Page 16 of The Governess’s Carnal Temptation

He’d filled that horrible, deep hole in her heart her mother’s passing had left and filled it with his love.

If not for Nicholas and his cheerful nature, which had burst into her life, she might have turned into a very different woman. Instead, he’d brought her joy and let her see there was life after loss. In hindsight, she realized he had needed her as much as she’d needed him, for he’d lost his mother not long before.

But Charlotte? Nicholas was quite right when he said she’d been cursed to have him as a father, she thought bitterly. He’d abandoned Lydia, and from the look of things, he’d done the same to his daughter, which was exponentially worse.

Her heart went out to the little girl. She’d only met her briefly that morning, but her hazel eyes- so wide and hard for someone her age, haunted her now that he knew her sad past. She was just a little girl, and while she was what Nicholas described her as difficult, she could not help but wonder: could a girl who’d never known a mother’s love and had an absentee father be anything other than difficult? Perhaps Nicholas was right. His daughter needed someone who could understand more than anyone else.

Besides, how bad could this young lady be? She was a child, after all. Could Lydia abandon his girl to her fate just because she could not stand to be near her father? Charlotte would be an eager pupil if she had even an ounce of her father’s spark and appetite for life and learning. She pictured the many books in the library. They had to be Nicholas’ as he’d always been a keen reader. Had this love passed on to his daughter?

Even if it hadn’t, perhaps Lydia could motivate young Charlotte to follow in her father’s footsteps regarding reading and learning. Mayhap she could help her out of this solitary existence, this loveless fate bestowed on her.

Yes, Lydia realized as she looked out into the lonely night. She had the skill and capability to help a child like Charlotte. Moreover, she understood how it felt to feel lost and alone. She couldn’t leave this manor, this place, just because Lady Charlotte happened to be Nicholas’ daughter. She had no more chosen to be born the daughter of a duke than Lydia had chosen a tea merchant for a father.

As much as she wanted to leave Nicholas and his betrayal in the past where it belonged, she owed it to herself to do the right thing. She had to stay, not for him, but for his innocent little girl.

Lydia was convinced that she and Lady Charlotte would bond quickly over their mutual loss and this little girl would soon blossom with Lydia’s tutelage. Together, they’d show her father that behind Lady Charlotte’s perceived difficulty lay a misunderstood, unloved girl who could grow with the right kind of attention.

She smiled to herself and was about to get a nightdress from her portmanteau when she remembered the contents were still soaked from her walk in the rain. She sighed and instead collected a cotton nightdress from the armoire and slipped into it before climbing into the four-poster bed. As she settled into her pillows, she pictured the following day. She’d take breakfast with Lady Charlotte and then prepare a lesson plan and activities a girl like her would enjoy.

It would be wonderful. And yet, as positive as Lydia felt once more, she could not quite push away that dreadful feeling seeing Nicholas had inspired in her. That sense of gloom born from the years filled with disappointment and hurt. Could she really put it all aside for the sake of a child she did not know? She gulped and pulled the blanket higher under her chin.

She could. She would… She had to. There was no other choice.

CHAPTER EIGHT

A sparrow chirped on the windowsill outside Lydia’s bedchamber early the following morning. She rose and placed her feet on the cool floor. It wasn’t as icy as the night before, and the chill that had made her shiver all night was gone.

She stepped to the window and gasped as the garden came into view. Grey clouds and the unpleasant warning signs of an approaching storm had obscured the true beauty of her new home the day before. Now, with the rain and darkness defeated by the rising sun, she could hardly believe how splendid the estate was.

The lake sparkled beneath her, and waterlilies floated lazily on the surface, pushed left and right by geese, ducks, and even a few majestic swans. Oak and ash trees surrounded the lake, along with lush green grass. A wooden pavilion stood to the right, painted a striking white that contrasted the bright blue sky.

In the distance, a dense forest stretched as far as she could see, and the sky sparkled in the brilliant orange glow of early morning. Lydia smiled, and a strange sense of calm overcame her. Yes, she’d been brought here under deception, and she still did not quite understand why Nicholas had done things the way he had – there was something he was keeping from her, she was sure of it. Yet, this morning it no longer mattered as much.

She’d come to understand her purpose here. There was her reason for being here – along with the simple fact she needed the salary for her own family. She had to help a child in need.

Determined to make the best of her situation, Lydia dressed and stepped into the hall. The sweet scent of cedar logs burning in the manor house’s fireplaces and the unmistakable yeasty aroma of freshly baked bread filled the air.

Her stomach rumbled as she made her way down the long hall. On her descent down the winding staircase, she sniffed and marched toward the increasing aroma.

“Faith,” she gasped as she stepped through the arched doorway into the breakfast room beyond the parlor. The room was flooded with bright white light, giving it an almost ethereal characteristic. It was a wonder the table hadn’t buckled under the weight of the delicacies heaped upon it. Pots of marmalade and lemon curd mingled with baskets of rolls and sliced bread. Tea steamed, and she even spotted a jar of honey. Lydia placed a hand on her belly and stepped forward. Just as she was about to take her seat, her stomach let out another audible rumble, and Lydia recoiled.

“Hungry?” Nicholas’s voice sounded from the doorframe behind her, and she felt her cheeks flush red with mortification as he grinned at her. Slowly, she turned and looked into his smiling face. For a split second, it was as though she were looking into the eyes of a much younger Nicholas. The kind, sweet boy who’d always brightened her days.

“A little,” she said, but her stomach refused to cooperate with her desire to be dignified. It let out another, even louder roar, and she pressed her lips together as Nicholas chuckled.

“I dare say your stomach thinks you’re more than a little hungry,” he said smoothly, pulling the chair out for her. She sat quickly while Nicholas slipped into the chair across from her and grabbed a roll. He sliced into it, splattering a heap of butter as he had done when they were younger.

“I see you still enjoy butter,” she said as her mind flooded with memories of their Sunday breakfasts. Nicholas would always join them for the meal before church, and her father always joked that he would eat up their entire week’s supply of butter in one sitting.

“I do. I have a dairy here, just beyond the wash house to the left. It’s all fresh, try,” he nodded his chin for her to eat, and she followed suit as she let the knife slice through the impossibly soft bread. Alas, tension crept into her shoulders. This was… wrong. Why was she having breakfast with Nicholas? She wasn’t here for him. She raised her eyes.

“Where is your daughter?”

The smile faded, and he placed his roll down while dabbing a napkin against his stubble.

“She rose early. Charlotte takes breakfast with her maid in her chamber and then goes to her classroom to wait for her tutor or governess, whatever the case might be. If there isn’t one, she studies on her own. She has books,” he said stiffly and placed his napkin down. “I’ll take you to meet her after we eat.”

After we eat, Lydia bristled at the simplicity of this statement. He intended for them to have breakfast as they had in the past as if the last twelve years hadn’t happened. As if he hadn’t abandoned her for a life of splendor, his promises long forgotten.