a state of consciousness. Every time I have come to you before, you have been drifting in and out of a feverish slumber. However, the doctor tells me that your fever has broken at last.” She smiled warmly. “Tell me, do you feel much improved?”

  Teresa nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Are you able to walk?”

  “I can attempt it, Your Grace.”

  “Excellent, then I should very much like for you to join us at luncheon. It is a little unorthodox, but we can make an exception, this once,” the Duchess proclaimed. “The children are very eager to learn more about you, as are the rest of us. You gave us quite the fright, arriving in the manner that you did. We have all been terribly concerned about you. Now, shall I send one of the maids in to help you change?”

  “That would be exceedingly generous, Your Grace.”

  “Nonsense, it is the least I can do after the horrors you have endured.”

  “Horrors, Your Grace?” Teresa’s eyes widened. Please say you do not know the truth.

  “Being attacked by highwaymen, Miss Dowels. You must have had the fright of your life.”

  Teresa breathed a small sigh of relief. “Yes, Your Grace. Of course.”

  With that, the Duchess stepped out to call in one of the maids—a petite, mousey-haired young thing who trembled like a leaf. Beside the Duchess, who was tall and slender and infinitely graceful, with piercing blue eyes and a mane of curled blonde hair that had been piled high atop her head, the poor maid looked like an urchin.

  Good looks seemed to run in the family, though the thought prompted Teresa to blush. Lord Luke is a Duke’s son; he is no commoner. You must not think such things. Her mindset changed instantly, as she remembered the cruel trick he had played upon her. How he could have allowed her to wander into the jaws of embarrassment like that, she did not know. Yes, very cruel indeed. Her heart began to race as she realized she was about to come face-to-face with him again.

  Ten minutes later, Teresa emerged from the bedchamber in a gown of marigold cotton. The Duchess had waited for her outside the room. A smile lit up her elegant features as she laid eyes upon her new governess. Truly, it made Teresa feel less anxious, though a lingering tremor remained. She was still so very embarrassed about the manner in which she had arrived. It took every ounce of courage she had to join the Duchess in descending the stairs.

  Teresa was made of far sterner stuff than this, and she had work to do. Chin up, she told herself.

  Becoming the governess to a Duke was no easy feat, but she had managed it with an impeccable history of education, and her friend’s glowing reference. In acquiring employment such as this, she hoped to secure a good future for herself. It did not matter how intensely a young man had embarrassed her; she would not let anything stand in her way.

  The light seemed much too bright as she stepped into the dining room, to join the rest of the Rowfex family at their luncheon. It had yet to be served, and she got the feeling they were all waiting for her. She offered a shy smile to the room, whilst expertly skimming over Lord Luke. He did not seem too perturbed. In fact, he did not even appear to have noticed that she had entered the room.

  What a proud, impertinent young man.

  “Ah, Miss Dowels, I trust you are feeling better?” the Duke broke the silence first, as was customary.

  She curtseyed awkwardly, still unsteady from her illness. “Yes, Your Grace. Much better.”

  “Then, I should like to properly introduce you to the family,” he said, gesturing around the table. “I am uncertain how much you can remember from the night you were brought here, so I shall repeat some members for your sake.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace. I should like that.”

  “This is my eldest son, Edmund, the Marquess of Harpington. Next to him is my second son, Lord Luke. Across the table is my eldest daughter, Lady Felicity Morton. Beside her is the Duchess, whom you have met, and then we have our three youngest—Lord Thomas, Lady Philomena Morton, and Lady Elspeth Morton. The apples of their mother’s eye.”

  Two pretty, identical little girls sat on Teresa’s side of the table. They could not have been older than five, with plump, pink cheeks and porcelain skin—they reminded her of her childhood dolls. Two pairs of twinkling blue eyes looked up at her with excitement, their smiles beaming through the room towards her. Nobody could fail to feel joy in the presence of such adorable creatures. They lightened Teresa’s heart in an instant.

  On the other side of the Duchess sat a sullen little boy, who was perhaps eight, with the same dark hair and dark blue eyes as Lord Luke. However, his scowl softened as he looked upon Teresa, a mischievous smile breaking across his face.

  “And they are to be my charges, Your Grace?”

  The Duke nodded. “I see you are as smitten as the Duchess with these tiny urchins. They enchant everyone they meet, though they are little rascals at heart.” He chuckled softly. Coming from the Duke, it was a peculiar sound. He did not seem to be the type of man who was prone to light-heartedness, though it did suit him in a way.

  “Papa, we are not urchins!” Philomena argued. Teresa knew her to be Philomena, as she wore a pink bow in her dark hair that was embroidered with the letter ‘P’. Elspeth wore a yellow bow, embroidered with ‘E’. The latter seemed to be the shyer one of the duo.

  The Duke smiled. “You say you are not, but look at the jam smeared all over your mouth. Has someone been stealing tarts from Cook again?”

  “Thomas did it,” Philomena replied, without missing a beat.

  Her brother looked at her in shock. “I did not.”

  “You did. You made me eat one.”

  Teresa stepped into the argument before it could escalate further. “Now,
you know it is a terrible thing to tell tales, don’t you?” She sank down to their level. “Honesty will make the angels smile down on you, even if you have done a naughty thing. Honesty can be forgiven more easily than a lie.”

  Philomena glanced at her in surprise. “The angels will smile on me?”

  “Oh yes, My Lady, if you tell the truth always.”

  The little girl pondered the sentiment for a moment, before balling her hands into fists. “Then… I ate the jam tart. I took two from Cook, and I ate one. Elspeth and Thomas wouldn’t eat one before lunch, so I ate theirs, too.”

  Teresa smiled. “There, see—that wasn’t so bad, was it? Now, we can forgive you and enjoy our delicious luncheon.”

  “That was easy.” Philomena grinned triumphantly, rubbing her tummy at the thought of luncheon.

  “Indeed, being honest is always the easiest course of action, in any situation.” Her eyes turned, almost subconsciously, towards Lord Luke. His gazed was already fixed on hers, an amused smile turning up the corners of his lips.

  “A wise lesson, Miss Dowels,” he said softly.

  She dipped her head. “It is good to learn such lessons at a very early age, so that the behaviors may be carried into adulthood. If children are not taught about being truthful, then they may grow to be young ladies and gentlemen who use deceit out of habit.”

  A stillness settled across the room, as she realized that all eyes were on her. She had spoken vaguely, yet everyone knew that her target was Lord Luke. She could feel their shock and amusement, bristling through the atmosphere. All of them turned their gaze on Lord Luke, eager to hear is riposte.

  He simply chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “I could not agree more, Miss Dowels. Perhaps, I may learn a lesson or two from you.”

  “She is our governess, Lukey, not yours,” Philomena chimed in, making everyone laugh. The tension shattered like a stone through glass, restoring the room to its former joviality. Even Teresa felt the weight sloughed from her shoulders as she took her seat. Lord Luke nodded towards her, though she did not understand the gesture. Did I win?

  “Serve the luncheon,” the Duchess instructed. The staff began to move like dancers, bringing in the first dish.

  Teresa was not unfamiliar with these sorts of things, but she understood that life in this household would take some getting used to. Her own home was all she had ever known, and this place seemed strange and alien. The children’s laughter was the only thing that soothed her, letting her know that everything would be fine.

  She was here to perform a function, nothing more. If she could do that, then she would secure her future. That was worth enduring anything for.

  Chapter 4

  Luke sat at the window of the library and watched Miss Dowels playing in the vast gardens with his sisters and his younger brother. A week had passed since their formal luncheon introduction, though it had taken mere hours for the little ones to fall quite in love with their new governess. She was bright and amusing and had quietly stunned everyone at that luncheon with her veiled remark about liars.

  It had tickled him, somewhat. And intrigued him, too. Amongst the ton, he rarely met ladies with a spark of fire within them. It made him wonder what other sparks of fire brimmed beneath the surface.

  Indeed, although her respect and good nature extended to the rest of the family, it seemed to glance over him. He knew he had earned her distrust, after keeping his true identity from her, but he had anticipated a much quicker forgiveness than this. After all, he had rescued her from being attacked by the highwaymen.

  Then again, he had done little to make amends.

  She looked up whilst the girls tossed rings onto a post, her dark brown eyes assessing him keenly. He raised his hand in a gesture of greeting, prompting a stiff curtsey but no hint of a smile. He could not deny how dearly he wished to see her smile, for she was not prone to it. Only the girls seemed to be able to coax one onto her lips.

  A challenge indeed, to succeed in making Miss Dowels laugh. Wouldn’t that be a fine thing?

  “Come on now, we must get you inside before you catch a chill,” Teresa instructed, gathering the three children to her. He could hear her clear voice through the glass. She dusted any dirt from their coats, before ushering them towards the back steps of the house.

  Setting down his book, he rose from the armchair and walked to the library threshold. They would have to pass him on their way to the nursery. A plan was forming in his mind, for although it was a cold day, the sun was out, and the sky was clear.

  Sure enough, the four of them exited the hallway to the left and began to make their way across the entrance hall.

  “Miss Dowels,” he said, seizing his moment.

  She turned, startled. “Goodness, My Lord, I did not see you there. You frightened me.”

  “My apologies, that was not my intention,” he replied, noting the frosty tone of her voice. So, she will not thaw towards me. It disappointed him, for he dearly wished to be closer to her. Indeed, he had found himself lying awake on many a night, since her arrival, thinking of the curve of her neck and the bliss it would give him, if he could only press his lips to her soft skin. At this present moment, she was more likely to slap him than reciprocate.

  “Is something the matter, My Lord?”

  “Not at all. In fact, I was wondering if my darling sisters would be interested in an afternoon jaunt to Moray Park,” he said, flashing them a wink. “It is a rather lovely day, and it seems a shame to waste it indoors.”

  “A pleasant idea, My Lord, but they are to learn mathematics this afternoon.”

  The two girls turned to their governess with mournful, pleading eyes. “Oh, please say we may go, Miss Dowels!” Philomena begged. “We will do twice the mathematics tomorrow, we swear it.”

  Elspeth nodded shyly. She had always been the quieter of the three youngest, though she chattered like a sparrow whenever Luke spoke with her.

  Miss Dowels shot Luke a weary look. “If you are very studious before luncheon, then we may consider it,” she relented, as they continued to plead. “Is the whole family to be in attendance, My Lord?”

  “I will let them know the happy news,” he replied, captivated by her frosty demeanor. He had never encountered such a resilient cool in all his life. Given his name and title, most ladies fawned over him, whether he wanted their attention or not. They had certainly never looked at him with such open exasperation.

  “Very well, My Lord.” She dipped her head to him. “If you would be kind enough to send one of the maids to fetch us when we are to leave, I will prepare the children for the excursion. Although I had hoped to teach them arithmetic, I suppose there is benefit in exercise, too.”

  Was that a glimpse of an olive branch?

  “I shall do so, Miss Dowels. Apologies for disturbing your educational program.”

  She curtseyed once more, before taking the girls upstairs. Luke watched her leave, finding that same curious smile fixed upon his lips. Captivating did not even begin to cover it. Enrapturing might have been a better choice of words to describe her. Indeed, now all he could think of was the small birthmark upon the apple of her cheek, shaped so tenderly like a heart.

  He thought back to the night they had met, and the fear he had felt in holding her fragile form in his arms. It seemed serendipity had brought her into his life. Truly, he felt they could not have been destined for this evasive dance that they seemed to be engaged in. He did not know what else they might be destined for, but he envied the joy with which Miss Dowels spoke to the children. He wanted her to speak to him with that same sweetness—the kind with which she had addressed him in those first moments.

  Determined, he vowed to win back her favor, even if it took him a month.

  * * *

  With the afternoon sun hanging low in the sky, casting a warm bronze upon the beautiful landscape of Moray Park—a large expanse of countryside not far from the Rowfex Estate, where they often liked to visit—a contingent of the Rowfe
x family walked along the main thoroughfare.

  Edmund did not know how Luke had managed to persuade his mother to accompany them, but he had a way with people that Edmund had always envied. Nevertheless, all seemed cheered by the excursion. His mother was even tilting her face up to the bright sun, letting it shine upon her. Felicity had declined, but then she was a reclusive creature. He doubted even the enthusiasm of Miss Dowels could coax her out of her shell.

  The Duchess, Miss Dowels, and the three youngest walked ahead, whilst Edmund and Luke brought up the rear on horseback. Edmund liked to ride his prized gelding, Palaimon, whenever the opportunity presented itself, especially as it eased the weight upon his injured leg. After two years, he had hoped it would have healed better, but it seemed the affliction was determined to be permanent. It irked him, too, that Luke was the better horseman, which his brother loved to reiterate whenever possible.