How to Claim a Governess’s Heart - Bridget Barton Page 0,31

by incorporating her into his personal circle.

But it did make her consider that the party might also have another purpose. Lord John, after all, was a fine gentleman from a well-established family. Though he seemed at present too focused on his financial future, there was no doubt that he was also in need of a wife.

For all Bridget knew, this might be an opportunity for Lord John to see what London had to offer him. Of course, she knew it was only natural for a gentleman of his standing to want to pursue matrimony, but the thought of it made her sick to her stomach.

Bridget would have liked to tell herself the reason for her apprehension was all on account of Betsy. The child had already gone through so much trial and tumult in her short life, did she really need the added adjustment of a new mother? Worse, what if Lord John’s choice was cruel to the little girl as stepmothers were so often portrayed in fairy tales?

Though these were all valid concerns, Bridget knew most of her apprehension lay on a more personal level. Over these last few months, she had begun to consider herself mother to Betsy. She spent almost all her waking moments caring for her, educating her, and deciding what was best for her. What would happen if she had to transfer these duties to another? Would she be able to stand by and watch someone else be a mother to Betsy? Could she hold her tongue if the lady in question didn’t do it right in Bridget’s opinion?

She was well aware that along with her dynamics with Betsy now being in jeopardy, so was her association with Lord John. She had grown to care for him so much. He had become a confidante and companion in her everyday life. With a wife, Lord John and her relationship would have to change. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for such a change.

With these thoughts spinning through her head over the last few days, she discovered something profound inside herself that she hadn’t even realised was there. She was almost sure of it now as her stomach turned at the thought of Lord John dancing and enjoying the company of other ladies tonight. She was beginning to fall in love with the man.

It was an utterly preposterous notion. If Bridget could have, she would have liked to dig such feelings right out of her heart. Sadly, she had read enough books to learn that such a thing was not possible. She could no more control her heart's decisions than the sun to shine or night to fall.

It was completely illogical for her to have affection for her employer. An employer, who was of a much higher class, than she could ever dream of achieving if she even had desires to do so. Even if tonight's ball wasn’t for dual purposes, she realised that eventually, a proper union would be desired by Lord John. Perhaps he might wait till his year agreement with his brother was passed, but all the same, it would come in the end.

Bridget was finding it difficult to digest what this meant for her and the feeling she seemed to have no control over. The thought of leaving this house when such a match was finally made seemed as heart-breaking as staying and watching happiness unfold between him and another woman.

With nothing to be done about it, Bridget simply tried to ignore the prospect the future held for her. Instead, she would settle into the present and enjoy the goodness that life was giving her now. As a miserable childhood product, it seemed too deeply ingrained in her the philosophy of happiness in present circumstances no matter what uncertainty the future might hold for her.

“I am pleased to welcome so many friends here tonight. I know I have been somewhat of a recluse this year,” Lord John announced to the growing party in the parlour, “and therefore am very grateful you decided to indulge me this night. I ask for one more indulgence if I might.

“Miss Thatcher here,” he said, motioning to Bridget, who had been invited to stand at his right hand, “has been a guest in my home these past few months as governess to my Goddaughter, Betsy. Frankly, she has been a slave to her duty and has had little time for pleasure. I would like to propose tonight’s gala in honour of Miss Thatcher, if she would allow