Governesses Under The Mistletoe: The Runaway Governess / The Governess's Secret Baby. Liz Tyner
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does it matter that I stay?’ she asked.
‘I need an heir.’ The next words almost hurt his mouth and he chose them carefully, realising them for the first time himself. ‘And I would not mind some respectability in my life. While I don’t intend to become a doddering old saint, I would like, should I have children, for them to have a pleasant childhood. I would like them to have a mother, and a woman trained such as yourself would be the best, absolute best, mother a child could have.’
She lowered her chin and gazed up. ‘I was not the top student at the governess school.’
‘I’m sure you’ll make a good mother.’
She looked at the side table. ‘If they were my own little ones, I think it might be wise if a true governess were hired—I did not pay as much attention to the lessons as perhaps I should. I planned to forget every study as soon as I walked from the door.’ She clucked her tongue. ‘Sometimes my plans are successful.’
‘You’ll be able to love the children and that’s what’s important.’
‘Of course.’ Her smile beamed. ‘I did like it when a new student arrived and I loved them all. Miss Fanworth sometimes chose me to take them around the first few days, but she never chose me to help them with lessons.’
‘I can help with the studies,’ he said, leaning just close enough that he could get a whiff of roses. ‘And you can bring sunshine into their lives.’
‘I could.’
He rubbed the knuckles of her hand against his cheek. ‘And why don’t you get a larger bed—one big enough for two to be comfortable?’
A quick dart of her head took her full expression from his view.
‘And would you be spending the night in it?’
‘It would not do for a lady’s maid to walk in to help you wake and find me half-naked.’
‘My parents were quite comfortable to sleep in the same room. It is not entirely unreasonable. A servant can wait until summoned.’
‘But the town house is large enough for comfort. In the country, roosters crow to wake the house. Here, servants open the curtains.’
She took in a breath and her eyes didn’t return to him. ‘It is indeed unfortunate that no roosters are about.’ Pulling her fingers from his, she tapped her chin. ‘But, in that case, I want to keep my present sleeping place. In the night, I need to be able to feel both sides of the bed.’
‘I understand.’
She took in a breath and moved her body aside and hopped to her feet. ‘So do I. I will not trouble you. You will not even know I am here. I will send notes to the butler when I need something from you and he will relay it. You need not see me except for the briefest moments and a few events needed for respectability. I know that I owe you and I will repay you in heirs.’
At the door, she grasped the frame, but turned to him. ‘Please do not get too attached to me as I do think the idea of moving and changing my name has much merit.’
In two steps he was at the door.
‘Is—’ He put his hand over the one she rested on the door frame, holding her steady. ‘You must give me your word you will not act on that thought.’
‘I would ne—’
‘Isabel.’ Innocent, innocent, innocent eyes stared at him. ‘Your word.’ He could not risk her rushing off to some destination only she thought wise.
A frown. A pause. ‘I will not leave.’ She met his eyes. ‘I will make this my home. I will make this a home.’
Isabel listened to the clattering of the carriage wheels over stones and the sound vibrated into her ears and stayed. The maid sat beside her. The servant was a good two score older and would be the proper chaperon. Isabel didn’t want to be alone. Choosing whom to call on was easy because the only person she knew was William’s sister and the driver knew the direction there.
She had to get something in her head other than the repeat of marriage vows and a sigh. And the memory of William’s eyes begging her forgiveness while his words ran through her like a pike.
The maid darted a look at Isabel.
‘It is just...nothing...’ She kept her next sigh internal. It was nothing. Her marriage. Nothing. She felt no different. Just odd. Everything around her except her clothing was different. Even her name.
The clatter of thoughts in her head didn’t cease when the carriage stopped. She didn’t want to leave the vehicle, but she put her hand on the door, and descended.
She had to speak to someone and William’s sister was most likely to understand. Besides, Sophia already knew the details and Isabel would not have to guard her words.
Once inside Sophia’s home, she was taken to the sitting room with light-coloured walls and matching brocade on the sofa. This was a far cry from Madame’s school where all the furnishings could withstand constant use. In the centre of the room, a small table for a tea service had an oval rug under it and two chairs were aligned for easy conversation, with the sofa just on the other side in case two more people wished to join in.
This was the same room she’d visited before, and yet, she didn’t recall any of it.
She waited, careful not to disturb anything. A clock pealed in the distance and a dog barked several times, then stopped.
Finally Sophia entered the room, steps slow. She took a breath. ‘He is not here.’
They only knew one person in common. Thoughts buffeted Isabel. Sophia thought William had already left the marriage. ‘I know.’
Sophia’s lips turned up. Her face eased. ‘He was here. Almost all night.’ She added the last words quickly. ‘He has a chamber of his own here. He often comes to the house early in the morning and sends his coach home. Then we have breakfast and he falls asleep, and slips out in the evening.’
Sophia indicated Isabel sit, but Sophia remained standing.
‘Does he talk much?’ Isabel asked, making herself comfortable.
‘No. But we don’t have a lot to say. It is almost like a pair of slippers who’ve been stored side by side. He goes his places and I go mine, but we spend time together while nothing else is happening.’
‘Oh.’ Isabel imagined herself as another pair of slippers. Now she understood the marriage William wanted. But she preferred to be the same shoe and match. The one that was part of a pair.
She dismissed her thoughts. The marriage was still fresh. It would take at least a few days for him to understand how wonderful it was to have a wife. A cold thought hit her. Just as it had taken her parents a few days to understand how much they missed her and return.
Sophia interrupted Isabel’s memories. ‘William says you have a voice like a songbird.’
‘I am pleased with it.’ Isabel smiled.
‘Would you sing something for me? I would like to hear it.’
Isabel opened her mouth, then stopped. Never before had she felt the slightest hesitation for singing. If someone asked a question, she had to prevent herself from giving the answer in song.
Shaking her head, she touched her throat. ‘I can’t. Today I woke up with a soreness and it would hurt to sing.’
‘Later, then?’ Sophia asked.
‘Of course.’ Isabel smiled, but her thoughts didn’t match her face. Her desire to sing had fled in the same way a clock that had ticked a whole lifetime suddenly stopped and would not work again. She could not bear the thought of being watched while singing. Just could