How to Claim a Governess’s Heart - Bridget Barton Page 0,35

forward.

Lord John had never really been the one to find interest in playing the games of love and marriage. First, he had never considered it necessary as his family had arranged such a thing for him. Even when it was clear that he would not find a match with Lady Temperance, he had no desire to delve into that realm. He had far too many ambitions of his own to focus on at present.

Now that it seemed his heart had made the decision for him, he had no idea what to make of it. He had no tools at his disposal to use in winning Miss Thatcher over another. He didn’t have a notion of where to start.

As he weaved through the crowd in the small ballroom, he was surprised to see that Miss Thatcher was not alone. Instead, she had another lady by her side. Lady Temperance, sipping from a glass of punch, seemed to be having a friendly conversation with her.

It was in the crestfallen shadow of Miss Thatcher's face that Lord John sensed it was not quite the innocent chat it seemed to be. Lady Temperance was all smiles and light-heartedness, but Miss Thatcher seemed to shrivel more with every passing second.

If Lord John could have run, he would have done so to get to her aid. However, just as he was about to reach them, Miss Thatcher straightened up slightly and gave a response he couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it seemed to take Lady Temperance back.

A few more words were exchanged between the two, Lady Temperance no longer smiling and enjoying herself. Just as Lord John arrived and greeted them, Lady Temperance made her excuses and removed herself from their presence. She didn't seem at all as satisfied with herself as she had been a few moments earlier.

“I hope you have found everyone's company amiable here tonight,” Lord John said when Lady Temperance was well out of earshot.

“I’m actually a little overcome with how everyone has been so kind and welcoming to me,” Miss Thatcher replied.

“Why should they not? I daresay I prefer spending my time with you more than any other company,” Lord John said, dipping his head just enough to catch her eyes full-on.

They locked eyes for only a second, before Miss Thatcher looked away to examine the room.

“Well, I daresay most would find it very peculiar that a man should think his best company is with a simple governess.”

“Perhaps,” Lord John mulled. “But I am not one who keenly cares about what others think of me.”

“You do seem to like to take an unconventional path,” Miss Thatcher countered.

“Do you think it’s unwise to do so?” he asked.

“I am sure some of the greatest minds who have ever lived were said to take unconventional paths. Certainly, there is more at risk in doing so, and in that respect, I do have concern for you. But I suppose there is very little in life worth doing if there is no risk of failure.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Lord John smiled. “Perhaps I won’t be a great success like I hope I will be, but I am beginning to find more joy in life than succeeding in one's life’s aspirations.”

“Like what?” Miss Thatcher’s round green eyes shone up at him.

“I suppose, just knowing that I gave it my all is enough. And now I find that I have other things that bring me joy. Things that I wish for the future. I suppose if I fail, I won’t think of it as giving up a dream but replacing it with one vastly greater.”

“Betsy, you mean, of course?” Miss Thatcher asked.

Lord John studied the lady before him. She had always seemed a small a petite form, and she certainly was that, but she also exuded so much strength.

She was wearing her best black dress with long sleeves. Her skin was glowing milky white against the fabric like an angelic being. Though her hair had been placed in a simplistic plait, he couldn’t help noticing that some of the curls were weighted by the night's excursions.

She was by no means perfect, but strangely he also loved that about her. She was beautiful with her simple features and large eyes that could swallow him whole.

She had become a regular presence in his life. To consider beauty in anyone else other than her now seemed an impossibility.

“Yes, of course,” Lord John replied softly.

Chapter 12

Bridget sat snuggly under her covers writing in her journal by the light of