A Family for the Widowed Governess

by Ann Lethbridge

  ‘He was,’ she said. She found herself unable to say more. After all, one did not express one’s thankfulness at a person’s demise, even if in one’s heart one saw it as divine intervention.

  Fortunately, the men had finished their desserts.

  ‘It seems it is time for me to withdraw and leave you gentlemen to your port and your discussion of politics. No doubt you will have all England’s problems solved before the end of the evening.’

  They rose as she stood. She dipped a slight curtsy. ‘I will bid you good evening, gentlemen. It was very pleasant to meet you, Reverend Purvis. I hope our paths will cross again.’

  The vicar bowed. ‘Indeed, Lady Marguerite, the pleasure was all mine.’

  A footman opened the door for her to pass through and she hurried upstairs. As a general rule, the lady of the house would take tea in the drawing room, where the gentlemen would join her after they had finished imbibing their port, but since she was not Lord Compton’s wife or his hostess, she could make her escape.

  Upstairs, she checked on the children in the nursery. Lucy glanced up from her mending with a smile. ‘The children are sleeping, my lady.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Marguerite said and retired to her own chamber. She seated herself at the writing desk to compose her letter to Red. Bother the minister. But this really was the only thing she could do. And when Red insisted she returned to live under his roof, what then?

  Well, she would deal with that problem when it arose.

  * * *

  The next day, Marguerite was hard at work finishing the drawing of the orchid, when a knock sounded on her door. She started. Everyone knew to leave her in peace for the last few hours of the afternoon. ‘Come.’

  It was Alfred. ‘Lord Compton requests your presence in his study, my lady. If you would be so good?’

  She frowned. She had half-expected Jack to come to her last night, after the vicar left, but since she did not hear the sounds of his departure until well after midnight, she was not surprised when Jack did not appear. Likely he was too far gone in his cups to do anything except fall into bed.

  Still, she had been in a fever of anticipation and it had taken her hours to fall asleep. Which was very foolish of her. Her happiness did not depend on the whims of any person and especially not those of a man.

  ‘Please inform His Lordship I will be there shortly.’

  The footman bowed and left.

  Marguerite removed her work apron, looked regretfully at her easel and made her way to Jack’s study.

  He was standing at the window when she entered. ‘You wanted to see me, my lord?’

  He turned to face her. His brow was lowered, his gaze dark. ‘You led me to believe your family knew what you were doing here, yet last night I had the distinct impression you were not happy that the Reverend Purvis would relay your whereabouts to your brother.’

  It sounded like an accusation. And as if he thought ill of her. ‘I believe I said that my family were aware of my independent state and had no say in what I do or do not do.’

  ‘While I do not recall the exact words of our conversation, you intimated that they knew you were hiring yourself out.’

  ‘They know I earn money from my drawings.’

  ‘But this is more than that. This is working as a governess. I cannot approve—’

  ‘No, you cannot.’ She glared at him.

  He blinked. ‘I cannot...’

  Heat rose upwards from her chest. ‘You have no right to approve of anything I do or do not do. You practically begged me to take this position. Talk about look a gift horse in the mouth. If you do not want me here, all you have to do is say so.’

  ‘I didn’t say I didn’t—’ He took a deep breath as if trying to rein in his temper. Marguerite’s heart picked up speed. Panic filled her.

  ‘Of course I want you here,’ he said, ‘or I would not have asked you. I do not like the idea of you deceiving your family.’

  She clenched her hands together, trying to calm her fear. Jack wouldn’t lash out at her the way Neville had. She was sure of it. ‘You are right. I did not tell Westram that I was acting as interim governess. However, I wrote to him last night to inform him of my change of circumstances. The letter should have gone out with the mail this morning.’

  His mouth thinned. ‘I did not frank a letter for you.’

  A spurt of anger flashed up from her chest. ‘Are you saying you do not believe me?’

  His eyes widened. ‘Is there a reason I should not believe you?’ He took a deep breath. ‘I beg your pardon, I am simply concerned. I merely meant I could have saved you an unnecessary expense.’

  Yes, that would be like Jack, to consider saving her an expense. She should not have jumped down his throat or thought the worst, even if he was thinking the worst of her. ‘I did not think of it, quite honestly. I gave Laughton the money for the stamp.’

  ‘I see. Well, I am glad we have that settled.’

  ‘Yes. I am glad, too.’ She had started to forget how controlling he was, how rigid his rules. ‘Have you had any replies to your advertisement for a governess?’

  He winced. ‘I have. It was my main reason for asking to see you this afternoon.’

  His main reason had been to haul her over the coals. She forced herself past her irritation. This was what she wanted, was it not? For him to find a replacement and for her to get back to her life. ‘You wished me to look at them?’

  An odd expression crossed his face. Regret? Well, she felt regretful, too. The thought of leaving this house and returning to her cottage suddenly seemed daunting. And lonely. She was so fond of the children. Something she had never expected.

  But she was also becoming far too fond of their father. And while he had introduced her to the most amazing thing she had ever experienced, with both gentleness and kindness, it was the other side of him that she feared. The controlling side.

  The side of him that didn’t believe her when she said she had mailed a letter to her brother as if he did not trust her. Neville had been similarly controlling. He had not let her visit her family or see them alone.

  Yes, there were things about Jack Vincent that scared her, even now she knew him better. For one thing, she still had not discovered why Lizzie had appeared so panicked by his threat of a fate worse than death.

  ‘The applications are on the table by the window,’ he said, gesturing. ‘I thought we might look through them together before my bailiff arrives.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘He’s due here in an hour.’

  He flashed her a smile that was so charming yet so unassuming, her heart tumbled over. Was that his intent? To make her forget that just moments ago he had been behaving as if she had committed some sort of crime? Well, she was not going to forget. Or be fooled by that smile. She didn’t dare.

  Neville had always apologised after he struck her, always said it was her fault. That she made him lose his temper and that it would not happen again. It always happened again. No, she did not intend to permit any man to have that sort of power over her life.

  She sat down in front of the pile of papers, picked up the top one and glanced at it. ‘How many are there?’

  ‘A half-dozen, at least.’

  ‘Let us hope there are some good ones among them.’ Then she could go home. Again, sadness welled up.

  ‘You think we will find more than one to be suitable?’

  ‘If so, you will have to interview them. Perhaps also have them meet Elizabeth and Janey, so you can see how the children react to them.’

  He groaned. ‘If it is anything like the last one, they are going to react very badly. You are the only governess they don’t seem to have plagued to death, no matter how much I threaten them.’

  ‘And what is it that you threaten them with that scares them so much?’ she asked. She waited in trepidation.

  He ma
de a face. ‘Their great-aunt Ermintrude. I am afraid I made her out to be some sort of disciplinarian, poor dear, and I drag her out of the closet every time I need them to behave. If they ever meet her, they will know instantly that it was all a hum. Despite the way she looks, she is completely harmless and would be of no help to me at all.’

  Relief filled her. She had been unable to help worrying about the threat that had the girls looking so hangdog. She had been so afraid it was some sort of corporal punishment he had in mind. He had never shown any sign of that level of anger in his dealings with his daughters, but if you asked anyone about Neville, they would all have said he was the most charming of fellows who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

  He would. As long as the fly was weaker. ‘Poor lady. It is better to offer a carrot than a stick, you know.’

  He looked amused rather than affronted. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Offer them the treat of something they like to do, in place of something you do not want them to do. Like flying the kite as against sneaking out to visit the stables.’

  ‘Ah, horse riding. I have asked my bailiff to look for a suitable pony. Hopefully it will not take too long.’

  Marguerite beamed at him. ‘Then you can use riding lessons as a carrot for good behaviour.’

  He grinned. ‘I understand your point.’

  He sat down next to her on the sofa and pushed the papers around as if he didn’t want to start looking at them. ‘Were you disappointed that you did not have children with your husband?’

  The very idea made her go cold. ‘I was never so pleased about anything in my life.’

  He looked startled.

  ‘As I mentioned before, I brought up my siblings. Enough was enough. I prefer to concentrate on my drawings.’

  ‘And yet you say you are not a good artist?’

  Trust him to spot the flaw in her argument.

  ‘It is my independence I value. I care nothing for recognition.’

  ‘I see.’

  Did he? Most men did not understand a woman’s desire to be free of male domination. They assumed a female could not manage alone, despite the many examples all around them of women doing exactly that. ‘Shall we look at the applications?’

  He frowned at her change of topic. ‘I suppose we must.’

  ‘Were there any here that you particularly liked the look of?’

  ‘I have not had a chance to look at them yet.’

  ‘Then we shall have to start from scratch.’ She scanned the first one. ‘It might help us if we had a sheet of paper and listed the attributes we like and those we don’t as we go through each one.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  He got up and went to the desk while she read the letter a little more carefully.

  After a moment or two, she became aware that he had not returned with paper and pen, and glanced up. He was staring at her with longing in his gaze. And heat.

  Her body warmed. Her breasts tingled and there was an odd tightness in her core. All that from a glance? Was this his real reason for him asking her to come to see him this afternoon? A repeat of the other night. Excitement rushed in a hot tide through her veins.

  It was if she was two different people. A strong independent woman who earned her own living and the woman who melted at the first sign of this man’s desire. Was it because she had never before known the storm of sensation he had fired up in her? It had certainly taken her by surprise and she had been dreaming of experiencing it again.

  Heat rushed to her face at the direction of her wicked thoughts. ‘Is something wrong?’

  He seemed to come to himself with a start. ‘Nothing at all.’

  He picked up the items she had requested and returned to sit beside her. He was a big man. And she could feel his warmth along her side and her every breath took in his scent. A lovely manly woodsy scent. She tried not to breathe it in. It made her feel dizzy and even hotter.

  Governesses. They were here to choose her replacement. Concentrate.

  She stared down at the letter. ‘Our first applicant is Miss Louisa Shepherd. Write her name down,’ she directed. ‘And draw a line across the page and about three lines down, then we can compare apples and apples. She is forty-five and seems to have about fifteen years’ experience as a governess and—’ she riffled through the pages ‘—four referees. We will look at those more closely when we have been through all the applications once. Four households seems about right, don’t you think? Not too many in fifteen years, but enough to give her plenty of experience.’

  He wrote down forty-five and fifteen in one column and four employers in another.

  ‘She was educated at Bakewell Academy.’

  He wrote that down.

  ‘She teaches needlework, reading, writing and geography, but recommends a tutor for mathematics since it is not her forte.’

  ‘Needlework, English, no mathematics,’ he repeated as he wrote.

  Oh, dear, this was going to take a very long time indeed. Perhaps she should have asked him to wait until later, so she could at least get some work done today. No. It was better to get this over with as soon as possible. She was already feeling terrible about leaving, she did not want to drag it on any longer than necessary. Besides, she had no doubt that Red would be coming to see her very soon and talking about her causing a scandal and badgering her to return home. To his home.

  What would he say if he knew she had managed to have two scandals hanging over her head?

  At least she nearly had all the money she needed to deal with the worst of them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jack was so hungry it was a hollow ache low in his gut. But not for food. He wanted the woman going through the letter from some spinster governess or other that he’d likely be stuck with for the next ten years.

  Watching her go through the applications, he wanted to tip up her chin and taste the pretty lips that were talking of years of service and other such stuff. Or he might, like some naughty youth flirting with his first maiden, enjoy stealing a couple of pins from her hair in the hope of seeing that glorious auburn mane of hers tumble down around her shoulders.

  And if she’d decided to rap his knuckles with her ruler, it would have been totally worth the pain. But she wouldn’t. He could see from the colour in her cheeks and the sultry cast of her mouth she, too, was thinking about kissing.

  Only he had decided that taking advantage of her while she was still in his employ and living under his roof was not a gentlemanly thing to do. He’d already done it once. He was not going to do it again.

  All this uncontrolled lusting after a woman was beneath him. He was a peer of the realm and a magistrate to boot.

  ‘This one is barely out of the schoolroom herself,’ she said. ‘I do not think we should consider her at all.’

  He dragged his gaze from her lips to stare at the letter. ‘She does say she speaks fluent French.’

  ‘Hmm... So did one of the others.’ She took his list and ran her finger down the items spread across the page. ‘This one here.’

  Lord, but she would make a good wife.

  A perfect wife.

  If she wasn’t so dead set on her independence.

  That sort of woman would not do for him at all. He wanted a wife who would listen to and obey her husband in all things. No. Marguerite would not make him a good wife, but heaven help him, he would love to nibble on that dear little ear and run his tongue—

  ‘Jack?’ she said, her voice husky.

  He lifted his gaze from the delicate line of her throat. The longing in her eyes made him nearly swallow his tongue. ‘Marguerite?’

  Her fingertips grazed his cheek for the briefest moment. ‘You were staring at my ear.’

  ‘And your throat and the lovely curve of your cheek and the way your eyelashes look against the light.’ Good God, what sort of drive
l was coming out of his mouth? He sounded like some idiot schoolboy.

  Her eyes widened. ‘Jack. That is the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me.’

  He wanted to preen. ‘It is all true,’ he said gruffly. ‘Devil take it, I am going to miss you when you leave. I have not enjoyed myself so much for years the way I did yesterday with the girls. Last night at dinner with the vicar, your presence made all the difference.’ She had filled a gap he had not known existed. He was going to miss her like the very devil.

  Perhaps once she had returned to her own domain, they might conduct a discreet affair... His body hardened.

  Her gaze softened. ‘I will miss you, too. And the girls.’

  The words touched him so deeply they tugged at something inside his chest and caused it to ache there, too.

  She gave him a shy little glance, leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, a soft quick brush of silky warmth that sent blood coursing wildly through his veins.

  Before he knew it, he had cupped her nape and was holding her in place, returning her kiss. And then they were kissing, their tongues tangling and their breaths mingling and rasping in his ears.

  He slowly eased her backwards until she was prone beneath him. He raised his gaze and looked down into her face. Her green eyes sparkled, her cheeks glowed and her lips parted in a smile. ‘Well, Jack,’ she said quietly, almost gravely. ‘It seems we both know exactly what we want.’

  * * *

  The weight of Jack’s large body pressing Marguerite into the sofa cushions was delicious and despite that her hands were trapped between them she did not feel in any way confined or restricted. Perhaps because she bore only a fraction of that weight, a mere hint of it, as he supported himself on his hands and gazed down into her face.

  The heat in those lovely blue eyes seemed to scorch her face. Yet he did not fall on her like a wolf upon prey.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked.

  There was such longing in his voice and such loneliness in his eyes she wanted to offer comfort. Perhaps even to offer to stay, after the way he had talked about missing her.