The Governess Club: Claire (14 page)

Claire’s heart seized; it was a long moment before she could breathe, let alone speak. “My congratulations are warranted after all.”

“Thank you.” His tone was mild and calm, a fact that she attributed to firing her outrage.

How dare he toy with her affections—cause her to fall in love with him and even welcome him into her bed—when he had an intended waiting for him in London? Oh, but he was more of a cad than she had realized.

Unable to stomach being so close to him, let alone his entire company, Claire stood and moved a considerable distance away from him. She kept her back to him, not trusting herself to remain in control if she were to face him.

Had any of it been true? Any of the words, kisses—did anything that had occurred between them have any sincerity at all? Or was she merely a diversion, a way to pass the time while he was in seclusion, pretending to be what he so clearly was not: a good, honest man.

Louisa was right; no man could be trusted. Each and every gentleman saw governesses as sport and at their disposal. Jacob Knightly was no different, even if he didn’t have the title anymore. He had set out to deceive not only her, but everyone. And for what? A childish need to prove himself? Immaturity and selfishness oozed from his very pores.

“I am glad to find you here, actually,” Jacob was saying. “I wasn’t sure if I had missed you. I was prepared to keep searching of course, but that is no longer necessary, much to my relief.”

“Heaven forbid I should be a bother to you.” Claire could not keep the bitterness or anger from her voice.

“Following you would never be a bother, Claire,” he replied softly. “I merely meant that I am relieved to find you safe and unharmed.”

“Safe?” She turned to face him. “I suppose I am. But unharmed is another matter altogether.”

Jacob lowered his gaze to the ground. “I know I have much to make amends for, and I do not expect you to forgive me easily. But,” he said, lifting his eyes to hers, “I am prepared for the task.”

“There is nothing for you to do.” She wouldn’t be around him long enough for anything he did to matter.

“I disagree. You can start by telling me how Ridgestone used to look.”

Claire was startled. “Excuse me?”

Jacob rose and gestured toward the house. “Even I can see the neglect and misuse of the place. Tell me how it used to look; I will restore it to its former glory. And make suggested improvements, of course.”

Claire could not believe her ears. He wanted to restore Ridgestone? “Wait—you are the new owner? You bought
Ridgestone
for your bride?”

“Didn’t I make that clear?” Jacob asked, confused. Claire shook her head. “My apologies. After hearing you speak of it so much, I knew it was the perfect estate for me to buy. I wrote to my man of business several weeks ago and he negotiated the transaction. It helped that no one had purchased or rented it since your father; Lord Appleby was more than happy to part with it for a reasonable price.”

Claire stared at him. Was there to be no end to his betrayal? She had trusted him, confided her dreams and plans for Ridgestone, and he had undercut everything by purchasing it behind her back. He knew the Governess Club wanted it; he knew what it meant to Claire to return here. And now to ask for her help in restoring it? Of course, it had to be liveable; she wouldn’t argue with that. But to ask for her advice to prepare his future home with his intended? That was simply too much; new depths of his depravity and cruelty were being revealed to her by the moment.

Muttering furiously to herself, Claire marched to her trunk, picked up one end of it and began to pull it down the driveway. Her eyes burned with angry unshed tears. It would be a cold day in places unmentionable before she helped him prepare his bridal home. In fact, he should hear that.

“Claire, wait. Where are you going?”

“It will be cold day in H-E-L-L before I assist you in any way,” she snapped at him.

“Claire, darling, what are you saying? What is wrong?” Jacob appeared in front of her and tried to grasp her shoulders. Claire shook him off, releasing her trunk in the process to fall on her foot.

“Ow,” she howled, hopping on her good foot.

“Here,” Jacob said, taking her arms and leading her to sit on her trunk. He bent down to examine her foot. “Are you in much pain?”

“Don’t touch me,” she said, shaking him off again. Her face was hot and wet with the tears she had been holding back.

Jacob released her and sat back on his heels. “Please tell me what is wrong.”

She glared at him. “Need a list again, do you? Very well. What is wrong is that you stole my dreams. You stole my trust and my virginity. You stole my heart, Jacob. And everything you stole, you ground into ashes. I am nothing now, completely empty, because of what you have done to me. So please, go on with your life and your bride and leave me alone. I politely offer you the best wishes I can manage, but just leave me alone and let me find some way to become whole again.”

Comprehension dawned on his face and he gave a rueful chuckle. “I suppose I’ve mucked things up again, haven’t I. Once again I haven’t made myself clear.”

“Oh no, you’ve made yourself perfectly clear.”

Before she could stop him, Jacob cupped her face and gave her a swift kiss. Claire reviled the part of her that ached for more.

“Oh, my silly governess. Too smart for your own good.” He grinned at her. “You, my darling, are my bride.” He dropped his hands to clasp hers.

Claire blinked. “What?”

“Did you really think I would buy Ridgestone for another woman? How callous do you think me?”

“But you said you had bought it as a bridal gift . . .”

“I have only ever asked one woman to marry me, Claire.” His dear blue eyes were nervous. “I am hoping her answer has remained unchanged.”

Claire bit her lip and glanced at the house, filled with memories and potential. She looked back at Jacob. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “The hurt I feel, intentional or not, is so very real and deep. I don’t know if I can trust you again. I don’t know if I want to trust you again.”

Jacob took a deep breath, hoping he’d be able to speak before the despair closed his throat. “I suppose I deserve that.”

Claire cupped his cheek. “I can’t say I don’t agree with you, but I am sorry.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her palm. “What can I do to change your mind?”

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do except give me time. Time away from you,” she clarified. “I need to think and having you near will likely just confuse me more.”

Jacob’s head dropped and nodded slowly. “I understand,” he said in a strangled voice.

“This may be a good thing for you too,” Claire said, trying to make the situation better. “You may find someone else and—”

“There will be no one else,” he said, looking at her. “No one but you, Claire.”

“You must be realistic.”

“I am.” Jacob pushed himself to his feet. “One good thing about being a simple mister is the lack of expectations on me. There is no need for me to worry about someday holding some lofty title; God forbid anything should happen to my family to make that come true. But it does mean that I can choose my own bride, my own love, and give her the time she needs. I will need to learn to be a patient man, but I will have no other woman as my wife if I cannot have you.”

Claire was taken aback by his impassioned words. “Oh.”

He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a paper. “This is for you.”

She took it, a questioning look on her face. “It is the deed to Ridgestone,” she said, reading it. “My name is on it.”

“I did say I bought it for my bride,” Jacob reminded her.

Claire swallowed and held it out to him. “I am not your bride. Not yet.”

“By rights Ridgestone should be yours. Take it, I insist.”

“I will not be beholden to you in any way,” Claire said. “I wish for no complications in our situation.”

“Then buy it from me,” Jacob suggested. “I will have my man of business draft terms for payment.”

Claire nodded. She could accept that. “But they must reasonable, not overly generous. I do not want to feel I owe you anything.”

“Agreed.” Jacob helped her stand and shook her hand, businesslike. “Now if you will allow me, I recently acquired the skill of carrying luggage. I can carry your trunk inside for you.”

“Thank you.” Claire followed behind as he unlocked the front door and brought her trunk upstairs to her old room. She had thought that her first steps upon her return would be filled with delight and wonder at seeing her old home again, but she could not take her eyes off the man in her room.

Jacob bowed to her, desperately wanting to take her in his arms and kiss her breathless. “Adieu, Miss Bannister.” He turned and left her bedroom, wanting to get the moment of departure over and done with.

“Wait,” Claire called out from the stairs as he reached the front door. He turned back, hope flaring in his chest. “How will I contact you if I—when I have an answer for you?”

Jacob swallowed. “I will return in three months. If you have not come to a decision at that point, we will discuss matters then. For everything else, you may contact my man of business. To reduce the complications.”

Claire nodded. “Thank you.”

He bowed again and was out the door. As the sound of his riding away, all Claire could think about was how quiet Ridgestone was. How empty.

J
acob stood at the drawing room window gazing out, his hands clasped behind him. Before his eyes, an unkempt lawn was slowly turning brown, and leaves were beginning to sparkle with the orange and yellows of autumn. His eyes recognized this but did not process it; they were focused on finding something—someone—in particular.

He could not deny the charm of Ridgestone. After nearly three months of inhabitancy, the Governess Club had shaken off the shadows and chills the previous neglect had wrought, bringing light and life back to the old building. Seeing it now as it was, Jacob could imagine it as it had been during Claire’s childhood, and he did not begrudge her attachment to the place. If the frugal elegance of the drawing room was any indication, the members of the Club had done well.

Jacob turned away from the window to stand against the mantle. Mismatched figurines decorated various sections of the mantle, broken up by small portraits and landscapes drawn by obviously amateur hands; a large oval mirror with burnished gilt edges hung on the wall above, affording those facing the fireplace a view of the entry. A small set of fire pokers stood securely to one side of the empty hearth.

The colors were not what Jacob had expected of a drawing room that belonged to a household of ladies. Instead of lacy frills of pink and white, the colors were muted, but welcoming. Blue was the dominant theme, a lighter shade on the walls and darker navy for the furniture; white trim and friezes accented nicely. Taking a seat on one of the long sofas, Jacob was again surprised to find it comfortable and able to support a man of his physical stature. Nudging a small wicker basket beside the sofa, Jacob found an assortment of rag dolls, tin soldiers, wooden animals, and books. Clearly, younger children were welcome in this room. Perhaps that was the purpose of the darker-colored furniture, to minimize the visual damage of mishaps.

Jacob stood as the door opened to reveal a winsome blonde. Dressed in modest pink muslin, she smiled at him as she approached. “Thank God you have finally arrived,” she said breathlessly, her eyes twinkling.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Do you not remember me? I am Miss Louisa Hurst.”

Jacob automatically bowed. “ Miss Hurst. I am Mr. Jacob Knightly.”

“I know,” she replied, her eyes still twinkling. “I remember you from the assembly.”

Recognition dawned on him. “You are one of Cla—Miss Bannister’s friends.”

“And you are the one who broke her heart. Has anyone offered you tea?”

Jacob found it difficult to reconcile the welcoming face with the directness of her words. “No, thank you. I am fine. I am here to see Miss Bannister.”

“Of course you are; I am not an idiot, sir. Please sit.” Louisa took a chair, arranging her skirts as Jacob resumed his seat.

“Is she not here?” He hadn’t considered the possibility. Of course, he was a few days early from the three months he had promised, but he had been unable to stay away much longer.

“She is teaching,” Louisa replied. “She has been informed a visitor is waiting for her, but we do not stop lessons except for emergencies. We are private tutors for hire, and, as such, our clients expect to get what they paid for.”

Relief followed quickly by anticipation flooded his veins. Thank God she was here. Just knowing that she was in the same building as he made his nerves leap. “Of course. I would not expect it otherwise. How have you found being here at Ridgestone, my lady?”

She smiled; Jacob was momentarily stunned by its effect. What was this beautiful young lady doing making her way as a private tutor, and as a governess before that? Obviously her situation had been reduced much as Claire’s had, but why hadn’t any man stepped up to marry this beauty? And why had her father or brother allowed her to take on such a role in life? They ought to be ashamed of themselves.

“It has been a godsend,” Louisa said to his question. “All of us are so content here. We are able to choose whom we teach and when, and even what we teach. Claire teaches the arts, Miss Sara Collins the sciences, and I teach languages.”

The small talk was killing him, but Jacob forced himself to be interested. “Indeed? Which languages are those?”

“The usual for young ladies: French and Italian. I also know rudimentary Latin and Greek, so am able to begin that education with the young boys.”

“Impressive. Forgive me, but I thought there were four members of the Governess Club?”

“Bonnie has yet to join us.”

The voice from the doorway had Jacob leaping to his feet. Claire stood there, staring at him, her green eyes wide. How had she entered the room without him noticing? All the breath and blood in his body seized at the sight of her. The urge to gather her in his arms and kiss her breathless nearly overwhelmed him.