Page 24 of The Governess and the Rogue

“I don’t care about anyone else on the ship,” Jack said with brutal candor. “I care about us.”

Bea’s rigid face betrayed a raw flash of longing. It softened her eyes and her mouth, making her appear, for an instant, far younger, and far more uncertain, than she was.

She marshaled herself directly. But once seen, it couldn’t be unseen.

This is what existed beneath that hard exterior. A woman of profound loveliness and vulnerability, with a tender gaze and alarmingly kissable lips.

Jack stared at her, feeling oddly off balance. “Beatrice,” he said. “Bea. I⁠—”

She cut him off before he could finish. “Goodnight, Mr. Beresford. I thank you again for the assistance you rendered me.” She turned to walk past him, the swell of her skirts brushing against his leg.

Jack caught her arm. His voice deepened. “At least say you’ll think about it.”

Bea bent her head. For a long moment, there was only the sound of her breath and his, and that of the crashing sea around them. “Very well,” she said finally. “Only let me go. Please.”

Jack promptly released her. Gripping his cane as she moved to leave, he offered her a bow. By the time he straightened, she was gone.

Chapter Eight

“Mr. Dimsdale said that?” Pearl was aghast. “And it was Mr. Beresford who⁠—”

“Colonel Beresford.” Dousing the lantern, Bea crawled into her berth. Her heavy cotton nightgown and thick wool socks did nothing to dispel the lingering gooseflesh on her skin. She was chilled to the bone. She must be. Why else was she still trembling? “And yes, on both counts.”

Pearl climbed down from her upper berth in the darkness, landing on the gently rocking floor of the ship with a soft thud. She relit the lantern. Half-asleep when Bea had entered the cabin, she was now wide-eyed and alert. “You can’t leave it at that!”

Bea sat back against the wall, curling her legs beneath her. “What else is there to say?”

Pearl fetched a shawl. She drew it around her nightgown-clad figure before joining Bea in the lower berth. “Are you sure he said his name was Beresford?”

“Of course, I am.”

“The son of the Earl of Allendale?”

“That’s what he claimed.”

Pearl shook her head, unable to believe it. “And on this ship the whole time? If he’s telling the truth⁠—”

“I don’t know why he wouldn’t be,” Bea said.

Even as she uttered the words, a small voice at the back of her head reminded her of what had really transpired this evening.

As if Bea could ever forget!

Jack hadn’t just rescued her. He’d proposed to her. And not a real proposal, either. Bea had never been so fortunate as to receive one of those. Instead, he’d had the temerity to suggest that the two of them pretend to be engaged to each other.

It was a scandalous notion, and one that revealed, more than anything, Jack Beresford’s cavalier attitude toward the truth.

Pearl would certainly be fascinated to hear of it. But Bea had no intention of sharing the story. Jack’s proposition had been too shocking. Too…

Oh, Bea hated to admit it to herself, but it was too ridiculously precious. Just the sort of vaguely romantic secret an old maid might keep under her pillow during all the lonely years of her life.

A depressing thought.

“Was he outrageously handsome?” Pearl asked.

Heat crept up Bea’s throat. She prayed Pearl wouldn’t notice it. “Not outrageously,” she said. “But… Yes. He is handsome.”

Pearl snuggled beside her. “Colonel Beresford was outrageously handsome,” she said. “I saw him once in Delhi. It was when he first met the Farradays. He was in company with some General Sahib, surveying the troops. He stayed for over a fortnight. All the ladies were beside themselves. There were dances and dinners, and a flurry of new gowns made with the finest silks and lace. Mrs. Rawson was often called upon to provide introductions.”