Breaking the Governess's Rules

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‘I want this letter in the first post,’ Jonathon said, handing the sealed note to his valet.

‘Very good, my lord.’ Thompson gave a bow and left Jonathon alone in the library of his Newcastle town house on Charlotte Square.

Jonathon swirled the untouched ruby port in his glass. His stepmother would come to Chesterholm and she would bring his half-sister Margaret. Before he confronted Venetia over Louisa, Jonathon wanted to make sure that Margaret could not be held as a hostage. If Venetia was prepared to lie about Louisa’s death when he lay injured in order to further his relationship with Clarissa, Jonathon knew that she would not hesitate to arrange a marriage that Margaret might not desire. He had a duty towards his sister. Margaret deserved her chance to find love.

What to do about Louisa Sibson and her reappearance in his life? She denied the passion that had existed between them, but it was there, and this time she would stay until the passion burnt out.

Even the last few remaining coals in the fire mocked him, echoing the colour of Louisa’s hair. She was here and alive, utterly unrepentant and utterly desirable. How many times had he longed for Louisa’s return, if only for a few minutes, if only so he could whisper that he was sorry. He gave a wry smile. His nurse used to say it was never good to get what you wish for.

His mind returned to the early days after the accident when he had asked for Louisa to see if Clarissa’s overly pat tale of woe had any substance. Clarissa had been there, competent and efficient, the perfect nurse, alongside Venetia. And each time he had asked, her frown had increased. He clearly remembered the exchange—why is he asking for that governess?—and his correcting shout—my fiancée. And his stepmother had patted Clarissa’s arm and told her not to worry about the baggage before forcing more of the damned laudanum down his throat.

He reached forwards and gave the fire a stir, making the coals glow bright orange.

Louisa should have trusted him. What more could she have desired from him? What further proof had she wanted? He had asked her to marry him, to run away with him.

He tapped his fingers together. His late great-uncle was fond of quoting Eros’s explanation of why he left Psyche—there can be no love without trust, but there can be desire—to say why he had chosen to be a bachelor. Jonathon had never understood the saying until now.

And what of her future plans? Her marriage plans? Did she love this baronet, Francis Walsham, whom she had dangled in front of his nose? Debrett’s only listed a solitary name, a man old enough to be Louisa’s grandfather, but wealthy. Had she ever kissed Walsham the way she kissed him? The very thought made him want to tear the man limb from limb.

Jonathon took another reflective sip of his port. And why had she returned to England if she intended on marrying? What was there for her here?

‘Forgive the late-night interruption, Chesterholm, but you are my only hope.’ Furniss burst into the library. ‘My need is a matter of life and death.’

‘How so?’

‘Did you know tonight was the first time that I have seen Miss Sibson flustered? She nearly forgot her reticule in her haste to inform Aunt Daphne of her decision to go. Her reticule goes everywhere with her. Her lifeline, she calls it. Something has unnerved her. She plans to return to Sorrento as soon as she can find passage on a steamship.’ Furniss put his hands to his head. ‘This is bad, bad, bad. Miss Sibson is notorious for her schedules.’

Leaving. Running. From him or from her desires? But she would fail to escape. This time, he knew she was alive.

‘And why should I be able to help you?’ He gave a light laugh that sounded hollow to his ears. Furniss fancied himself in love with her. Jonathon ground his teeth. How many bloody admirers did Louisa have? ‘I have no power over Miss Sibson’s movements.’

‘Aunt Daphne is here in the north-east to visit her childhood haunts.’ Furniss’s ruddy face became alight. ‘Then she is returning to Sorrento where Miss Sibson plans to marry Sir Francis Walsham. Previously Miss Sibson promised to stay until Aunt Daphne was ready to go back to Italy.’

‘You are making no sense, Furniss.’ Jonathon forced his tone to be light as a surge of jealousy cut through him.

‘I intend to marry Miss Sibson,’ Furniss continued blithely on. ‘I will have no chance if she returns to Sorrento and her baronet. Here, in England, I do.’

‘You want to marry Miss Sibson? Has she agreed?’ Jonathon stared at his friend, furious that Furniss had not bothered to confide in him. Tonight’s farce could have been avoided.

‘I am certain my late aunt would have approved. Why else would she have left Miss Sibson the money?’

‘Why indeed? Perhaps she liked her.’ Jonathon shook his head as a primitive urge filled him to proclaim that Louisa was his. Furniss was a far more dangerous rival than the far-off baronet. Furniss had youth and a genial manner on his side.

‘You are my last hope.’ Furniss settled down into the red armchair opposite and poured himself a glass of port. ‘I thought and thought about how I could make them stay.’

‘I knew Miss Sibson a long time ago.’ Jonathon gave an exaggerated yawn. As if he would provide information to a rival! Furniss was on his own. ‘I can provide no insight.’

‘Not Miss Sibson. I know all about Louisa. We met months ago in Sorrento.’ Furniss gave a little wave of his hand, missing the cut-glass decanter by a hair’s breadth. ‘I have devoted time to studying her, her ways and how her mind works. She keeps her cards close to her chest, but I think there must be some secret sorrow in her past. She always changes the subject.’

‘You did?’ Jonathon tightened his fingers about the glass as a white-hot rage shot through him. His friend had known Louisa was alive and had known for months. The time he had wasted. ‘Why are you not engaged? You are both free.’

‘There was my dear mama to think about.’

‘What does your mother have to do with it?’

‘Mama would put poison in Miss Sibson’s tea if she could. Mama only went to Sorrento because she was convinced Aunt Mattie was going to leave her fortune to her. In the event, she only received a few pieces of jewellery.’ Furniss lowered his voice and glanced over his shoulder. ‘Mama feels Miss Sibson exerted an undue influence on my late aunt.’

‘Do you?’

‘There are reasons why my father prefers to live at his club. Mama should never have made disparaging remarks about Aunt Mattie’s cameos. It is her own fault she lost the inheritance. But, regardless, I will get no help from that quarter.’

‘What does this have to do with me?’

‘Your Uncle Arthur collected cameos. It came to me in the carriage and Aunt Daphne’s eyes sparkled when she mentioned him. Perhaps there was a connection.’

‘I can’t help you, Furniss. I know of little connection between the Misses Elliots and Uncle Arthur. He did not hold women in very high standing.’ Jonathon stared at the fire. Furniss was right. There had to be a way of keeping Louisa here, rather than letting her run to ground in Sorrento. ‘But if I think of anything …’

‘I knew you would help, Chesterholm.’

‘I promise nothing.’ Jonathon tapped a finger against his mouth. ‘But Miss Sibson will not be going to Sorrento.’

Chapter Three

‘The concert was a splendid outing. I am so pleased Rupert suggested it. It was just the tonic. I do declare Rupert is far better away from his odious mother, don’t you agree?’ Miss Daphne said, while Louisa poured the late-night cups of hot chocolate. ‘You are going to reconsider going back to Sorrento. Given encouragement, Rupert might… It would do my heart good to see you settled.’

‘We have seen everything we came to England to see,’ Louisa replied carefully. Tomorrow, she’d go and book their passage back. Marriage to anyone was not in her plans. Tomorrow, she would keep to the strict letter of her rules. Tomorrow she would remember what was important in her life—her future rather than her past. ‘We have already spent longer in England than we planned.’

‘But why the immense hurry? Only this morning, you appeared content to reside here a bit longer.’

‘I have no idea what you are talking about, Miss Daphne.’

‘Suddenly you are frightened of staying in England, Louisa. Why the change? There might be things I still wish to see. And my nephew’s fascination with you grows. He is not up in Newcastle simply to pass the time of day with his old auntie. I predicted as much in Sorrento last spring.’

‘You read too much into his attention.’

‘And you read too little, my girl.’

Louisa regarded the chocolate pot for a long moment. One of her favourite Italian rituals was drinking hot chocolate just before bed. Miss Daphne preferred to have heaping spoonfuls of sugar, but Louisa liked it with the barest hint of sweetness. There was a certain something about the way the chocolate tasted—smooth and rich, reminding her to take joy in the small pleasures rather than looking for castles in the air.

Tonight all the hot chocolate did was serve to remind her how easily her present life could be destroyed if she was not very careful. She should never have kissed Jonathon back. She had grown beyond the naïve girl who thought his kisses showed his devotion.

‘Nothing about England frightens me,’ Louisa said, placing the silver spoon down. ‘Sir Francis expects me to return and give him his answer.’

‘Poppycock. That man is a puffed-up popinjay. Mattie could not abide him and his airs.’

‘She respected his opinion.’