Follow me on Facebook for even more updates and join Sophie Barnes’ Historical Romance Group for fun book related posts, games, discussions, and giveaways.
Once again, I thank you for your interest in my books. Please take a moment to leave a review since this can help other readers discover stories they’ll love. And please continue reading for an excerpt from Mr. Grier and The Governess.
Sneak Peek!
Get a sneak peek of the sequel!
Keep reading for an excerpt from
Mr. Grier and The Governess
A Brazen Beauties novel
Chapter 1
Somerset, 1820
Misery filled Olivia Bernadette Poole. It was in the frosty February air, the drizzle dampening her cloak, the dreary churchyard in which she stood, and most crippling of all, her heart. Numbed by the cold, by the final loss that would now give her freedom, and the guilt this awareness stirred in her breast, she stared at the three solemn headstones before her.
A tear or two would be expected – a welcome relief even – but Olivia had no more to shed. She’d spilled them all when death had reached out and grabbed her beloved sister, Agnes, thirteen years earlier. Her mother had followed two years later, and now Olivia stood here again, bidding her final farewell to her father, the vicar.
Most fathers rushed to marry off their daughters, to reduce the financial burden. But when Agnes had fallen ill and Mama’s sight had started to fail, Olivia’s responsibility had been made clear. She was expected to stay and care for them all until none was left.
Hands balled at her sides, she swallowed that thought and stared at the ground.
Flowers, already drooping on account of the weather, adorned the freshly dug grave. Did she miss him? No. Distant, devout, and unforgiving, her father had been a hard man to love. But there was one thing for which Olivia would always thank him, and that was the education she had received every morning at his insistence.
As much as she’d loathed the strictness with which each lesson had been carried out while she was a child, she was grateful now for the knowledge he had imparted to her. For although she was now five and thirty, unmarried and without prospects, she knew she had the tools with which to make something of herself.
Olivia shifted her gaze to Agnes’s grave. The words her sister had spoken when she knew her end was near swirled through her mind like ghostly whispers. “Promise me, Livy. You must live the life I shall be denied.”
“It will not come to that,” Olivia told her firmly. The sun had warmed the air that day, offering Agnes a pleasant reprieve from her constant struggle to breathe. So they’d taken a blanket outside to the garden for a picnic beneath the cherry tree.
“You have the list,” Agnes had said, her head in Olivia’s lap. “Promise me you will find the means to escape this place so you can complete the tasks we’ve jotted down.”
“I have a better plan,” Olivia said while brushing stray locks from her sister’s cheek, “and that is for you to complete the tasks yourself.”
A smile had pulled at Agnes’s lips – so vibrant it latched itself onto Olivia’s memory forever. “On days like today I feel as though such a thing might be possible, but if it isn’t and I must go, then it will be up to you.”
Unwilling to disappoint her sister, Olivia had sworn to do as she asked. One month later, while shaking with sorrow, she’d dressed her for burial. That day, so achingly beautiful despite its bleakness, had marked her mother’s denial of God while prompting her father to cling more firmly to his faith. For Olivia’s part, she no longer knew what she believed, besides the fact that life was horribly unfair.
Reaching into her pocket she clasped the piece of paper upon which Agnes had listed the things she’d regretted not being able to do – all the things she’d wanted Olivia to do in her stead. Olivia had thought it a lark until Agnes had made her promise to see them all through.
Stepping forward, Olivia placed her hand on Agnes’s headstone. “I made a vow to you, dearest, and since I’m no longer bound to this place, I shall strive to fulfill it.”
A wind swept through the churchyard, causing the naked oak tree branches to sway as if in agreement. A blackbird squawked, seconding the motion, before flapping its wings and lifting toward the sky. Expelling a heavy breath, Olivia turned away from her family and walked the short distance to the inn where she’d recently taken up lodgings. Eager to escape the confining walls of her childhood home, she’d been ready to vacate the modest stone cottage as soon as the new vicar arrived.
Before retiring to her room she collected the daily paper and ordered a bowl of soup. If she was to honor her sister’s memory, she would need funds. She knit her brow and acknowledged for the first time the impressive task she faced. Agnes had not been delusional with regard to her station, but she had been a dreamer and her dreams had now become Olivia’s.
She sighed as she took a seat at the small wooden table in her room. Steam rose from the onion soup, inviting her to eat. Instead, she unfolded the crinkled piece of paper she and Agnes had filled with ideas. Each item, carefully penned while succumbing to wishful sighs and laughter, had lifted their spirits as darkness crept closer.
A strange mixture of nervousness and anticipation swirled in Olivia’s stomach. She was a village spinster, raised with the utmost of piety. Her duty toward her family had been clear. With her mother’s ailing sight and her father’s later decline there had been no hope of marriage. Yet now…
A smile pulled at her lips as she traced the words on her sister’s list with one finger. Sleep beneath the stars. Learn how to ride. Wear something scandalous. See London and Paris. Etc.
Hmm…
Olivia grabbed the newspaper, turned to the advertisement page and began searching for means of employment. A position as governess would suit her well, but it was unlikely she would be hired as such without credentials.
Her gaze paused on a notification.
Maid required with immediate effect. Please apply at Sutton Hall, Varney, Somerset.
Olivia considered the curt words, undoubtedly penned by the butler. She bit her lip. Becoming a maid was by no means ideal, but it would be a start. She thought on that for a moment. If the wages were good and she saved them, it would be better than some of the other positions listed, like that of charwoman or laundress.
And since she’d be working at an estate, she might even have the chance to accomplish some of the tasks on the list while there, like tasting champagne and reading the sort of books Papa would have forbidden. There would, she hoped, be opportunity.
Excitement bubbled inside her.
Yes. This could work. If only temporarily.
Satisfied with her plan, Olivia set the paper aside and dug into her meal with renewed hopefulness and a wonderful sense of ambition. Tomorrow she would rise early and set off for Sutton Hall.
But in the weeks that followed, Olivia learned that her best intentions could easily be defeated by exhaustion. For although she’d gained the position she sought, the job wore her out. Mostly because the young lady of the house, Miss Juliana Edwards, oftentimes changed her mind on a whim. One second she wanted a bath, the next a picnic outside in the garden.