The Cinderella Governess

Luke handed his glass to Alma. ‘I won’t have a misguided woman ruining herself under our roof, especially not with a man like him. Tell no one about this.’

‘I won’t say a word.’ Thankfully, she understood the need for discretion in this matter.

Luke followed them out of the ballroom, as curious as he was determined to protect his wayward guest.

She travelled the length of the ever-darkening hallway with the agitation of a spy down an alley. Whatever she was doing was wrong and she knew it. Still, she continued on in search of Lieutenant Foreman. Luke was careful not to follow too close. He wanted to make sure he caught them together, but not too much together. Then he’d see to it Lieutenant Foreman never set foot in this part of Hertfordshire again. He detested the man and his lack of honour. He should have done right by the vicar’s daughter. At least he hadn’t got the young lady with child. Luke would’ve marched him up the church aisle at bayonet point if he had. He hoped he didn’t have to perform the same service for Miss Huntford.

The young lady slipped down another hall, this one poorly lit to disguise the threadbare rug and tired furnishings. The best of the furniture had been moved to the front of the house and the ballroom to keep up the appearance of wealth. No guests were supposed to be in this far-flung and cold wing of the classical-style house.

He stopped at the turn to the hallway and peered around the corner, doing his best to remain undetected. The young lady paused at the door near the far end and took hold of the knob. She turned to survey the emptiness around her. Luke jerked back out of sight and prayed he hadn’t been seen. The squeak of the brass and the protest of the old hinges as the door opened told him she hadn’t noticed him.

He marched down the hall after her, determined to make his interruption as stunning as possible in order to teach the lady a lesson. He grabbed the knob and threw open the door. ‘What are you doing in here?’

He jerked to a halt to keep from colliding with the young lady. She scooted aside as, across the room, Lieutenant Foreman let go of the elder Miss Huntford so fast, she almost fell to the floor.

‘Enjoying the pleasures of the country, as you can see,’ Lieutenant Foreman sneered, his pointed chin framed by the red coat of his uniform ‘And there’s nothing you can do about it, Mr Preston.’

Luke rushed up on him so fast, he shuffled back into the bookcase behind him. ‘I may not have my commission, but I still have my connections, especially with Lieutenant Colonel Lord Beckwith. I won’t hesitate to appeal to him to have you drummed out of the ranks for this.’

‘No, you can’t,’ Miss Huntford protested.

He fixed her with a hard look. ‘You’d do well to remember your reputation is in grave danger of being compromised.’

Miss Huntford shrunk back, biting her lip like a reprimanded child.

Luke turned to his former comrade, wanting to thrash him for being a scoundrel, but he kept control. His family couldn’t afford any broken furniture. ‘As for you, Lieutenant Foreman, you’d better think long and hard on your future in the Army because if I ever see you two together again, unmarried, or hear one whiff of scandal regarding you and Miss Huntford, I’ll see to it you’re shipped to a remote and disease-ridden post. Do I make myself clear?’

Lieutenant Foreman’s beady eyes widened. ‘Yes.’

‘Sir.’

‘Yes, sir.’ He raised a shaking hand to his forehead in salute.

‘Now, get out.’

Lieutenant Foreman slid out from between Luke and the wall, offering not one word of goodbye to his lover as he rushed from the room.

Miss Huntford’s embarrassment didn’t last long past the exit of her paramour. She fixed hard eyes on her sister, reprimanding her as if Luke wasn’t there.

‘You brought Major Preston here,’ she screeched. ‘You’re trying to ruin me on purpose. How dare you. I’ll see you pay for this.’

She advanced on the poor young lady, who shrank into the corner as if doing her best to become one with the panelling. Luke stepped between the sisters, shielding the lady from Miss Huntford’s wrath.

‘Your sister didn’t bring me here. I followed her. Unlike you, I’m concerned about her reputation and yours.’

‘Sister,’ Miss Huntford snorted, ‘she isn’t my sister. She’s the governess.’

Luke stepped out from between the ladies and glanced back and forth at them. So much about their previous conversation suddenly became clear, especially her refusal to dance, her insight and her desire to get away. The governess lowered her stunning blue eyes to the carpet, her head bowed like an inferior. It made his blood boil to see her humbled by Miss Huntford, as it did when he used to see unqualified commanders berate junior officers for daring to display initiative.

Luke turned back to Miss Huntford. With her deep-red dress pressing her generous breasts up against the top of the bodice, she was as well done up as a courtesan searching for a client at the theatre. Her mother shouldn’t have allowed her daughter to wear so questionable a dress. Then again, if her mother had shown much interest in her, she might not have been here with Lieutenant Foreman. ‘Your governess has more sense than you do.’

Miss Huntford let out a startled squeak at being disciplined for what Luke imagined might be the first time in her life.

‘If I hear any word of Miss—what’s your name?’ he asked the governess.

‘Radcliff.’ She twisted her hands together in front of her. The vibrant, humorous woman he’d enjoyed in the ballroom was gone, driven away by her spoiled hoyden of a charge.

‘If I learn Miss Radcliff has been reprimanded or dismissed for her attempt to aid you, Miss Huntford, I’ll ask for an interview with your father and tell him not only what I witnessed, but something of Lieutenant Foreman’s background. He won’t like it and neither will you. Do I have your word you won’t seek revenge against Miss Radcliff?’

Miss Huntford screwed up her full lips in a pout to make a two-year-old proud. He recognised the delay. It was the same reaction he used to receive from soldiers not wanting to answer a direct question. They would hem and shuffle, working to come up with some false reason to justify their poor behaviour. Like his soldiers, Miss Huntford could think of nothing. Her pout eased into a frown and the red drained out of her face. She was beaten and she knew it. ‘Yes, you have my word.’

‘Good. I’ll escort you back to the ballroom and we’ll say nothing of this to anyone.’ He offered her his elbow.

She wrinkled her nose at it, stubborn as before, but, seeing no choice except to comply, she slapped her hand down over his coat. She flicked Miss Radcliff a fierce look as they all walked into the hallway.

Miss Radcliff followed a few steps behind them as they made for the ballroom. It was she he was worried about, not the lady on his arm. He might have threatened Miss Huntford, but he doubted her ability to honour her word. If she struck at Miss Radcliff, there was nothing he could do to help or protect the poor governess. He couldn’t correspond with Miss Radcliff, or visit her at Huntford Place. Despite the pleasure of her presence and conversation, she was one of the few ladies in attendance not available as a potential bride.

The realisation ground on him like a pebble stuck in a boot. The woman behind him possessed more dignity, poise and sense of duty than the daughter of a baronet marching beside him, yet he was forced to overlook her because she wasn’t of his class. The indignity of it distracted him so much, he failed to stop on the threshold to the ballroom and allow the ladies to continue in without him. The moment he and Miss Huntford entered the ballroom, all eyes fell upon them and then on her hand on his arm. A few people noted Miss Radcliff behind them, her presence as a chaperon restraining the whispers, but it was clear the pretty baronet’s daughter and the potential earl had been outside the room together.

The attention didn’t escape Miss Huntford, who snatched her hand off his arm and made for her mother. Miss Radcliff stepped out from behind him to follow her charge.

‘Miss Radcliff,’ he called to her, not sure why. There was nothing more for them to say. He hoped she’d be all right and wished there was some way he could ensure it, but there wasn’t. Meeting his hesitation, she spoke first, aware of those around them watching this strange conversation.

‘Thank you for your assistance, Major Preston.’ She dipped a proper curtsy, then set off after Miss Huntford, proving she was level-headed in a difficult situation.

It was another reason to admire her and he regretted letting her go, unable to stop watching her until she passed by Alma. His sister-in-law cocked her head in curiosity at Luke, having guessed which lady truly interested him.

He jerked his attention away from them both and strode to a nearby circle of gentlemen discussing pheasant hunting. The topic failed to take his mind off Miss Radcliff’s enchanting eyes, or the peace and delight he’d experienced in her presence. She, more than anyone, had understood his frustration at being here and she was the one young lady he was unable to court.

‘I bet you’re glad to be away from all the nasty business in Spain?’ Lord Chilton joked in an attempt to engage Luke. He was one of the many men here with an eligible daughter and money.

‘Not when my men are still there dying so we can enjoy balls without Napoleon’s boot on our throats.’ Luke didn’t feel like being pleasant. He hated being forced to parade before all the tittering country women while his men suffered in Spain.

‘Yes, bad business, most grateful for their service,’ Lord Chilton muttered.

The other gentlemen added a few agreeing harrumphs.

‘What will you do with yourself now you’re home?’ Lord Selton asked. ‘I can’t imagine country life can hold much charm for a man of your experience.’

No, it didn’t. He’d found meaning for his life in the Army, a sense of accomplishment and merit which he’d never had before and now it was gone. ‘It does lack excitement, but at least no one is shooting at me.’

It was almost the only benefit to being here.

‘I suppose there is that,’ Lord Selton agreed before Sir Peter Bell turned their attention back to hunting.

Luke slipped his hand into the inside pocket of his coat and traced the curving line of the bugle-horn badge. He glanced to where Lady Huntford stood beneath the chandelier with her daughter. Miss Radcliff stood behind them, as forgotten as the numerous other chaperons scattered around the edges of the room. Feeling him watching her, she offered him a small, encouraging smile. Then, some sharp remark from Lady Huntford pulled her attention away.

He let go of the badge. There had to be something of merit for him to achieve here besides growing fat while he waited for some inheritance which might never come. He must find it and soon. He wouldn’t allow himself to be made to feel as useless as he had as a child. He would find purpose, new things to achieve and accomplish, a reason beyond his ability to sire a child to make himself and his family proud.

Chapter Three

‘Luke and Frances Huntford. I wouldn’t have guessed it considering the way you used to talk about her when you were young.’ Charles Preston, Earl of Ingham laughed across the breakfast table at his younger son before rising to help himself to more eggs from the sideboard. ‘Can’t say I fancy being related to that brood, but if one of them gives me a grandson, I guess I won’t mind. The mother is quite capable of producing children. It bodes well for the daughters.’

Alma paled at the mention of Lady Huntford’s fecundity.

‘Charles, watch what you say,’ Lady Elizabeth Ingham chided as she motioned for the footman to pour her more coffee. ‘Especially since we might end up related to them.’

She winked at Luke, then lifted her coffee to her lips, hiding her teasing smile behind the steam.

‘I’m not interested in Miss Huntford.’ Luke sliced his ham into pieces.

‘You’d do well to have an interest in her. Her dowry could offset our losses from last year’s weak crop,’ Edward added from across the table.

‘I wouldn’t get your hopes up,’ Luke countered. ‘Sir Rodger won’t spend so much as a farthing to repair the roof over his head. I doubt he’ll give it away with his daughters. But since I’m not interested in her, it is a moot point.’

After the ball, Luke had done everything he could to forget his brief time with Miss Radcliff, but it hadn’t worked. Despite a vigorous ride this morning and a round of sparring with the groom, neither her vivid blue eyes, nor her kindness, had faded from his memory. To her, he hadn’t been the catch of the year, but simply Major Preston. He wanted to be Major Preston with her again, but he couldn’t. Courting a governess was as fanciful as hoping Napoleon would walk away from war.

‘If you weren’t interested in Miss Huntford, you should’ve let her return by herself instead of allowing the whole countryside to speculate about the two of you.’ His mother sipped her coffee with a sigh of relief, the late night telling in the dark circles beneath her eyes. ‘It could prove troublesome, especially while we’re guests for their house party.’

Luke and Edward groaned in unison.

‘Sir Rodger has the worst staff, especially the butler,’ Edward complained. ‘He has no grasp of how things are done. He’s surly, too.’

‘It’s because Sir Rodger doesn’t pay him enough.’ Luke imaged the pittance Miss Radcliff must be earning.

‘If the old miser is spending the money on a party, he must be desperate to get rid of Miss Huntford,’ Edward addressed Luke in a rare moment of fraternal solidarity.

After what Luke had witnessed last night, it wouldn’t surprise him.

‘The only reason we’re going is so Luke can look over the other young ladies. Otherwise, we wouldn’t bother,’ their father offered with uninspiring assurance.

‘I haven’t said I’ll go, but speaking of bother...’ Luke sat back from the table and pushed his plate away, determined to discuss the other subject which had kept him up most of the night ‘...I intend to call on Lord Helmsworth while I’m home. I’d like to arrange for another survey of the disputed boundary land, and, if it’s determined to be his, then to arrange a lease of it or the rights to the river. I think it’s time we end our feud with him.’

The silence which answered his announcement echoed through the room. Everyone stared down the table at him as if he’d suggested they catch the plague.

Edward’s glare was especially sharp. ‘You think you’ll stroll into Helmsworth Manor and after twenty years he’ll deed us the land with the river simply because you asked him to?’

‘It’s worth a try.’ Luke trilled his fingers on the table, struggling to remain calm. He needed more to do in the country than search for a wife. Settling the old land dispute was it. He hadn’t thought the idea would receive such a hostile response. ‘We need the water to irrigate the west field. Without it, we can’t expect to have a profitable enough harvest next year to cover our losses from this one.’

‘I’m well aware of what we need, more so than you.’ Edward pointed his knife at him. The conflict between them had returned with Luke from Spain with a vengeance. Except this time it was different. He and his brother were more equal now than in the past and Edward didn’t like it any more than Luke did. ‘This isn’t school. You needn’t try and outdo everyone.’

‘You were the only one I ever outdid and only because it was so easy.’ Luke speared a piece of ham and stuck it in his mouth with a smugness he didn’t feel. In the heat of more than one battle, when he thought he wouldn’t come home again, he’d longed to end the old rivalry between him and Edward. Now he was here and all he could do was argue with him. It wasn’t right, but he seemed powerless to put an end to it.

Alma exchanged a troubled glance with their mother, who flapped a silencing hand at her sons. ‘Boys, it’s too early for this. If Luke wishes to try to settle the dispute, then he may. After all, it’s cheaper to pay a surveyor than a solicitor and if it benefits us, then good. In the meantime, we must make a decision about the Huntford house party. Edward, will you and Alma attend?’

‘We will if you want us to.’ Alma set her fork aside, her food hardly touched. The circles under her eyes were far darker than they should have been, even after a late night. She rose and made for the door. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’

‘I’d better see to her.’ Edward stood, his square chin stiff in the air as he marched to the door. He matched Luke in height, but had their mother’s hazel eyes and their father’s black hair. ‘I wouldn’t want anyone accusing me of failing as both a husband and an heir.’

Once he was gone, Luke’s mother shook her head. ‘Alma tries so hard to be brave and I tell her not to worry. Since we have you, there’s no reason to despair.’

Luke resisted groaning at having his value to the line stated so plainly. He rose, the tiff with Edward, as well as the memory of Miss Radcliff and the sleep it had stolen from him, crawling under his skin as much as his change of situation. Luke wasn’t likely to ever be the earl, and he didn’t want to inherit if it meant his father and Edward’s deaths, but he wasn’t sure he wished to foist the responsibility for Pensum Manor’s future on some unsuspecting son either. He’d seen the demands it had made on his family and the way it had treated him. It wasn’t something to envy. ‘I’m riding over to visit Lord Helmsworth.’

‘Luke, say you’ll come to the house party.’ His mother reached up and laid a hand on his arm. ‘You don’t know how much I want to be a grandmother, to have Pensum Manor filled with the giggles of small children as when you and your brother were small.’

He was amazed she could remember the laughter and forget the awful rows he and his brother used to have. Time hadn’t made them less intense, only more chilling.

‘All right, I’ll go.’ He’d rather spend time in a French prison than with the Huntford girls, but visiting them would allow him to make sure Miss Radcliff was well and Miss Huntford was upholding her end of the agreement.

He left the dining room and made for the stables. He shouldn’t concern himself with the welfare of a governess, but he hadn’t allowed any of the weaker men in his regiment to be bullied by fellow soldiers or even officers. He wouldn’t leave a poor governess to suffer under an indifferent, if not hostile employer. Nor would he allow anyone’s prejudices to stop him from coming to know her better. He couldn’t pursue her, but there was no reason why they couldn’t be friends.

* * *

‘Major Preston is coming here?’ Frances wailed from across the breakfast table after her mother made the announcement.

He’ll be here. Joanna stared down at the scuff mark on the toe of her half-boot to hide the flush creeping over her cheeks. She unclasped her hands from in front of her and allowed them to dangle by her sides. It shouldn’t matter to her if Major Preston was coming or not. His doings were not her concern, but the news made standing still difficult.

She waited behind her three other charges for them to finish their food so their lessons could begin. Since the family ignored her at breakfast, and most of the day, her worry quickly passed. She could drop dead of the pox behind them and they weren’t likely to notice.

‘All of the Inghams are coming.’ Lady Huntford didn’t look up from her morning correspondence, taking little note of Frances’s distress. Her blonde curls, like her daughter’s, were tight beside her full cheeks and small eyes. Bearing six children had made her stout, but not fat, and her lack of interest in anything besides gossip and dresses gave her wide face a perpetually bored appearance. ‘I thought you’d be pleased—after all, you were with him for some time last night.’

‘I wasn’t with him.’ Frances all but pounded her thighs in frustration.

This was enough to make Lady Huntford finally put down her letter and look at her daughter. ‘Then what were you two doing in the hallway?’

Frances looked to Joanna, who dropped her gaze to the back of the chair in front of her, noticing a chip in the finish. The chit didn’t deserve her help. Her silence meant Frances was forced to invent her own excuses for her mother.

‘We were talking. Miss Radcliff and I had stepped out for some air and he happened upon us. We discussed, uh, well, it was—what were we discussing, Miss Radcliff?’ Frances appealed to the woman she’d declared her enemy for her salvation.

You acting like a harlot with Lieutenant Foreman.

‘His return from Spain.’ It galled Joanna to use her private conversation with him to defend Frances instead of telling Lady Huntford the truth. She doubted how much good speaking up would do anyway. Lady Huntford would probably blame her favourite daughter’s misguided attempt at romance on Joanna.

‘Of course, I forgot he was telling us about Spain,’ Frances rushed. ‘An awful topic.’

‘I don’t imagine you’ll be forced to discuss it much with him since he’s resigned his commission.’ Lady Huntford sniffed before turning in her seat to face Joanna. ‘I noticed you were speaking a great deal with him. What were you thinking dominating so much of his time?’

‘He approached me, Lady Huntford, and asked about Frances.’ Joanna hoped she wasn’t struck down for lying. ‘I answered his many questions about her.’

Lady Huntford’s eyes widened. ‘What an unexpected surprise. You should have told me about it at once and not kept it a secret. You’ll do no such thing in the future, do you understand?’

‘Yes, Lady Huntford.’ It seemed Frances wasn’t the only one to be nearly caught out this morning. Joanna glanced at the young lady who frowned into her plate. The two of them hadn’t been alone together since they’d left the ball last night. In fact, Frances had all but avoided Joanna, upholding her end of the bargain with Major Preston. His threat would be more potent while he was here, sleeping in a room below Joanna’s, eating at this very table, walking the halls where she might glimpse his confident stance and dominating eyes.

Stop thinking about him!

Lady Huntford fixed on her eldest daughter, her voice snapping Joanna out of her daydream. ‘It appears we have even more reason for you to try and impress him.’

‘I don’t see why. He’s only the second son and it could be years before he inherits, if he does at all. A woman might waste her life waiting for nothing.’ Frances crossed her arms over her chest in a huff.

Joanna balled her hands into fists at her sides, her nails biting into her palms. After last night, and the quick way Major Preston had defended her, Frances should be grateful. Joanna would give her eye teeth to be able to speak freely with him. All Frances could do was cast him aside and pout over her rake of a lieutenant. Her behaviour disgusted Joanna, but she buried it deep down, afraid it would show in what she did or said. Her one consolation was Major Preston having seen Frances’s true personality. She doubted a man as honourable as he would take a genuine interest in a woman like Frances. Though if he didn’t, why had he accepted the invitation? Lady Huntford had lamented the lack of a response from the Inghams for days. Joanna wondered what had changed his mind and if it had something to do with her.

Of course not. She was nothing to no one. Not even her mother or father, who’d cast her on the charity of Madame Dubois instead of raising her themselves, had wanted her. It was foolish to think the second son of an earl would defy his parents’ and society’s expectations to woo her. His concern for her well-being last night had been a fluke, like Catherine completing her French lessons without an argument yesterday. While Major Preston was staying at Huntford Place, he wasn’t likely to be kind or attentive to Joanna, but to ignore her like everyone else did. There was no reason for him to behave differently when there’d be so many other eligible ladies here to hold his attention.