“No, my lord.”
At her tone, he narrowed his eyes. His experience with junior officers had taught him the subtleties of covert insubordination, enough to recognize the same when it came from his staff. Cecelia Sanford had been born to a family whose aspirations had included a decent match; someone ought to have at least taught her better manners.
God help them both if that person turned out to be him.
“But in my defense,” she went on, “I was not leading Jeremy anywhere you claimed off-limits. In fact, I was attempting to deflect his attention from that very spot.”
A gust of wind plastered the thin muslin of her morning gown to her body.
Damn it all, he did not need that image. The cheeky little chit he recalled had blossomed into a woman, all lush curves and the promise of sin. Blood flooded his groin, and he shifted in the saddle. “By leading him toward it?”
“I understand how things must have appeared, but we were playing a game of sorts. He wasn’t to follow me.” The breeze tugged at her bonnet, loosening a strand of dark hair from her coiffure. It hung in front of her eyes, taunting him to dismount and brush it off her brow. To test if the skin of her forehead was as soft and smooth as it appeared.
He tamped down the impulse. “A game? I have not employed you to play games with the boy. You are to provide him with the rudiments of education so that eventually he will be ready for a tutor.”
“A tutor?” She scrubbed at that damnable lock of hair, but it hung stubbornly in place. Just as mule-headed as Cecelia herself. “You’re actually planning on teaching him Latin? And might I ask to what purpose?”
He refused to give in to the temptation to dismount. To approach her. She was a governess, for God’s sake, and the younger sister of a man he’d once deemed a friend. Reason enough to stay away, no matter how deucedly attractive he found her. “That is the accepted method for gaining entrance to a proper school when the time comes.”
“And what will you do when he shows no desire to deal with the vagaries of the first declension, let alone the third?”
He arched a brow at her, an expression usually guaranteed to cow the most recalcitrant servant. “And what do you know of such things?”
A smile flitted across her lips, evaporating so quickly, he wondered if he’d really seen it. “Perhaps I listened in when Alexander had lessons. But no matter. You are skirting the issue.”
“And what is the issue?” Besides the fact that he was the employer and thus set the rules.
“I’ve no idea if Latin is among his aptitudes or even his interests, but he has shown me one area that fascinates him.”
Good Lord, he knew what was coming. One of the other governesses had tried to discuss the boy with him. And what was her name? He’d been through so many he couldn’t recall, even if the conversation hadn’t taken place all that long ago. “I do not wish to discuss the boy’s obsession with those soldiers of his.”
“How can you not?” She stepped toward him, one hand outstretched, approaching his thigh. Near. Too near. “This might be the key to convincing him reading and writing are worth learning.”
God help her if she so much as grazed her fingertips against his leg. He wasn’t at all sure he could take responsibility for the outcome, not the way his body yearned toward hers. Not the way his cock came fully erect at the thought of her touch. He suppressed an urge to rein Judas away.
How long since he’d let a woman touch him? Not since Lydia. And even that had been ages before he’d lost her.
With his wife, he’d felt like a whole being. Complete. That was, until he’d discovered the truth.
And now, what kind of man would give in to his appetites like some mindless animal, no matter how long he’d done without female companionship? He ought to have learned to control himself long since.
“The last thing he needs is to be encouraged toward the military.” He forced the statement through his teeth as precisely as if he were giving orders. “Do you think the army would take him in his state?”
Her fingers wavered, and she curled them into a fist. Thank God. He well remembered her as a girl, those hands always in motion, fluttering like birds, brushing against various and sundry. She’d damned well better keep them away from him.
“I can understand you wanting to protect him from danger, but at his age, he has plenty of time to grow up and realize what is possible and what isn’t. And in the meantime, you could foster his interest elsewhere.”
She swept out an arm, meant no doubt to encompass his estate. “You’ve been inspecting your land, have you not? Speaking with your tenants and whatever else gentlemen do about their property. You might take him with you next time. Let him see what you do. Let him start getting an idea of the routine.”
He broke in on her appeal the moment she paused for breath. “No.”
She blinked. “Why on earth not? It’s what makes the most sense in Jeremy’s situation. Why wouldn’t you take him with you?”
“For one thing, you must have seen he’s a danger to himself.”
“Can you not get him up on a horse?” Something snapped in her eyes. “I’m certain he’d love to learn to ride. Especially if you taught him.”
“I?” He forced his gaze to remain on her face. “And what makes you think I’m up to the task? The entire reason I’ve taken on so many governesses is to relieve myself of a job I neither have the heart nor the time to pursue. And you want me to give the boy riding lessons?”
“Have you even seen how he looks at you? Good heavens.” She clamped her lips shut for a moment as if to hold back something much more colorful. Her cheeks darkened to a becoming shade of pink, nearly the same hue as her lips, a hue that drove him mad with curiosity about more intimate parts. “The expression on his face just now. He’d give anything to spend a little more time with you.”
At her words, a burning sensation ignited in his gut, but he snuffed it just as quickly.
“We all want things we cannot have,” he muttered. If the boy learned that truth while he was young, it might save him some pain down the road. “At any rate, I have hired out that position. To you, come to think of it.” And damn the circumstances that led to such desperation. If anything was increasingly clear, it was her utter unsuitability to the job. Or at least, she was ill-suited to remaining in a house with him. As large as his manor had always seemed, three floors were suddenly not enough. Not when a single flight of stairs stood between his chamber and hers. “You’ve been here less than a day, and already you’ve failed in your duty.”
“My duty as I’ve understood it is to teach him to read and write.” She folded her hands in front of her, but he knew better than to take that gesture for submission. She was more likely restraining an urge to fling them in his face. Or slap him. “I am merely suggesting a course of action that will facilitate matters.”
“Your course of action involves fobbing your duty off on me, and I will not have it.” Best she understand him from the outset. “You are, however, fortunate. I cannot dismiss you yet.”
“Dismiss me?” Her eyes went round. “You haven’t even given me a chance.”
He’d given her as much chance as the others. “As it happens, you now have two days to prove your methods.”
Her mouth worked for a moment. “Two days? And what do you expect me to accomplish in that amount of time?”
“Certainly, he can learn to write his name legibly in two days.” There. He’d even make matters easy on her.
“And what, pray tell, will transpire in two days that you so generously allot me so much time?”
“I shall need a woman at dinner to round out the guests.”
“Round out the guests,” she echoed faintly. “You’re keeping me on for a social occasion?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. Your brother and his wife are coming to supper.”
The wash of pink drained from her cheeks at last. “You can’t have my brother over. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”
Cecelia clapped a hand over her mouth. Blast it all, she hadn’t meant to reveal that.
Lindenhurst merely sat back in the saddle and regarded her with an air of infuriating superiority. At least he was no longer examining her as if he was imagining what she might look like beneath her garments. But that was the least of her concerns. Experience had taught her how to deal with men who insisted on ogling her.
She had far less experience with a situation where she spoke without thinking, even if the situation was his fault. He’d invited her brother to dinner and blurted out the information with the expectation she’d take it in stride. If he’d known all that had transpired between her and Alexander, he’d never have placed her in a position where she was responsible for his child’s welfare.
“Is that so?” he drawled. He all but removed his gloves to inspect his fingernails. “And how, pray tell, was he to act as a character reference if he wasn’t even aware you were seeking employment?”
She lowered her brows and stared hard, pretending she could turn her gaze into a flame and burn straight through him. Brazen. She must forge ahead boldly to stop Lindenhurst from tossing her out on her backside.
“You were not meant to follow up on my character references.” At least not until she’d proven her worth to him. And to Alexander. But then if she’d proven her worth, Lindenhurst wouldn’t bother following up on references, would he?
“Indeed? And what do you imagine my purpose was in asking for them, if not to acquire confirmation of your good character?”
“You were supposed to take me at my word, based on long familiarity with my family.” And blast him, why could he not leave it at that?
“Now that you’ve shown me how unwise such a course would be, you’d best explain how you’ve come to seek employment in my household without your brother’s knowledge.”
“Haven’t I already answered that question to your satisfaction?” Settle on a story and stick to it. If she didn’t once waver in her conviction that she was offering him the absolute truth, he’d have no choice but to take her at her word. “You know quite well my brother has suffered a financial setback, and I chose not to burden him with my upkeep.”
He pressed his lips together as if to hold back a sigh. In the next moment, he swung his leg stiffly over the rump of that chestnut beast of his and hauled himself to the ground. When his feet touched down, he winced and swayed on the spot.
His expression, as he limped toward her, solidified to the consistency of granite, a mix of sheer will and threat. Her heart somersaulted before pattering out of control.
“The truth this time.” And how did he manage such an air of command while speaking so quietly? He towered over her, looking down the finely honed knife-edge of his nose. “If your brother wished to commit your upkeep to someone else, he would have seen about marrying you off.”
She fixed her gaze on the top button of his morning coat, only inches away. Better there than slightly higher, where she might take in the breadth of his shoulders, perfectly highlighted by expert tailoring. A sharp breeze whipped between them, stirring the points of his collar, tossing her hems against his Hessians. “My brother and I had a difference of opinion. It seemed best for me to leave and seek my fortune elsewhere.”
There, she could tell him that much and not lie. If only that much would satisfy him.
“I see.” His hand tightened about the reins, the leather of his gloves crackling slightly. “And what was the nature of your disagreement?”
“As a matter of fact, we disagreed on the manner in which he was raising his daughters.” That was also close enough to the truth that she could voice the words without forcing them to sound overly light.
“And your response was to run to me? An extreme measure, don’t you think? Especially when your brother has the ultimate authority when it comes to his own offspring.” Only his lips moved with each syllable. His jaw remained tight, as if pure will were all that maintained him in place. “Doubly so in that he’s recently married.”
“Yes, well, his marriage was another reason I felt it best to leave.”
“You dislike his wife?”
On the contrary. She adored Henrietta for her singular ability and willingness to set Alexander down whenever he needed it. Which was often. Cecelia rather suspected Alexander adored Henrietta for similar reasons. “Not at all, but with them being recently married, I reckoned they’d like a bit more privacy.”
He opened his mouth, no doubt to say more, but his shoulders tensed, and he wavered in place. The chestnut shuffled its feet and let out a snort.
“Are you all right?” Cecelia asked, grateful for the excuse to divert the subject. Good heavens, the man’s knees wobbled so, they looked likely to give way.
“Shouldn’t have dismounted.” He forced the words through his teeth. “Damned leg is too weak.”
He reeled on the spot, like a drunkard at the end of a long evening’s festivities. Nothing for it, if he was about to fall—she didn’t think she possessed the strength to help him up. She ducked beneath his arm and set her shoulder against his chest, lending him her weight, such as it was. He leaned into her, surrounding her with his scent, as crisp as she remembered it. Before she could stop herself, she’d drawn in a deep lungful of his cleanness.
And then she made a colossal mistake. She looked up to find him staring back, jade eyes wide with shock and something else that darkened them. Awareness. Longing. Want. His lips hovered close, so close. All she had to do was push herself up on her toes, and she could meet that invitation. Her fifteen-year-old self would have ached to do so but not possessed the nerve to try. Her adult self could barely believe he was watching her with such frank hunger. It was nearly enough to lend her the nerve she’d lacked as a girl. Not that she possessed such a desire.
Oh, no. She was long over that infatuation. She’d known enough other kisses—from gentlemen and scoundrels alike—that she needn’t be curious about Lindenhurst. One man tasted much the same as the next, of salt and too much wine, generally.
“Do you need me to help you back to the manor?” Drat it all, but her voice sounded oddly husky.
“Take Judas.” He pressed the reins into her hand. “Lead him back to the stables. I’ll manage on my own.”
“Jeremy didn’t want me to hold his hand, either.” She probably should have kept that thought to herself, but wasn’t it just like a man to refuse assistance?
“If you think to shame me into accepting—”
“Clearly you cannot manage the terraces on your own, but if you’re planning on being stubborn about such matters, I’m just as inclined to leave you to your own devices.” She disengaged and stepped back. His coloring had improved somewhat, and he stood steady on his feet.
He glanced away for a moment, jaw working. Sifting through a mental list of possible replies, no doubt, but not finding anything appropriate. Most certainly not anything polite.
“Yes, and you always were full of yourself,” she added, not particularly caring if he took her comment amiss. Her hand tightened on the reins. “One of these days, though, you’ll admit to needing me. You do, you know, whether or not you like the idea. Whether or not you think I’m suited to being a governess, I’m all you have at the moment.”
Chapter Five
She led the chestnut gelding up the winding gravel path and sought out the head groom. The stables were large and airy, just as she recalled. She breathed in fresh, hay-scented air in hopes it would calm her racing pulse. It had no business behaving as it had when she was still fifteen and innocent.
She shouldn’t even bother herself with her reaction to Lindenhurst, not when she’d have to face her brother in two days. Not when she’d have to face his outrage—and he would, without a doubt, express his outrage once he learned the exact nature of her position here. He’d never been able to help himself when it came to anything that infringed on his rigid code of honor.
Spotting a grizzle-h
aired man dressed in rough nankeen breeches, she shook aside her worries and approached. “Your pardon, Mr.—”
At her expectant pause, he touched his cap. “Just Regan.”
“You’ll want to send someone after Lord Lindenhurst. He’s near the copse at the end of the lowest terrace, and I’m not certain he can walk so far.”
The man pitched a forkful of straw onto the muck pile. “You’ll never have me believe old Judas threw him.” He laid aside his pitchfork, took the reins, and patted the beast’s neck. “Gentle old boy, this one is.”
“Oh, no. Lord Lindenhurst dismounted.” Cecelia could say that much, but she wasn’t inclined to confess the nature of their conversation that led to Lindenhurst alighting.
“Why he’d insist on dismounting, I’ll never know.” Regan tied off Judas’s reins and unbuckled the girth. “He can’t get himself into the saddle without a block, what with his wounds.”
“And he could hardly ask me to give him a leg up.” Thankfully, he hadn’t. She’d had more than enough contact with him for one day.
“Stubborn beggar.” He laid the saddle aside and smoothed a hand across Judas’s withers. “Begging your pardon, miss.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “I shall not breathe a word of your thoughts, especially as they mirror my own.”
“Won’t do no good to send someone, at any rate.” He picked up a brush and swiped it across the horse’s broad back. “He’ll make it back to the house under his own power if it kills him.”
She glanced down the row of spacious boxes. Several bony heads poked over the stalls. An enormous blood bay pricked its ears and let out a whicker. She really ought to get back to Jeremy, but a thought stopped her. “How is it Lord Lindenhurst can ride across his estates when his legs give him such trouble?”
“Funny thing about injuries.” In the midst of stroking, he paused. “Sometimes a man has an easy time sitting a horse when he can barely walk. And a clever beast will adjust to his master’s comfort.”
What a Lady Demands Page 4