Mary Balogh - Slightly Scandalous

"I keep expecting to feel the weight of the shackle close about my leg," he said, "but it is simply not happening. I am a betrothed man and have never felt so free. Free with Free! Shall we go back to the house and wake everyone up with the news?"

"It would not be news to them, though, would it?" she said.

"Lord, no," he said, grinning at her. "We have to celebrate somehow, though sweetheart. Any suggestions?"

"Oh, Josh," she said, opening her arms, "do stop talking nonsense and come here."

"Brilliant idea," he said.

Joshua had gone out on business by the time Freyja asked for him the next morning. She was bubbling with unaccustomed excitement, but though she was surrounded by family and friends, there was no one to confide in. What would she say?

I am in love?

I am betrothed?

I am going to be married?

To Joshua?

Apart from the fact that they would look at her as if she had finally taken leave of her senses, it was all very lowering. She was not a person given to an exuberant outpouring of sentimental drivel.

She went for a walk instead-all the way to the village. This was something she needed to do anyway-and it had to be done alone. No one must know about it. Even the thought that someone might find out gave her the shivers.

"Good morning," she said when Anne Jewell opened the door of her cottage to her knock. "No!" She held up a staying hand when the woman gestured as if to ask her to step inside. "I'll not come in or disturb you longer than I need."

"But-" Anne Jewell began.

"No, thank you." Freyja kept her hand raised. "Correct me if I am wrong, but I do not believe you are entirely happy living here in this village, are you?"

The woman's welcoming smile faded somewhat.

"Everyone has been most kind," she said, "especially Joshua-Lord Hallmere. But you must not fear. I will not continue to accept his support. I am in hope of acquiring some new pupils soon."

Freyja clucked her tongue. "Do you think I care about a little support payment?" she asked. "I have looked at you and seen an intelligent woman who has never complained about her lot even though it was brought on by noble self-sacrifice and injustice-and a woman whose pride has not been broken. Is it your wish to teach?"

Miss Jewell looked wary.

"It was always my wish," she said. "My family was never wealthy, though I was fortunate enough to be educated. I always wanted to teach."

"There is a position for you if you wish for it," Freyja said, "at a girls' school in Bath. It is a quite respectable establishment and pays a salary that will support both you and your son in some comfort. You will be allowed to take him with you, by the way. My solicitor reported to me a week or so ago that there is need of another teacher-of geography, I believe."

Anne Jewell stared at her.

"I have some influence at the school," Freyja explained.

Anne Jewell licked her lips. "I would like it of all things," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do they know that David was born out of wedlock?"

"Yes," Freyja said. "It will not be held against you provided you give good service as a teacher."

"I will." She set one hand flat against her throat and closed her eyes tightly. "Oh, dear God, I will. At a school! In Bath! How will I ever be able to thank you, Lady Freyja?"

"In just this way," Freyja said firmly. "It is the solicitor, Mr. Hatchard, who has found this position for you and checked your references. You know of no one else, only him. He is the one who answered your letter of inquiry and then wrote to offer you the position. My name is never to be mentioned to anyone, do you understand me? Especially not within the walls of Miss Martin's school. And least of all to Miss Martin herself."

Miss Jewell was regarding her with wide eyes.

"Of course," she said. "Yes, of course."

"Mr. Hatchard will write to you within the next week or two, then, with a formal offer and details and coach tickets for you and your son," Freyja said. "Good day to you, Miss Jewell."

It was at that moment that the half-closed house door opened and the child stepped out-with Joshua right behind him.

"I am ready, Mama," the child cried excitedly. "Look! Clean hands." He displayed them for her inspection, first the palms and then the backs.

Freyja was wishing fervently that she possessed the ability to make herself invisible. Dash it all, had Josh heard anything? But he looked at her in cheerful surprise.

"Ah, Freyja," he said, "are you here too? I came to fetch David. I thought to arrange an excursion for the children today."

"I came to bid Miss Jewell farewell," Freyja explained, "since I will be going back to Lindsey Hall soon. To start planning the wedding." Ignominiously she felt herself blush-and then glared at him with flared nostrils when he half depressed one eyelid.

Memories of the night before rushed upon her.

They walked back to the house together, David riding proudly and happily upon the horse as Joshua led it.

"If I had known you were going to see Anne," Joshua said, "I would have waited for you, Free. We could have ridden together."

"Yes, well," she said carelessly, "it was just one of a dozen such errands I must run before I leave."

"Sweetheart," he said softly, "you are a fraud."

She turned her head sharply to look into his laughing eyes.

"But you need not fear," he said. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Secret?" She frowned.

"What connection is Miss Martin to you?" he asked.

"Josh," she said coldly, "I could kill you for being at that house this morning. I suppose you had your ear pressed to the keyhole."

"No need, sweetheart," he said. "You are the one who refused to step inside and forced Anne to stand out there with the door half open. If you had come inside, you would have seen me. I was making no attempt to hide."

"She was my governess," she said crossly. "I mistreated her, she was dismissed for being unable to control me, and then she had the effrontery to refuse to allow Wulf to find her other employment. The silly woman opened a school in Bath and was like to starve when I heard about it. What was I to do?" She glared at him.

He grinned at her and winked. The little boy laughed as the horse snorted and tossed its head.

"I suppose," he said, "you have been the patron of the school ever since. The anonymous patron."

"Miss Martin hates me," she said. "If she knew, she would refuse all help and starve and I would have to live with my guilt. It would be grossly unfair."

He chuckled again, infuriating her. David was calling out to some villagers and waving importantly to them.

"And I suppose every now and then," he continued, "you see someone who could be helped by that school-a prospective teacher, for example, or a deserving pupil who cannot afford the school fees-and give in to a terrible urge-a shameful urge-to be kind and charitable."

"Josh," she said severely, "if you do not wipe that laughter from your face before I count to three, I shall wipe it off for you. One."

"You are nothing but a softie," he said, grinning.

"Two."

"I love you, sweetheart," he said, the laughter suddenly gone. "Body, mind, and soul."

She looked at him in exasperation.

"And kind, soft heart," he added.

She chuckled.

"I suppose," she said, "you will hold it against me for the rest of my life."

"To the very last minute," he said, taking her hand in his free one and lacing his fingers with hers.

She laughed out loud.

"I do hate you," she said.

She turned her head to look at him, all blond and handsome and loose-limbed and smiling and gorgeous. Her man. Her love.

"Oh, Josh," she said, "I do love you. And you may hold that against me for the rest of my life too."