The Honorable Governess (False Rumors #4)

Chapter Eleven

M airi tore off to join her friends once they stepped out of the carriage and she spotted them playing nearby. Sara followed at a leisurely pace to the benches where her friends sat. She didn’t need to hurry after Mairi to keep her safe when she noted Ian’s and the Whethams’ servants scattered around the area. Their presence had made her uncomfortable when she first arrived in London and when they increased after she became Ian’s wife. However, she understood her husband’s need to keep them protected, and she never uttered a word of protest. Not when it gave her the sense of security that he cared enough to see to her welfare.

While he never professed his love, she wasn’t blind to see he cared about her by the tender gestures he bestowed upon her. Their passion had raged out of control, but underneath the fierce dynamics of their desires, there was a gentleness to each kiss and caress he seduced her with. His promise at breakfast left her eager for nightfall to arrive.

“The blush blooming across her cheeks shows proof that her evening ended in success,” Flora quipped.

Grace joined in with the teasing. “Well, I noticed she took our advice to heart throughout the evening.”

“The question is if it continued once she got Somerville alone in their bedchamber,” Flora wondered.

“Ladies, please show Sara the respect she deserves as a duchess,” Vivian reprimanded.

Grace smirked. “Always playing the lady, dear Vivian, when we are well aware you are stewing with curiosity yourself.”

Vivian lifted her chin with an elegance Sara always admired as she declared, “Perhaps so. However, I hold the dignity of refraining myself from invading Sara’s privacy.”

“Bollocks,” Grace and Flora burst out before clutching at each other in laughter.

Vivian shook her head in rebuke. “Sara, please sit while we suffer from their tomfoolery.”

Sara tried to hold back her amusement but failed, especially when she noticed the twinkle in Vivian’s gaze. Her friends’ enjoyment at her expense was a welcome balm to the whirlwind of emotions she had endured since Ian asked her to marry him. While her emotions still overwhelmed her, she had learned how to handle them.

Her friends waited with patience for her to reveal how her evening had ended. They didn’t expect any crass details. However, curiosity sparkled from their gazes to learn if Sara got what her heart most wanted.

Ian’s love.

She could wait to hear his declaration and offer of his heart again. His late wife’s death had broken him, and he still needed time to heal. Time she would grant him.

“The evening ended in success.”

Their squeals of joy echoed around Sara. Their excitement made their friendship special in her heart. Her friends only wanted the best for one another. She had met them at her lowest. Now her life was full of the love of friendships and family.

Vivian tilted her head to the side as she observed Sara. “Did he declare his love?”

Sara shook her head.

“Ah, love,” Grace murmured, reaching out to squeeze her hand in sympathy.

Sara offered them a wistful smile. “’Tis fine.”

Flora pinched her lips. “I never thought the duke a foolish gentleman.”

Sara’s smile widened at her friend’s defense. “Not foolish but a gentleman still suffering from heartache. He will come to love me when he is ready.”

“As he will. How could he not? You are his dream come true,” Grace declared.

“Aye,” Flora agreed.

“It warms my heart how confident you are in Somerville. However, I can tell something else troubles you this morning,” Vivian commented.

Vivian had always been the more insightful one in their group, as well as the one to develop a plan whenever they were in trouble. She had been protective of them since their first meeting when they welcomed her with offers of friendship. Because of her, they had met and married the gentlemen they now loved with all their hearts.

Sara withdrew the card from her reticule and handed it to Vivian, who read the message and passed it to Flora and Grace. Sara didn’t understand their confused reactions.

“This slipped from the pocket of Ian’s robe this morning,” Sara explained.

“Did you question him?” Vivian asked.

“No.”

“Do you have any clue what it might mean?” Grace questioned.

“None. I hoped one of you might recognize the handwriting.”

Flora scrutinized the card, running her fingers along the script. Her expression changed when she recognized the handwriting. “’Tis him.”

Sara gasped. “Are you certain?”

Flora handed back the card. “Aye. The penmanship matches the letters the villain sent to Lennox.”

“’Tis what I feared. But what does the message mean?”

Vivian glanced at the children, keeping her expression hidden. “Has Somerville spoken with you about what he discovered about your past?”

“No.”

Vivian swung her closed-off gaze toward Sara. “Perhaps you should question him.”

Sara frowned. “Do you know something?”

When Vivian didn’t answer her, Sara looked at Flora and Grace, who both avoided her gaze. It hurt her feelings that her friends kept secrets from her. Not only her friends but Ian too. Did her friends hold her husband’s opinion that she was too fragile to learn the truth about the threats that centered on her?

Sara pinched her lips and clutched her hands. “I see.”

Their visit had taken a turn from animated enjoyment to their betrayal that stabbed Sara’s heart. While she had hoped for their support to decipher the cryptic message, they had kept secrets from her, ones that could help her understand the mystery behind the threat that plagued her every day.

Sara rose from the bench and called for Mairi. “Come along, love. Your Poppa is waiting for us.”

Sara detested lies but found it necessary to escape the uncomfortable situation with her friends. Their loyalties lay with their husbands and what they might’ve confided in them. But to keep secrets that profoundly affected her showed Sara their friendship, and her marriage to Ian, was nothing more than a facade. In truth, she only had herself to depend upon.

“Sara, please don’t leave. Allow us to explain,” Vivian pleaded.

Sara turned with a false smile to protect herself. “’Tis unnecessary. Thank you for allowing the children to play with Mairi today. It has brightened her spirits. She has missed her friends.”

Sara didn’t allow them to respond but gathered Mairi and hurried to their carriage. She felt terrible for tearing Mairi away from her playmates, but she couldn’t handle another moment with her friends. Mairi never complained, though, only exclaimed over playing with her friends at the park, oblivious to Sara’s pain. As she should, considering her age. Sara never wanted Mairi to be aware of life’s injustices.

When they arrived at the Whethams’ townhome, Sara sent Mairi with a footman and waited until they stepped inside the house before directing the carriage driver to a destination she hadn’t visited since she arrived in London. They would report her activities to Ian, who would expect an explanation upon her return. But for now, she needed to visit her favorite spot, where no one would bother her with her thoughts.

The carriage pulled up to the shoppe nestled between two housing structures. It was a place she had discovered when she missed home. Sara had found comfort in browsing the shelves. The shopkeeper had enjoyed her visits and offered her a room abovestairs, where she could curl up with a book and enjoy a pot of tea to escape her loneliness. She’d never told anyone about this place. Her secrecy of the bookshop would keep anyone from finding her for a while.

When she opened the door, the bell rattled, indicating her arrival. The few customers in the shoppe glanced toward the door, then redirected their interest back to their search. An elderly lady hustled around the counter toward Sara. When she reached her, Mrs. Hardy pulled Sara into a motherly hug. Sara wrapped her arms around the portly woman and found comfort in the genuine affection.

Mrs. Hardy held Sara away from her and eyed her up and down. She nodded in approval. “I heard news of your marriage.”

“Shh,” Sara interrupted her.

She didn’t want the other customers to overhear her connection to Ian. She wanted to be Miss Sara Abbott for a few hours, not the Duchess of Somerville. Mrs. Hardy nodded her understanding and hooked her arm through Sara’s, leading her to the new arrival section.

“Pick out a book while I find Mr. Hardy to watch the shoppe. Then we can have a friendly visit over a pot of tea. I have missed your sweet face.” Mrs. Hardy hurried away.

Sara perused the titles, hoping to find something that would help her escape her troubles for the afternoon. She wanted to forget the past few months of terror and how her husband and friends had betrayed her with their secrets. Her rash behavior to disappear was out of the norm for her. However, at that point, she no longer cared. She wished to avoid the falsehearted behavior always directed at her.

Sara grabbed a book at random and moved to the counter. Mr. Hardy rang up her purchase. He was a quiet gentleman who allowed his wife to entertain their customers with her exuberant knowledge of literature.

As always, he offered her a kind smile. “Your return has thrilled the missus.”

“I have missed our visits,” Sara confided.

“As we have with you. Hurry, before she exclaims to the customers what you hope to avoid with your visit,” Mr. Hardy warned.

Sara nodded and hurried to the back of the shoppe where Mrs. Hardy waited to lead her abovestairs to their set of rooms. She followed her up the stairs and curled up on the sofa like she always had before she left for Scotland. Mrs. Hardy carried a tray toward her, and Sara sat forward, clearing a spot on the table. She set about to pour the tea when Mrs. Hardy waved her to sit back, and she covered Sara with a blanket. The motherly gesture soothed her wounded pride a little. Mrs. Hardy handed her a cup of tea before sitting across from Sara with her own cup.

“What troubles you, my dear?”

Sara sipped at the warm brew. “I have never felt so alone.”

“Why do you believe that?”

That was what Sara admired about Mrs. Hardy. She offered no false assurances because of Sara’s circumstances. She reminded Sara of her grandmother by always being available for advice and ready to help Sara carry her burdens. It was Mrs. Hardy she’d run to when her employer, Lord Baldridge, had attempted to accost her. Then when Lord and Lady Baldridge dismissed her without pay or a reference and she struggled to find employment, Mr. and Mrs. Hardy had offered her a room. She’d never shared with her friends how she survived during those trying times.

“Because my husband and friends are keeping secrets that affect me.”

Mrs. Hardy nodded. “And you know this how?”

“They more or less revealed the truth today during our visit to the park.”

“Perhaps if you start at the beginning, I might have a better understanding of your troubles and can help you,” Mrs. Hardy suggested.

Sara set the teacup down and pulled the blanket tighter around herself as she snuggled into the sofa. She began by telling Mrs. Hardy about the threatening letters she and her friends had received over the past year. Then she told her about the lady at Flora’s ball who’d informed Sara that she should return to Fordwich. She ended her explanation by describing how Ian had only married her to offer his protection. Mrs. Hardy only interrupted with questions when needed and then she grew silent again for Sara to continue.

She shared how she had fallen in love with Ian and thought he returned the sentiments from how he treated her. Sara finished with the card she’d found this morning and the conversation she’d shared with her friends. The retelling of their betrayal caused tears to coast down her cheeks. She swiped at them, and Mrs. Hardy handed her a handkerchief. She sniffled into the fabric and brushed it across her cheeks to dry her tears.

“It is my opinion your friends withheld the truth because they believe your husband should be the one to tell you his secrets, not them,” Mrs. Hardy offered.

In her rush to get away from them, Sara hadn’t stopped to consider the predicament she’d placed them in. Obviously, Ian had confided in her friends’ husbands, and they had shared the information with their wives, who they didn’t keep secrets from. It hadn’t been fair of her to place them in an awkward situation. However, their silence only gave Sara doubt about their friendship, especially when she only ever offered them honesty. Was it too much to expect equal treatment?

“As for the duke, ‘tis his role as your husband to fulfill his duty to protect you.”

A fresh set of tears came to Sara’s eyes. “I do not wish to be his duty. I only want him to love me.”

Mrs. Hardy joined Sara on the sofa, wrapping her in her arms. “Oh, my dear, if your husband did not love you, he would never protect you. I have heard of marriages amongst the aristocracy where husbands neglect their wives and do not care if their wives come to harm. You are among the fortunate whose husband would go to any lengths to keep you out of harm’s danger.”

Sara sniffled. “Ian does not love me, nor will he ever. He only offered marriage to protect me because he does not want to lose me as a governess to his daughter.”

“Oh, Sara, you have no clue of your value. It would be an impossible feat for the duke not to fall in love with you. I believe the duke realized what a rare treasure you are and found it impossible to resist making you his wife.”

Sara frowned at Mrs. Hardy but never disputed her comment. She couldn’t deny Ian’s attraction to her from how he’d taken her with passion the night before. However, his inability to trust her with what he’d discovered caused her heartache. Her lack of knowledge of the facts caused her a loneliness she couldn’t explain.

Mrs. Hardy stood and adjusted the blanket around Sara. “Take a while to gather your thoughts. I must not leave Mr. Hardy alone too long with the customers.”

“Thank you,” Sara whispered.

“All will be well, child. You must have faith Somerville has only the best of intentions toward you.”

Sara watched Mrs. Hardy bustle away before stretching her legs out and turning on her side. She thought over her situation and what actions she should take on her return. Her disappearance this afternoon would cause Ian distress. She wished she had the courage to confront him but worried her reaction would disappoint him. Their marriage was too fresh to cause disruption, especially when Ian only held the most honorable of intentions regarding her welfare.

Perhaps she should give him the benefit of the doubt and wait for him to confide in her. If he didn’t, then she was left with no other option than to inform him that she wouldn’t wait for him to decide about her welfare without her opinion. To do so might cause friction in their marriage. However, she’d learned from her friends’ marriages that, without honesty, they were destined for a marriage of discontentment.

Sara threw the blanket aside and moved to the mirror to fix her appearance. She needed to return to the Whethams’ townhome before Ian sent out a search party for her. She preferred for him not to learn of the bookstore she sought refuge in when life became too difficult for her to understand. One day, she would divulge how Mr. and Mrs. Hardy had taken her in when she needed them most. If the duke was allowed his secrets, then the duchess was allowed hers too.

Sara slipped down the stairs and down an empty aisle. Before she took another step, someone rushed around the corner, knocking into her. She dropped her book and reticule. When she bent over to retrieve them, someone grabbed her elbow.

“Allow me,” a gentleman offered.

Sara took a step back to shake off the improper hold and winced when she noticed the person who had knocked into her was Lord Roselli. A kind gentleman who had no other intention than to help her. Her troubled thoughts had misinterpreted his actions.

“Thank you,” Sara murmured when he handed over her items.

He tipped his hat. “My pleasure. ‘Tis wonderful to see you again, Your Grace. Or may I call you Sara?”

“I should not allow it. ‘Tis most improper.”

“Are you not a friend of my wife?”

Sara nodded.

“Then, as her friend, you are mine too. And friends call each other by their first names,” Lord Roselli attempted to persuade Sara to see his reason.

Sara glanced around the shoppe. “Perhaps in private we can be less formal.”

“Excellent. Have you found a book to purchase?”

Sara clutched the book to her chest. “I already have. I was on my way out.”

Lord Roselli offered his arm. “Then allow me to escort you. ‘Tis an unpleasant section of London for you to wander without an escort. Anything untoward might happen to you. I would never forgive myself if you came to harm.”

Sara laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you. I appreciate your generosity.”

Sara searched the front of the shoppe as they walked toward the exit. She had hoped to thank Mrs. Hardy for her kindness. But neither she nor her husband was anywhere to be found. She would send them a letter on the morrow with her gratitude.

Lord Roselli escorted her to her waiting carriage and helped her inside. “Until we meet again, Sara. It was a pleasure to see you today.”

He clicked the carriage door shut and slapped the side, directing the driver to leave before Sara could respond with her farewell. The intimate way he spoke her name sent a strange shiver throughout her. Was it foolish of her to allow him to call her by her Christian name in a private setting? After all, her friends and their husbands allowed the familiarity.

Sara leaned her head back against the seat cushion, exhausted by what was proper or improper conduct. Why couldn’t it be as simple as when she was a governess? The lower class could be themselves and be honest with their actions. The deceit among the higher class had Sara wishing for simpler times. But then, she would never have shared her life with Somerville.

Why was life so unfair?