Page 50 of The Earl's Forbidden Governess
“I love you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I will always love you.”
With trembling hands, she dressed quickly, gathering what few possessions she could carry. She knew that if she stayed, if she had to face Edward in the cold light of day, her resolve would crumble. She would agree to be his mistress, his dirty little secret, and in doing so, she would destroy them both.
No, it was better this way. A clean break. A chance for both of them to heal and move on.
She penned a quick note, explaining her actions as best she could. It felt woefully inadequate, but it was all she could offer. Placing the note on the pillow where she had lain, Catherine allowed herself one last look at Edward’s sleeping form. For a brief moment she considered leaving an explanation for Emily as well, but there were no words.
Then, gathering her courage, she slipped out of the room and made her way through the silent halls of Wessex Manor. The stables were deserted at this hour, and it was the work of moments to saddle one of the horses.
As she urged the horse into a gallop, Catherine felt the first tears begin to fall. They mingled with the cool night air rushing past her face as she rode away from Wessex Manor, away from Edward, away from the only real home she had ever known.
The future stretched out before her, uncertain and terrifying. But as the first rays of sunlight began to peek over thehorizon, Catherine felt a glimmer of hope. She had survived loss before. She would survive this too.
As Wessex Manor faded into the distance behind her, Catherine whispered a final goodbye to the life she was leaving behind. To Emily, to the dreams she had harbored, and to Edward—the man who had awakened her heart only to break it.
The road ahead was long and unknown, but Catherine Winslow rode on, her chin held high. Whatever the future held, she would face it with the same strength and determination that had brought her this far.
And somewhere, in the deepest recesses of her heart, she would always carry the memory of one perfect, passionate night—a bittersweet reminder of what might have been.
Chapter 22
Catherine urged her horse faster, the cool night air whipping her hair as she rode away from Wessex Manor. Her heart pounded in her chest, a strong grief threatening to overwhelm her. The weight of the stolen letter a constant reminder of her mission.
As the first rays of dawn began to paint the sky, Catherine slowed her horse to a trot. She had been riding for hours, putting as much distance as possible between herself and Edward. The thought of him waking up alone, reading her hastily scribbled note, made her chest ache. But she pushed the pain aside, focusing instead on her purpose.
In the middle of the night, it had become so clear to her. Someone had to know more about the Wessex household—and who better than the former staff. If she could find them, perhaps she could find the truth as well. Perhaps she could find some understanding.
Catherine guided her horse toward the village near Wessex Manor. She knew she couldn’t stay there long—if he were inclined to search for her, Edward would surely look for her there first — but it was the best place to start her search for the former staff members.
As she approached the outskirts of the village, Catherine spotted a small cottage with smoke rising from the chimney. She remembered hearing from Emily that the former housekeeper, Mrs. Potts, had retired to a cottage in the village. Taking a deep breath, Catherine dismounted and approached the door.
Her knock was answered by a plump, elderly woman with kind eyes and white hair pulled back in a tight bun. “Yes? How can I help you, dear?”
“Mrs. Potts?” Catherine asked hesitantly. At the woman’s nod, she continued, “My name is Catherine Winslow. I... I need to speak with you about Wessex Manor.”
Mrs. Potts’ eyes narrowed slightly, but she stepped aside. “Come in, child. You look half-frozen.”
Inside, the cottage was warm and cozy. Mrs. Potts bustled about, preparing tea while Catherine perched nervously on the edge of a worn armchair.
“Now then,” Mrs. Potts said, setting a steaming cup before Catherine, “what’s this about Wessex Manor? You’re not one of the current staff, are you?”
Catherine shook her head. “No, I... I was Emily’s governess. But I’ve left my position. Mrs. Potts, I need to knowabout the night Lord and Lady Wessex died. Was there anything unusual? Anyone acting strangely?”
Mrs. Potts’ face darkened. “Aye, it was a terrible night. The whole house in an uproar. Young Lord Wessex, finding his parents like that...” She shuddered. “As for strange behavior, well... we were all let go except for that strange man. Why, I always wondered why Lord Wessex chose to keep him on considering how odd he was”
Catherine leaned forward eagerly. “The butler? What about him?”
“He was calm. Too calm, if you ask me,” Mrs. Potts said, her voice lowering as if she feared being overheard. “While the rest of us were in shock, Samuel just... carried on. Took charge of everything. I am sure it was him who suggested keeping on a skeleton staff, him who convinced his lordship to let the rest of us go.”
Catherine’s mind whirled with this new information. “Did Mr. Harper ever express any... discontent with his position? Or with the Montagues?”
Mrs. Potts’ eyes widened. “Oh my, yes. Samuel always had a chip on his shoulder about the family’s wealth. I heard him muttering more than once about the unfairness of it all. How some were born to luxury while others slaved away in service. Nasty little fellow he was.”
Catherine’s heart raced. This was more than she’d dared hope for. “Thank you, Mrs. Potts. You’ve been incredibly helpful. I am sorry to be rude, but I must leave now.”
As she rose to her feet, Mrs. Potts caught her arm. “Be careful, child. If you’re digging into the past, you might not like what you find.”
“Mrs. Potts,” she pleaded now, her voice soft. “Is there anyone else I could talk to? Any of the other staff members?”
