The Governess Club: Sara

Nathan watched as she picked at her food. She did drink some wine, but little food passed her lips. He disliked how she did this, how she retreated into her silences; it made him uncomfortable. One of his strengths as a politician had been his ability to read other people.

She looked up and seemed about to speak, but Mrs. Taggert chose that moment to exit the dressing room. She walked as unobtrusively as possible out of the room and Nathan looked at his companion expectantly.

Sara took a bite of bread with cheese and ham, staring into the fire, not saying anything.

Nathan felt disappointment fill his chest. Once again she retreated into herself, once again showing hesitancy at their bargain. Nearly every moment of silence since he had picked her up earlier that day radiated reluctance and he was growing weary of it.

Frustration replaced the disappointment. He had meant what he had said earlier in the coach; he had no wish to be with a woman who did not want to be with him. He never had made it a habit to force women and he was not about to start now.

She had been the one to come to him; in retrospect, she had experienced a moment of insanity and he knew it—he knew it and Primordial Nathan knew it, but they both had been so blinded by the prospect of laying claim to the dream Nymph that they had disregarded that tiny, miniscule, pertinent fact.

Of course Sara Collins would not want him. She was an innocent, a governess, a pure soul who forgave men for sins against her. Why would she ever want to be with a man who treated her as he did? He never should have agreed to her ludicrous proposition; she deserved better, and by agreeing to it, he once again proved to himself just how unworthy of her he was.

But, he rationalized, it was not his fault they were in this situation. She was the one who had propositioned him. He was not the one showing a decided lack of enthusiasm. He had done everything he had promised thus far, had even gone out of his way to show her consideration by selecting Cloverfields, and this was how she repaid him.

No, she was the one who was reneging on their bargain and he should feel no guilt whatsoever for his part. They would not be here if it weren’t for her. He might have flirted with her in Taft, stolen a few kisses, but he never would have taken the step to ruining her if she had not instigated it.

“Fine,” he bit out, making no effort to keep the anger from his voice. She blinked out of her trance and looked at him. “I’ll tell Mrs. Taggert to repack your things. We will return to Taft in the morning. I will spend the night in the stable.”

She blinked her large gray eyes at him, confusion clearly identifiable in them. “Excuse me?”

Nathan rose. “I have no wish to damage your reputation any further. If we return in the morning, we can likely find some way to explain your absence.”

“I—”

He started to move toward his dressing room. “I suggest in the future that you tell the gentleman you are with that you have changed your mind. You could have contacted me at any time to do so. Leading me on to this extent when you so clearly do not want to be here is the far less honorable thing.”

Inside the dressing room, he grabbed a few things and stalked out into the main room, intent on leaving without another word to her. She was little more than a tease, and if she had been a gentleman, he would have called her out for treating him in such a dishonorable manner. To have promised something and then reneged—it made no difference to him what she had promised. It was the same moral as if she had taken money from him, promising to invest it in something, only to be revealed as a confidence trickster—and that was considered criminal.

Nathan retrieved his cane and risked one last glance at her, some part of him wanting to see her reaction: Would it be disappointment or relief? He didn’t know which one he was hoping for.

But he received neither. Instead, Nathan saw her hand pressed to her heaving chest, her pale face tingeing blue as no oxygen entered her lungs. He stared in surprise, never having expected to see such a thing happen to her. Her mouth worked and the panic in her eyes screamed at him to help.

It was the panic that snapped him into action. Dropping what was in his hands, he closed the distance between them in seconds, cursing his limp for slowing him down. “Sara, what is the matter?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. No sense in causing her more distress. “You can’t breathe?” At her head shake, he asked, “What can I do to help?”