Page 61 of The Governess and the Rogue

“Not ever,” Jack said. “I won’t have this rubbish being bandied about where Bea might hear of it. And I won’t have it influencing any of you in your opinions about her.”

“‘Entrapped by an adventuress,’” James murmured. “Rather specific.”

“It’s scurrilous nonsense.”

“With no shred of truth to it?”

“No,” Jack said. “Bea’s no adventuress. She’s a governess. Or rather, she was one before we became engaged.”

“I see.”

Jack’s brows lowered. “You’re not seriously objecting to her former profession?”

James shrugged. “I merely find it interesting, given the nature of that second telegram.”

“It’s predictable is what it is,” Jack said. “Mrs. Farraday will stop at nothing. She’s a widow, with dwindling prospects. Her daughter is currency to her.”

“Has she reason to⁠—”

“No.” Jack made a disparaging sound as he threw the telegram into the fire. It immediately caught flame. “I’ve never treated either of them with anything more than basic courtesy. As for my honor—it’s that she was banking on as a means of trapping me into marrying her daughter. It didn’t work. Largely thanks to Bea.”

James looked at Jack with increased attention.

“And Bea isn’t after my fortune, by the way,” Jack added. “Or the distinction of the Beresford name. When she met me, she didn’t even know who I was. I was traveling incognito.”

“This becomes more interesting by the minute,” James said. “Traveling incognito? Pursued by one lady and now engaged to another? Is there anything else I should know about? Any other pursuers?”

Jack downed another swallow of his brandy. “You may well be amused. You’ve been married so long, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be chased.”

“I haven’t forgotten. The difference is, my pursuers knew they hadn’t a chance with me. While yours have always believed you would imminently propose.”

“That’s because I have a pulse,” Jack retorted. “And because I’m civil. Perhaps if I’d treated them with icy disdain⁠—”

“Perhaps you should have done, rather than giving them false hope.” James fell quiet for a moment. “Miss Layton did not pursue you, I take it.”

Jack huffed. “Not at all. She’s not that kind of girl.”

“What kind is she?”

“The kind that’s used to soldiering alone,” Jack said. He heaved a sigh. “I wish you hadn’t met us at the docks. I fear it’s all going to be too much for her. You, and Hannah, and the children.”

“She’d have had to meet us eventually.”

Jack averted his gaze from his brother’s. No, Bea wouldn’t have had to meet them. Had Jack and Bea parted on the docks as they’d planned, none of the Beresfords would ever have known her at all.

The prospect provoked a heavy weight in Jack’s chest. He didn’t want to think of never seeing Bea again. Never smiling with her. Never kissing her.

“Wouldn’t she?” James asked.

Jack glanced back at his brother. He seemed to have lost track of their conversation. “Sorry,” he said. “I drifted off.”

“Is it your leg?”

“It’s lack of sleep. I was awake the whole way through France, and during the Channel crossing. It’s finally caught up with me.”

“Well,” James said. “I won’t keep you from your bed.”

“I’m obliged to you.” Jack gripped his cane, moving to rise.