The Governess Who Captured His Heart:
By Sophie Barnes
Novels
A Most Unlikely Duke
His Scandalous Kiss
The Earl’s Complete Surrender
Lady Sarah’s Sinful Desires
The Danger in Tempting an Earl
The Scandal in Kissing an Heir
The Trouble with Being a Duke
The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda
There’s Something About Lady Mary
Lady Alexandra’s Excellent Adventure
How Miss Rutherford Got Her Groove Back
Novellas
The Governess Who Captured His Heart
Mistletoe Magic (from Five Golden Rings: A Christmas Collection)
Temptations or Priorities...?
Determined to help her oldest sister make ends meet, Louise Potter accepts a governess position in the northern part of England. If this means accompanying an older gentleman on his travels, then she will. There's only one problem: Louise is about to discover that her travelling companion is not the elderly man she expected, but rather seduction itself...
Alistair Langley has no desire to share his carriage with his niece's newly hired employee. But the matron he expected to find at his door is instead a beautiful young woman, one he knows he can't travel alone with. After all, he's going to visit his brother who is pressuring him to marry and produce a Langley heir--or be cut off from inheritance. When he confides in Louise, together they form a plan. But the closer they become, the more temptation beckons...
Until finally a choice must be made: Love or money? Or is it possible to have both?
Determined to help her oldest sister make ends meet, Louise Potter accepts a governess position in the northern part of England. If this means accompanying an older gentleman on his travels, then she will. There's only one problem: Louise is about to discover that her travelling companion is not the elderly man she expected, but rather seduction itself...
Alistair Langley has no desire to share his carriage with his niece's newly hired employee. But the matron he expected to find at his door is instead a beautiful young woman, one he knows he can't travel alone with. After all, he's going to visit his brother who is pressuring him to marry and produce a Langley heir--or be cut off from inheritance. When he confides in Louise, together they form a plan. But the closer they become, the more temptation beckons...
Until finally a choice must be made: Love or money? Or is it possible to have both?
Buying Links:
Chapter One
Lowering
the letter she’d been reading, Louise Potter held the expensive sheet of paper
between her fingers and glanced at both of her sisters in turn. “I have been
accepted for the position. Lady Channing would like me to start immediately.”
“That
is what you wish to do, is it not?” Josephine asked. At six and twenty, she was
two years older than Louise and six years older than their youngest sister, Eve.
“It
certainly is a welcome opportunity.” With the townhouse serving as their only
inheritance, and Josephine working hard to make ends meet for all of them,
Louise wanted to find a way to help her older sister. As a result, she now had
the chance of becoming a governess to three young children. “My only regret is
I shall miss Christmas with the two of you.”
“Perhaps
the countess will allow you to see us on that particular day?” Eve suggested.
Louise
bit her lip. Her employment would require a major move, which was something she
hadn’t yet mentioned to either of her sisters. “I’m afraid not. If I’m lucky, I
shall be able to come to Town during the spring and part of the summer while
the Season is underway. Otherwise, most of my time will be spent near
Whitehaven.”
Her
sisters stared at her. “I forget where that is,” Eve finally said.
“I
believe it is in the north,” Josephine told her.
Louise
nodded. “It is indeed.”
Eve’s
mouth dropped open. “But then we shall never see you again!”
“As
I mentioned, I might return to Town once Parliament opens and the Radcliffe
family chooses to relocate to their London home.” She paused to consider their
unhappy faces. “Unless I decline the offer and remain here. I can do so if you
are loath to see me go.”
“No.”
Josephine quickly smiled, though the effort did appear slightly strenuous. “You
have been given the chance to accept respectable employment with a highly
regarded aristocratic family. Neither of us will stand in your way.”
“Are
you certain?” Louise was beginning to doubt her own resolve.
Travelling
north had seemed like a grand adventure until she’d told her sisters about it.
They’d never been apart before, and since their father’s death, they’d been
especially dependent upon each other, not only to get through the grief, but
also to find a way forward in the following whirlwind of chaos.
Louise’s
grandfather had been the third son of an earl. As such, he’d gone into law and
had eventually, upon his death, left his thriving practice to his son. But he had
not been as skilled a barrister as his father, nor did he have a head for the
business. After he lost a string of
cases, clients had chosen to seek counsel elsewhere. As time had progressed and
the funds had dwindled, the larger houses had been sold and the meeker
residence where Louise and her sisters now lived had been purchased instead.
But even this house would be lost to Louise and her sisters unless a decent
income could be secured. Especially since their uncle, the current Earl of
Priorsbridge, had neglected to take on his responsibility as their guardian.
“This
is a wonderful opportunity for you,” Josephine said. Meeting Louise’s gaze, she
did not need to say the money her work would produce could ease their concerns.
Instead, she asked a practical question. “When do you intend to leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
Knowing how surprising this comment was, Louise hastened to say, “The countess
has offered conveyance if I do. It seems her uncle, Lord Alistair, will be
travelling up then as well, so it has been suggested we go together for
practical reasons.”
“I
suppose doing so would provide you with a better carriage for such a long
journey,” Josephine said. “But is it wise for you to travel alone with a man
whom you’ve never met before?”
Louise
made a face. “At my age?” She shook her head. “You know as well as I that I am
almost as firmly on the shelf as you are. And since I am not a young lady with
marriageable prospects but rather a soon to-be-governess, I dare say no one will
think much about it. Not to mention this uncle must be at least fifty years old
considering the countess’s age.”
“How
can you possibly know her age?” Eve asked. “It doesn’t seem like the sort of
thing she would share in her letter to you.”
“Quite
right,” Louise told her, “but her eldest son is eleven, so I can make an
intelligent guess.”
“I
suppose that is true,” Josephine murmured. “Which means you’re probably right
about Lord Alistair. Besides, I doubt the countess would suggest his escort
unless she was sure you’d be safe in his presence.”
Louise
agreed. “It is settled then?”
“I
believe so.” Josephine said.
Her
remark propelled Louise to hug both her sisters. She then hurried on through to
her room and pulled her valise out from under the bed. It was time for her to
start packing.
#
Enjoying
a last minute brandy in his study, Alistair Clay Hedgewick, considered his
niece’s request to bring her new governess with him to Whitehaven. He groaned
at the prospect of it–of having to spend a week with a middle-aged spinster
instead of alone in his own company as he’d been expecting. Dreading it, he
took another sip of his drink. It was a bit early in the day to be imbibing,
but under the circumstances he felt he needed the fortification before setting
out in another half hour.
He
glanced toward the clock on the fireplace mantle. An hour had passed since he’d
sent his carriage to collect her, so she should be arriving at any moment. A
knock sounded at the door, and Alistair called for his butler to enter.
“My
lord,” Mr. Fox said while maids and footmen scurried around behind him,
gathering last minute items in need of packing. “Miss Potter has arrived. Would
you like me to show her in?”
Alistair
considered the question. He could hardly say no, could he? It was tempting
since doing so would allow him that extra half hour of peace before embarking
on a journey that would force him to stay on his best behavior. Taking his shoes
off and relaxing his feet would not be possible. Nor would sleeping, since he
had no desire to snore in her presence. In fact, he was giving up a great deal
of comfort for a woman he’d never met and did not care about.
“Very
well,” he sighed, before downing the rest of his drink and rising. He might as
well meet his travelling companion, he reasoned, since it was the polite thing
to do. Like it or not, he always strove to do what was right and play the part
of the well-mannered gentleman, no matter how impractical or aggravating it
could be. His behavior, however, reflected not only on him but on his entire
family, and being called to task by his brother was something he always tried
to avoid.
Mr.
Fox returned. “Miss Potter,” he said, before stepping aside so a slim woman,
wearing a grey gown and a matching pelisse, could enter. On her head, she wore
a straw bonnet beneath which he was able to spy a golden display of neatly combed
hair. But what shocked him the most was her face, because it did not belong to
the middle-aged, rotund matron he’d envisioned, but rather to the angelic
youthfulness of a woman in her prime. More than that, she was the perfect
picture of beauty, her delicate features lending an elegance even the highest
ranking ladies of society lacked. Her eyes, he noted, were a bright glow of
hazel while her lips, parting now with undeniable surprise, were the sort men
dreamed of in their wickedest fantasies.
Aware
he was staring, he gathered his wits, schooled his features, and stepped toward
her. “Miss Potter, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
She
gaped at him. “Are you Lord Alistair?”
“The
one and only.”
She
shook her head. “You can’t be.” Glancing around as if seeking another gentleman,
she gradually returned her gaze to him when none was to be found. “You…you…”
Waving her hands as if hoping to fashion the necessary words, she finally
blurted, “You are twenty years younger than you ought to be!”
#
Clamping
her mouth shut, Louise stared at the man who stood before her. He was not the
older gentleman she’d anticipated. Instead he was young, about a head taller
than she, and solidly built, judging from his stance. His face, constructed
from angular planes, contained a pair of serious eyes, a patrician nose, and a
mouth set in a firm line. Whether or not the last feature was capable of
smiling had yet to be determined.
“You
are not who I expected either, Miss Potter,” he said, boldly allowing himself to
assess her.
She
didn’t like the nervous quickening of her pulse or how her insides squirmed
with discomfort. Determined to fight it, she raised her chin and squared her
shoulders. “How do you mean?”
He
drew a breath and appeared to consider. “I assumed you to be in your forties
and in possession of a plump figure. All the governesses I have ever seen have
been like that. Apparently, that opinion is misguided. You do not fit the image
I have of governesses at all.”
“I
do not know if I should be flattered or insulted,” Louise confessed.
His
eyes widened with a distinct look of surprise. “How can you think my comment was
anything but a compliment?”
“Because
you appear to be judging me solely on my appearance.”
“Naturally.”
His tone was dry. He paused as if wondering what to say next, then asked, “What
else would you have me judge you on?”
She
stared at him. What a typical male thing to ask. It was no different than the
sort of comments she’d gotten from her father as a young girl. As well-meaning
as he’d been, she’d resented the insinuation that she would do well in life
because she was pretty. Which prompted her to say, “My mental faculties for a
start.”
His
lips twitched as if he found her statement amusing, which made her want to hit
him right there in the middle of his own study. But then he spoke. “While I may
be more capable of judging you on such a fine attribute now, after we’ve had a
brief exchange of words, I certainly wasn’t at the time when I made my remark.”
Acknowledging
her mistake, she gave a tight smile. “Forgive me, my lord. It was not my
intention to sound ungrateful.”
“And
yet you managed to do so anyway,” he murmured, making her want to hit him all
over again.
The
man was not only arrogant but infuriating, and she was meant to spend several days
with him in a carriage? She would rather enjoy the company of rodents and was contemplating
saying so – or something equivalent but less rude – when the butler returned.
“Your carriage is ready, my lord.”
“Thank
you, Mr. Fox,” Lord Alistair said. He cast a contemplative glance at Louise
before telling the butler, “I’d like you to ask one of the housemaids to join
us.”
Louise
almost sighed with relief.
The
butler dipped his head. “Understood.” He then turned on his heel and strode
from the room.
Considering
Lord Alistair, Louise wondered if he might be dreading their journey as much as
she was. But he gave her no reason to suppose such a thing. Instead, his
expression remained inscrutable as he gestured toward the door. “After you,
Miss Potter,” he said. “I believe we had best be on our way.”
#
Alistair
knew the sort of woman she was. He was familiar with her type – the type of
woman who wanted to be admired for her brain rather than her beauty. The
countess was the same way, but unlike Miss Potter, Abigail had good reason to
demand such admiration since she’d written several renowned books on the
principals of mathematics.
Miss
Potter, on the other hand, had yet to prove herself worthy. For as he’d
suggested, looks was all he’d really had to assess her by so far. It was much
too soon to determine whether or not she was simply a pretty face or if there
was actually a sharp mind behind those hazel eyes of hers. Considering her
stalwart manner, he suspected there might be more to her than he imagined.
At
any rate, she would probably prove to be better company than the sort of woman
he’d been expecting, even if he still wouldn’t be able to take off his shoes or
sleep in her presence. One thing was certain, she would be easy on the eyes
even if she elected not to speak with him for the duration of their journey. A
possibility, judging from her determination to admire the view from the window.
They’d
left London without exchanging another word. A muttered, “Thank you,” was all
he’d received upon helping her into the landau. Then nothing for the next half
hour. And since Bridget, the maid who’d been chosen to act as chaperone, had
nodded asleep almost instantly, Alistair could not rely on her for conversation
either.
Which
brought them to this point.
Discreetly,
he considered Miss Potter’s profile, which was not so easy to do because of her
bonnet. With her face turned away from him as it was, the brim concealed most
of her face and all of her hair. A shame, since he would have liked to study
those golden tresses more closely.
“It
will be at least five hours before we arrive at the first posting inn,” he told
her.
Starting
as if surprised to hear him speak, she turned away from the window, those hazel
eyes of hers meeting his from beneath her long lashes. “I suspected as much,”
she said.
Ignoring
her rigid tone, he relaxed against the squabs and stretched out his legs. “Feel
free to make yourself comfortable. You can take off your bonnet, if you like.
Nobody would fault you for doing so.”
She
seemed to consider this suggestion which had been equal parts selfish and
considerate. Forcing a blank expression, he held his breath in anticipation of
what she might do. Her eyes slid toward the spot on the bench where he’d placed
his own hat and gloves. A frown puckered her forehead, and he instantly knew
what was going on in her head. She wanted to take off her bonnet, perhaps even
her gloves, but she worried doing so would remove a shield – break down a
necessary barrier between them – and perhaps… No. He would not allow his
thoughts to wander in that direction. Still, he found himself praying she would
surrender to comfort and sate his damnable curiosity.
After
a moment, she returned her gaze to the window. Her hands remained in her lap,
and Alistair felt a peculiar pang of disappointment. Not that he would allow it
to bother him. She was only a woman after all – perhaps the most delectable one
he’d ever seen – but a woman nonetheless.
She
was not worth thinking about for any extensive length of time.
He
had other, more important, matters to consider. Perhaps he ought to set his
mind to them instead of wondering about Miss Potter’s hair. Reminding himself
she was nothing more than an inconvenient obligation, he prepared to reach for
his satchel and pull out his newspaper, when a movement at the corner of his
eye caught his attention.
Glancing
toward her, he noted her hands had risen to the bow at her chin where her
fingers now carefully tugged at the ends, loosening it with a slow pull that
made Alistair’s mouth go dry.
Never
in his life would he have presumed a bow might be untied so sensually or that
he would ever consider the act of doing so arousing. But he did, damn it. His
entire body responded, forcing him to cross his legs and straighten in his
seat. Then she carefully plucked the
bonnet off her head, and as she did so, it took every bit of willpower he
possessed to stop himself from staring. Because her hair was indeed as glorious
as he had imagined it– more so even – for it wasn’t blonde alone, but streaked
with silky strands of honey, gleaming in response to the light coming in
through the window.
His
only regret was how it was tied back in a tight knot at the nape of her neck.
Because now that he’d seen it, he wanted to know its length and how it might
look spilling over her shoulders. And once he knew this, he’d probably want
something else – something far more dangerous than simply taking a look at her
hair.
“Feel
free to remove your gloves as well, if you like,” he said as he bent to
retrieve his newspaper.
He
would not look at her any more – not directly at least – lest she worry about
being trapped for a week with a man she’d be wise to steer clear of. Honestly,
he would have to have a word with Abigail once he saw her. Neglecting to inform
him of Miss Potter’s young age had been a careless omission on her part. It had
also resulted in a twenty minute delay while Bridget packed a bag and prepared
herself for departure.
“Thank
you,” Miss Potter said – the first words she’d spoken to him since climbing
into the carriage. She made no effort to do as he suggested, but she did, much
to his surprise, continue talking. “I am sorry if I seemed defensive earlier.
It was not my intention.”
Drawn
by the hushed sound of her voice, Alistair allowed his eyes to meet hers. A
mistake, since he found himself thoroughly transfixed by their color. To say
they were hazel was far too simple. They were a brilliant shade of green at the
center, surrounded by warm tones of toffee. Years of practice allowed him to
maintain his serious demeanor and not reveal the physical torment which he was
starting to suffer. Only two hours in her presence and his gentlemanly ways
were being severely tested. It did not bode well for the remainder of their
journey.
“Then
what was your intention, Miss Potter?”
Her
lips parted on the precipice of speech, but then she appeared to force back
whatever remark she’d been meaning to make, paused for a second, and finally
said, “Beauty can be a blessing as well as a curse. It has always been assumed
I would get by on my looks – that men would flock to my door after taking one glimpse
and then promptly offer me marriage.”
“Most
women would be glad if they were so fortunate.”
“Perhaps,”
she conceded. “But in my case, circumstance got in the way. I found myself in a
situation where a pretty face would not suffice. Fortunately, my mother, bless
her heart, always strove to prepare my sisters and me for such a possibility.
She was a practical woman. So while our father insisted there was no need for
anything more than basic lessons, Mama demanded proficiency in mathematics,
science, literature and French. And because our father doted on her, he allowed
it, affording us all an education we can now use to our best advantage.”
He
took a moment to consider this forthright statement. “You speak of both parents
in the past tense.” Noting the way her eyes shifted, he quietly said, “I take
it they are no longer with you?”
She
gave a tight nod. “We lost Mama four years ago. Papa passed last summer.”
Which
explained her dull attire. “I am sorry to hear it.”
A
weak smile was her only response, and then, as if seeking a different topic,
she quickly asked, “How is it you are as young as you are? Lady Channing
referred to you as her uncle, so I rather assumed you were going to be a bit
older.”
“Yes.
You did make that quite clear the moment we met.”
Blushing,
she glanced at him timidly from beneath her lashes. It impacted him in the
strangest of ways. “Forgive me. It was terribly rude of me to respond as I did.
I’m afraid surprise got the better of me.”
She
wasn’t the only one, he reflected. “The fact is, my father was thirty years old
when my brother, the current Duke of Langley, was born. His mother died in
childbirth, and our father remarried, to a woman who bore him no children.
After her death, our father married his third wife. By then he was in his
fifty-seventh year, while his wife, my mother, was a widow twenty-five years
his junior. Hence, there are twenty-eight years between my brother and me since
I was born a year after the wedding. Indeed I am closer in age to my niece,
Lady Channing, who is only three years younger than I.”
“How
strange,” Miss Potter murmured. “I cannot imagine what that might be like.
You’re practically an only child.”
He
couldn’t deny it. “The duke has been more of a parent to me than a brother. I
was only ten when Papa died.”
What
he would not say was how much the death had affected him. His father had doted
on him, perhaps because he’d been the spare he’d been trying to have for two
full decades. There was also the possibility his father had tried to avoid the
mistakes he felt he’d made when raising his brother. From what Alistair
gathered, little love had been given to the current Duke of Langley. Everything
had been about duty and discipline. So when Papa died and Langley stepped in
and took his place, Alistair’s carefree childhood had come to a grinding halt.
“I
am sorry to hear it,” Miss Potter said, capturing his attention. “No child
should have to lose their parent at such a young age.”
Appreciating
the sympathy but disliking the mood their discussion had led to, he nodded,
then turned his attention back to the newspaper he’d brought along for the
ride. Opening it, he set his mind to finding a new investment opportunity –
something that would save him from bending to Langley’s will.
#
Hoping
she managed to do so discreetly, Louise considered Lord Alistair while he read
the crisp newspaper he held. His brow was knit in serious contemplation, his eyes
skimming the pages with intense interest. Turning a page with a rustle, he
leaned slightly forward as if studying part of the text in greater detail.
Being
a relatively large man, he seemed to fill the carriage with his presence. The
space had felt even smaller when he’d been looking at her. Thankfully, he’d
stopped doing so now, allowing the fluttery feel in her belly to settle into
something much calmer and more relaxed. His dark perusal invariably made her
tighten up inside. It bothered her to no end that she couldn’t discern what he
was thinking. To do so was impossible when he kept the inner workings of his
mind carefully masked behind layers of strict severity. What shocked her most,
perhaps, was her reaction to this, for it made her want to shake some emotion
out of him. Of course, doing so would likely result in the termination of her
employment before it even began.
As
she watched him, a dark lock of hair fell across his brow. It made him appear
more carefree somehow, even if his expression did no such thing. Flexing her
fingers, she fought the urge to reach out and force the errant hair back into
place. To do so would be scandalous – completely and utterly shocking.
With
this in mind, she drew the blanket he’d given her at the onset of their journey
tighter across her lap. As concerned as she’d been about travelling with him
after their initial meeting, she had begun to warm to the idea of sharing his
company.
For
one thing, it was a chance in a lifetime, because being confined to a small
space with the best looking man in England was not the sort of thing that was
likely to happen ever again. For another, she would not be alone with him. Even
if the maid who’d joined them slept the entire way to Whitehaven, her presence
ensured propriety would be maintained.
So
why worry? Rather, Louise decided she might as well spend the next few days
admiring Lord Alistair’s perfect figure, the breadth of his shoulders, and how
perfectly his well-tailored clothes hugged him in all the right places. This
was a rare treat she’d been given, and she’d be a fool not to take advantage.
So
she sat back and let her gaze wander up the length of his legs and across his
thighs. He turned another page, and she studied the movement, admiring the size
of his hands. They were so much larger than hers, though elegant in their own
right as they carefully held the newspaper.
Sliding
her gaze upward, she took in the leanness of his chest. Many men would have a
belly protruding when sitting down, but he did not. Rather, his jacket sat completely
flat against his torso, which rather intrigued her. Continuing up over his
chest, she reached his shoulders and then the side of his neck where a few fine
tufts of hair curled right beneath his earlobe.
“You’re
staring at me,” he murmured.
Louise’s
heart slammed against her chest and her gaze shot toward his. He was studying
her with those dark eyes that revealed nothing of what he was thinking, but
they did produce a rush of heat that instantly made her think of flinging
herself from the carriage if only to escape her own embarrassment.
Thank you so much for hosting this cover reveal and giveaway!
ReplyDeleteYou are very welcome.
Delete