Page 58 of The Governess and the Rogue

“At breakfast,” Nicholas insisted. “First thing.”

“I will come and wake you,” Arthur said.

Jack chuckled. “I shall be sure to lock my chamber door.”

“Which trunk holds our presents?” Agatha asked. “We could find them ourselves and⁠—”

“That’s enough, my loves,” Hannah said to the children. “Your uncle and Miss Layton have been traveling for weeks. You must give them a chance to rest. Mrs. Lovell? If you please?”

“Come, children,” Mrs. Lovell said. “Do as you’re told. There’s time enough for all that in the morning.”

The children grudgingly mounted the stairs to join their nanny. The dogs ran up the steps with them amid calls of “Goodnight!” and “Sleep well!” and “Don’t forget, Uncle Jack!”

Lord St. Clare exchanged a private glance with his wife. “We’ll be fortunate if they sleep at all.”

“Poor dears,” Hannah said. “They’ve been so dreadfully excited.” She turned to Jack and Bea. “Are either of you desirous of dinner? Cook suggested a cold collation in the dining room, but given the hour, I thought you might prefer trays in your bedchambers.”

“An excellent idea,” Jack said.

“Shall we have a glass of brandy before you retire?” Lord St. Clare asked Jack.

Jack’s expression sobered. “If you insist.”

Hannah smiled. “We shall bid you goodnight, then.”

Jack looked at Bea. Bea thought she detected a glimmer of apology in his eyes.

And well he should apologize.

It was one thing to lie to the Mrs. Rawsons and Mrs. Farradays of the world. It was quite another to lie to Jack’s family. A family who obviously adored him, and who he loved deeply in return.

Every moment that passed without telling them the truth only served to exacerbate Jack and Bea’s crime.

Bea wanted no part of it. Not when Hannah was so lovely and gracious and the children were so charming. But what could Bea do? It wasn’t up to her to betray their secret. Only Jack could do that.

Her eyes followed him as he and his brother departed together down the candlelit corridor.

Hannah’s smile dimmed. “They’ll be going to the library,” she said. “To converse over a glass of something strong. It’s best we give them a moment.”

Bea could only imagine what the conversation would entail. No doubt Lord St. Clare would be interrogating Jack about his sudden engagement.

As Hannah showed Bea up the grand, curving staircase to a prettily appointed upstairs bedroom, Bea realized that her hostess had similar ideas.

“We were excessively surprised to receive Mrs. Rawson’s message yesterday,” Hannah said, closing the door behind them. She turned up the glass oil lamp that burned on a nearby table, casting the room in a soft halo of light. “We’d long resigned ourselves to Jack ending his days as a bachelor.”

Bea cast a distracted glance around the bedchamber. It was generously sized, decorated in soft florals and pale Aubusson, with a chintz-curtained four-poster bed at its center. An exceedingly comfortable space, that had little in common with the small, sparsely furnished rooms she’d inhabited during her many years as a governess.

“Mrs. Rawson should not have shared the news before we’d had a chance to do so ourselves,” Bea said.

“No, she shouldn’t have,” Hannah agreed. “Though I’m grateful that she did, given your situation.”

Bea’s brows lifted. “My situation?”

“Arriving in England with Jack, without a maid or a chaperone,” Hannah said. Her understanding expression robbed her words of any hint of censure. “What did you plan to do?”

“I intended to stay at a hotel,” Bea said.

“Until Jack could speak with us, presumably.” Wandering to the bed, Hannah gave an absent tug on the coverlet, straightening its edge. “In that case, I’m glad Mrs. Rawson informed us of your engagement. We’d far rather you stay at Beasley Park than put up at a lonely hotel.”