The Governess's Convenient Marriage

‘Alexandra, there you are!’ Emily called as Alex stepped down from the carriage. ‘We’d almost given up on you.’

‘I’m so sorry I’m late,’ Alex said. ‘I’m afraid my father caught me as I was trying to sneak out and insisted on talking to me.’

‘I am sorry, old bean,’ Chris said as he kissed her cheek. ‘A ducal lecture must be tiresome indeed. My own fa’s are bad enough.’

‘It wasn’t a lecture, exactly,’ Alex said. She considered sharing her concerns, but then decided not to. She didn’t want to spoil the sunny afternoon. ‘In fact, it was rather nice—we’re going to Paris, it seems.’

‘Oh, Paris!’ Diana sighed as she tucked away her sketchbook. ‘How heavenly. You are so lucky, Alex.’

‘Maybe I’ll see you there,’ Emily said. ‘Father wants to expand the business to Paris and I’ve been trying to persuade him to let me go there. We have to compete with Gordston’s!’

Chris offered Alex his arm and they followed Diana and Emily as they joined the flow of people headed towards the bandstand. It was indeed a glorious spring day, the trees bursting into pale green, the flowerbeds bright with yellow-and-red blossoms, the crowds in their finest as they flocked to listen to the merry band music. How different it was from the people she saw at the round of parties and in her parents’ drawing room! It was all so fascinating, so full of wonderful, vivid life.

‘How is William?’ she asked Chris. His brother, William—now Sir William—Blakely, had been working with the Foreign Office in India and was due home any day. Will, unlike Chris, had always frightened her just a bit. He was always kind to her, but so very darkly handsome, so solemn and businesslike and strong, he intimidated her.

‘He’s home now and promised to be at your grand ball next week,’ Chris said. ‘But they already have him working all hours and, really, who can blame him for wanting to escape our parents as much as possible.’

Alex groaned. ‘He has my sympathies.’ Her aunt, her mother’s sister, and her husband had not been happy for years. Her uncle tended to be loud and overbearing to get his points across and her aunt silent and passive. It was not a happy example of marriage, which was yet another reason Alex grew frightened when her parents pressed so for her to marry soon. ‘I can’t wait to see Will again, but tell him he absolutely doesn’t have to come to the ball. It will be a dreadful crush, no fun at all.’

‘Fun doesn’t seem a concern to Will. Just work, work, work, that’s all he thinks about.’

Alex laughed and nudged him with her elbow. ‘Unlike his brother.’

Chris put on a stern expression, making her laugh even more. ‘Someone has to maintain the family presence in society, Alexandra.’

‘Yes, and you do that very well. Your name is always in the gossip pages.’ The crowd grew thicker as they came closer to the bandstand, people pressing in on every side. Alex’s hat was knocked loose from a pin and she clutched at it as she tried to hold on to Chris.

‘I see some places closer to the front!’ Emily called. Alex tried to follow her, to keep Em’s large, pink-feathered hat in view, but the knots of people gathered around her ever tighter and tighter. Her arm slipped out of Chris’s and she desperately reached out for him, but like Em he slipped away. She was alone, drowning in a sea of strangers.

She felt so cold, so stricken with a sudden giddy rush of panic that she wanted to scream. Her hat was almost knocked off her head and, as she grabbed at it, someone ran into her from behind, making her stumble. The people in front of her moved as she tumbled into them, but that left a patch of gravel clear for her to fall towards it.

Time seemed to slow down, to freeze with the fear, and her hands shot out to catch herself. She braced herself for the jolt of pain.

Before she could land, someone seized her around the waist and lifted her up—up and up, off the ground entirely. Everything around her spun like a stained-glass window, the green trees, the yellow flowers, the reds and blues and browns of the ladies’ hats, all blurred together. Alex couldn’t catch her breath.

When she finally landed on her feet again, clutching at her hat, she found herself facing the most astonishing man she had ever seen. For one giddy instant, she wondered if she had indeed hit her head and landed in a book of Norse sagas.

He was very tall, so tall he blotted out the sunlight, and was a silhouette haloed in its golden glow. His shoulders were so broad under the perfect cut of his fine hunter-green wool coat, and his hair, falling to an unfashionably long length from beneath his stiff-crowned silk hat, was a glorious red-gold colour. His nose was slightly crooked, as if it had once been broken and healed badly, but that didn’t diminish from his sharp-cut cheekbones, his square jaw. He stared down at her from eyes so icy and pale blue they glowed.

She tottered on her feet, disorientated, and he held on to her by her waist, most improper. Most—interesting. He frowned—in concern, or irritation?—as he looked down at her. ‘Are you injured, miss?’ he asked, his voice deep and rich, touched with a Scots burr that made him seem even more otherworldly.

He reminded her of something, but what? It was just there, just beyond the edges of her mind, but it kept slipping away. Maybe she had dreamed of him once or something, he seemed quite unreal.

‘I—I…’ she gasped, feeling foolish, as she seemed to have forgotten all words.

‘You can’t breathe, it’s no wonder, all these glaikit people everywhere,’ he said. ‘Eh!’ he shouted. ‘Everyone move and give a lady some space to breathe.’

The crowd immediately cleared around them, of course. Who wouldn’t, at the sound of such a voice? That brogue, so full of authority and menace, as if Hyde Park was a battlefield. Thor with a Scots accent. It almost made her want to giggle and she wondered if she was getting hysterical.

‘Let’s find you a place to sit down,’ he said, gently taking her arm. His hand, ungloved, felt warm and steady, something to depend on in a dizzy world.

‘My friends…’ she said, suddenly remembering Emily and Diana. Where had they vanished? She glanced over her shoulder, but couldn’t see them anywhere. The crowd had closed behind her again.

‘We’ll find them in just a wee,’ he said. Her gaze was drawn to his lips, strangely sensual and soft for such a hard man. He frowned as if he was concerned. ‘You look very pale.’

‘I do feel a bit—startled,’ Alex admitted. He led her gently to a bench under the shade of a tree, somewhat away from the crowded paths. The bench’s inhabitants moved after a stern glare from Thor and he helped Alex sit down. ‘I don’t think I was expecting quite so many people here today.’

‘Ach, a sunny day, a bit of free music, enough to turn things into a stampede ground in this aidle city. Let me fetch you something cool to drink.’

Before Alex could protest, he turned and strode quickly, long-legged, towards a stand selling ginger beer. She drew in a deep breath, trying to steady herself after the last few astonishing minutes. Surely she hadn’t felt quite so much excitement in—well, ever! She had been so sure her life would never change, that she would smother in her parents’ house, and now she had fallen and been nearly trampled, and then rescued by a Norse god who used the oddest words. No wonder she felt dizzy.

She craned her neck to study her rescuer as he waited in the refreshment line. He certainly was handsome. She was sure she had never seen him before, or anyone quite like him. He was so tall, so powerful-looking, so golden-amber, he looked nothing like the young men she danced with every evening, sat next to at dinner and listened to them talk about cricket. She was quite sure Thor never talked about cricket, or if he did she didn’t want to know about it and spoil the fantasy she was indulging in.

He did wear the finest, most fashionable clothes, his sack coat of dark green wool with velvet lapels perfectly tailored, a gold watch chain over a luxurious ivory brocade waistcoat, boots polished to a gleam, and he seemed perfectly comfortable in them. Yet something about him made the finery seem a bit incongruous, like it wasn’t his favourite attire. She could see him striding across the moor in shirtsleeves and tweed trousers, high boots, his hair shining in the sun.

Yes, he definitely didn’t seem like he belonged in the city. The—what was it he called it? Aidle city.

He came back with a glass of the ginger beer and Alex sipped at it gratefully. Its tart coolness, fizzy on her tongue, seemed to steady her.

‘Thank you,’ she said, hardly daring to look at him for fear she would be dazzled witless again. ‘You have been very kind. I feel so foolish.’

‘Not at all,’ he answered in his rough, warm voice. ‘Anyone would want to faint in such a crowd. I would never have walked this way today if I had known.’

‘So you aren’t here to listen to the music?’

‘I was on my way to work. I like to walk on fine days.’

Alex was dying of curiosity to know what he did for work, but she wasn’t sure it was entirely polite to ask. Aside from her uncle and cousin Will, both at the Foreign Office, she really had no relative who had work they went to. She decided he must be a poet, or maybe a spy. No, a royal Stuart, come to claim his throne! It was surely something terribly dashing and romantic.

She felt her hat slip again from its pins and pulled it entirely off, leaving soft curls of her hair to fall free against her neck and temples. She stared ruefully down at the bit of millinery, the scrap of blue velvet and net, now quite bedraggled. ‘I’m afraid it’s ruined.’

He studied the hat in her gloved hands with a small frown, his head tilted. He smelled heavenly as he leaned closer, like a green, summery forest. ‘That shape is out of fashion, anyway. You need something with a larger brim, maybe with a scoop here over the eye, with a cluster of feathers. The colour is good, though, especially with your eyes.’

Alex gave a startled laugh. ‘You know about ladies’ hats, then, sir?’

He sat back on the bench beside her, his arms crossed over his chest. ‘It’s my job.’

He worked in millinery? Alex could hardly have been more astonished if he said he was just about to jump to the moon. It seemed so—strange. He was surely the most masculine man she had ever encountered, so full of quiet confidence and strength.

‘What do you think of my walking suit, then?’ she asked, sitting up straighter and grinning at him, startled by her sudden boldness. It was very unlike her. Usually, she just tried to blend into the woodwork. ‘Am I terribly out of fashion?’

He studied her carefully, those ice-blue eyes intent on only her, and she was almost sorry she had asked. She felt so hot and flustered under his gaze, and was sure her cheeks had gone bright red. She quickly gulped down the last of her drink.

‘The colour is also good,’ he answered. ‘And the cut. Its fine cloth and the velvet and silk go well together. But the trim is all wrong. A fur collar would be just right, or some gilded embroidery, like Princess Alexandra wears now.’

‘Princess Alexandra?’ Alex said, thinking of her godmother, who was indeed always perfectly dressed.

‘Everyone follows what she wears.’