From Waif To Gentleman's Wife

Handing it to her, he said, ‘Pray forgive me, Mrs Merrill! I know my behaviour was unconscionable, but I needed to determine if your character was as you presented it or not.’

‘You needed to determine …’ she echoed, relief, disbelief and confusion making her hot, then cold, then dizzy.

He seized her arm—but gently, protectively—and eased her to the sofa. ‘Sit, I beg you!’ he said, urging her down on its edge. ‘Don’t want you swooning on me again. I’ve been considering plans for your future—which do not, I assure you, include having you assume a horizontal position for me or anyone else. However, to implement them I needed to know with absolute assurance that you are in fact the lady of blameless character you’ve just shown yourself to be.’

She blotted her eyes and handed him back his handkerchief. ‘You mean,’ she asked incredulously, ‘you were … testing me?’

His cheeks reddened again. ‘Well … yes,’ he admitted.

She was torn between shrieking with laughter—and slapping him for scaring her so. ‘And here I’d been thinking what an exemplary gentleman you were! You are a brigand, sir! A bully and a brigand!’ she fumed.

‘You are quite justified in abusing me. I assure you, I believe that a man who takes advantage of an unwilling lady is a cur who deserves to be horsewhipped. I don’t have a whip handy, but you may strike me if you like.’ He angled his face towards her.

‘You should be more careful what you offer,’ she said tartly. ‘I grappled with my brother growing up and could plant you a facer that would leave you bruised for a week. Indeed, had I not been so cast down by the dreadful events of the last few days, I should have done so when you made your insulting offer.’

‘Please, don’t remind me!’ he groaned. ‘I deserve that fate and more. Although if I were truly a brigand, I’d not have let you go,’ he added.

His tone was light—but a heated something flared between them that she felt right down to her bones. Only this time, she was not afraid.

She had been right on both accounts, it seemed. He did desire her. But Mr Greaves was no Lord Masters, plundering where he would.

He was truly the gentleman she’d thought him—if a devious one! A man with whom, except for that single moment he’d towered over her, she felt safe, even though she was virtually alone with him in his house, with neither friends nor family to defend her.

‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ he asked, recalling her.

‘You think I require something to settle my nerves?’

‘I don’t know about you, but I do, and it wouldn’t be polite to drink alone. Though at this moment you probably don’t believe me, I’ve never before tried to debauch a gentlewoman. ‘Twas a deucedly disturbing experience.’

She chuckled, sure his levity was meant to set her at ease. ‘Very well, I’ll take a glass. To be polite, so you may settle your nerves.’

After he poured the wine and took a chair a respectful distance away, she said, ‘What are these plans you mentioned? Though it is indeed kind of you to be concerned, I have no claim upon you. There is no reason whatsoever for you to concern yourself with my predicament.’

‘Perhaps I have no claim on you, but there is another, much more important than me, who does. I was given to understand that your brother is Lord Englemere’s cousin?’

When she nodded, he continued, ‘Which, of course, makes you his cousin as well. I am certain that, once he is apprised of your situation, Lord Englemere will wish to assist you.’

All the indignation she’d previously felt on her brother’s behalf returned in a rush. ‘Indeed? And whatever could have led you to that astounding conclusion? Need I remind you that Lord Englemere recently discharged my brother from a position he no doubt counted on filling for the rest of his days? My brother, who served his country valiantly at Waterloo?’

Once begun, she couldn’t seem to stop. ‘Oh, you don’t know him,’ she rushed on, ‘but I assure you, Greville possesses the most agreeable and obliging of temperaments. I cannot imagine anyone being vexed with him! He was the kindest elder brother a girl could wish for.’

‘And look around you!’ she demanded, her tone strident as she gestured towards the spotless, orderly room. ‘How could any reasonable employer fault Greville’s management of this house? I begin to believe that all gentlemen of high rank are as venal as Lord Masters! In any event, if Lord Englemere had no compunction about summarily discharging my brother, why should he trouble himself about my fate? Nor do I wish him to. I would as soon throw myself on the charity of the man who ruined my brother’s career as I would play the doxy for him.’

Her tirade over, suddenly she realised poor Mr Greaves was just sitting there staring at her, surprise and dismay on his face. Heavens, what had possessed her to run on in such a fashion?

‘I beg you will excuse me,’ she began again quietly, embarrassed by her outburst. ‘Truly, I am not normally so intemperate. Perhaps the events of this last week have disordered my sensibilities more than I’d thought.’

‘Perhaps,’ Mr Greaves said drily. ‘I recommend the wine. ‘Tis a fine vintage.’

Not until she’d obediently swallowed a sip did it occur to her that the personage she’d just roundly abused was Mr Greaves’s employer, the man to whom he owed his position and his loyalty. ‘Excuse me as well for insulting your patron,’ she added hastily. ‘Admittedly I know nothing of the circumstances surrounding Greville’s discharge. Lord Englemere awarded you this post and you may well think highly of him.’

Looking troubled, Mr Greaves opened his lips, closed them, then finally said, ‘I am … sorry for your brother’s circumstances. Though at present my regard for Lord Englemere may seem inexplicable, yes, I do esteem him very highly.’

‘I’m sure you have your reasons. Let’s simply agree to speak no more of him.’

‘Then you absolutely would not consent to my contacting the Marquess on your behalf?’

‘I want nothing to do with him,’ she said flatly.

‘I see.’ Mr Greaves sipped his wine, looking thoughtful. After a moment, he said, ‘Very well, then, we shall have to come up with another plan.’

That reminder of her grim and still unresolved circumstances abruptly drained the high spirits engendered by their verbal sparring. ‘Coming up with a solution is my task,’ she emphasised again, as if to armour herself against the temptation to rely on him. ‘Though I do appreciate your concern.’

He nodded absently, setting down his glass and gazing into the distance, his brow creased in concentration. Determined to enjoy the last few moments of his company before she must pack her things and say goodbye, Joanna pushed the worry from her mind and contented herself with simply sipping her wine and watching the play of thoughts over his handsome face.

Odd, she thought with a little pang, realising how much she was going to miss someone whom this time yesterday she had not even known existed.

Suddenly Mr Greaves straightened. ‘I have it!’ he announced, triumph on his face. ‘You recently worked as a governess, correct?’

‘Yes. Though I’d never been formally employed as one before, I have three younger sisters. My mother having died after the youngest’s birth, I taught them all as they grew up.’

He nodded. ‘Then perhaps I have a situation for you. One of my aims here is to establish a school for the children of the tenants and the village. As enclosures continue, fewer and fewer of them will end up becoming farmers. Even if they remain on the land, knowing how to read, write and do sums will help them with their accounts, while a rudimentary knowledge of science will make them better farmers. If they must or choose to leave to look for work in town, possessing such skills will enable them to more easily find employment.’

She gave him a speculative look. ‘Just how long has establishing a school here been one of your aims?’

“Tis a worthy aspiration,’ he replied, not answering her question.

‘Are you sure?’ she said softly, sudden emotion flooding her. She would bet her few remaining worldly possessions that a school for the village children was an idea he’d come up with but a moment ago. His kindness in proposing to create a respectable position that would allow her to extract herself honourably from her current predicament brought a lump to her throat.

‘I’m sure. I have to confess, I’ve been here but two days and have done nothing as yet towards the establishment of a school. You would be doing me—and the children around Blenhem, of course—a great favour in organising and initiating such an enterprise.’

Would she enjoy running a school of her own? Was she even capable of it? But how much harder could it be than teaching her sisters or the little daughters of Lady Masters?

She’d have children to care about and instruct, to surround her with their chatter and tears and laughter. That wouldn’t fully assuage the anguish of knowing she would never cradle a child of her own … but it would be a useful way to employ her time while she worked out what to do next.

A useful and honourable way.

It wasn’t as if she had someone or something more pressing awaiting her elsewhere.

While she sat, considering, he rushed on, ‘If you aren’t sure yet what you mean to do, you could just get the school started and teach until another mistress is found. The position would allow you to accumulate funds while you attempt to contact your brother or your family in India and consider what you wish to do permanently.’

Despite his assurances, she knew any service she performed for the school and its children didn’t compare to the one he did her in offering respectable employment to the indigent female who’d landed at his doorstep. Whatever else befell her, she would always consider Mr Greaves the kindest, most thoughtful gentleman she’d ever met.

‘Thank you, Mr Greaves.’ She smiled a bit. ‘I accept this offer.’

To her amusement, he flushed again at this reminder of his rakish behaviour. ‘You are most welcome, Mrs Merrill. By the way, you haven’t enquired about the salary.’

She smiled ruefully. ‘I’m not in a very good position to bargain, am I?’