Page 4 of Brazen Rogue
Bellamy waved the housekeeper's words aside. "It does not signify. I did not see you either and should have taken more care." He smiled at the young woman, having a good look at her finally, and felt the blood drain from his face.
It could not be ...
The pit of his stomach clenched, and he felt his mouth gape. He closed it with a snap, forcing his heart to stop racing. That the young woman's face, too, had paled and was possibly the mirror image of his made him feel a little less conspicuous, but not by much.
He knew her.
"Reign?" he croaked, clearing his throat, so he did not sound like a total imbecile. "I mean, Miss Hall? Is that you?" he asked again, unable to tear his eyes from the woman he had once hoped to call his wife.
She was as beautiful as he remembered her. Long, brown locks, the darkest-blue eyes he had ever seen. Eyes that had once looked up at him with such hope, the affection he had sought, but now …
Now they looked upon him with horror.
His attention dipped to her gown, a little dusty from travel, and aged. Where had she been for the past five years? It shamed him that he had not inquired with the Marchioness of Chilsten during the few times he was in Town.
But he could not allow gossip to sully his name. His wife had enabled that enough, and he did not want his daughter to be harmed any more than she already was by their association with a woman who had never wanted a husband or to be a mother.
"Lord Lupton-Gage?" She glanced at his housekeeper as if she would confirm such honorifics. "I was told this house was for Mr. and Mrs. Davion." She shook her head, clearly confused. "I apologize. I do not understand how such an error has occurred."
Bellamy wanted to take her hand, comfort her, but he restrained. "Davion is my family name, Bellamy Davion, Marquess of Lupton-Gage. When I inquired about a governess for my daughter, the hiring office in London must have misread my missive when they replied to you," he said, wondering how such an error could have occurred. He was certain he had addressed his correspondence correctly.
"Oh," she said, her eyes weary. "Apologies, Mrs. Watkins. His lordship and I know each other from London. We met many years ago during my Season in Town."
"Really?" the housekeeper said, her eyes flaring wide. "I did not know governesses had Seasons in London. I thought you said you were from a small village named Grafton."
"I am, that is true," Miss Hall said, frowning. Bellamy could see she was upset, concerned by this turn of events and what it would mean for her downstairs. "Before my parents’ passing, they had saved enough money to give me one Season, but unfortunately, I did not receive an offer of marriage."
Her eyes briefly met his, and shame washed through Bellamy. Although he had not asked Miss Hall for her hand, he knew from their time in London that she cared for him. Their one stolen kiss that, to this day, haunted his dreams. He had liked her very much and knew without a whisper of doubt that emotion would have grown into love had it been given the opportunity.
"I'm sorry for your loss," he said, listening to his housekeeper say the same. "As for Miss Hall and my past being interconnected, please do not notify the staff of such things, Mrs. Watkins. If Miss Hall is to be treated equally, I do not want anyone to think there is differential treatment merely because we're acquainted. Am I understood?" he asked, knowing his housekeeper had an uncanny ability to gossip.
"Of course, my lord. I shall not say a word," Mrs. Watkins stated adamantly.
"I do apologize, my lord. Had I known I was to work at your estate, I would never have accepted the offer," Miss Hall said, working her hands before her.
"All will be well," he said, waving her concerns aside. "We did not know each other well in London," he lied, ignoring Miss Hall's fleeting glance. "But I'm glad you're the governess of my daughter. Being the good friend of the Marchioness of Chilsten, I know you will give Lady Alice a well-rounded and proper teaching."
She nodded eagerly. "I will, my lord. I shall not let you down."
He gestured toward his daughter's door. "Let me introduce you to Lady Alice. I'm about to take her riding in any case."
Reign took a deep, calming breath and hoped that she did not appear as startled and shaken as she felt. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears, and heat kissed every part of her skin. She clutched her hands together to try to stop their shaking.
Mr. Davion was Lord Lupton-Gage? Bellamy?
How could such a mistake occur, and how was it that of all houses she was to work at in England, it would be the one of the very man she had once harbored feelings for?
She closed her eyes briefly, following his lordship and the housekeeper into the little girl's room.
Once harbored feelings for? Who was she kidding? After five years of being apart, knowing he was married, and still her heart beat too fast whenever she thought of him. And now being under the same roof ...
How would she ever remain disengaged when the man she had loved and lost was near her every moment of every day? Just as she had dreamed for far too long.
Entering the room, she took the opportunity to study him. His hair was a little longer, and there was more stubble across his chiseled jawline, but his dark-blue eyes were the same. Still held that look that only she recognized; a lost opportunity and regret for what had been stolen from them.
She could not stay here. To stay would mean temptation. She was a woman well on the shelf, a wallflower, and now a governess with no prospects, no family, or funds to speak of. She did not need to be around temptation when that temptation was married. No longer hers to admire and long for. To whisk into darkened gardens and kiss under a moonlit night.
She had lost him years ago. She could not take him back now, no matter how much she may wish to.
