Page 57 of The Earl's Forbidden Governess
“But you’re the Earl,” Emily insisted. “Can’t you change those expectations? Haven’t you already, by keeping us isolated for so long?”
Edward felt a surge of emotions—frustration, longing, fear. “I don’t know, Em. I just don’t know anymore.”
Emily leaned in and hugged him tightly. “I think you do know, Edward. You’re just afraid to admit it.”
As Emily left the study, Edward turned to gaze out the window. The grounds of Wessex Manor stretched out before him, beautiful and familiar. This was his heritage, his responsibility. Could he really risk it all for… love?
But then Catherine’s face flashed in his mind—her bright smile, her sparkling eyes, the way she challenged him and made him feel truly alive for the first time in years.
Edward closed his eyes, feeling torn between duty and desire. He couldn’t call off the wedding, not yet. Not while Catherine was still missing, not while the future was so uncertain. But he couldn’t deny the truth in his heart either.
Where on earth was she? And what was he meant to do?
As night fell over Wessex Manor, Edward remained in his study, caught between the life he was expected to live and the one his heart longed for. The wedding plans loomed before him like a sentence, while the memory of Catherine haunted his every thought.
Chapter 24
Catherine’s feet ached as she made her way through the forest close to town, the setting sun casting long shadows across her path. She did not much like walking through there—but she had no choice. It was the only way of going to interview upon interview undetected.
Her mind whirled with the information she had gleaned from her latest interview with a former Wessex Manor staff member. The elderly gardener had spoken of strange comings and goings, of whispered conversations between Samuel Harper and a cloaked figure in the weeks leading up to the Montagues’ deaths.
There must be something she was missing, she thought as she pushed a low-hanging branch out of her way. Something that was hidden in plain sight.
Why was Samuel Harper so intent on hurting the family that employed him?
The forest seemed to close in around her, the trees looming larger in the fading light.
A twig snapped behind her. Catherine froze, her heart suddenly racing. The sound of her own breathing seemed deafening in the sudden silence. Slowly, she turned to look over her shoulder.
A hooded figure stood about twenty paces away, half-hidden behind a large oak tree. As Catherine watched, the figure took a step forward, leaves crunching underfoot.
Panic surged through her veins. Without thinking, Catherine veered off the path, plunging deeper into the woods. The sound of pursuit followed close behind, branches snapping and undergrowth rustling.
“Help!” she cried out, though she knew it was futile. They were too far from any habitation for her voice to carry. The word echoed mockingly through the trees.
Catherine ran blindly, branches whipping at her face and arms as she tore through the underbrush. Her lungs burned, and her legs felt like lead, but fear propelled her forward. She could hear the pursuer gaining ground, their footsteps growing louder.
“Stay away!” she shouted over her shoulder, her voice cracking with terror.
The footsteps behind her grew closer. Catherine risked a glance over her shoulder and saw the hooded figure gaining onher, a dark shadow against the twilight forest. In that moment of distraction, her foot caught on a tree root, sending her sprawling to the forest floor.
Catherine hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her. She scrambled to her hands and knees, desperately trying to regain her footing. But before she could stand, a strong hand grasped her elbow, roughly pulling her up and spinning her around.
Catherine’s scream died in her throat as the figure’s hood fell back, revealing a face she knew all too well. Samuel Harper stood before her, his face flushed from the chase, his eyes wild with an emotion Catherine couldn’t quite place. He had followed her all along, she realized, the fear taking hold of her in an almost choking fashion.
He knew all along what she’d been busy with.
“Mr. Harper,” she gasped, terror flooding her body. This was it. She had pushed too far, and now she would pay the price. Just like Lord and Lady Wessex.
But to Catherine’s shock, Mr. Harper’s face was twisted not with rage, but with desperation. “Miss Winslow,” he panted, his grip on her arm loosening slightly. “Please... I need your help.”
Catherine stared at him, uncomprehending. Her mind reeled, unable to reconcile the menacing figure that had chased her through the forest with the man now standing before her, looking lost and afraid.
“You need… my help?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “But... I don’t understand. I thought...”
“You thought I was going to kill you,” Mr. Harper finished for her, his voice bitter. “Just like I killed Lord and Lady Wessex. Isn’t that right?”
Mutely, Catherine nodded, still too stunned to form words. Her heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline still coursing through her veins.
