Page 21 of The Governess and the Rogue

“To pretend that we’re engaged to be married?” Bea didn’t know whether to laugh or to spring up from her seat and flee. The latter, she suspected, given the sheer absurdity of the suggestion. Whoever he was, Jack Beresford was clearly insane.

“Just until we reach England,” he said as if it were the most sensible thing in the world.

She moved to stand. “Forgive me. I’m rather overset. I expect you are too else you’d never have suggested⁠—”

Jack caught hold of her hand. “Wait.”

Bea froze as his fingers engulfed hers. His skin was warm, his grip strong and reassuring. Her heart skipped a beat as he tugged her back downward. She reluctantly resumed her seat.

Jack didn’t release her hand. “Forget how ridiculous it sounds on its face,” he said. “It’s the logic of it that’s important.”

“I dispute the logic,” Bea said. “The mere suggestion is patently absurd, as well as being offensive. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were making sport of⁠—”

“Listen to me,” Jack said. “If I was your fiancé, I would be responsible for you, not the Dimsdales. I could see that you were comfortable. Looked after. And more importantly, safe. And if you were mine…”

Butterflies fluttered to life in Bea’s stomach. An uneasy sensation, and one she was entirely unaccustomed to. For the second time that night, she felt clammy and breathless.

“I would be off the market,” he continued. “As good as taken. There would be no more point in anyone or their mother chasing me.”

Bea reluctantly slipped her hand from his. As delicious as the press of his fingers felt on hers, this wasn’t a conversation for butterflies and breathlessness. What this discussion required was cold common sense.

“You’re willfully oversimplifying the matter,” she said. “And you’re forgetting that ladies can be ruthless. If they want you enough, they’ll find a way. My existence won’t stop them. Not when I am who I am—a governess with no family or connection. No truly determined female would think anything of supplanting me.”

“No one would supplant you,” Jack vowed.

The butterflies batted their wings again. Bea did her best to ignore them. “You mistake my point.”

“Which is?”

“That you could still be trapped regardless,” she said. “Don’t you see? What’s to stop Mrs. Farraday from conspiring to get you alone with her daughter? Or for anyone else on board to do the same?”

“Because you’ll be with me,” Jack replied. “In my company, all the time, from the moment I emerge from my cabin in the morning, until I retire at night.”

“All the time?” Bea echoed. “It would never be permitted.”

“It would,” he assured her. “If we were engaged, no one could object.”

Bea clasped her hands in her lap. She didn’t want to think of what being engaged to Jack Beresford might be like. Even if it was only pretend.

“And how do you know I won’t trap you, once I have you in my clutches?” she asked.

Jack went peculiarly still.

Her lips thinned in a somber smile. So, he hadn’t thought of everything. It was unsurprising. All the same…

She’d have preferred he didn’t look so horrified at the prospect of finding himself shackled to her in earnest.

“I could, you know,” she said. “Once the engagement has been announced, you’ll find it difficult to break things off without my cooperation.”

“You wouldn’t⁠—”

“Of course not,” she said scornfully. As if she was so desperate as to trap a gentleman into marriage! “But you have no way of knowing that, do you? There are no guarantees aside from my word.”

“I could do the same to you,” Jack pointed out. “Announce the engagement and then insist that you go through with it.”

She huffed a bitter laugh. “I very much doubt that you⁠—”

“But you take my meaning. For this to work, we would have to trust each other.”