The Earl's Runaway Governess

She lifted her chin. I can do this! she told herself. I must!

* * *

‘And now to the family bequests.’

Mr Richardson, Ash thought, would have made an excellent torturer. Not content with bringing him into this godforsaken house and forcing him to endure Fanny’s company, he was now reading—very slowly—the entire Last Will and Testament of John Ashington, Fourth Earl Kingswood. Ash had sat impassive as the lawyer had detailed the property that was now his—the main element being this house, with its unswept chimneys. Thankfully, the lawyer was now on to the family section.

Ash took another mouthful of brandy. He would be out of here soon.

Fanny sat up straighter, a decided gleam in her eye. Only the house and gardens were entailed, therefore the rest of the estate would likely be placed in trust for Cecily, perhaps with a sizeable portion for Fanny herself.

He wondered, not for the first time, if Fanny had chosen John because of his title. Had he been the Earl when he and John had both fallen in love with the same girl, would she have chosen him?

Ash forced himself away from cynical thoughts and tried to pay attention to the lawyer.

Mr Richardson read on—and what he said next made Fanny exclaim in surprise. Cecily was to receive only a respectable dowry and John’s mother’s jewellery. So Fanny was to inherit everything?

Ash stole a glance at her. She was quivering in anticipation. Ash averted his eyes.

‘To my dear wife,’ Mr Richardson droned, ‘I leave the Dower House for as long as she shall live there unmarried...’ He went on to specify a financial settlement that was again respectable, though not spectacular.

‘What? What?’ Fanny was not impressed. ‘If he has not left everything to Cecily, or to me, then to whom...?’

She turned accusatory eyes on Ash. ‘You!’

The same realisation was dawning on Ash.

‘The remainder of my estate I leave to my cousin, the Fifth Earl Kingswood, Mr William Albert James Ashington...’

Without missing a beat the lawyer detailed the unentailed lands and property that Ash was to inherit. But there was more.

‘I commend my daughter, Lady Cecily Frances Kingswood, to the guardianship of the Fifth Earl—’

‘What? No!’ Fanny almost shrieked. ‘Mr Richardson, this cannot be true!’

Ash’s blood ran cold as he saw the trap ahead of him. Guardian to a twelve-year-old child? Cutting out the child’s mother? What on earth had John been thinking?

The lawyer paused, coughed, and looked directly at Fanny over his spectacles. Chastised, she subsided, but with a mutinous look. Mr Richardson then returned to the document and read to the end.

John explained in the will that Ash was to link closely with Fanny, so that together they might provide ‘loving firmness’ for Lady Cecily. Loving firmness? What did that even mean?

Ash’s mind was reeling. Why on earth had John done this? Did he not trust Fanny to raise the child properly by herself?

The last thing Ash wanted was to be saddled with responsibility for a child! Fanny could easily have been named as guardian, with Ash and the lawyer as trustees. Indeed, it was normally expected that a child’s mother would automatically be guardian.

The feeling of impatience and mild curiosity that had occupied him when Mr Richardson had begun his recitation had given way to shock and anger, barely contained.

Fanny, of course, then added to Ash’s delight by indulging in a bout of tears. Cecily just looked bewildered. Ash met Mr Richardson’s gaze briefly, sharing a moment of male solidarity, then he closed his eyes and brought his hand to his forehead. Would this nightmare never end?

* * *

Marianne emerged from Mrs Gray’s registry hugely relieved. She glanced at the other two young ladies in the outer office. They were now seated together and had clearly been quietly chatting to each other. They looked at her now with similar expressions—curious, polite, questioning. She was unable to resist sending them what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

She patted her reticule as she stepped into the street, conscious of the paper within. This was her future. Governess to an unknown young lady, recently bereaved and living quietly with her mother. It sounded—actually, it sounded perfect.

For the first time since her decision to run away she felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, after all, things would work out. She had a situation and she would have a roof over her head. She would be living quietly in the country, far away from London. As long as Henry did not find her all would be well.

Of course she had no idea whether he was even looking for her. He might be content simply to let her vanish. On the other hand, that last look he had thrown her—one filled with evil intent—haunted her. Henry was entirely capable of ruthlessly, obsessively searching for her simply because she had thwarted his will by escaping.

She shrugged off the fear. There was nothing she could do about it beyond being careful. Besides, so far everything was working out well.

With renewed confidence, she set off for the modest inn where she had stayed last night. On Thursday her new life would properly begin.

* * *

‘You are telling me that there is no way to avoid this?’

‘Lord Kingswood, I simply executed the will. I did not write it.’ Mr Richardson was unperturbed.

Fanny had gone, helped from the room by her daughter. Fanny had been gently weeping, the image of the Wronged Widow. Ash’s hidden sigh of relief when the door had closed behind her had been echoed, he believed, by Mr Richardson. Fanny had not, it seemed, lost the ability to make a scene.

‘You have not answered my question.’

There! The subtlest of gestures, but the lawyer had squirmed a little in his seat.

‘Tell me how I can extricate myself from this and allow Lady Kingswood to raise her own child.’

‘With your permission, Lady Kingswood can of course raise her daughter.’

‘But her having to seek my permission is not right. She is the child’s mother. Why should I be the guardian?’

The lawyer shrugged. ‘Her father must have had his reasons. He did not clarify, and it was not my place to ask such questions.’

Ash decided to try another tack. ‘What of Lady Kingswood’s portion? How can I give my cousin’s widow more than her husband did?’

‘That part of the estate, as you know, is not entailed, which is how the Fourth Earl was at liberty to leave it to you. It is true that you do have the option of selling it or gifting it to someone. However—’ he raised a hand to interrupt Ash’s response ‘—after the death duties have been paid the estate will barely manage to break even. Lord Kingswood had been ill for more than a year, as you may be aware.’

‘No. I was not aware.’ Guilt stabbed through him. Damn it! Why had he not known about John’s illness?

‘During that time Lord Kingswood’s investments suffered from a lack of attention, as did the estate. His steward was very elderly—he predeceased Lord Kingswood by only a few weeks—and the burden of management fell on the shoulders of Lady Kingswood. As...er...she had no previous knowledge or background in such matters...’ His voice tailed away.

‘But nor do I!’ Ash ran his hand through his thick dark hair in frustration. ‘If the estate has suffered under Lady Kingswood’s stewardship, then how can I, equally inexperienced, be expected to do better?’

Mr Richardson eyed him calmly.

‘Well?’

‘I am afraid I have no answer to that question. What I do know is that if things are left to Lady Kingswood to manage...’ Again his voice tailed off.