Or was it?
Was this really happening to her?
And then she remembered. His promises to call on her the morning after they first met. What had he told her was his reason? That he’d been a fool?
Was this his reason now?
She stared down at his scrawled signature again, as though she’d imagined it the first time.
“Crabtree can stay with them until a replacement is found.”
Tilde blinked and shook her head, as though she could somehow make sense of all of this by doing so. “But he…”
“Don’t embarrass yourself, Miss Fortune, by begging and pleading your case. A woman your age ought to have known the ramifications of such unbecoming behavior. Besides, I’ve no wish to retain a governess with such loose morals for my granddaughters. There is really no excuse for it.”
Tilde stood stunned and then glanced around the room.
“I’ll have a driver awaiting you downstairs within the hour. That ought to give you plenty of time to gather your belongings”
“I need to say goodbye to the girls.” She could not leave Althea and Eloise without saying a word. She’d need to devise some sort of reason for her leaving. She’d just promised them she wasn’t going anywhere.
Lady Willoughby sniffed. “I suppose. But be quick about it.”
And then she was gone, leaving Tilde holding a casually written slip of paper in her hand that changed everything she’d believed about Jasper Talbot.
Not magical.
Not wonderful. Not the most caring of men, a father who put his daughters above all else.
She stuffed the paper into her apron and gulped down a sob. As badly as she’d have liked to rip the paper into several small pieces and throw them out the window, she had three younger sisters who depended a great deal on her. She’d decide what to do with it later.
He wanted her gone.
He’d done this before.
For now, what little time she had left, she would spend with the girls.
* * *
Having refused the driver, so graciously provided by the Countess, Tilde stepped off the front step of the Willoughby townhouse and moved aimlessly along the pavement. She carried only the valise she’d brought with her.
She had never allowed her heart to become so involved with any of her charges in the past. She vowed never to do so in the future. She felt so very wounded and empty, she ought to be leaving a trail of blood in her wake.
Making a fist of her right hand, Tilde ignored the sensation of loss. Normally Peaches would be tugging at her leading string, running in circles around Tilde’s feet, or tying her up so that she could hardly move.
Tilde’s eyes burned and she blinked away the stinging sensation. Saying goodbye had been harder than she could have imagined.
Eloise had cried but Thea had remained silent, clutching Peaches to her tightly.
Peaches has stared at her as though she was betraying them all.
And then worst of all, “Peaches, you won’t leave me too, will you?” Thea had spoken into Peaches’ neck. A shudder running through the girl’s tiny body.
Tilde had done the right thing. Perhaps Peaches was the only reason he’d hired her. Tilde’s small dog and Thea had bonded from the very beginning.
Tilde swallowed a sob that threatened to escape.
She’d known all along that their attraction to one another could amount to nothing and yet—fool that she was—she’d hope for more. She’d wanted to believe in magic.
