Page 57 of Lady Willa's Divinely Wicked Vicar
She sighed. Confessions such as that only depressed her.
But the sight of Madame and her Englishfiancéstirred her further. Madame was of middling height, a golden blonde with sweet blue eyes and a laughing disposition. Lord Dalforth was a comely man, but only a few inches taller, yet he took the Vicomtesse against his lean form with a tenderness that brought a grin to Madame’s lips—and tears to Wills’s eyes. His gentle touch, the way he threaded his fingertips through Madame’s coiffure, the way she circled her hand around his nape, rose on her toes and welcomed him with a searing kiss of love, had Wills aching for that which she’d given up.
Never to love.
Only to observe.
To yearn.
To want the same for herself and yet she would walk the earth alone.
She dashed her tears from her cheeks, but the sobs that racked her would not stop. She cupped her forehead in one hand and clutched her stomach in the other. What had she done? To herself? To Charlie? She glanced up and outside, the Vicomtesse and herfiancéstared at her.
She gasped. Unable to calm herself, she whirled from the window for the nursery door and ran down the hall toward her own room and the solitude that would hide her misery. The solitude that she was forever to claim as her only protector…and no solace at all.
She threw herself across her bed and wept for all she had lost. She had committed herself to this lonely life and to pine for the one man she did love more than she had believed.
Minutes later, a knock came upon her bedroom door. She collected herself. Wiped her tears. Pushed back the loose tendrils of her hair over her ears. And bemoaned her swollen eyes in the mirror. For those there was no remedy.
She moved to her door and opened it to allow her employer to enter. She pasted a small smile upon her face.
“No, Miss Stanley.” The lady put up a hand. “I will not enter. This is your sanctuary. It is the least I can provide. Will you come downstairs with me and share tea?”
“Oh, ma’am.” Wills might not be but days-old at this governess business but she’d been well trained in etiquette and treatment of servants. She knew enough not to take tea with the lady of the house and her intended groom. “I do not wish to intrude.”
“You will not, I assure you, Miss Stanley. Lord Dalforth will not join us. He has taken the boys to the Lanes for ices. And I have a matter I wish to discuss with you.”
When they were settled in the drawing room, Madame handed Wills her tea and settled back into her lively little yellow Chippendale chair. She had not asked Wills how she liked her tea but had added the two small spoonfuls of sugar that Wills preferred.
“Now Lady Willa,” she began and Wills nearly spilled the fragrant Soochong brew into her skirts. “I do know you are not the self-proclaimed Miss Edith Stanley. Not from Bath. But from De Courcy Manor in Hampshire. The daughter of the Earl and Countess De Courcy.
“You are descended from Valois kings of France as well as English stock. You are an expert on your family’s genealogy and with your father, trace your pristine lineage. You did attend Miss Shipley’s School for Young Ladies, but were four years behind me. There you were studious and kind. Had many friends, too. You excelled in French and that has been your calling card to join my household as governess. But let us be clear, you may be expert at French language but you are not expert at hiding or changing who you are. So now you will tell me every detail about why you are here, pretending to be a woman happy to spend her life teaching other people’s children.”
“I’m shocked,Madame.”
“Luella, please. And I shall call you Wills. That is how your friends address you, yes? I should like to be your friend.”
Wills placed her cup and saucer on the tea table. Emotion had her lips quivering. But she fought off tears when she realized how cheered she was at the revelation. “Thank you for that. I would like to call you my friend, Luella. I hardly know how to begin to apologize for the ruse.”
“Do not. I will not hear it, whatever it is. I will hear your rationale for it, however.”
“You must have thought me such a charlatan.”
“I was not certain at first. I wanted to detect your character before I jumped to wrong conclusions. One should, don’t you think?”
“Be cautious about judging people? Oh, yes.”
“And so why are you here, Wills? Not because you are in trouble, I do hope.” Her gaze dropped to Wills’s midsection. “But if that’s so, then—”
“Oh, no. Notthatkind of trouble. But a mess that I have made.”
“Regret it, do you?”
Wills met her gaze. “I do.”
“How much?”
“Dreadfully.”
