Rose was different — in every way.
“After the children were born, Cassandra became forgetful, preoccupied,” he said, stroking Valiant’s nose as they strolled up the lane. “It all started with an addiction to laudanum.” One lie had led to another and another until nothing that came out of her mouth made sense. “Reverend Wilmslow brought her to Morton Manor in the hope it might help.”
Rose sucked in a sharp breath though tried to disguise it. “Your wife was a patient?”
“No. I would never have left her in that godforsaken place. But she came to visit for an hour or two each week.” The visits were daily near the end. “The warden, Mr Watson, knew how to deal with the delusional, and Dr Taylor and Reverend Wilmslow did what they could to help her.”
There was a tense moment of silence.
Rose hung her head as her breathing grew shallow.
Hell, he shouldn’t have told her.
“I admire your strength,” she suddenly said. “It must have been a difficult time for you. But you kept your wife at home. My … my father once locked me in the house for six months hoping to rid me of my independent spirit. The loss of liberty is suffocating and would be damaging to those with a troubled mind.”
Christian stopped walking.
Rose took a few more paces before she realised and then turned to face him.
“Your father kept you a prisoner in your home?” Why anyone would want to suppress the true nature of such a vibrant woman was beyond him. But there were cruel men in the world, men threatened by their own shadow.
“I try not to think of it.” She looked up at the blue sky, and the beginnings of a smile touched her lips. “A dear friend once told me that sometimes our greatest teachers are those who cause us the most pain. I believe she was right.”
Rose didn’t wait for a response, but swung around and continued on her way.
Christian snorted. If Cassandra was his greatest teacher, for the life of him, he could not make sense of the lesson.
He watched Rose glide along the lane, mesmerised by the grace and elegance contained within those precise steps. Her natural poise suggested an inner confidence though it was clear her heart was still healing from whatever trauma she’d suffered.
His heart was healing, too.
Spending a few minutes in Rose’s company made him feel invigorated, if not a little reckless. As he hurried to catch up with her, it occurred to him that Mrs Hibbet was right. Rose would be a positive influence on his children. Perhaps if he limited the time she spent with them to an hour or two a day, they might come to accept her. They might decide not to put toads in her bed.
“As it’s clear your skills with a poke and scuttle are adequate at best,” he began, as an odd surge of excitement raced through him at the thought that she would no longer be a maid, “the role of temporary governess would suit you better. With your genteel upbringing, I’m sure there are numerous ways you can educate the children.”
“Governess?” Rose cast him a sidelong glance. “Does that mean I won’t need to clean out the fires?”
“No, I’m happy to freeze if it means making the children happy.”
And you happy, he added silently, though the thought shocked him.
“And what if I wake to find spiders or toads in my bed?”
A pang of shame filled his chest for his inability to control his children. “I … I don’t know why they do that.”
“I do.” Rose’s reply was but a whisper. She cleared her throat. “But I suspect I lack the attributes you require in a governess.”
When comparing Rose to the host of other governesses he’d employed, she only lacked the permanent scowl and the deep furrows between her brows. On the subject of the attributes he required, kissable lips and cornflower-blue eyes were now top of the list.
“Often a governess is a lady of equal status in manners and education but lacking in family wealth.” He focused on keeping an element of desperation from his voice. “Do you not fall into that category, Rose?”
“I was not speaking of manners or education, my lord, but of discipline. It is not in my nature to punish minors. And I don’t believe it does anyone any good in the end.”
Again, Christian recalled Mrs Hibbet’s advice that the children needed respite from the rigid rules and regulations.
“Children must learn that their actions have consequences.” It was a lesson he’d be wise to observe, too. Kissing the new governess would only lead to disaster, regardless of how tempting he found her.
“I agree,” she said, and it took him a moment to realise she wasn’t talking about kissing. “But are we not more inclined to remember the lessons from those we revere.”