Abby Gaines - The Governess and Mr. Granville

“The one in which you dismissed me from my post,” Serena said.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, that one.” He paused, squinting up at the sun, then down at the shadow on the sundial. “It pains me to say, I believe you’re right. It’s time I married again.”

Serena halted, forcing him to do the same. “Really?”

“Why the surprise? You seemed convinced of the excellence of your idea.”

“I was— I am. But, Mr. Granville, if I may be frank—”

“Are you ever anything else?” he asked. “If so, I suspect I might prefer it.”

“I’m afraid not,” she admitted. “My father always encouraged me and my sisters to speak boldly and to speak the truth, as the Bible advises.”

“That must have made for some rather alarming conversations around the dinner table.”

She snickered. “I should remind you, the complete biblical instruction is to speak the truth with love.”

“That’s even worse. There’s nothing more irritating than people who tell one things for one’s own good.”

Serena laughed out loud. “So true!” At his sidelong look, she said, “Don’t think I don’t know I’m guilty of it myself. As temptations go, it’s one of the most insidious.”

“Hmm.” He pushed aside the branch of a shrub that threatened to dislodge her bonnet. “Is your sister, the one married to Lord Spenford, as bold as you?”

Serena considered. “Not on first acquaintance, but Constance has hidden depths. I’m the oldest daughter, so perhaps I’m more...”

“Impertinent?” he suggested.

“Forthright,” she corrected.

“And what is your advanced age, Miss Somerton?”

“I’m twenty-one. Constance—Lady Spenford—is twenty.” She followed him through the arbor into the rose garden. The roses, the pride and joy of Gladding the gardener, were in varying stages of bloom, from tight buds to full blossoms on some of the China varieties. None were yet overblown. Serena sniffed the air appreciatively. “Mmm, you can just catch the scent, if you try.”

“Very nice,” he said, making no attempt to sniff. “I assume your younger sisters are not yet married?”

“No,” she agreed.

He shook his head. “Your poor father.”

“Mr. Granville!” she exclaimed, outraged. Then she caught a gleam of humor in his eyes. “You’ll be relieved to know Papa doesn’t consider himself poor. He’s been known to say he’d love all five of us to live with him and Mama forever.”

“Diplomacy is an important skill for a parson,” Mr. Granville said.

Serena found herself laughing again.

His gaze drifted down to her mouth, then jerked back up. “I daresay your sisters will be easy enough for your father to marry off,” he said abruptly. “Assuming they don’t make a habit of wearing lizards in their hair.”

“That habit is uniquely mine,” she assured him. “Though I’m devastated to learn it might cost me a husband.”

His eyes narrowed. “It’s a matter of decorum, Miss Somerton.”

“A man who loves me will not care about decorum.”

“Is that so?” he said dryly. “Will he also appreciate your excessively free speech?”

“Might I remind you, Mr. Granville, you started this unusual conversation, for reasons you have yet to reveal. The only reason I’m participating so freely is because I’m about to leave.”

He rubbed his chin. “Ah.”

He looked...awkward.

“If you’re feeling guilty about dismissing me, you needn’t,” she said. “I was aware that once you learned of Constance’s marriage my position would be untenable.”

“I’m not feeling guilty,” he said, as if he’d never heard anything so absurd.

She almost managed not to roll her eyes. “So what is the reason for this conversation?”

“Ah, that,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Given that I’ve now decided you were right about a convenient marriage being a good idea...”

“I said I couldn’t wholeheartedly approve of such pragmatic motives,” she corrected. “But that I understand the necessity.”

He ignored her. “I personally have no faith in this second chance of yours, nor do I desire to marry again, but I see no option. The kind of alliance you mentioned will do nicely.” His frown deepened. “It will do,” he amended, dispensing with any niceness attached to the concept of marriage.

“Oh,” Serena said.

“Have I shocked you, Miss Somerton? I expected a more vocal response.”

“I...” She stopped. Thought. “I can’t deny it’ll be wonderful for the children, but it does seem a shame you won’t even consider finding a real wife.”

“My wife will be as real as you are,” he said. “Miss Somerton, in the light of my new intention, there’s something I must ask you.”

Realization burst over Serena like a lightning flash.

Mr. Granville’s unexpected friendliness. His questions about her family. My wife will be as real as you are....

He was going to ask her to marry him!

“No!” Serena squawked.

“No?” He plucked a leaf from a rosebush and rolled it between his fingers as he looked down at her, more confused than distressed.

But then, why would a man be distressed if a convenient bride turned down his proposal? The thought made it easier to say what she had to. “Mr. Granville, you are a most estimable gentleman, and I can’t deny I love your children, but to marry for convenience would be truly repugnant to me, and therefore...”

She stopped.

He was laughing.

“You...weren’t asking me to marry you?” she guessed. Suddenly, she was perspiring all over. How hideous!

“I’m afraid not,” he apologized. “It seems you and I share an unusual conviction of our own desirability as spouses.”

Relief at his acknowledgment that she wasn’t the only one who’d made an idiot of herself recently made her chuckle rather more loudly than was ladylike. Which wouldn’t surprise him.

“Shall we agree we’re equally deluded when it comes to nonexistent marriage proposals,” he said, “and move on?”

“Yes, please.”

“So...I gather from your refusal of my, er, proposal, that you cherish notions of a romantic love?”

Is this what he considers moving on? “Yes,” she said. Though she doubted such a love would come her way.

His dark brows drew together. “I suppose that’s not unusual in a young lady of your age.”

Serena merely nodded.

“My sister speaks highly of you,” he said.

The change in topic disconcerted her. “Thank you—I mean, Miss Granville is one of the nicest people I’ve met.”

“For some people, character is not the only consideration,” he said. “As I’m sure you know. You must also know that Marianne is uncomfortable meeting new people.”

“I’m aware,” Serena admitted. “And I can’t blame her.”

“I would go so far—” he seemed bemused “—as to say Marianne likes you a lot.”

“How odd,” she replied.

He smiled.

“I’d say I return the sentiment toward your sister,” she said, “but you’d probably consider me impertinent.”

“Miss Somerton,” he said calmly, “may we call a truce?”

Serena realized she was enjoying the cut and thrust of their conversational duel. It made her feel at home. “The Bible does say we should live peaceably with one another,” she admitted.

He chuckled at her marked lack of enthusiasm. “A truce, then. Good. For I would like to offer you a new position, Miss Somerton. That of companion to Marianne.”

“You want me to stay?” This was the last thing she’d expected.

“Let’s not get into personal preferences. I’m asking you to stay.”

She choked on a mix of shock and laughter. “Completely different,” she agreed.