Abby Gaines - The Governess and Mr. Granville

He folded his arms across his chest and stood, watching her, a gleam in his eye. “Well, what do you say?”

“Mr. Granville, I— How can you even ask such a thing!”

Flustered at her own outburst, Serena turned away. She leaned over to smell the bouquet of a Maiden’s Blush bud. She could just see the furled petals, white barely tinged with pink, vivid against the dark green foliage. It was known to be one of the most fragrant rose varieties, so she drew in several breaths deep enough to dizzy herself, in the hope he would have the tact to walk away.

When she straightened, he was still there.

“You gave the impression on Thursday that you were reluctant to leave,” he said coolly. “Are you now reluctant to stay?”

“No, I— Yes!” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Mr. Granville, in the last few minutes—and let us not forget Thursday!—I have spoken to you far more boldly than a governess should, on the understanding that I was no longer employed.”

“Far more boldly,” he agreed.

Infuriating man! If she’d hoped for courteous reassurance, she was looking in the wrong place. But her father preached the need to “confess your faults to one another.” Not that she’d done that with her parents, as far as her past indiscretion was concerned. Still, she persevered now. “And now, having stated views that, to be quite honest, are none of my business—”

“At last,” he murmured.

“—and speaking in such plain terms about matters of the heart—”

“My heart in particular,” he reminded her. Unnecessarily.

“—you’re asking me to stay. If I’d had any idea this would happen, I would never have presumed...”

“I suspect you would have,” he assured her. “Though perhaps with more subtlety.”

She made a sound of exasperation. “Mr. Granville, this is most embarrassing.” She paced, agitated, to a bush heavy with pink roses, and began fidgeting with a just-opened bloom.

“That variety is a China rose called Parson’s Pink,” he told her. She released it quickly. “If I promise to expunge this entire conversation from my memory, and Thursday’s, too,” he said, “will you stay?”

She shook her head, but couldn’t help smiling. “I doubt your ability to expunge so much. Tell me, why does Miss Granville need a companion now, when apparently she didn’t before?”

“I intend to begin my search for a wife immediately,” he said.

If that was meant to answer her question, she’d missed it. “Are you saying you’ll be traveling to London? And that your sister will need company in your absence?”

He strolled over to join her by the Parson’s Pink roses. “We spoke a moment ago about Marianne’s dislike of meeting new people,” he said. “Woodbridge Hall has a new neighbor whom I’ll be required to entertain in the near future. If I’m inviting guests, I might as well commence my hunt for a bride at the same time. With so much going on, Marianne will need support. For you to assist her as a companion, paid an allowance—which I assure you will be generous—is very different from a governess paid a wage. It’s entirely acceptable in the eyes of society.”

“True,” she murmured.

“There’s another benefit,” he said. “The more people in the house, the less ‘on display’ my prospective bride will feel when she visits.”

“Hmm.” Serena was unsure of his logic. Wouldn’t a lady feel more on display, the more people there were to inspect her? Then she registered his use of the singular noun. “Just one prospective bride, Mr. Granville?”

“I only need one wife.”

Which was quite the silliest thing she’d heard. “What if the first lady you invite here proves unsuitable?”

“There will not be a parade of single ladies,” he said ominously.

Oh, dear. Serena changed the subject. “So you will invite them—her—here for the children to meet her. An excellent idea.” Perhaps if she praised the concept first, she could then suggest improvements.

“It’s for my prospective bride to meet my children, not the other way around,” he said. “The children will have no say in my decision.”

Serena tried not to look alarmed. After all, few men would ask their children’s opinions. But Dominic Granville didn’t know much about his children’s needs....

“If I left it to Thomas, he would choose the lady most courageous in the handling of lizards.” His annoyance suggested she hadn’t succeeded in disguising her concern. “You may rest assured of my good judgment, Miss Somerton. Now, will you stay? As well as pleasing my sister, the continuity of your presence would benefit the children.”

“And I’d be delighted not to leave them just yet,” she admitted. “I assume I could still spend time with them, though I’d be Marianne’s companion?”

“Certainly, though you wouldn’t be teaching them,” he said. “It’s only just over a month until summer—the children can take an early break from their studies.” His tone was ironic, as if he didn’t believe they studied too seriously under Serena’s supervision.

Well, they didn’t. Not too seriously. She believed in a balance of work and play. If she stayed, she could continue to encourage Mr. Granville to get closer to his children. With a great deal of tact, of course.

“Nurse is quite capable of managing their daily activities,” he stated, then paused. “So, you will stay?”

A chill gust of wind blew a sprinkling of rose petals off the bush, to land at Serena’s feet. Poor petals, so easily parted from the security of the plant, then left to wither and die.

“Miss Somerton, everything is proceeding according to your wishes,” he said, his patience wearing thin. “You’ll have longer with the children, and I’ve undertaken to provide the stepmother you insist upon. Yet—”

He put a finger to her chin, lifting it.

Serena gasped and took a step back.

“I—I apologize.” His face had reddened, whether from the wind or embarrassment, she wasn’t sure. “I was merely observing you appear to be sunk in gloom.”

She laced her fingers tightly, so she wouldn’t be tempted to explore the place where the memory of his touch lingered. She struggled to marshal her thoughts. “I’m not gloomy,” she said. That was the wrong word for her doubts about his approach to remarriage. And certainly the wrong word for her reaction to his touch. Don’t think about that.

“You will stay,” he said.

It wasn’t a question, but Serena answered it, anyway.

“I will stay.”

Chapter Three

“You must call me Marianne.” Marianne Granville served herself some stuffed lettuce from the platter in front of her. “I call you Serena in my head, anyway, so your name comes naturally to me.”

“Certainly, if you wish.” Serena smiled at Marianne, then listened with half an ear as brother and sister chatted about some matter related to the estate’s tenants. Her elevation to the role of companion required her to dine with Miss Granville—Marianne—and her brother. Prompted by her embarrassment at her free speech with Dominic Granville, Serena had given excuses for why she should eat at the table in her own little sitting room the past two evenings, but today Marianne had insisted. The other woman had embraced the idea of having her as a companion with such alacrity, Serena felt Mr. Granville was right that she was needed by more than just the children. Not that he’d admitted the children needed her.

“You’re very quiet tonight, Miss Somerton.” Dominic’s comment jerked her out of her reverie.

“Not at all, Mr. Granville,” she murmured. She’d decided life would be simpler if she didn’t engage in conversation with him, beyond grasping opportunities to subtly encourage him to spend more time with his children.