“Papa and I butted heads, and I suppose I wasn’t ready to marry. I wanted an adventure. Well, I’ve had my adventure, Bella. I’m ready now to settle down.”
With a worried glance, Bella drifted over to the window. She started and pulled back the curtain, a faint flush on her cheeks. “Hearts don’t really break, do they?”
“Oh, Bella!” Jenny followed her. Beyond the trees, a horseman, tall in the saddle, rode over the hill on the way to the village. Glyn Millichamp. “No, but they can be wounded, dearest.”
“A farmer’s son isn’t a gentleman, Papa says. I shall become a Yorkshire housewife. As if I care.”
Jenny hugged her around the waist. “Well at least you shall have a wonderful Season in London and meet many eligible gentlemen.” She had expected Bella to be pleased, but her sister merely nodded.
Just past noon,a grand black coach pulled up in the carriageway before the house. Jenny heard the wheels crunching on the gravel and rushed to the window. The duke! Her pulse raced as she hurried downstairs, her mind in a whirl. She opened the door expecting to find His Grace, but it was the footman, George, who walked up the steps. He removed his hat. “Good day to you, Miss Harrismith.”
Jenny’s euphoria left her. How foolish to think His Grace would come, she was like a green girl suffering her first crush, instead of a mature woman. She fought to hide her bitter disappointment as she stepped forward with a smile of welcome. “George, how nice to see you. Please come in to the parlor.”
The footman followed her inside. “I bear a letter from His Grace.” He pulled it from his coat pocket and held it out to her.
Jenny took it, eager to read its contents. “May I offer you a glass of lemonade and something to eat?”
“No, thank you. I must return immediately. His Grace requires an answer.”
She broke the wafer and opened it, scanning the words formed in the Duke’s fine hand. While he didn’t seek to berate her, the letter was short and to the point. He sought a reason for her hasty abandonment of her position. He was angry and disappointed in her. She had expected it. But it still upset her terribly. What could she tell him? Seated at the small desk beside the parlor window, she scribbled a few lines explaining that she had initially been called away due to a family emergency, but since coming home, she decided to remain close to her family and had reconsidered and accepted Mr. Walter Judd’s offer of marriage. She blotted the paper, folded it, and handed it to George. “Will you tell the children…” She shook her head. “No, best not.”
“They miss you sorely, Miss Harrismith,” George said. “Miss Green does her best, but…” He shrugged.
“I expect my replacement will arrive soon, and once she’s settled in… children do adjust in time,” Jenny said faintly, failing to convince herself. George looked skeptical as well. With a deep breath, she attempted to smile. “Please give my regards to the duke and say I am sorry I left so abruptly, but it was unavoidable,” she said, fighting to keep her composure. “I hope your journey home proves uneventful, George.”
George looked perplexed. He cast her a sympathetic glance. “I am sorry you are no longer to care for the children, Miss Harrismith. I shall relay your message to the duke. Good day.” He replaced his hat and left her.
As the coach drew away, Charlie came flying down the stairs. “I say, what a fine matched set of horses, the leader was quite splendid! And the coach! Whose was it?” He swiped his unruly curly brown hair out of his eyes. “I couldn’t make out the crest on the door panel from upstairs.”
“It was the Duke of Harrow’s coach, Charlie. His footman brought me a letter.”
“The duke doesn’t want you to come back, does he, Jenny?” he asked, scowling. “You only just got here.”
“No, Charlie, he doesn’t.” Her letter would sever her connection with His Grace and Castlebridge forever. She placed a hand on her chest where the pain in the region of her heart almost made her gasp. “Let’s go down to the kitchen and help Cook and Molly prepare supper.”
*
Jenny’s letter washanded to Andrew at dusk. He thanked George and sat in the library to mull over it. He had not expected a betrothal! Had Jenny been pining for some Yorkshire fellow? No, she had told him she’d refused the man’s offer. She was even prepared to leave her home rather than marry him. Curious that she’d resolutely refused to tell him the reason.
Andrew leaned an elbow on the desk and threaded his fingers through his hair as he tried to read between the lines. What had occurred to change her mind? He found the whole business unsatisfactory. While he was prepared to believe that Jenny would prefer marriage to working as a governess, it had all happened too fast. It was far too neat. And she was too vague about the reason for her change of heart, and her rush home. While the news unsettled him, and left him suspicious, there was little he could do about it, but to wish her well.
The door opened, and Raymond strolled in, his arm in a sling. “The doctor tells me I will be able to cast this off tomorrow. I can return to London.” He took a chair before the desk.
“That’s good news,” Andrew said automatically, his thoughts still on the letter.
“What have you there?” Raymond asked, displaying his usual lack of discretion. But somehow, Andrew welcomed the bond which still existed between them. Having discovered it was not Raymond who sought to hurt his family, he had forgiven him for falling under Greta’s spell. After all, he had done so himself for a time.
“It’s a letter from Miss Harrismith,” he said. “She left us rather hurriedly, as you know. It appears she is about to marry. But it seems strange to me that it’s all been so sudden.”
Raymond eyed him thoughtfully. “You should go to York and see for yourself.”
“What possible good would that do? I’m not about to invite Miss Harrismith back to take up her duties as my children’s governess, rather than accept a proposal of marriage.”
“No, but you might have a better suggestion,” Raymond said, with a slight grin. “You have feelings for her, Andrew.”
“What?” Andrew stared at him, a little annoyed by his cousin’s perspicacity. He was not prepared to face these disturbing feelings which would likely lead him nowhere, or to put them into words. Was he a coward? Afraid to face further hurt? He firmed his jaw and glared at his cousin, who had stirred up these unwelcome emotions. “You are an incurable romantic, Ray.”
Undeterred, Raymond chuckled. “I’ve seen how you look when you speak of her. It’s blatantly obvious. Otherwise, why would you care if she doesn’t come back? If she marries some other fellow?”
