Page 56 of The Lady’s Deception

“Not our governess?” Daphne spoke first, not just her face but her entire body pinched and wary.

“I owe you an apology, Daphne. And you too, Bell,” she said, shifting her gaze from one to the other. “The truth is, I never was your governess.”

Bell tipped her head to the side. “Of course you were. You built us a schoolroom and you taught us loads.”

“It was only ever a temporary post.” Rosamund tucked a soft brown curl behind the girl’s ear. “Only until you were reunited with your parents.”

“But what about Paris?” Daphne folded her thin arms across her chest, withdrawing even further into herself. “I saw you—” Heat rushed into Rosamund’s cheeks, but she made no attempt to stop the girl from speaking. “In the carriage. I saw him hold your hand.”

This time, Rosamund would not deny it, though she could only guess what his family must think. “Yes, he did. I am very grateful to him for bringing me all this way and for trying to comfort me when I was frightened. I scarcely deserve such kindness. You see, I deceived your brother. When I learned he was in search of a governess, I let him believe I was she.”

“You lied?” Bell inched closer to her sister.

Daphne appeared to consider this revelation for a moment. “I think…I think perhaps she felt she had to,” she explained to Bell. “Remember what she told us in the ship? And remember those men? That’s why she was frightened. That’s why she left us. Isn’t that right, Miss Gorse?” With earnest eyes, she looked up, seeking confirmation.

Rosamund could only nod. Laying a hand on Daphne’s shoulder, she faced the others. “I hope all of you can forgive my duplicitousness. Although I wish it were in my power to contradict Mr. Burke’s claim, I’m afraid he spoke the truth. I am very much in need of assistance. My brother, Lord Setterby, is no more than a few hours from London. We crossed paths on the road, though I do not think he saw us. And Lord Dashfort, the man he insists I marry, is traveling with him.”

A gentleman came forward, tall and sharp featured, with tawny hair. He moved with confidence, the sort of man used to taking charge. “Raynham, ma’am.” His bow was stiff but not unfriendly, features too harsh to be handsome. “A pleasure to meet you. You must be fatigued after your journey. Won’t you sit down?”

He gestured toward the sofa and the empty seat beside a woman of fifty-something, with dark blond hair—or perhaps light brown, shaded with gray. Paris’s mother, she supposed. She had hazel eyes, more green than brown, though they lacked the gem-like intensity of her eldest daughter’s.

“An excellent idea,” proclaimed Lady Ashborough, who looked on the verge of collapse herself. Well, not collapse. It would be difficult to image her susceptible to such weakness. But it was easy enough to see how she might topple forward and end up like a trapped tortoise, unable to right herself again. With one hand on her back and another on her husband’s arm, she made her way to a chair and gingerly lowered herself into it.

Raynham remained standing. “If I may, ma’am,” he said, addressing his words to Mrs. Burke, at present fussing over Daphne and Bell, who had followed Rosamund to the sofa. “I know how eager you must be to spend time with your youngest daughters. But the conversation of adults cannot be entertaining to them.” Then, to Rosamund’s surprise, he unbent, lowering himself to look Daphne and Bell in the eye. “My sister, Lady Viviane, has asked if you might keep her company this evening, at my stepmother’s house.”

Though Rosamund recognized the move was intended to ensure the girls’ safety, she expected some resistance to the offer. But the duke had a way of speaking that made refusal difficult. With a quick glance at one another, they nodded.

“May we bring Eileen?” Bell asked.

He smiled. “I suspect my sister would never forgive me if I said no.” He rose. “If you’ll wait for me on the landing, we can be on our way in five minutes.” After kissing their parents and their sister, the girls went to the door.

The knot that had begun to form in Rosamund’s stomach swelled, rising into her throat. Absurd to feel alone, for the room was still half full of people. But they were strangers. Paris had gone and now Daphne and Bell were leaving. For a week, she had allowed herself to live the ridiculous lie that they were—could be—her family. This, however, was their real family, and now she had no connection to it, beyond her desperation and their charity, both of which she wished to be able to deny.

Once the girls were gone, the duke turned to address Rosamund again. “I believe it will be best for you to stay with me and my wife, Miss Gorse. Every step between you and Setterby that can be lengthened or redirected is to our advantage.”

Our. Could he understand the comfort that single word brought? The knowledge that she was not alone. And yet, discomfort lingered. Because it seemed clear the word did not comprise Paris.

“My secretary, Mr. Remington, will accompany you to Laurens House whenever you are ready.”

“Secretary?” Amusement curved Lord Ashborough’s lips. “Not that I doubt Remy’s ability to write a neat hand. But I expected a somewhat flashier title for his new post. Aide-de-camp, perhaps.”

“I wonder which of us you intend to skewer with that remark,” Raynham replied, also amused, she decided, though she had not been sure of it at first. The two very different men, linked by their two very different wives, though sisters, appeared to have reached a somewhat uncomfortable accommodation.

“Myself, of course,” answered Ashborough with another smile, before growing serious. “Remy gave the coachman clear instructions?”

“Naturally.”

“What—what sort of instructions?” Rosamund dared to ask. He must have been the man she’d noticed on the street.

“Though Burke’s letter was full of reassurances about your earlier escape, I nonetheless anticipated Setterby might be searching for you,” Raynham explained. “Mr. Remington merely offered your driver an…incentive to return from whence he’d come by a different route. To forget his passengers and where he delivered them. In cases like this, you see, I prefer a bit of insurance to prevent loose lips.”

Just how much experience could a duke have with cases like this? “But my brother already knows—”

“Too much, yes. But rest assured. You shall have nothing to fear from him. We are prepared to meet him in your place, whenever he arrives.” A nod of his head made clear that we referred to him and Lord Ashborough. She was less certain what was meant by their willingness to meet her brother. A conversation? A duel? “If you wish it.”

Did she wish it…whatever it might be? There was an appeal in avoiding another confrontation with Charles. A separate appeal in telling her brother just what she thought of what he had done, and what he was trying to do.

Paris’s mother reached for her hand and patted it reassuringly. “Thank you,” Rosamund managed, looking from one gentleman to the other. The duke bowed and was gone.