A Most Unusual Governess (17 page)

She swallowed as she turned towards him. Her face was as white as a ghost.

'Sarah.' His voice was tender.

'Lord Randall,' she said, struggling to control the wild and stormy emotions that were raging inside her.

He dropped her arm. He was breathing hard. 'Sarah. What you saw... '

But by now Sarah had recovered her dignity. 'Saw, Lord Randall? You must be mistaken. I saw nothing.'

He looked at her with such a mixture of longing and concern that she felt her emotions threatening to break through her composed facade.

You must be distraught. I have never heard you utter a falsehood before,' he said.

'I... ' She checked. It was true. Her nature was open and honest. Honest to a fault.

What you saw wasn't real,' he said.

'It is none of my business,' she said, turning away from him. She could not talk about it. It was too painful for her.

'It is your business, Sarah. Mrs de Bracy wants a lover but I could never be attracted to a woman like that. I am attracted to... '

He stopped himself just in time.

Sarah, knowing that her emotions were about to break the barriers she had set around them altogether, wrenched her eyes from his and turned away.

She knew now why she had rejected Mr Masterson; knew now why she had felt as though a knife was twisting inside her when she had seen James with Maud. It was because she was in love with him.

But he was not in love with her, she was sure of it. He had never spoken of his feelings and how could he love someone so far beneath him?

She ran on through the woodland but in the dark she tripped over a root and fell. He caught her, his arms firmly around her, and then he kissed her. It was wonderful, so wonderful that she was lost to all else, and he was lost in her as she was lost in him. She was unlike anyone he had ever known, and she had aroused feelings in him that were far deeper than any he had ever experienced.

He pulled back, wanting to look at her, taking her face between his hands and gazing down into her face. 'Sarah. . . '

But temptation was too strong, and his voice was lost as he kissed her again.

At last he let her go. Grudgingly. Unwillingly. Telling himself that he must not do this, that it must stop before anyone came out into the garden and saw them. He took a step back, murmuring, What am I doing?'

As he thought of what might have happened he was angry with himself for getting carried away in so public a place, and appalled that his actions had risked her reputation. What kind of gentleman did that?

But Sarah, not being able to read his thoughts, took one look at his horror-stricken face and felt her heart turn to stone. It was clear to her that he regretted it. Her heart and body, her spirit and mind, had been soaring with ecstasy, but he was obviously horrified at what had just happened. And she was not surprised. An earl, to give way to his feelings for a governess? How it must have hurt his pride.

With a sick feeling twisting inside her she stumbled away from him, her unhappiness overwhelming her as she picked up her skirts and ran back through the woodlands, back to the house.

The act of running helped to calm her overwrought emotions and on drawing near the terrace she slowed her step. It would not do for her to be seen running in from the gardens.

At the bottom of the steps she took a few minutes to steady herself. Although she intended to go straight to her room she would have to walk through the house to get there, and she did not want Lord Randall's many guests to realise she was distressed.

She breathed deeply, taking in the cool night air. It was fresh and calming.

How could she have let it happen?

How could she have lost all control?

Because so strong were her feelings for him that when she had been in his arms nothing else had mattered. Nothing at all.

Gradually her pulse began to slow, until at last she felt equal to walking through the house. She went slowly up the steps, stopping for a moment at the top before going across the terrace and inside. Fortunately Lord Randall's guests were too busy enjoying themselves to take any notice of her, and she was able to make her way through the ballroom, across the hall and up the stairs to her room.

Once inside she sank gratefully down onto her bed. The evening had been so eventful she needed some time to herself. As she thought over everything that had happened she began to feel herself grow calm. It was obvious Lord Randall regretted his actions, as he regretted his feelings, and if that was the case then she would be a fool to break her heart over him. He was leaving the Grange on business the following day, once his guests had departed, and when he was gone everything would return to normal. She would settle down once again to teaching the children, and everything would be the way it was.

A small voice told herself that it was not so simple, that her feelings could not be so easily dismissed, but she determinedly ignored it.

She began to get ready for bed. The emotional strain of the evening had taken its toll and she was tired. Tomorrow everything would look brighter.

At least that was what she hoped.

* * * *

Sarah woke early the following morning. She had fallen into an exhausted sleep as soon as her head had touched the pillow and she was now feeling much refreshed. She sound of the birds singing called her outdoors and, dressing quickly and throwing a shawl over her shoulders for warmth, she slipped downstairs and went outside.

The air was cool, and she was glad of her shawl, but already it held the promise of another fine day.

As she made her way round to the stables, from where she could join one of the gravel paths that led through the shrubbery, she was pleased to find herself alone. It was too early for Lord Randall or his guests to be up; only the servants were stirring, preparing for another busy day.

The stable hands would be particularly busy, seeing to horses and carriages, as Lord Randall's guests took their leave, and already they were up and about, but too absorbed to pay any attention to Sarah. She was just about to pass them by, when Dixon, the head groom looked round, and said, 'Here's Miss Davenport now.'

He was talking to a strange gentleman, who turned his attention to Sarah.

'Miss Davenport?' he asked.

Yes.' Sarah looked at the man curiously. She did not know him, but decided that he looked like a secretary or a clerk.

'My name is Dodd, Miss Davenport. I'm sorry to have to tell this, but your uncle has met with an accident. Your brother has sent me to fetch you home.'

'Gone?' demanded Lord Randall later that morning. What do you mean, she's gone?'

He was in his study, having a brief respite from bidding his guests farewell, and felt a cold feeling grip his insides as Hodgess informed him that Sarah had gone.

What had prompted him to overstep the bounds of propriety so completely the night before he did not know. It was not lust. He had experienced lust before, but he had never let it control his actions. And, no matter how strongly he was attracted to Sarah, it was not simply desire. It was a new emotion, something he had never felt before, some mixture of admiration, respect, friendship, attraction, protectiveness and tenderness that was entirely new to him.

Whatever it was, it had driven him to kiss her. The horror he had felt when he had realised that he was risking her reputation had been enough to restore his sanity and make him step away, but there had been no time for him to talk to her or apologize because she had run from him. And no wonder.

He had started to run after her, to apologize, but no sooner had he broken free of the woodland than Mrs Cartwright and her daughter Annabelle had found him. To have gone after Sarah would have created a scandal - and how lucky he had been that Mrs Cartwright and her daughter had not seen Sarah fleeing in distress, he thought, or news of it would have run through the party like wild fire - and so he had had to let her go. And as soon as he had managed to extricate himself from Mrs Cartwright's attentions - to say nothing of Annabelle's simperings - he had been claimed by Mr Beveridge. In the end, he had had to console himself with the thought that he would be able to speak to Sarah first thing in the morning.

But the following morning she had been nowhere to be found.

He had thought at first she must be sleeping late, exhausted by the emotional turmoil of the night before, and so he had turned his attention to his guests, bidding them a polite farewell. But by mid-morning, when most of them had left, and when he had still not seen anything of Sarah, he had asked Hodgess to find her. Only to be told that she was nowhere to be found.

The news hit him with unexpected force.

Hodgess cleared his throat nervously.

'Miss Davenport has left the Grange, my lord.'

James stared at him in disbelief. When?' he demanded. Why? How?' The questions were fired rapidly, one after another, at the poor butler, who stood visibly quaking before him.

Have I driven her away? thought James, a cold feeling gripping him. But even as he thought it he dismissed the idea. Sarah was no coward. She would not run from anything, he felt sure. Then why - and where - had she gone?

'She left early this morning, my lord,' trembled Hodgess.

Why?' demanded Lord Randall again.

'It was on account of a message she received, my lord.'

'From whom?'

'From her brother, my lord.'

James looked amazed. Then, collecting his thoughts, he said, 'I think you had better tell me all about it. Starting at the beginning.'

Yes, my lord. Very good, my lord,' said Hodgess. He stood there helplessly for a minute as though unsure how to begin, before at last taking the plunge. Well, my lord,' he said. It was like this. A carriage arrived early this morning -'

'A private carriage?'

'Yes, my lord. A very fine equipage.'

'And the occupant? He was Miss Davenport's brother?'

'Oh, no, my lord, it wasn't her brother in the carriage. It was her brother's secretary. A Mr Dodd, my lord. He had an urgent message for Miss Davenport.'

'It must have been urgent, if the carriage arrived early this morning,' James said thoughtfully. 'Dodd must have travelled through the night.'

Indeed, my lord. And so Miss Davenport came to see me, my lord, and told me she was compelled to leave the Grange. Her uncle had met with an accident, she said, and she did not know when she would be able to return.'

'And you did not think of informing me?' Lord Randall demanded.

'It was early, my lord, said Hodgess uncomfortably. He had intended to inform his lordship of what had happened at once; it was not up to governesses, in Hodgess's opinion, to go gallivanting across the country at the drop of a hat, whatever the circumstances. But then the thought of rousing Lord Randall from his bed had proved too much for him and he had decided to say nothing until his lordship had seen his guests on their way.

'Miss Davenport has gone to her uncle, then. And he lives in . .. ?'

Hodgess looked blank.

Well, where had the carriage come from?'

Tm sure I don't know, my lord,' said Hodgess. 'It wasn't my place to ask.'

James closed his eyes with frustration. But it was no use getting angry with Hodgess. The man had done his best. He opened them again. 'Of course it wasn't. Very well, Hodgess,' he said.

'Miss Davenport did say she would write,' volunteered Hodgess. 'Once she knew how long she would be away.'

At that moment the door opened and Lord Tavistock walked into the room.

'Not now, Tavistock,' said James, barely able to be civil because of his shock over Sarah's departure.

Young Lord Tavistock fingered his collar nervously but nevertheless stood his ground. 'I'm sorry, Randall. I know you're busy saying goodbye to your guests, but I have something important to say - something that can't wait. The thing is, Randall...' He went red. 'It's about Miss Leatherhead.'

'Miss Leatherhead?' James looked at him in astonishment.

'Yes.' Lord Tavistock took a deep breath. 'I know you're keen on her, Randall, and I don't blame you. She's an absolute angel. In fact, her mama warned me you were on the brink of making her a proposal. But the thing is, Randall... ' He took another deep breath. 'We're in love.'

'In love?' James asked blankly. His mind was too full of Sarah for him to be able to take in what Lord Tavistock was saying.

'Yes.' Lord Tavistock sounded more definite now. 'In love. The thing is, Randall,' he said, summoning his courage, 'you're too old for her. Margaret's only just turned twenty, and you're... well, I shouldn't be saying this, but... '

James gave a broad grin. He was by now giving Lord Tavistock his full attention, and he had the feeling that one of his problems was going to be solved for him in a most agreeable way. 'Of course you should, Tavistock. Go on.'

'Well... you're in your thirties!' Lord Tavistock, at that moment looking much younger than his twenty-five years, exploded. 'I know we've served you an ill turn... or I have. It wasn't Margaret's fault. I am the one to blame. But the fact of the matter is I've asked her to marry me and she's said yes.'