Regency Surrender: Defiant Lords. Anne Herries

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      ‘You want to be a governess? Why?’ Hester was stunned. ‘You’re a rich young woman, Miss Hardcastle. Why would you wish to be a governess?’

      ‘I need to disappear for a while and it seems an ideal situation to me. Your employer has never seen you. The girl is almost seventeen so will be easy to manage and the boy is going to college in six months—so how could I go wrong? My tutors considered me a bright pupil. I imagine I can teach the boy mathematics and geography and the girl music, literature, French, Latin, drawing and dancing. What more does she need to know?’

      ‘Nothing, I shouldn’t think,’ Hester said, but looked anxious. ‘I don’t know what to say, miss—it doesn’t seem right. We should be deceiving my employer...’

      ‘But if he didn’t even bother to interview you he can’t be that bothered about his grandchildren. All he wants is to keep them out of his hair—and I can do that as easily as you.’

      ‘Perhaps better, miss. You’ve a way with you. People pay attention when Miss Hardcastle speaks.’

      ‘That is because my father left me a fortune invested in mills and mines and I’ve run them myself since he died when I was just nineteen.’

      ‘How old are you, miss—if you don’t mind my asking?’

      ‘I’m five and twenty,’ Sarah said and sighed. ‘My aunt and uncle have been trying to marry me off for months. They say I need a man to help me and they’re afraid I shall die an old maid.’

      ‘Do they bully you, miss?’

      ‘No, I shall not lie. Aunt Jenny is kind and my uncle is well meaning, but I have no intention of marrying simply to please them. I came away because my uncle would not let the subject drop.’

      ‘What will happen to your mills if you’re not there, miss?’

      ‘I have managers and a man of business I trust. I shall keep in touch with him by letter—and it will just be for a short time, until I’ve made up my mind about something. After that I’ll give notice and your pupils will have a new governess. Surely my influence cannot harm them in that time?’ Sarah leaned forward. ‘Will you think about it today? This evening when we stop at the inn you can tell me. If your answer is yes, we’ll change clothes. In the morning I’ll send you on in my chaise to Chester—and I’ll go by post-chaise to Cavendish Park.’

      ‘I don’t know what to say...’ Hester looked worried, clearly torn between taking this wonderful chance and fulfilling her duty. ‘It’s such an opportunity for me. It would mean the world to my Jim to have his inn this year instead of waiting.’

      ‘Well, the choice is yours. I shan’t twist your arm. If you say no, I’ll simply find another way to disappear for a while.’

      Hester nodded, settling back against the squabs with a sigh. She was obviously tempted and Sarah crossed her fingers under the folds of her elegant travelling gown. Being a governess would be a safe environment for a wealthy heiress to hide in until she could shake off the feeling of being persecuted for her money.

      Why had her father had to die in that accident at the mill? Tobias Hardcastle had always been a hands-on employer, not above taking off his frock coat and rolling up his sleeves. He’d started out with fifty pounds left to him by his grandfather and built up his huge business using his brains and his ability to work twenty hours out of every twenty-four for years.

      Before she died, Sarah’s mother had complained bitterly that she wasn’t sure when he’d had time to give her a child. It wasn’t true, of course, for he came home for meals and occasionally had Sunday off, but he’d certainly put in long hours to ensure that his business empire was solid. Sarah couldn’t claim to do the same, but she had a knack of choosing her employees well and of inspiring loyalty. She’d taken up the challenge at the start because it was there and she did not wish to hand over her father’s empire to someone who might abuse it. However, she had begun to grow a little tired of the constant rounds of meetings and bookkeeping that were an ever-present part of her life. It was time to sit back a little, for her life was slipping away and some might already consider her as being past the age of making a good marriage. Her managers would make sure the mills continued to prosper during her absence and also the two copper mines she owned in Cornwall. It was on her return from her biannual visit to the mines that she’d stopped off to visit her own governess and there met Miss Hester Goodrum.

      Something about the young woman had appealed to Sarah immediately. Had Hester been a woman who wanted a lifetime career she would have offered her a position as her companion, but Hester had confided her hopes for marriage and that had set Sarah’s quick mind working.

      It was a little deceitful to pretend to be someone she wasn’t, of course, but she wasn’t harming anyone. She wouldn’t steal the silver or teach the children to swear and drink gin. A smile touched her lips, for the idea of being the children’s mentor was pleasant. Sarah had worked hard since her father’s death, giving little thought to pleasure of any kind. She’d been asked to dinners and evening affairs at the homes of her father’s friends, but since she knew that the ones with wives wanted to buy her mills and the widowers wanted to marry her to get them cheaply, she normally found such evenings tedious.

      Even at school she’d been aware that she wasn’t really one of the gentry. She was the daughter of a rich man who’d bought the right to live in a big house and own land, but she wasn’t one of the blue bloods. The other girls were friendly to a degree, but she’d felt the barrier between them and knew that they laughed at her northern accent, which had all but disappeared now. Sometimes, if she was upset, it returned, but her teachers had earned their money. Mr Hardcastle had wanted his daughter to be a lady and to all intents and purposes she was—except that she wasn’t fully accepted into their society. They welcomed her on the boards of their charities and they were even friendlier towards her money, which they grabbed as soon as it was offered, but she was seldom invited to an intimate affair at their homes. Occasionally she would be invited to a large dance because of her influence, but she wasn’t the kind of woman that gentlemen thought of marrying.

      Well, that wasn’t quite true, either, Sarah mused, glancing out of the window. She did have one rather persistent suitor. Sir Roger Grey had asked her to marry him three times now and he didn’t like being refused. Sarah was aware that he was in financial difficulty, though he’d managed to hide that fact from her uncle and most of his acquaintance. Sarah had asked one of her agents to make enquiries and his report was disturbing. Sir Roger gave the appearance of being wealthy and respectable, but in reality was a rake and a gambler, and the last man she would ever wed. However, he was difficult to shake off, for he seemed to have taken it into his head that she would come round to the idea if he continued to press her. Unfortunately, her uncle was completely taken in and believed him to be a man of his word.

      It was Sir Roger’s tactics at the charity ball in Newcastle that had made her decide to leave for Cornwall a month earlier than usual. He’d tried to kiss her and he’d fumbled at her breasts. She’d had to fight him off and had scratched his cheek in her efforts.

      ‘You little hellcat.’ He’d put a hand to his cheek in shock. ‘You will be sorry for that, Sarah. I’ll teach you to respect your betters.’

      ‘I do not consider you my superior, sir,’ she’d retorted. ‘I have no intention of being seduced. If you thought to compromise me and force me into marriage, you are far off the mark. I would rather have fingers pointed at me in the street than marry you.’

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