Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“Miss Winslow! Miss Winslow, oh you simply must wake up!”

Catherine Winslow bolted upright in her bed, her emerald eyes wide with alarm. She blinked a few times before finally taking in the sight of Charlotte Ashdown, who was bouncing on the edge of her bed. The girl’s chestnut braid swung wildly—narrowly missing Catherine’s nose. The sun was only just starting to rise outside the window.

“Charlotte,” Catherine said, stifling a yawn. “What on earth…” Her question, however, was promptly cut off by an excited squeal.

“You will never believe what I overheard,” Charlotte said now, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she tugged at Catherine’s sleeve. “According to Cook,” she continued, shifting to sit down on the bed. “Lord Blackwood was seen leaving Widow Hartley’s house at an ungodly hour this morning. And in quite a state of… disarray! Cravat off to the side and trousers unbuttoned, if you know what I mean.”

Catherine felt her cheeks grow warm at the implication. “Charlotte Ashdown,” she admonished. “That is hardly appropriate conversation for a young lady!”

Charlotte, ever the rebel, merely laughed. “Oh, pish posh,” she exclaimed as she waved her hand dismissively. “I am already eighteen, Miss Winslow! I’ll be married soon—surely I am old enough to discuss the… intricacies… of adult relationships.”

Catherine shook her head with a laugh and swung her own legs over the side of the bed. “I assure you, you are not,” she said firmly. “Now kindly remove yourself from my chambers so I might dress, you impossible young lady. We shall make sure to discuss your eavesdropping habits during your etiquette lesson today.”

Charlotte pouted, but still complied—flouncing out of the room with a dramatic sigh. Catherine shook her head, a fond smile tugging at her lips despite her exasperation. The Ashdown girls were certainly a handful, she mused—not for the first time in her years of working as their governess. Still, she adored them all the same.

Of course, Catherine too was only human, and she could not help but let her mind wander to Charlotte’s salacious gossip. Lord Blackwood was indeed a handsome man—with piercing blue eyes and a roguish smile that had set many a heart aflutter all across the city. And Widow Hartley, well, Catherine had heard whispers about her rather liberal interpretation of the mourning period.

“Stop it,” she chided herself as she tied her dark brown hair into its usual loose bun. “You are as bad as Charlotte.”

Still, she made her way to the kitchens quickly, where she looked at Cook curiously.

“What is this I hear about Lord Blackwood and Widow Hartley?” she asked immediately, and the matronly woman pressed a hand to her heart.

“Me daughter saw it with her own eyes,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Can you believe it? The woman’s husband is hardly cold and there she goes, entertaining Lord Blackwood! Anna said he was looking quite worse for wear. But wait…”

Cook frowned and looked at Catherine curiously. “Where did you hear?”

Catherine lifted a brow, a smile playing about her lips. “I heard from Lady Charlotte,” she said pointedly, and Cook’s face flushed.

“Oh, Lord have mercy on me soul,” she exclaimed. “The little girl heard me, didn’t she?”

“She did,” Catherine said, her brow lifted. “And she was quick to tell me that she is in fact no longer a little girl at all. She’s about ready to marry.”

Cook merely shook her head and Catherine laughed. “Just… be mindful where you gossip?” she advised gently. “We don’t want Lady Ashdown to blame us for her daughter’s innocence being compromised.”

“You’re right, of course you are,” Cook said with a laugh. “Thanks for the warning.”

Catherine winked at her with a laugh before making her way to the parlor, where Charlotte and Sophia were already standing in front of canvasses.

“You are later than us,” Sophia accused with a grin. “Shame on you, Miss Winslow. You taught us never to be late.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Catherine explained. “But I must say, Sophia—your watercolors are coming along beautifully.”

She lifted an impressed brow as she admired the delicate landscape the younger Ashdown sister had produced. “You have a real talent for capturing light.”

Sophia beamed at this, and her amber eyes shone with pride. “Thank you, Miss Winslow,” she exclaimed. “I have been practicing every day, just like you told me.”

“Oh, those paintings are lovely, Sophia,” Charlotte said. “And Miss Winslow is just blatantly refusing to compliment me today because of the gossip I told her…”

“What gossip?” Sophia asked at last, but Catherine shook her head.

“Nothing your ears should hear yet,” she said lightly and turned to Charlotte. “But I do believe your Latin translation is complete?”

Charlotte held a book out at her with a dramatic sigh and Catherine glanced at it, then smiled proudly. “You have finally mastered the ablative absolute!” she cheered. “That is really impressive progress, Char.”

Charlotte grinned brightly at that, and Catherine gave her hand an encouraging squeeze before lifting a book off the shelf.

“Of course, today, we have another important thing to discuss. Etiquette.”

Charlotte groaned, but Catherine paid her no mind—quickly delving into a lesson about etiquette and making sure to spend an inordinate amount of time regarding eavesdropping.

As the clock struck four, signaling the end of their lessons, Charlotte breathed a loud sigh of relief.

“Oh, stop,” Sophia admonished her sister. “This was interesting.”

Charlotte merely shook her head and Catherine laughed. “Enough, both of you,” she said with a shake of her head. “Now, go—it is time for tea.”

The girls left, laughing and giggling, with Catherine in tow.

“Miss Winslow,” a voice called out, and Catherine turned on her heel.

“Yes Sarah?”

The young maid looked at her with a gentle smile. “Begging your pardon, Miss Winslow, but Lady Ashdown requests your presence in the parlor.”

Catherine’s brow furrowed at this. Lady Ashdown, kind and gracious as she was, hardly ever summoned her. In fact, she’d spent most of her time working while entrusting Catherine with her children.

Catherine instinctively knew that something was off—and her mind raced with possibilities. Had she done something wrong? Were the girls’ parents unhappy with their progress?

She took a deep breath, smoothing her hands over her simple brown dress before rushing to the parlor and knocking softly on the door.

“Come in,” Lady Ashdown’s warm voice called, and Catherine hesitated. She didn’t sound angry.

When she entered the parlor, Lady Ashdown looked at her with a soft, gentle smile—though it was not without a hint of something else. Regret perhaps?

“Ah, Miss Winslow. Please have a seat,” Lady Ashdown said and gestured to the chair across from her. Catherine’s knees trembled as she moved to sit, and she looked at the older woman nervously.

“Is everything alright, Lady Ashdown?”

Once again, the older woman smiled—though this time Catherine noticed that it did not quite reach her eyes. “Everything is… well… it is as it should be,” she said softly. “You see…. Sophia and Charlotte have reached that age where they must begin to think about their debut into society. Charlotte is eighteen already. Sophia will be soon…”

Catherine nodded slowly and swallowed. It felt as though there was a large rock settled in her stomach. She had a feeling she knew just where the conversation was headed.

“As such,” Lady Ashdown continued, “we feel as though their education has reached a point where a governess is no longer… necessary.”

The awful words hung between them heavily. For Catherine, it felt as though all the air had been sucked from her lungs. “I… I see,” she managed to choke out, trying her level best to not sound as though this affected her.

Lady Ashdown leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on Catherine’s knee. “My dear girl,” she said softly. “Please do not think for even a moment that this is a reflection on you. You have been an exemplary governess, and we are so grateful for your dedication to the girls. They… they truly adore you.”

Catherine nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. “Thank you, Lady Ashdown,” she said softly. “It has been a pleasure to teach and get to know them.”

“Now,” Lady Ashdown said, her tone brightening. “I have some news that I hope will soften this blow. You see… I took the liberty of making some inquiries on your behalf.”

Catherine’s brows shot up and she looked at Lady Ashdown curiously. “Inquiries, my lady?”

Lady Ashdown nodded, and a warm smile settled around her lips. “Indeed. It just so happens that an acquaintance of my husband, the Earl of Wessex, is in need of a governess for his young sister.”

For a moment, Catherine was speechless. The elusive Earl of Wessex was one of the most talked about figures in London society. According to all those who have ever seen them, the man was incredibly handsome.

“He oozes charisma and virility… he looks like the archetype of a romantic hero, with his thick, dark hair and broad shoulders…” She’d heard about him already, and she shook her head slightly. To be offered a position in this man’s household was not something she’d ever dreamed of.

“The Earl of Wessex?” she repeated softly, and Lady Ashdown nodded.

“Yes, Edward Montague,” she said. “He is looking for someone to educate his sister, Emily. She is a bit younger than my girls. Fifteen or sixteen perhaps? I am not sure. Quite bright too, apparently.”

“Lady Ashdown, I… I don’t know what to say,” she stammered. “This is incredibly generous of you.”

Lady Ashdown waved away her thanks with a soft laugh. “Nonsense, my dear,” she said firmly. “It is the least I could do after all you have done for us. But I must warn you…” She looked around, as if she were concerned about being overheard. “You ought to be quite… guarded. From what I hear, life at Wessex Manor can be quite… stimulating.”

There was something in Lady Ashdown’s tone that made Catherine’s cheeks flush, and she pressed her hands to her face. “My lady!” she let out, scandalized, and Lady Ashdown laughed.

“Oh, pish,” she said, looking an awful lot like Charlotte in that moment. “The entire city knows that the man is impossibly good looking, and he has quite the rakish reputation.”

Catherine shook her head. She was certain Lady Ashdown was not implying whatever it sounded like.

“When would I be expected to start?” she asked, pushing the inappropriate thoughts aside.

“In a fortnight,” Lady Ashdown replied with a mysterious smile. “I hope that gives you enough time to make your preparations?”

Catherine nodded slowly. Of all the things she knew had to be done, she was most affected by the awful thought of saying goodbye to this family—they were far more of a family than she’d ever had before. “Of course,” she let out at last. “Thank you, Lady Ashdown. For everything.”

Catherine left the parlor slowly. Despite the good news of a new job waiting for her, her heart ached a bit more with every step she took. She was going to miss the Ashdowns terribly. Of course, a small part of her was quite curious about the Earl of Wessex. After all… she was only human.

The next two weeks passed in a blur of tearful goodbyes and frantic preparations. Of course, Sophia and Charlotte were as devastated as she was to say goodbye. The girls alternated between clinging to her desperately and peppering her with questions about her new position—and her new employer.

“Oh, Miss Winslow,” Sophia sighed dreamily as she settled onto Catherine’s bed while the latter packed her books away. “Just think! You’ll be living in a grand manor, surrounded by elegance… it’ll all be so beautiful.”

Charlotte grinned brightly, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “And don’t forget the Earl himself. I’ve heard he is terribly handsome—broad shouldered and muscled. And you are beautiful too—just think, what if he sweeps you off your feet and…”

“Charlotte!” Catherine admonished quickly, though she could not quite hide the blush that crept up her neck. “That is inappropriate speculation! The Earl of Wessex is to be my employer, nothing more. There will be no sweeping anyone off their feet and most certainly no romance.”

“Of course, Miss Winslow,” Charlotte replied quickly—her tone entirely too innocent to be believed. “But you must promise to write to us and tell us all about the glamorous parties and gentlemen you encounter.”

Catherine shook her head and laughed despite herself. “I promise to write, but I am afraid my letters will be disappointingly devoid of dashing gentlemen and glamorous parties. I am going to work—not find a husband. And I will certainly not be attending any parties.”

“Miss Winslow,” Sophia asked now, her eyes wide with innocence. “Don’t you want to marry?”

Catherine hesitated. “Well,” she said at last. “I am already one-and-twenty, and besides… I never really had a family of my own, so… I suppose it was easy not to long for my own.”

Sophia frowned. “But you are so beautiful, Miss Winslow,” she explained. “You ought to marry and have beautiful children too.”

Catherine shook her head, a sad smile playing about her lips. “Those are foolish thoughts for a governess to entertain,” she said softly. “Romance has no place in my life—not even at Wessex manor.”

With that, the conversation was finished, though judging by the whispers between the sisters as they left her bedchamber, she was certain that the girls did not quite agree with her.

Perhaps it was the conversation they’d had, perhaps the fear of the unknown… but when Catherine finally managed to find herself in a fitful sleep, a mysterious man loomed over her. Without fully seeing him, she knew without any sliver of doubt that it was the elusive earl.

“You are beautiful,” the man muttered, his lips warm against her ear. Catherine gasped as he swept her off her feet, his hands traveling slowly over her soft curves.

“You ought to marry… have children…” he whispered, and she shook her head in protest. But his lips then traveled down the column of her throat, and she let out a whimper when finally, his lips met hers in a demanding kiss.

She woke with a start, just as his hand traveled toward her breast, her heart racing wildly in her chest, and a strange warm wetness pooling between her thighs.

Far too soon, the morning of her departure arrived. Where Catherine stood in the entrance hall of Ashdown manor, surrounded by her meager belongings, Lady Ashdown fussed over her: straightening her bonnet before pressing a small purse into her hands.

“For any expenses you might incur on your journey,” she insisted when Catherine tried to protest. “And do remember my dear… you always have a home here with us, if you should ever need it.”

Catherine blinked back tears, touched by the older woman’s kindness. “Thank you, Lady Ashdown,” she whispered. “For everything.”

Before she could make another move, two slender figures appeared in the foyer. Sophia’s eyes brimmed with tears when she stepped forward. “We will miss you terribly, Miss Winslow,” she said softly, and Charlotte nodded. “Promise you won’t forget us,” she added, her usual exuberance all but gone.

“Oh, girls,” Catherine said softly as she hugged them. “I could never forget you in a thousand years,” she promised.

Before she could say anything more, the carriage came to a halt in front of the manor and she left the weeping girls inside, her own heart aching as she made her way down the cobblestone pavement.