The Earl's Runaway Governess. Catherine Tinley
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reminded herself, you have no reason to fear him.
She kept walking, soothing herself with calm thoughts. As she reached his table she turned her head, compelled to confirm that it was no one she knew.
This man was a few years older than Henry—perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties. His hair was similar—thick, dark and luxuriant. But the face was totally different. This man was handsome—or at least he would be if he were not scowling so fiercely. His strong bones and lean features contrasted with Henry’s slight pudginess and rather weak jawline. And now that she could see all of him she realised that his body shape was totally different from Henry’s. He was lean and muscular, with no sign of a paunch. His clothing was similar to that favoured by Henry—and indeed by all the young bucks of London. But there the resemblance ended.
Sensing her standing there, he looked up from his mug and their eyes met. Stormy blue bored into her and Marianne felt a slow flush rise. My, but he was attractive! And she realised his gaze was doing strange things to her.
Breaking away from that endless, compelling contact, she bit her lip and took the final four steps to the counter.
‘Yes, miss?’
Marianne summoned a polite smile. She felt slightly lost and shaky, and she could feel the man’s gaze boring into her back.
Still, she managed to reply to the landlady. ‘I am expecting someone to meet me here. I have travelled from London on the mail coach.’
‘Who is it you are expecting, miss?’
Marianne’s brow creased. ‘I am not exactly sure.’
Inside, panic was rising. What if there has been some mistake? What if there is no governess position?
‘I am to take up a position as governess at a place called Ledbury House. I was told to travel here by mail coach today.’
‘Ledbury House? This gentleman—’ the landlady indicated the fashionable buck ‘—is also travelling there. Perhaps you are expected to travel with him?’
Heart sinking, Marianne swung round to face him. His scowl had deepened as he’d listened to their exchange, and he now raised a quizzical eyebrow.
‘Curious...’ he mused. ‘And to think I was unaware of the delights this day would hold.’
Marianne was taken aback. She was unsure how to take this. The man’s words had been perfectly polite, but something about the tone suggested the possibility that he was not, in fact, delighted. Accustomed as she was to straightforward politeness, his words and tone felt disconcerting.
Something of what she was feeling must have shown on her face because, as she watched him, his expression changed to one of chagrin.
‘I have no doubt,’ he murmured cryptically, ‘that this is a mess of Fanny’s making and I am expected to fix it. Well, I shall do so this one time, but no more.’ With this enigmatic statement he drained his mug, then stood. ‘You’d best come with me.’
Not waiting for her reply, he swung away towards the door.
Marianne stood rooted to the spot, uncertainty bedevilling her. Should she go with him? A stranger? And she was to travel with him unaccompanied? Miss Marianne Grant, a lady, would never have done so. Miss Anne Bolton, a governess, could.
Conscious that all eyes were all on her, Marianne was surprised to find determination rising within her. Surprised because she did not often need to be brave. She was normally a placid, timid creature, most at home with a book in her hand and harmony and peace all around her.
This unknown gentleman was expecting her simply to climb into a carriage beside him—without any chaperon, maid or footman accompanying them. Perhaps he had a groom? Well, even if he didn’t, it was clear that everyone expected the governess to go with him and be grateful for the ride.
Although he was handsome, and strangely compelling, she was almost relieved to be wary of him—being guarded would be much, much safer than being attracted to him.
Torn between the surprising temptation to sit down somewhere safe and wait for an unknown rescuer and the even stronger temptation to run, to get as far away as she could from the danger inherent in being alone in a carriage with a man, Marianne recognised that her best option was simply to get into the carriage and hope she would be safe with him.
She had very few options. She must get to Ledbury House, where she would have food and a place to sleep, and where she could perhaps eventually feel secure.
You are no longer Miss Marianne Grant, she reminded herself, but a poor governess, and you need this situation. Hopefully she would be safe and unmolested by this man for the last part of her journey.
Swallowing hard—she could almost feel the fear in the back of her throat—she gave the landlady a polite nod and followed him out to the yard.
There he was, barking orders at the ostlers, instructing them to harness his horses to the carriage as soon as they could find the time. Two men and a stable boy had immediately jumped to their task, apparently caught out by the gentleman’s earlier than anticipated departure from the taproom.
Marianne walked slowly towards him. He glanced sideways at her, then turned his impatient gaze back to the ostlers. They stood like that, with Marianne feeling increasingly awkward and unsure, until the four beautifully matched greys were ready. The gentleman then held out his hand.
Confused, Marianne just looked at it.
‘Your bandboxes?’ he said mildly.
‘Oh!’ She passed them to him, and he stowed them in the back. One of the ostlers handed her up, and the gentleman got up beside her. He threw the men a couple of coins, and then they were off.
Marianne had never ridden in a high-perch phaeton before. It was high up, and there were no sides to speak of, and she was with a strange man who was taking her off to God knew where.
As a governess, this was now her lot. She had not the protection of any relative, nor even a servant known to her. Anything might happen to her, and no one would know or care.
It was not to be wondered at that fear, her constant companion these days, was now screaming inside her.
The carriage continued along the narrow streets of Netherton and onwards to the countryside beyond. Once free of the village the gentleman increased speed, driving his horses to what Marianne worried was an unsafe pace.
She wrapped her cloak more tightly around herself against the cold air and gripped the side of the carriage with her left hand. When they turned a bend in the road at what she felt was unnecessary speed, she could not prevent a small gasp.
Hearing it, he raised an eyebrow, but only slowed the pace slightly.
Marianne bit her lip. Between anxiety about being alone with a young man and driving too fast, she was all inner turmoil. Still, he had not so far shown any interest in her person. Except—Her mind wandered back to that first compelling gaze, when their eyes had been locked together and she had felt...something. Had he felt it too? Or had she imagined it?
The narrow seat was built to just about accommodate two people, with the result that he was seated uncomfortably close to her. His left thigh was aligned with her right leg, and she could feel his muscles tighten and relax as he concentrated on the exertions of driving. She could even detect his scent—a not unpleasant combination of what she thought was wood smoke and lye soap.
He seemed incredibly big and powerful and dangerous. And she had no idea who he was as he had not even had the courtesy to introduce himself.
They rounded another bend—to find a wide farm cart coming straight towards them! Marianne moaned, anticipating the inevitable collision. Their pace was too fast and the road too narrow to avoid it. She gripped more tightly and closed her eyes.
Seconds passed. Nothing. They were still moving! Opening her eyes, she was amazed to see that somehow