Page 10 of When She Was a Governess
“If it had not been for your father, I might not have survived until adulthood,” Henry said.
“At least think about it, dear cousin,” Charlotte said. “Perhaps broach the subject with Miss Ashford.”
He didn’t answer for a long moment, thinking through Charlotte’s suggestion. Would Miss Ashford even consider him? Did she love Amelia enough that she would marry a man she did not truly know? “I’m quiet and dull but perhaps her love for Amelia will overlook these character flaws.”
“You’re not dull, Henry,” Charlotte said. “The right woman will find you fascinating.”
“And you have a title and a fortune,” Thomas said. “Surely those will appeal to her.”
“What about the rest of my staff?” Henry asked. “Would they accept the former governess as the mistress of the manor?”
“That will be up to you,” Charlotte said. “They will do what you ask of them.”
“She told me today that she’d rather stay with Amelia than have a husband and home of her own,” Henry said. “I would find it hard to believe had I not witnessed the sincerity in her eyes.”
“Do think long and hard about it,” Charlotte said. “Please.”
“Not too long,” Thomas said. “You have only a fortnight.”
“I’ll sleep on it tonight,” Henry said.
“See that you do.” Charlotte smiled at him. “We will be here for you regardless.”
As absurd as the idea was, perhaps he should seriously consider it. He thought of Rebecca. Of her excitement when she discovered she was expecting. The look in her eyes when she showed Amelia to Henry the first time. Months later, she was gone, leaving poor Amelia with Henry. Miss Ashford had been a blessing to the child. Who was he to rip them apart if he could possibly help it?
*
Henry’s carriage pulledup to Thornbridge Hall, its lamps gleaming like low stars against the evening fog. The house was quiet, most of the staff already abed. Only a single candle burned in the entrance hall, left there by Grimshaw for his return.
Henry climbed the stairs slowly, Charlotte’s words echoing in his mind.You must marry Miss Ashford.The idea was absurd. Utterly absurd. And yet it had lodged itself in his brain like a splinter he couldn’t quite extract.
He opened the door to his bedchamber to find Davies already there, stoking the fire. The young man turned at the sound of the door, his dark eyes alert despite the late hour. Davies was lean and quick in his movements, with dark wavy hair kept meticulously neat, and pleasant features that often seemed on the verge of amusement. Even at this late hour, he was impeccably dressed in his valet’s attire.
“My lord. I trust the evening at Thornbridge was pleasant?”
“It was indeed. One might even say enlightening.” Henry pulled off his gloves and tossed them onto the bureau. “Though not in the way I anticipated.”
Davies moved to help him out of his coat. “Bad news, my lord?”
“Not bad, precisely.” Henry ran a hand through his hair. “Just unexpected.”
“Shall I prepare some brandy, my lord?”
“No. I’ve had quite enough for one evening.” Henry sat heavily in the chair by the fire while Davies knelt to remove his boots. “Davies, what do you know of Miss Ford? The governess.”
If Davies was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it, though one eyebrow rose slightly, a hint of that perpetual amusement that seemed to lurk behind his expression. “Miss Ford, my lord? She’s well-regarded below-stairs. Kind to everyone. Never puts on airs despite being clearly educated.” He paused, then continued carefully, “And despite her position.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Davies set aside the first boot and reached for the second. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but it’s clear to anyone with eyes that she’s gentry-born. The way she speaks, carries herself. Mrs. Bromley always said there was a story there.”
“There is indeed a story.” Henry stood and moved to the window, staring out at the darkened grounds. “She’s Lady Sophia Ashford, sister to the Duke of Ashford.”
Davies’s hands stilled on the second boot. His mischievous brown eyes widened. It was not often Henry had seen him genuinely caught off guard. “The Duke of Ashford. How remarkable.”
“Yes. She’s been living in our nursery, caring for Amelia, while concealing her true identity for two years.”
“Good God.” Davies removed the boot and stood, shaking his head. “Why would a duke’s sister work as a governess?”
