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A Family For The Widowed Governess
Ann Lethbridge
A governess with a secret… …meets this ready-made family! Part of The Widows of Westram: Lady Marguerite Saxby is being blackmailed! Desperate for money, she accepts Jack Vincent, Earl Compton’s offer to become temporary governess to his three motherless daughters. There’s so much she can’t tell her new employer. Only she’s not expecting the all-consuming attraction that makes living under Jack’s roof a constant battle between her head and her heart!
A governess with a secret
...meets this ready-made family!
Part of The Widows of Westram: Lady Marguerite Saxby is being blackmailed! Desperate for money, she accepts Jack Vincent, Earl Compton’s offer to become the temporary governess to his three motherless daughters. There’s so much she can’t tell her new employer. Only, she’s not expecting the all-consuming attraction that makes living under Jack’s roof a constant battle between her head and her heart!
In her youth, award-winning author ANN LETHBRIDGE reimagined the Regency romances she read—and now she loves writing her own. Now living in Canada, Ann visits Britain every year, where family members understand—or so they say—her need to poke around every antiquity within a hundred miles. Learn more about Ann or contact her at annlethbridge.com (http://www.annlethbridge.com). She loves hearing from readers.
Also by Ann Lethbridge (#uf1ce8270-9636-5f97-ad77-42d82b180843)
Secrets of the Marriage Bed
An Innocent Maid for the Duke
Rescued by the Earl’s Vows
The Widows of Westram miniseries
A Lord for the Wallflower Widow
An Earl for the Shy Widow
A Family for the Widowed Governess
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
A Family for the Widowed Governess
Ann Lethbridge
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08932-6
A FAMILY FOR THE WIDOWED GOVERNESS
© 2019 Michéle Ann Young
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#uf1ce8270-9636-5f97-ad77-42d82b180843)
This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:
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Text to speech
This story is about three women who became friends
and supported each other through thick and thin.
I would like to dedicate this book
to great friends everywhere.
These are people who make each day
feel a little brighter and who are there for you
in times of need as well as times of celebration.
Friends are like treasure.
Hoard every one of them.
Contents
Cover (#u509452ff-a733-56c5-83c0-75be75e3c04a)
Back Cover Text (#ub6301943-ae27-5a37-afab-fc0218add022)
About the Author (#u0ae8bb60-86bf-5611-8788-cc22a98b08c4)
Booklist (#uc4798f4f-5638-5b80-ad56-70c2a7607c95)
Title Page (#u1fc0609f-a7ad-5479-856f-1365b3b42a74)
Copyright (#u7996d50e-5f9c-5843-a2cd-bbc7209e5a71)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#u45bdcfb3-be96-53ed-8137-84b806daf39e)
Chapter One (#ua530ba08-f934-5551-a605-0865c5330d0c)
Chapter Two (#uf7146e1a-22f9-5d2f-b763-ab14f406420a)
Chapter Three (#u18d92a6b-4ac6-5ed9-a5dd-bd68580a3f99)
Chapter Four (#ub4c7fe58-ed27-5663-ba08-269090578292)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#uf1ce8270-9636-5f97-ad77-42d82b180843)
Lady Marguerite hated the way the ground sank and the water oozed up. A smell of wet mud filled her nostrils. It had taken her all morning to find the right ground conditions for the specimen she needed and she wasn’t going to give up now, even if it did mean getting wet feet.
She slogged on across the meadow, stepping on the highest tussocks. At least, for the first time in a week, it wasn’t raining. Indeed, it was a lovely spring day. Or it would be if she hadn’t had to go specimen hunting in the boggy ground of a water meadow.
There! Finally. The yellow flower she was seeking. Caltha palustris. Or marsh marigold, as she had known it as a child. She picked her way over to the tall plant, aware that the water level here was higher than ever. Now each step created deep puddles that threatened her jean half-boots.
Ugh. She hated this part of her work. Gathering plants in the wild. Petra would have adored it, but Petra was married and gone. The gentleman paying Marguerite to draw plants for his book was supposed to provide her with the specimens, but he’d said they were more prolific in Kent than where he lived and asked her to find one for herself.
She had thought it would be easy. She had seen them everywhere last spring. Unfortunately, she needed one in flower and very few were in bloom yet.
She tugged on the stalk. After a slight resistance, it pulled free of the muddy earth. She inspected it from root to tip. There were more plants, closer to the stream. Should she try for one with more flowers? This one had only two blossoms and one bud.
‘Ouch!’ A high-pitched scream rang out across the field.
Marguerite glanced wildly around. More screams. A child, she thought. At the edge of the field. She picked up her skirts and headed in the direction of the sound.
‘Ooh! Ooh! It hurts. Ouch. Ouch.’
Was someone striking a little girl?
She flung her sample aside and ran, ignoring the water soaking through her boots. Then she saw two little girls, the bigger of them dancing around flapping her hands and making the sounds Marguerite had heard. There was no sign of any menacing presence. Marguerite rushed up to the one who was clearly in pain.
‘What is it?’
‘Ouch. Ouch.’ Tears were running down the child’s face. ‘I was picking flowers and something bit me.’
The younger child came over to stand beside her...sister? They looked alike. Brown hair. Big brown eyes and dressed exactly the same. Where on earth had they come from?
Marguerite grabbed one of the flapping hands and inspected it. Raised bumps with scarlet edges. She knew exactly what had happened. She cast her gaze around until she found what she wanted. Dock leaves. She scrunched up a couple to free their juices, then began rubbing them all over the little girl’s hands.
After a few moments, the little girl’s cries subsided to a whimper and she gazed up at Marguerite, her face sad. ‘Why did the flower bite me?’ She pointed to a little blue cornflower.
Marguerite winced. ‘It didn’t. It is hiding in a bed of stinging nettles. Those tall green plants. That is what hurt you.’
‘Stinging nettles?’ She kicked out at the plant.
Marguerite pulled her back. ‘Careful. They can easily sting through your stockings.’ Hadn’t every child in England learned that the hard way?
The younger child crouched down and peered at the nearest nettle. ‘Nasty flower,’ she said.
Marguerite inspected the older child’s hand. It was still swollen and sore looking. She rubbed some more. ‘You put your hand right into the middle of them.’
The child gazed at her sadly, tears staining her little face. ‘Why do they sting?’
‘To stop you from picking them. Or rather, to stop grazing animals from eating them. It is the way the plant protects itself.’
The little girl pulled her hand from Marguerite’s and inspected the damage. ‘It still hurts. And I wasn’t going to pick it. I was picking the blue one.’
‘It will hurt for a while, I am afraid. And itch.’ She picked more dock leaves. ‘Keep rubbing the sore places with this until it goes away.’
She glanced around. They were a good mile from Ightham village and even further from her home in Westram. ‘Where do you live?’
