Ann Lethbridge - A Family for the Widowed Governess

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 Comptons offer to become the temporary governess to his three motherless daughters. Theres so much she cant tell her new employer. Only, shes not expecting the all-consuming attraction that makes living under Jacks roof a constant battle between her head and her heart!

The Widows of Westram

Widowed by war...tempted by new flirtations!

Lady Carrie and her sisters-in-law, Lady Petra and Lady Marguerite, each tragically widowed on the same day by the same battle in Portugal, have had time to come to terms with their circumstances.

Now these three beguiling widows aim to seize the day and build their own destiniesin life, and in the realm of romantic liaisons...!

Find out what happens in Marguerites story:

A Family for the Widowed Governess

And read the other stories in
The Widows of Westram trilogy!

A Lord for the Wallflower Widow
An Earl for the Shy Widow

Author Note

I hope you enjoy this final story in The Widows of Westram series as much as I enjoyed writing it. It is always difficult to say goodbye to characters who feel like they have become friends during the journey to their happy ending, isnt it? I certainly feel that way with these three very different ladies. I am not sure where the idea of three widows whose husbands all died on the same day in the same place came from, but I had fun with it. I do love hearing from readers, be it a request for a story about a secondary character in an earlier book or for a chat about the story you are reading now. You can always reach me through my website, annlethbridge.com, or at Facebook.com/AnnLethbridgeAuthor or join the whole Harlequin Historical author team for fun and prizes at Facebook.com/HarlequinHistorical.

ANN LETHBRIDGE

A Family for the Widowed Governess

In her youth, award-winning author Ann Lethbridge reimagined the Regency romances she readand now she loves writing her own. Now living in Canada, Ann visits Britain every year, where family members understandor so they sayher need to poke around every antiquity within a hundred miles. Learn more about Ann or contact her at annlethbridge.com. She loves hearing from readers.

Books by Ann Lethbridge

Harlequin Historical

It Happened One Christmas

Wallflower, Widow...Wife!

Secrets of the Marriage Bed

Rescued by the Earls Vows

The Widows of Westram

A Lord for the Wallflower Widow

An Earl for the Shy Widow

A Family for the Widowed Governess

The Society of Wicked Gentlemen

An Innocent Maid for the Duke

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This story was 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

L ady 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 wasnt 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 wasnt raining. Indeed, it was a lovely spring day. Or it would be if she hadnt 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 hed 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 childs 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 girls hands.

After a few moments, the little girls 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 didnt. 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. Hadnt 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 childs 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 Marguerites and inspected the damage. It still hurts. And I wasnt 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?