How to Claim a Governess’s Heart - Bridget Barton Page 0,95
state of dishevelment, but he didn’t have time to care. He needed to find Bridget and speak with her before the duke arrived.
The sound of voices coming from the library led him in that direction. He could hear Bridget's soft tone through the thick wood door as she was no doubt starting Betsy’s morning lesson. Lord John only paused outside the door for a moment while he attempted to pat down the full golden locks that had blown free in the wind for his long hard ride before opening the doors.
“Good, you're all here,” Lord John said as he swung open the doors.
Three pairs of eyes stared at him in shock. They hadn’t heard his sudden intrusion into the house and had in no way expected him to come bursting through the door.
“You’re back, sir,” Mrs. Smith said, coming to stand.
She had been reading by the warmth of the fire while Bridget stood in front of a large slate board hung on one of the bookshelves. Betsy was seated in her little child-sized chair, her own personal slate on a small desk in front of her.
At the sudden intrusion, Betsy had wriggled out of her chair with a squeal of delight and into Lord John’s arms. He knew he shouldn’t pick the child up for he was covered in mud, and she in her white frock, but he didn’t care.
Mrs. Smith also went to his side and offered to take the saddlebag he had brought in with him, draped across his shoulder. He looked across the room at Bridget. She seemed back in the habit of wearing her spencer, and she pulled on it nervously.
He waited for her eyes to meet his, but she seemed to busy herself, straightening the classroom belongings while Betsy said her hellos.
“I didn’t know if you were ever going to come back, Uncle John. Why did you have to go away for so long?” Betsy asked.
She rubbed a soft cherub hand against the two-day golden scruff that had grown on Lord John’s face.
“You’re all dirty and look funny,” she finished.
“I’ve been riding all night to get here quickly,” he explained.
A sharp hard knock sounded at the front door of the house.
“Who could be calling at such an hour?” the housekeeper remarked.
She quickly excused herself from the small party, mumbling about the state the front foyer was in if Lord John’s appearance was any judge of it.
“I expect that is the reason for my hasty arrival,” Lord John told Betsy. “Would you be a good girl and go play in your room?”
“By myself?”
“Yes. Just for a little while. Miss Thatcher and I have some matters to discuss with the duke. When we are done, and if you have been good, I can promise you something I brought home for you here in my saddlebag,” Lord John enticed the small girl.
“All right,” Betsy’s face lit up at the prospect of receiving a present.
She wriggled from her guardian’s arms and only hesitated a moment to try and peek into the bag that now lay on the ground before being shooed off to her rooms.
“I would be happy to accompany Betsy to her room,” Bridget suggested, wringing her hands. Still, her eyes didn’t meet Lord John’s.
“No, I think it best you stay with me,” Lord John answered.
“Please,” Bridget pleaded. “At least let me tell her goodbye.”
Large tears were pooling in her eyes. Lord John was utterly bewildered as to what she was talking about or why she was so upset.
“Whatever for? What’s the matter?” he asked.
He took three long strides across the room. Removing his muddy riding gloves, he cupped Bridget’s chin with his hands. Gently he guided her face so that she looked at him.
“What’s the matter, Bridget?” he spoke in a soft but urgent tone.
“Please, I just want to tell her goodbye before you send me away. I couldn’t bear it if someone else walked out of her life without a proper goodbye.”
“Why on earth would you think I’m sending you away?”
Before Bridget had a chance to answer, the butler announced that it was, in fact, the duke that had called at this most improper hour and was currently waiting for them in the front parlour.
Lord John brushed away a falling tear from Bridget’s cheek.
“Come with me,” he said softly as he took her hand with his.
He grabbed the muddy saddlebag and proceeded down the hall into the parlour, where his brother waited impatiently.
“I must admit I am surprised you are even here,” the duke announced the