Chapter Four
Henry sat at his desk in the study, the afternoon light filtering through the rain-streaked windows. His hand still tingled from where it had touched hers, and he could still see the look in her eyes when she’d accepted—relief and resignation mingled together in a way that made his chest ache.
She’d said yes. She would stay. Amelia would have the mother she needed. And he would have a wife who married him for a child.
Henry shook his head, dismissing the thought. This was what he’d proposed. A practical arrangement. He had no right to wish for anything more, and no reason to think Sophia harbored any feelings beyond her devotion to Amelia. He was offering her safety and security, nothing more.
He had loved Eleanor with a passion that had burned bright and hot. When he’d lost her, a part of him had died with her. Eleanor had been the only woman for him, then and now. A marriage of convenience would suit him fine.
He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and dipped his pen in the inkwell. First, Sebastian Ashford. The man deserved to know immediately that his sister’s circumstances had changed so dramatically.
The letter came easier than he’d expected, the words flowing as he explained the situation, his proposal, and Sophia’s acceptance.
Montrose Manor, Kent
24th February 1819
Your Grace,
I write to you on a matter that concerns your sister, Miss Sophia Ashford, and I confess I do so with both urgency and considerable emotion.
This morning, I asked Miss Ashford to be my wife, and to my great joy and relief, she has accepted me.
I am aware this will come as a surprise.
When Miss Ashford entered my household two years ago to serve as governess to my niece, I was barely acquainted with her beyond the regular reports of Amelia’s progress.
Our paths crossed infrequently, and I am ashamed to admit I maintained a distance from the nursery until Miss Ashford encouraged me to spend more time with Amelia.
What began as a desire to learn from your sister how to be a better guardian to my niece became something I had not anticipated.
I have come to admire her remarkable strength, her generous heart, and her quick mind.
She has endured more than most could bear and emerged with a capacity for love that humbles me.
I will be candid with you. My circumstances are not uncomplicated. My late uncle’s will requires that I marry before I turn thirty, a deadline I face in six months’ time.
I cannot promise I am the match you envisioned for your sister when you determined to give her a Season. I can only promise that I will honor her, protect her, and do everything in my power to make her happy. She will want for nothing, and she will be cherished.
Given the constraints of time and my desire to spare your sister any interference from my parents, I hope to marry within the week.
I would be deeply honored if you and Lady Ashford would attend the ceremony, as I would your brother Lord James and his wife.
Sophia should be surrounded by those who love her when she takes this step.
I await your reply, and I hope for your blessing.
Montrose
How easily the lies had flowed from his pen to paper.
While writing, he’d almost believed he truly loved Miss Ashford.
If he were not committed to Eleanor’s memory, he could easily understand how a man could fall in love with the governess.
She was breathtakingly beautiful, kind-hearted, sensitive, and passionately devoted to family.
If only he were not so damaged, perhaps he would have the fortitude to make sure she fell in love with him.
If that was even possible. She certainly did not appear to have any feelings about him whatsoever.
He was merely Amelia’s guardian. Which was fine with him. Still, lying made him uncomfortable.
He glanced at his sister’s portrait. “I’m doing this for Amelia. As you would want me to.”
Rebecca did not answer back. He closed his eyes, hoping to hear her voice in his head, but it did not come. He was on his own.
The second letter was harder.
Henry stared at the blank page for a long moment, then began to write. His parents needed to know, but they didn’t need to know in time to interfere. The letter was brief, formal, and deliberately devoid of any invitation for commentary or objection.
Montrose Manor, Kent
3rd March 1819
Father, Mother,
I write to inform you that I was married this morning to Miss Sophia Ashford, sister to His Grace the Duke of Ashford, in the church at Whitmore-by-Sea. The ceremony was attended by her family and Charlotte and Thomas.
Miss Ashford has served as governess to Amelia for the past two years. During that time, she has proven herself to be a woman of exceptional character and devotion. I have come to hold her in the highest regard, and I am pleased to say that my affection is returned.
As you are aware, Uncle George’s will required that I marry before my thirtieth year.
This condition has now been met with a bride I am proud to call my wife.
Additionally, the question of Amelia’s guardianship, which you raised in your recent correspondence, is now resolved.
Lady Montrose and I are fully capable of providing Amelia with the stable household you deemed necessary.
I trust you will be pleased that I have fulfilled both my uncle’s requirements and your expressed concerns regarding Amelia’s welfare.
Lady Montrose and I will be at home to visitors in due course. I shall write again when we are prepared to receive callers.
I remain your dutiful son,
Henry
When both letters were complete, he folded them with precise movements, dripping wax onto each seal and pressing his signet ring into the crimson pools.
He rang for Grimshaw. The butler appeared within moments, tall and lean, his posture as straight as a soldier’s, not a wrinkle in his black coat. “My lord?”
Henry stood, clasping his hands behind his back. Best to simply say it plainly. “Grimshaw, I have some news that will likely come as something of a surprise to the household. Two pieces of news, in fact.”
“Yes, my lord?”
“First, Miss Ford is not who she appears to be. Her true name is Miss Sophia Ashford. She is the sister of His Grace, the Duke of Ashford. Her family’s title and fortune were recently restored by the Crown, but she chose to maintain her anonymity while in my employ.”
Grimshaw’s eyes widened fractionally. “Miss Ford is… a duke’s sister, my lord?”
“She is. And second, she has done me the great honor of accepting my proposal of marriage. We are to be wed within the week.”
The effect was immediate and spectacular. Grimshaw’s mouth fell open. His eyes went wide as guineas. His ramrod-straight posture actually wavered. In fact, he gripped the back of a nearby chair as though he needed it for support.
“You’re… marrying… Miss Ford?” The words came out strangled.
“Miss Ashford,” Henry corrected gently. “Yes. Seven days from today.”
“But she’s… You’ve…” Grimshaw appeared to be struggling with basic speech. “The governess. You are marrying the governess.”
“The very same. Though as I’ve just explained, she is rather more than a governess.”
“A duke’s sister,” Grimshaw repeated faintly, as though testing the words. “Living in the nursery. For two years. Sleeping in the governess’s room. Eating her meals upstairs with the child.”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re marrying her.”
“Also correct.”
“In a week.”
“Yes.”
Grimshaw closed his eyes briefly, as though praying for strength. When he opened them again, he appeared to have recovered some of his professional demeanor, though his voice still carried a note of wonderment. “My lord, might I inquire, when did you discover her true identity?”
“Yesterday. She revealed it when she tendered her resignation. Her brother has summoned her to London for a Season.”
“And you proposed, when?”
“This morning.”
Grimshaw’s composure cracked again. “This morning? But my lord, you’ve barely… that is, you and Miss Ash—Miss Ford—Miss…” He gave up on the name entirely. “You’ve scarcely spoken to one another beyond matters concerning the child.”
“That has changed recently,” Henry said carefully. “The prospect of losing her made me realize certain feelings I had been neglecting to acknowledge.”
“Feelings.” Grimshaw said the word as though it were foreign to him. “For the governess.”
“For Miss Ashford, sister to the Duke of Ashford and the woman I intend to make my wife. The chambers adjoining mine should be ready for Miss Ashford after the wedding. In addition, she will need a new wardrobe. I shall ask Mrs. Bromley to help in that regard.”
“She will need a lady’s maid, my lord.”
“Ah yes, of course. I will have Mrs. Bromley search for someone appropriate.”
“Might I offer my congratulations, my lord? And might I say that I find Miss Ashford truly lovely, both in character and appearance. The staff have long admired her devotion to Miss Amelia and her kindness to everyone in this household. To see her elevated to mistress of the house will bring them joy. After they finish being utterly astounded. As for myself, I confess to feeling rather delighted. She will be a perfect wife for you, my lord.”
“Thank you, Grimshaw. I could not agree more.” Henry smiled, pleased by the endorsement from the somber butler.
“And now, to business.” He picked up the letters from his desk.
“Two letters requiring your immediate attention. This one goes to His Grace the Duke of Ashford in London—Miss Ashford’s brother.
Send it by the fastest post available. Spare no expense. ”
“Of course, my lord.” Grimshaw accepted the letter, nodding. “Her brother. The Duke.”
Henry picked up the second letter. “This letter is directed to my parents. However, you are not to send it until the morning of my wedding. Not before. Is that clear?”
“The morning of, my lord?” Grimshaw’s thick eyebrows rose. “Ah. Yes. Quite right to do so.”
“Precisely. I’m relying on your discretion in this matter.”
“You have it, my lord. Always.” Grimshaw tucked both letters into his coat. “Will there be anything else?”
“Yes. Please have Mrs. Bromley come to see me at her earliest convenience,” Henry said. “One more thing. Miss Ashford is to join me for dinner this evening.”
“I’ll see to it, my lord.”
Henry thanked him again and then watched as his unflappable butler nearly stumbled on the edge of the rug. It was really quite amusing.
After the door closed, Henry returned to the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. He smiled despite himself. By week’s end, Miss Sophia Ashford would be Lady Montrose, and Amelia would have the mother she deserved.
*
A soft knock came at the door some ten minutes later. “My lord? You wished to see me?”
“Mrs. Bromley, yes. Please, come in. Sit.”
The housekeeper entered, her expression expectant. She settled into the chair, waiting.
“She accepted,” Henry said.
“I’m very pleased to hear it, my lord.” Mrs. Bromley’s smile was warm. “Miss Ashford will make an excellent Lady Montrose. And Miss Amelia will be so happy.”
“Yes. It’s a good solution for everyone.”
“Indeed, my lord.” She paused, then added carefully, “I’ve begun making arrangements as we discussed this morning. The household is prepared to receive the news. And I’ll coordinate with the church regarding the ceremony.”
“Good. Thank you.” Henry moved to lean against his desk. “I’ll need you to arrange for a proper wardrobe for my bride as well. Whatever she requires. Spare no expense.”
“Of course, my lord. I’ll ask the dressmaker to come right away.” Mrs. Bromley smoothed her skirts. “And the guest accommodations?”
“Yes. Prepare rooms for Lord and Lady Ashford. Lord James and his wife.”
“Then we’ll prepare the blue guest suite for His Grace, and the rose chamber for Lord James. How many days do we have?”
“Seven. I’m riding to see the bishop tomorrow about the license.”
“Very good, my lord. Mrs. Mills will be delighted to prepare a proper wedding feast.” She rose, then hesitated. “May I say, my lord, that Miss Ashford has been a credit to this household these past two years. She’s been devoted to Miss Amelia and kind to the staff. We’re all very fond of her.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Mrs. Bromley’s gaze moved briefly to Rebecca’s portrait above the mantel, then back to him. “Miss Ashford’s had a difficult life, by all accounts. I hope…” She stopped herself, as if remembering her place.
“What is it, Mrs. Bromley?”
“Forgive me, my lord.” She straightened. “I only meant to say that I hope the marriage brings contentment to you both. You’ve both known loss and hardship. You deserve peace. And love.”
There was something in her tone—not judgment exactly, but a gentle concern that made Henry shift uncomfortably.
“That’s my intention,” he said.
“Of course, my lord.” She moved toward the door, then paused. “I’ll speak with Miss Ashford this afternoon about the wardrobe arrangements. If there’s anything else she requires for the wedding, I’ll see to it personally.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bromley.”
After she’d gone, Henry sank into his chair and stared at Rebecca’s portrait.
The conversation had been perfectly proper.
Mrs. Bromley had said nothing inappropriate, nothing that overstepped her position.
And yet something in her careful words felt a bit like a warning.
I hope the marriage brings contentment to you both.
As if she’d wanted to say more but propriety had held her back.
And what exactly was this warning? That he should be careful with Miss Ashford’s heart?
And perhaps his own as well. Or, was she hinting that Miss Ashford deserved love.
Whichever it was, one thing had become clear. If they were to pretend to be in love for Miss Ashford’s family, they should do the same with the staff. He would speak to Miss Ashford about it tonight at dinner.