by Anne Herries
‘I am perfectly capable of looking after my own affairs.’ Sarah raised her head proudly. ‘I believe that was the dinner gong. We should go in or we shall keep the others waiting.’
He inclined his head, offering her his arm. ‘As you say, Miss Goodrum. Please accept my apologies if I have wronged you.’
Sarah hesitated and then placed the tips of her fingers on his arm, her head high as they walked towards the dining room. She could only keep her distance and hope he would do the same.
The last thing she’d expected when she came here was to find herself having to fend off the advances of a man she suspected was a rake. Charming and undeniably attractive, he would make most female hearts flutter, but Sarah had come here to escape from the unwanted attentions of a similar man.
Had she been less stubborn she might have fled the next morning, but she had no intention of letting Lord Myers drive her away.
Rupert watched the governess across the table as she talked and laughed with her pupils. She seemed very at home, very much as if she were accustomed to dining in style, and showed no hesitation in choosing the correct glasses and silver. Her manner was calm and assured, and, apart from the dark looks she sent his way now and then, she seemed perfectly at ease. He knew himself at fault for that kiss, but she’d looked at him with such a challenge in her eyes that he’d been tempted. If she were truly what she claimed, he had wronged her, but his instincts told him that she was far from the downtrodden drudge that most women in her situation became after a few years.
The dress she was wearing this evening was far too stylish to belong to a governess. It was plain and simple, but in perfect taste, and must have cost as much as she would earn in a year. How could she possibly own a dress like that if she were what she claimed to be? It must have been given to her, possibly made to fit her—and who would give a governess such a gift? Yet it was not what he would have purchased for a mistress. Instead it had an understated elegance that a lady with refined taste might choose.
The gown had made him think she must be an adventuress, which had led him into that foolish kiss. He was here to mentor his uncle’s grandchildren and the last thing he should contemplate was an affair with their governess. Perhaps a grateful employer had given her the gown, as a gift?
If that were the case, he had definitely wronged her, but it did not explain her manner. Summoned to eat with their employer, most governesses would show reserve or some awkwardness even if their manners were excellent, as hers were. No, she was accustomed to dining like this—and she felt it her right.
Only a woman who felt assured of her place in the world could be so at home in the situation he had forced her to accept. Had he met her in society he would not have placed her in the upper echelons, but she would certainly be accepted. Why, then, was she a governess? Had her family fallen on hard times? Yet if she were in desperate need of a job she would not be so confident—so assured. His suspicion deepened. Rupert had reason enough to distrust the female sex. His heart broken when he was no more than a lad, he’d never offered it again. Since then he’d amused himself with ladies of a certain kind, most of them married or widowed. A few of his mistresses had been courtesans, prepared to sell themselves to the highest bidder, and were usually not to be trusted.
Miss Goodrum did not follow the pattern for a downtrodden governess, which made him certain that she was not what she claimed. It followed that she was hiding something—but rather than fear he’d seen a challenge in her eyes. And she had responded to that kiss.
Her manner had aroused Rupert’s hunting instincts. He found her intriguing, and, yes, had he met her in other circumstances, he might have attempted to make her his mistress.
Who was she and why was she here? Their eyes met across the table and he smiled, seeing the uncertainty in hers. Had he made an enemy of her? Rupert suddenly found himself hoping that he could recover the lost ground. She looked so right somehow as she laughed and teased John and encouraged Francesca. He experienced a strange emotion that he could not place—as if he had found a place of content, of belonging.
For the first time in an age he wanted to be a part of that family scene. It struck him then that Miss Goodrum was more like an aunt or an elder sister to Francesca, and the smile on her lips was both generous and sweet.
Yet there was a mystery here. He’d sensed it from the start and he took hold of his emotions, reining them in. A woman’s smile could deceive so easily. He’d been burned as a young man, his pride ripped to pieces and his heart damaged. Since then he’d chosen carefully and made sure that none of the ladies he took to his bed had buried their claws in his skin.
The governess had claws. There was passion and fire beneath the cool exterior. It would certainly prove amusing to discover who she really was and why she’d come here.
What was she hiding from?
John was sent to bed as soon as dinner was over. Francesca was allowed to drink a dish of tea in the drawing room with her governess, but as soon as Lord Myers joined them, he sent her off to bed. Sarah immediately rose to her feet to follow. He caught her wrist, as she would have passed him.
The candles were burning low in their sconces and the fire had ceased to burn fiercely. Shadows seemed to creep over the room, making it feel intimate and tempting her to stay—but she must not!
‘There is no need for you to leave, Miss Goodrum.’
‘I think there is every need, sir. Please allow me to pass.’ Sarah’s heart raced at his nearness, the mystique of his scent powerful and attractive. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, knowing that this was a dangerous situation. She must go before he tried to seduce her.
He let go reluctantly, his expression odd and almost regretful. ‘I am sorry for what I said earlier. I was testing you. You must admit that dress is not the usual attire for a governess.’
‘No, I suppose not. It belongs to the time when my father was alive. He bought it for me as a gift. My father was careful with his money, sir, and he spent it on me.’
Sarah avoided his searching gaze, though her words were not far from the truth. She’d purchased the gown when her first period of mourning was over with the money her beloved father had left her and because it was a favourite she’d kept it. Had she worn some of her other newer gowns she could not have hoped to keep her secret.
‘Then I apologise for casting aspersions on your character. Come, Miss Goodrum, will you not forgive me?’
‘Consider yourself forgiven, my lord. I only wish to be on good terms with you.’
She deliberately made her voice flat, calm and emotionless, hoping that her reserve would make him step back.
‘Then I shall not tease you again. We must not allow our charges to sense animosity between us.’
‘No, that would be unfortunate,’ she agreed, bringing her eyes up to his. His expression set her heart thumping. She had seen that look in a man’s eyes before and it disturbed her. Normally she had no hesitation in dealing with unwanted seducers, but this man was different, more powerful and compelling than any other she’d met. ‘We shall try to be easy in one another’s company for their sakes.’
‘May I not be counted as a friend?’
‘I think you ask a little too much, sir. I hardly know you—but perhaps in time we may progress to friendship.’
‘Very well. I was wrong to assume you were an adventuress—but my offer remains. If you are in trouble, I should be glad to be of service.’
‘Thank you. I shall bear that in mind. Now, if you will excuse me, sir.’
‘Very well. I shall not detain you against your will. I shall take John riding first thing in the morning, but he will be back in time for his lessons.’
‘You must do as you think fit, sir. I believe he has a great deal of energy that needs an outlet. Riding, fencing and other sports may help him to settle to his studies.’
‘I believe so. Goodnight, Miss Goodrum. Pleasant dreams.’
‘Thank you.’
Sarah
inclined her head and walked on past him. Her heart had raced at his touch, but she had clamped down on her foolish emotions. Gentlemen in his position too often took advantage of female employees who could not easily escape their attentions. He had promised not to bother her again, but the look in his eyes had said something different.
She could not deny that she had felt the pull of his attraction, but he was not for her. As Miss Hardcastle she might attract proposals from gentlemen who needed a fortune to finance their extravagant lifestyles, but if she was not prepared to buy herself a husband, she certainly had no intention of becoming any man’s mistress. Sarah might choose marriage if the right opportunity presented itself—but not to a man like Lord Myers.
She did not know his fortune, but she recognised the sensuality of the man, the attraction that must make him popular with ladies of his own class—and others. Sarah had no doubt that he was a physical man who took mistresses whenever he chose—and that was not the kind of man she needed in her life. Such a man could not be trusted. As charming as he was, she would never be certain that he would not stray into another’s bed. Sarah knew that only a very beautiful and clever woman would capture the heart of a man like that, and she could not hope that he would want more from her than a brief affair to enliven a dull stay in the country.
Nor did she wish it, of course. When Sarah married, if she ever did, it would be to a quiet man who enjoyed books; a man who would be there if she needed him but also be content to stay in the background and allow her to continue to run her mills, should she wish to do so. Sarah had fought for the right to run her mills, but was not sure whether she wished to continue. Were she happily married with a family she thought she might be content to let her husband take over her affairs. However, she did not intend to be dictated to and told she must relinquish them entirely. She could not imagine that Lord Myers would ever be content to let his wife do something he would consider beneath her dignity.
He was a very attractive man, but his character left much to be desired from what she’d seen thus far. He would not make a suitable husband for Miss Sarah Hardcastle and might run through her fortune in an instant, given the opportunity.
She had not run away from one fortune hunter to fall into the arms of another, even if she did find him attractive. No such thing! She was not truly attracted to him.
It was merely that she had been lonely since her father died, of course. Her father had been such a loving companion and what she really wanted was someone to take his place, to care for her and watch over her, but demand little other than warm affection.
Lord Myers would not have received more than a moment’s fleeting attention from her had they met in company. It was only that she was forced to live in what was undoubtedly an intimate situation with him.
What had brought him here? He did not seem the kind of man to relish the obligations that his uncle had asked of him. She would have thought him more at home in the drawing rooms of London society, rather than playing mentor to a young boy. Why should he give up his time and his way of life to come down here?
He accused her of hiding, but perhaps he too had something to hide? What had made him the man he was? Sarah wondered if some secret lay in his past. He was of an age to have been married for some years. Surely he must want a wife and children of his own—though of course she was assuming he had not for she knew so little about him. However, Francesca would surely have mentioned it if he had a wife?
So why had he stayed single? What had brought that hard glitter to his eyes and the brittle layer that hid the real man from the casual eye? He had a sense of humour, she knew—so what had made him so suspicious of her? Was it just that he did not trust women in general?
Oh, this was ridiculous! She must dismiss him from her mind for it was dangerous to allow a man like that into her thoughts.
Despite her determination to be sensible, Sarah found her thoughts dwelling too often on the handsome Lord Rupert as she undressed. She pulled down the covers on her bed, looking for any unpleasant objects that a teenage boy might have placed there as a prank, but found nothing untoward. Obviously, she’d passed her first test with the children at least.
She would forget their mentor and concentrate her thoughts on them. She was here to be of service to the children.
Francesca wasn’t a child, though. She was on the verge of womanhood. In past centuries she might have been married by now; she might even have had a child of her own. To treat her as a child would be foolish. Sarah had taken to the girl and, as she slipped into bed and leaned forwards to blow out the candle beside it, she was determined to do what she could to make her life better. She would enjoy getting to know her charge and she would find it pleasant to share her own love of reading, poetry, history and even the occasional novel.
There was a wealth of books on the library shelves, including some with pictures of mythical beasts that she thought might appeal to John. Perhaps she wasn’t a conventional governess, but she was quite capable of giving them both an education. Sarah loved to play the pianoforte and she thought Francesca might enjoy playing a duet with her.
Life here could be extremely comfortable and pleasant. She would be able to walk first thing in the morning if her lessons were not to start until nine-thirty. She would have liked to ride, but wasn’t sure that privilege would be granted to a governess.
For a moment she felt a pang of regret. Her own horses would miss her and so would her dogs—and some of her servants. She had written to reassure everyone that she was quite safe. She would have to make sure that she kept in touch with her agents or they might become anxious about her and set up a search to find her.
Closing her eyes, Sarah drifted off to sleep, though her dreams were unaccountably disturbed by the look on a man’s face.
‘Who are you?’ he asked. ‘I shall find you out … you cannot hide from me …’
Rupert frowned as he brooded over his glass of wine after the governess had gone up. The shadows seemed to fold about him and he was aware that the room seemed empty. He was a fool to allow the woman under his skin, because very likely she would turn out to be the adventuress he’d imagined her at first. Yet something about her had captured his interest and he’d wanted her to stay after the children had gone up.
It was years since Rupert had enjoyed feminine company—other than in bed. Most society women bored him and he was wary of foolish young misses who were out to capture a husband. To have sat talking into the night with an intelligent woman would be pleasant, he thought.
In London he was seldom aware that he was lonely because he spent his evenings either at his club in the company of male friends, drinking, gambling or talking of politics and the price of stocks, or with his mistress. Had his uncle been here he might not have realised his lack, but in this situation it had come to him forcibly that his life was far from satisfactory.
As a young man Rupert had imagined that he would fall in love, marry and rear a large family, but a woman who preferred money and a superior title had shattered those dreams. He’d taken his bruised heart and damaged pride off to war and had for a time found content with his fellow officers—but when they turned against him …
Rupert’s mind shied away from the memories. Mixed with the pain of seeing his men broken and dying, their blood spilling out on the hot dry earth, what happened later was too painful to contemplate. He’d shut away his pain and hurt, just as he’d shut out the humiliation he’d received at a woman’s hands, determined to rise above the petty spite of others. And he’d succeeded so well that he’d come to be what he wanted others to think him—careless, stern and reserved. Rupert needed no one’s approval. He was his own man, ruled by principles of iron and he answered to no one. Only a few ever saw the other side of him—a side he had almost forgotten.
Once he’d known how to enjoy the small pleasures in life. He’d known how to love, to show caring and to give and take joy from being intimate with another.
That was years ago, be
fore he’d learned that no woman was to be trusted. They were all the same—greedy, grabbing, jealous little kittens that liked to be stroked and given a saucer of cream, but would scratch you if you annoyed them.
Undoubtedly, the governess was exactly the same, though for the moment he confessed to being more than a little intrigued, if only by the mystery he sensed in her past.
Yet she had reached out to him in a way few other women ever had, arousing feelings of need and desire with just one flash of her gorgeous eyes.
Sarah awoke when a maid drew back the curtains. She yawned and stretched, her mind still lost in dreams as she said, ‘Good morning, Tilly. Have you brought my chocolate?’
‘It’s Agnes, Miss Goodrum—and you told Mrs Brancaster you would take breakfast downstairs.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Sarah said, the realisation of where she was returning with a rush. She had given herself away and could only hope the maid would not repeat her words to others. ‘If I go down immediately I shall be finished by the time the family is up. I do not see why you should wait on me.’
‘I’ve brought your hot water, miss—as Mrs Brancaster told me.’
‘Thank you, that was kind.’ Sarah threw back the covers. On waking she’d thought she was at home and her own maid was bringing her the hot chocolate she took every morning before she rose.
It would be a while before she accustomed herself to the life she had chosen—a very different life, but one that had its own compensations.
After Agnes had gone, Sarah washed, dressed in one of Hester’s sensible gowns and, on looking from the window to see the sun was shining, decided against a shawl. Since she was walking on private grounds she saw no reason to wear a bonnet and left her room without one.
She found her way down the back stairs to a side entrance that led into a walled garden. The bricks were faded, trailed with roses and clematis, and would look a picture in a few weeks from now. However, she was accustomed to long country walks near her home and left the pleasant garden to explore more of the estate. She had insufficient time to walk as far as the village she’d seen, but would certainly do so on her day off. Hester had been promised one a month, which could be saved and taken together for visits home. Sarah would require only a few hours of freedom, perhaps in the early mornings or at night. If necessary, she might have to visit her home to reassure her anxious friends—if she continued here for more than a few weeks, of course.