For society would not approve. It would whisper and judge and condemn. A marquess marrying his governess was the stuff of scandal, the sort of mesalliance that ruined reputations and closed doors, that made life difficult for everyone involved.
She had told him she needed time—time to think, to understand, to weigh risk against reward. And he had given it to her. In the day since, he had been nothing but patient, restrained, respectful.
But time, Serena was beginning to realise, would not make the choice easier. The obstacles were real. The dangers were real. And no amount of reflection could change the essential improbability of their situation.
A governess did not marry a marquess.
Except sometimes, they did. Nathaniel himself had said as much—had spoken of his brother, who had chosen love over propriety and had been happy. Truly, completely happy, until tragedy intervened.
Was that not worth something? Was happiness not worth the risk of disapproval, of scandal, of whispered judgment in drawing rooms she would never be invited to enter?
Serena did not know. She truly did not.
What shedidknow was that she could not stand at this window any longer, indulging in dreams like a lovesick heroine in a novel. She had duties. Responsibilities. Three children who needed her attention, whatever might—or might not—be unfolding between their uncle and herself.
She turned from the window and set about preparing for the morning’s lessons, resolutely pushing thoughts of Nathaniel to the back of her mind.
They did not stay there, of course.
But she had to try.
***
Nathaniel was in his study when the butler arrived with the morning post.
He had been attempting to review the quarterly accounts—attemptingbeing the operative word, as his thoughts repeatedly strayed to a certain grey-eyed governess and the conversationthey had shared in the garden—and the interruption was almost welcome.
“The post, my lord,” Morrison said, laying a neat stack of letters upon the desk.
“Thank you, Morrison.”
When the butler withdrew, Nathaniel turned to the correspondence. Most of it was unremarkable: invitations he would decline, routine legal matters, a note from an old university acquaintance. He sorted through it methodically, setting aside what required attention.
Then his hand stilled.
The final letter bore a Bath postmark. The handwriting was feminine, precise—and achingly familiar. He had seen it before, years ago, on letters addressed to Edward.
Lady Elspeth Crane.
Edward’s sister-in-law. The woman who had wanted guardianship of the children and had been denied it by the terms of his brother’s will.
Nathaniel stared at the letter for a long moment, a cold sensation settling in his chest. Elspeth had not written to him since the funeral, when she had made her displeasure at the guardianship arrangements abundantly clear. Her silence in the intervening two years had been a relief—a sign, he had assumed, that she had accepted the situation and moved on with her life.
Apparently, he had assumed wrong.
He broke the seal and unfolded the letter, his eyes scanning the elegant script.
Dear Lord Greystone,
I trust this letter finds you in good health. It is some time since we have corresponded upon the subject of our dear departed sister’s children, and Sir Harold and I have grown increasingly concerned about their welfare.
Certain reports have reached us—troubling reports—about the state of affairs at Greystone Hall. Reports of a household in disarray, of children left largely to the care of servants, of a guardian who has retreated from his responsibilities in the wake of grief.
I beg you not to suppose that I write in a spirit of reproach. My sole motive is concern for Eleanor’s children, whose interests must ever be paramount. With this in mind, Sir Harold and I have resolved to make a visit to Greystone Hall, that we may satisfy ourselves of their comfort, conduct, and general prosperity.
We propose to arrive on Thursday next, and to remain for a fortnight, trusting that this interval will afford us sufficient opportunity to observe that Ella, Samuel, and Rosie are indeed thriving under your care.
I rely upon your kindness to make the necessary arrangements for our accommodation, and look forward to renewing our acquaintance with both yourself and the children.
