Chapter 4
She spoke with an accent that Rupert could not quite place. Her English was perfect, there was no doubt about that, and more aristocratic than he would have suspected from a governess, but there was also a lilt to it.
Something that made him think, inexplicably, of his travels on the continent, particularly when he was in Aix-en-Provence and had been drinking wine with a group of English gentlemen who had been living there for some time, loath as they were to return to “rainy, soggy England.”
Her accent, however, was not the only thing that Rupert noticed about the woman.
She was delicate and slender, with a beautiful face, full lips, and high cheekbones that made her look like a painting of an angel.
Her hair was dark, but it was her eyes that he noticed most of all.
They were very large and were the most iridescent blue he had ever seen.
They seemed to penetrate into his very soul.
Her dress, which was a simple dark muslin, was clinging to her body in a way that made him flush and look away. He had no right to look at a woman like that, least of all one who was in a vulnerable position. She was entirely at his mercy, and he knew that he had to make sure she felt safe.
Quickly, he stood and returned to his horse, where he got his traveling cloak out of his saddle bag. Returning to Ellie, he handed it to her.
“Take this,” he said. “It will warm you.” And preserve your modesty.
“Thank you,” she said uncertainly, taking the cloak from him. She sat up, then wrapped the cloak around her shoulders. It seemed to swallow her, making her look even smaller and more fragile. “I appreciate all your help, Mr…?”
She looked at him inquiringly, and Rupert did some quick calculations.
This young woman was a governess in the employ of some neighboring estate. If she knew that he was a duke, she would most likely be overwhelmed and intimidated. He wanted her to be comfortable, especially now when she was at her most vulnerable. Clearing his throat, he came up with the lie easily.
“My name is Rupert,” he said. “I am a local merchant.”
“Rupert…” she murmured, her eyes sweeping over him curiously. It was odd that he had not given a last name, he knew, and he reached for one quickly.
“Mr. Rupert Grenville.” He knew that Thomas would forgive him for stealing his last name, especially if it was in the interest of helping a young woman in an unfortunate situation.
She nodded, all suspicion fading from her face. “It is very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Grenville,” she murmured. “If you would not mind helping me up, I want to see if I can walk.”
He extended a hand, and she slipped her ungloved one into his.
Her hand was very small and delicate, and as his own closed around it, he felt a strange tug of protectiveness in his belly, as if he had to do anything it took to keep this woman safe.
She looked so vulnerable and was all alone.
Right now, she had no one in the world but him.
She leaned her weight on him, and after several unsteady seconds, she managed to pull herself to her feet. He released her, and she wobbled, but did not fall.
“Take a few steps toward me,” he said, taking several back in order to give her room to walk to him. “Do not worry; if you fall, I shall be able to catch you.”
She swallowed, then nodded. Carefully, she took several steps forward. She didn’t fall, and Rupert smiled at her encouragingly.
“You are doing very well.”
“Thank you.” Again, there was the strange lilt of her accent, and by the time she reached him and took his outstretched hands, he could no longer keep his curiosity at bay.
“Where are you from, Ellie?” he asked. “It feels strange to call a woman by her given name.”
“Delacroix,” she said quickly. “I am from the South of France. My employer hired me as they wanted a French tutor for their daughter.”
“Ahh, I see. That is very wise.”
He peered down at her, and he thought he saw something shift in her bright blue eyes.
As if she did not want him to see whatever was hiding there.
Something stirred in his stomach. An intuition.
She might not have sounded entirely English, but she did not sound French, either.
He had a feeling that she was not completely telling the truth.
Well, let her keep her secrets. She was a woman on the road by herself. She was allowed to have them.
And it was not as if he was being entirely honest himself.
“Shall we get on the road?” he asked. “I am concerned about you staying in those wet clothes for long. You could catch a chill.”
“So could you,” she said, the corner of her mouth twitching up.
Despite himself, Rupert laughed. “Do not worry about me, Mademoiselle,” he said. “I am very hearty.”
“As am I,” she retorted, but this was quickly nullified by another cough that wracked her body.
Rupert raised an eyebrow. “As I said. We ought to get you on the road and find an inn as soon as possible. Then you can carry on to your employer.”
They returned to his horse, and he offered her up. Again, when she took his hand, he was struck by how small and delicate her hand was, how perfect it looked nestled in his own.
But he could not have thoughts such as these. They were highly improper.
Once she was settled on top of the horse, he took the reins and began to lead them away from the river.
It was slow going. The day was getting warmer, and that did dry them a bit, but with the clothes still clinging to their skin, he knew it would be hours until they were fully dry.
He was not worried for himself, but he did not like the idea of any illness befalling the young governess while she was in his charge.
And then there was another problem.
Ellie was hungry.
He began to hear her stomach rumble after they had been walking down the road for an hour. For another ten minutes, it grumbled again occasionally, and each time she put her hand over it and flushed pink.
Finally, after they’d been walking for some time, her stomach gave such a loud growl that he stopped the horse.
“I really must insist that we eat something,” he said. “You are in need of sustenance.”
“And what sustenance can I get on the road?” she asked, scanning the road ahead with a hand over her eyes. “We are still far from the next village.”
“I have food in my saddle bag,” Rupert said. “Not much, but enough to tide you over.”
Ellie hesitated, and he saw the calculation that was going on behind her eyes: the longer she stayed alone with him, the more at risk her reputation. But she needed to eat, and no one was around to witness them together.
“It will aid in your recovery,” he said gently. “The body needs nourishment in order to regain its strength. And to keep it warm.”
“Very… very well,” she said at last, and he felt a small thrill of triumph at having convinced her. Something told him that she was not a woman who gave in easily.
He helped her dismount, then tied the horse by the reins to the trunk of a nearby tree. Taking off the saddle, he took the blanket that was cushioned under it and spread it on the ground for them.
From his saddle bag he then took out the provisions that he had packed for the long road to London: there were several steak pies, apples and walnuts, strips of dried meat, and brown bread and hard cheese.
“It is not the finest banquet,” he conceded. “But it will do the trick.”
“It looks wonderful,” Ellie said, as he set the food down on the blanket. Then she hesitated. “I think I might try and change…” she swallowed, and her cheeks turned bright red. “Only to get out of the outermost layer of wet clothes.”
“Keep the cloak,” Rupert said at once, schooling his own expression so that he would not show an ounce of embarrassment. “Keep it around you and change out of the dress, then you can leave it on a rock to dry.”
She nodded, avoiding eye contact with him, then scurried behind a cluster of trees.
Rupert waited while she changed. He did not touch any of the food. He found himself strangely distracted by the thought that she was so close to him and in such a state of undress.
He was a gentleman, of course, and he did not allow his mind to stray in any unchivalrous direction.
Yet, the act felt so vulnerable, so personal, making his heart race and sweat prickle on the back of his neck and under his armpits.
He had never been in a position with a woman like this before.
Ladies were always accompanied by chaperones and parents.
They kept their distance, speaking only of their accomplishments, the weather, or society gossip. He had never spent time alone with any of them, and he could not imagine any of them traveling alone like this.
It was surprisingly bold.
And surprisingly appealing.
He heard a twig snap, and he turned around to see Ellie reappearing from behind the tree. She had the cloak wrapped around her, and he tried not to let his thoughts linger on anything untoward. Instead, he gestured to the spot across from him on the blanket, and she tentatively sat down.
They looked at each other, embarrassment simmering under the surface. Rupert’s cheeks felt hot, and Ellie was also blushing. It felt strange to be sitting down to eat together, when they barely knew one another. Then, inexplicably, both of them started to laugh.
“This is a very odd situation that we find ourselves in,” he said, grinning at her.
“It is most unusual,” she agreed. “And probably should not be spoken of with anyone else. If my employers were to find out that I was alone with a man, they would undoubtedly dismiss me.”
“Of course,” Rupert said at once. “I will not breathe a word. And when we reach the village, you should travel alone ahead of me. I will continue on foot behind you.”
She blinked slowly. “That is very generous. Thank you.”
They began to eat. She looked as if she was using all her restraint not to eat quickly, and after a long moment, he laughed.
“You do not have to stand on ceremony for me,” he said. “I have already seen you in far less ladylike a situation.”
She hesitated, then grabbed the bread, broke off a chunk, and shoved it into her mouth. He laughed again as she chewed it quickly, reached for the skin of wine, and washed it down.
“You eat with gusto,” he said.
“You would, too, if you had recently almost drowned,” she said.
“What were you doing swimming in the river?” he asked after a moment. “It seems like a dangerous pursuit. Especially for a woman alone.”
Ellie gave him a disgruntled look. “Cannot a woman want a little bit of adventure?” she asked. “I will have no more adventures soon, so I have to take what I can.”
Rupert frowned. “Because of your new employer?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said quickly, a little too quickly. “I shall… be expected to be a good influence on my charge. And that means no jumping into rivers on a hot day simply because I wish to cool off.” She raised her chin defiantly. “So I must have my fun while I still can.”
“Well, as long as that fun does not lead to you nearly dying again.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “From now on, I may stick to more staid pursuits.”
“Such as…?”
She smiled. “Well, I do love to read poetry.”
Rupert’s heart once again began to beat faster. “Poetry?” he repeated. “And who are you reading at the moment?”
Her eyes lit up, and she pressed a hand to her heart, seemingly unconsciously.
“I am particularly taken with The Lady of the Lake,” she gushed.
“I have been reading it for the third time, and each time, I feel that I get more out of it, the language speaks to me even more powerfully, and I feel as if I am there, in the wilds of Scotland.”
“I love The Lady of the Lake as well,” Rupert said. His mouth suddenly felt very dry. “In fact, I have it with me.”
He stood and went to his saddle bag, removing the book before crossing back to the picnic and handing it to her. With wide eyes, Ellie took it. She opened it at random, smoothing it down in her lap. The book fell open easily, the spine already creased.
“You have read this many times,” she murmured, as she thumbed the pages. She looked up at him, and her eyes seemed to quiver.
“Yes,” he murmured. “It is one of the most beautiful pieces of literature I have ever read. There is true romance in this poem, but also true melancholy, loss, and sadness. It speaks to me of my own… losses.”
His voice caught on this last word, and he looked down. It took him several deep, steadying breaths before he was able to look back up. When he did, she was watching him with soft, kind eyes.
“I, too, have suffered losses,” she said quietly. “They are never easy. But I do believe that poetry can give us a way to understand our pain.”
“I do as well,” he murmured. “I have always felt that poetry was the only way I could best see myself. And understand that what I feel is part of the human condition.”
“Yes,” she said with a soft smile. “It is comforting to know that we are not the only ones who feel such sadness and pain, is it not? That others have felt this same way throughout all of history, and that they have written it down. It is as if they are reaching out to us from across the centuries and saying…”
“You are not alone.”
Their eyes fastened on one another. Rupert felt as if he could not breathe. As if his heart were dancing in his throat.
And then she blinked and looked down, and the moment was past.
“Yes,” she murmured. “You are not alone.”