Page 42 of The Earl's Forbidden Governess
“Oh, Edward,” she gasped as his hand cupped her breast through the thin fabric of her chemise. “Please…”
Something in her voice seemed to break through the haze of desire. Edward froze, his eyes widening—as if he suddenly realized the full extent of what they were about to do.
“No,” he managed to strangle out. “No, we cannot. We cannot do this, Catherine.”
With what seemed like a monumental effort, Edward pulled away from Catherine. He stood up, running a shaking hand through his hair as he turned his back to her.
“Edward?” Catherine’s voice was small and confused. She sat up slowly, trying to cover herself with the loosened bodice of her dress.
“You need to leave,” Edward said, his voice rough. He kept his back turned to her firmly. “Please, Catherine. You need to go. Now.”
Catherine swallowed at the tears threatening to well up in her eyes. “I… I don’t understand,” she whispered. “I thought…”
“It matters not what you thought,” Edward interrupted her, his voice almost sad. “This can never happen. Do you understand? Never. We got carried away, but it ends here. It has to. I… I am not free to love in the manner that I wish to.”
Catherine could feel the tears escaping her eyes and she stood on shaky legs, fumbling to lace up her dress. “Edward,” she pleaded softly. “Please look at me.”
Still, he refused. His back remained resolutely turned to her, his shoulders tense. “Just go, Catherine. Please. Before I... before we do something we cannot take back.”
Hurt and confusion warred within Catherine as she made her way to the door. She paused with her hand on the knob, looking back at Edward's rigid form. “I… I am sorry,” shewhispered, though in truth she was not entirely sure what she was apologizing for.
As the door closed behind her, Catherine leaned against it, her heart breaking. On the other side, she could hear a muffled thud, as if Edward had punched the wall in frustration.
Chapter 19
Catherine tossed and turned in her bed, sleep eluding her as it had for the past few nights. Every time she closed her eyes, she relived the passionate moments she'd shared with Edward in his chambers. The memory of his lips on hers, his hands exploring her body, sent a shiver down her spine. She ached for him, her entire being yearning for his touch, his presence.
But the sweet memory inevitably gave way to the bitter aftermath—Edward’s sudden withdrawal, his harsh words as he ordered her to leave. The pain of rejection was still raw, a constant ache in her chest.
As dawn broke, Catherine rose, exhausted but unable to rest. She went through the motions of preparing for the day, her mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly?
The rest of the day passed in a blur of misery and confusion. Edward steadfastly avoided her, speaking to her only when absolutely necessary and never meeting her eyes. Each curt word, each avoided glance, was like a knife to Catherine’s heart.
Even Emily noticed the change in atmosphere. During their lessons, the young girl’s brow furrowed with concern as she watched her usually enthusiastic governess struggle to maintain her focus.
To Catherine’s utter frustration this continued for another day—and another, until all the days seemed to melt into each other.
“Miss Winslow,” Emily said hesitantly one afternoon. “Is everything alright? Forgive me, but you seem... different.”
Catherine forced a smile, hating the idea of worrying Emily. “I am fine, Lady Emily,” she said softly. “Just a bit… tired. Now, let us continue with your history lesson, shall we?”
Try as she might, however, Catherine could not manage to summon her usual passion for teaching. Her mind kept drifting to Edward—to the mysteries surrounding the household, to the letter hidden away in her room.
For days it continued—the painfully polite greetings between Edward and herself. On the third day, during a lesson with Emily, a movement caught her eye, and her breath hitched in her throat as he rode away.
Where was he going? When would he return?
It was late that night when he finally returned. Catherine had been unable to sleep and as soon as she heard the sound of hoofbeats in the courtyard, she crept to her window. From the window she traced the lines of his figure as he dismounted. The tension in his shoulders was evident.
To Catherine’s dismay, this pattern kept repeating itself over the next few days. Edward would leave early in the morning and return late at night—without offering any explanation for his absences. This of course, led to the atmosphere growing increasingly tense. Even Mr. Harper seemed even more agitated than usual.
For Catherine, her lessons with Emily became less engaging. Her usual enthusiasm dampened—she was far too preoccupied with Edward’s odd behavior, not to mention her own tumultuous emotions. More than once, she caught Emily watching her with worried eyes—but still she could not bring herself to ease the girl’s concerns. She herself felt far too lost.
As the days wore on, Catherine’s discomfort only grew. Would Edward dismiss her? The thought of leaving Wessex Manor, leaving Emily—and of course, leaving Edward—filled her with immense dread.
Where would she go? What would she do?
Finally she was unable to bear the uncertainty any longer. She waited for the familiar sound to return, then threw a coat over her nightdress and made her way to his study where she knew he would be.
