"Aren't they just perfect dears?" said Elspeth, speaking loudly so as to be heard over the screams.
To the children, she said, "This isn't any ordinary governess, girls. This is your Aunt Marnie."
"The unmarried one? The one who was sent away for being bad?" said Elizabeth.
"The very same!" said Elspeth. She turned to Marnie. "How sweet—they remember you!"
The younger girl's screaming stopped as abruptly as it had started. She approached Marnie with a look of intense concentration, then reached up and pulled her hair, hard, with her small sticky fingers.
Her parents both laughed.
"She does know how to make her papa laugh!" said Mr. Talbot. "She'll be breaking hearts before I know what's hit me."
He rummaged in his jacket pocket and pulled out a green hardboiled sweet. After blowing the lint from it, he passed it to the younger child, who pushed the thing into her mouth and started sucking loudly on it.
Eventually, the children were sent back to their rooms, and Mr. Talbot set out the terms of Marnie's employment.
"You'll have board and food. We'll provide you with a uniform and deduct the cost out of your wages, which will be paid annually."
When he informed Marnie of the meagre sum she could expect, Marnie's hopes sank even lower. How would she ever leave this life of indentured servitude, when paid such a paltry sum?
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
"Enter!" called Mr. Talbot.
There was a maidservant at the door, looking wide-eyed and nervous in the presence of her employers. She twisted her fingers.
"Sorry, sir, ma'am, I told him to wait downstairs, I told him you was with company, but he—"
"Pardon me," said Major Chance, stepping around the maidservant and into the room. "I had rather urgent business. It couldn't wait. Please don't scold the maid. She did her best to stop me, but I can be a difficult man to dissuade."
Mr. Talbot stood, puffing his chest and hooking his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets. "Who the devil are you?" he asked.
Major Chance bowed his exaggerated deep bow. "James Chance. Major Chance, if that makes any difference. Pleased to make your acquaintance and do forgive the interruption. I am here to tell you that you are going to have to find yourselves another governess."
It was Elspeth's turn to stand. She turned her small, piggish eyes on the major.
"And why on earth would I have to do that?"
The major smiled winningly at her. "Because this one is going to marry me," he said.
Chapter 6
Marnie remembered nothing of how she had gone from the Talbots' study to being back, once again, outside Miss Robin's office. This time, Major Chance stood beside her, a tall, steady presence, who seemed completely calm and in control despite having burst in on a room full of strangers to take Marnie away. Marnie glanced at him and glanced away when she noticed the tooth marks she had left on his face. Her mind was blank with surprise, with nerves, with anticipation. She didn't know what to think.
An attendant knocked on the door.
"Send them in," called Miss Robin.
Mrs. Pendleton opened the door. Major Chance motioned for Marnie to enter the room first. She obeyed, her heart knocking hard across her ribs.
Miss Robin was seated at her desk. Mrs. Jones rose from a seat on the other side of the desk.
"Miss Stowe. Major. Please take a seat," Miss Robin said.
Mrs. Pendleton went to fetch more chairs. Miss Robin then instructed her to bring tea, and with a nod, her assistant left the room.
"Tell me, Marnie," Miss Robin said, when she and the major were seated. "How did your interview proceed this afternoon? Prior to its disruption, I mean."
Suddenly, everyone in the room was staring at Marnie. She didn't understand why Miss Robin was pursuing this line of questioning. But she tried to answer truthfully.
"I did my best, Miss Robin," she said.
"Did you enjoy the surprise? Your sister assured me you would find it—now, how did she describe it—'good sport'."
Marnie struggled to find the words.
"It would be good to be among family. If I were to be a governess," she said.
"'If' indeed, Miss Stowe. That is the question," said Miss Robin.
Marnie felt the major's handsome brown eyes on her as keenly as a rabbit would feel the gaze of a hunting dog. The combination of mirth and power in them was quite distracting.
"You would be a terrible governess," he said abruptly.
Marnie looked at him.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I'm sorry—did I not speak clearly enough?" he raised his voice, enunciating each word to the point of exaggeration. "You would make an awful governess. Dreadful. Abominable."
"How could you possibly know such a thing?" Marnie said. She, of course, had no desire whatever to be a governess; but his summation of her abilities riled her for reasons she did not fully comprehend.
"Why, it's obvious. You are impatient, rash, you bore easily—I imagine you were an intractable student. You, a governess? You would hate every living moment of it. I can tell."
"Perhaps you underestimate me, sir," said Marnie, the flush rising in her cheeks. "For all you know, I can be as—as patient, as conscientious, as—as—rigorous as any governess in the country."
"I suppose it's possible. Entirely possible. Just as the total combustion of the planet at any given moment is possible," said Major Chance.
"Well, now, you are just being rude," said Marnie, folding her arms.
It was as though Miss Robin and Mrs. Jones had simply vanished from the room. The major and Marnie faced each other, had eyes only for each other, had twisted their bodies to face each other.
The major broke into laughter. "Rude? Perhaps. Accurate? Certainly. You wouldn't last a week."
"And how, may I ask, have you acquired this wisdom about women's aptitude for certain tasks?" countered Marnie. "Through running about in the jungle with a sabre? Through gadding about wherever you wish, doing precisely what you want, when you want, and answering to no one?"
"I assure you, that is the exact reverse of military life. I doubt you know the meaning of living by another's orders."
"And I assure you that living by the orders of others has been the substance of my life."
"No, chafing against the perfectly reasonable requests and instructions of others has been the substance of your life. Not the same thing, Miss Stowe. Not the same thing at all."
Marnie huffed audibly through her nostrils.
"Well, if you find me so irascible, what are you doing here?" she asked.
There was a sudden silence. Marnie realised that she was breathing hard. Colour had risen in her cheeks. Her heart was racing, and the hairs had stood up on her arms. She felt a little dizzy.
It was the major who spoke next. "I came to visitation today to see you, Miss Stowe. Finding you gone, I went directly to retrieve you. I gave your sister and your brother-in-law my reasons. Surely, my purpose could be no clearer. I am here to propose marriage to you."
He said it so simply, so plainly, so without ornament or preamble of any kind, that Marnie could not process what she had heard.
"What?" she said.
"Marnie!" said Mrs. Jones.
"Miss Stowe," said Miss Robin. "It seems you have a decision to make. You may accept the major's offer and return to your status as a Privette in my academy. Or you may accept the terms of employment Mr. and Mrs. Talbot have set out for you. The choice is yours."
Marnie opened her mouth and then closed it again. What were her choices? The Talbots—or the relentlessly irritating gentleman who never failed to raise her ire and whom she had recently and notoriously attacked. It wasn't much of a choice!
"Marnie!" hissed Mrs. Jones. "We are waiting."
Marnie looked into her lap for a moment. She could not fathom which feeling was stronger, relief, surprise, or the on-going fury she felt at having been placed in such a situation
to begin with. Beneath these stronger feelings, there was still a hum of annoyance—part of her mind longed to pick up the thread of her argument with the major.
Then another thought presented itself. Yes, he was brash. Yes, he seemed to take great delight in riling her. But he had chosen her. After all this time, someone had finally chosen her.
Not because she had tried to entrance him with affected manners. Not because he didn't have other, better, easier choices. She didn't know why he had chosen her. But he had. She had cursed him, defied him, and most recently bitten him—but he had chosen her, anyway.
The urge to cry rose in Marnie's throat, but she pushed it down. No one would see her cry. Not ever. She swallowed and attempted to compose herself.
When she could finally speak, it was with the same simplicity the major had shown. She lifted her head and looked him directly in the eye. "Major, I accept," she said.
A moment passed before she spoke again. "But I maintain that I would have been an excellent governess."
An ember in the fire burst, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney.
Chapter 7
"Well then, I suppose it is settled," said Miss Robin, rising from her chair. "Major, Mrs. Jones and I would be happy to give you a moment alone with your new fiancé to discuss the matter further."
"Would it be impertinent of me to ask for more than a moment?" He turned to Marnie and gave her a half smile. "There is much to discuss. I believe you mentioned the use of private visitation rooms on Fridays and Saturdays?"
Miss Robin hesitated. "Yes, those rooms would be made available to you, as they are available to all our engaged couples on visitation days."
"Today is a Saturday, is it not?"
"It is," said Miss Robin dryly.
"Then I might avail myself of the use of one of the rooms?"
Mrs. Jones spoke next. "Perhaps you don't understand how things work here, Major. The rooms must be arranged in advance. And the training the girls undergo, well, it intensifies once they are engaged. Miss Stowe would not be prepared for—"
"For what?" The major's expression was one of open curiosity.
"F-for private visits, of course," said Mrs. Jones, blushing. Marnie could not recall another time she had seen her chaperone blush.
"I don't know about that," said the major. "You seem a strapping girl to me, Marnie—it is one of your many virtues. Miss Robin, what do you say?"
Marnie turned her startled face to Miss Robin. She thought the day's surprises had come to an end. Surely, Miss Robin would not allow an unscheduled visit to occur?
Miss Robin paused to consider before making her reply. "The request is unorthodox. That much is certain. Then again, Miss Stowe is one of our longest-standing pupils and has surely learned a great many things in her time here. As it happens, no one is in the Gold Room today. I shall have it made ready. I trust you have no objections, Miss Stowe?"
Marnie's heart started thudding so fast, she felt as though it would burst through her chest. Things were suddenly happening very quickly. But she had the impression that a challenge had been issued, and she had no intention of backing down from it.
"No objections whatsoever, Miss Robin," she said.
There had been no time to prepare Marnie thoroughly for her visit with Major Chance. Mrs. Jones had whisked Marnie back to the bedroom to quickly wash her while she stood in a shallow bath. Mrs. Jones paid particular attention to Marnie's sex, ordering her charge to bend and grip the lip of the bathtub so that she could soap her nether lips and pucker.
"I'm glad we shaved your cunny this morning. You'll be nice and fresh for your visit," Mrs. Jones said as she towelled Marnie down.
Marnie allowed her chaperone to dress her and tidy her hair. Before she quite knew what was happening, she was standing at the door to the Gold Room and Mrs. Jones was knocking on it.
There was no call from within, as Marnie had expected. Instead, the major answered the door himself.
Suddenly, with him so close, she could see just how tall he was, how imposing his stature.
Mrs. Jones gave a small curtsey. "Behave," she whispered to Marnie before turning away.
The major's deep brown eyes didn't leave Marnie's face as he stepped back to allow her into the room. Once she was inside, he closed the door and stood against it for a moment.
"What do you think?" he said, as Marnie took in her surroundings. "I'm all for a little decoration, but this is bordering on ludicrous, wouldn't you say?"
"I've never cared much for furnishings. I wouldn't know," Marnie said, trying to keep up her air of bravado, which was hastily departing now that she and the major were alone.
Besides, in truth, Marnie could not help but be impressed by the room. The lush carpet was a warm cream, and the sheets on the bed showed a pattern of lyres in gold thread on a white background. The walls were papered in a subtle shimmering gold. The mantelpiece was dark wood, and before it was a two-person sofa in dull golden-brown leather. A broad, plump ottoman sat to one side.
"You're nervous," said the major.
"No," said Marnie, shaking her head. One tendril of her strawberry blonde hair threatened to escape from its pins.
He approached her slowly. Her body was so taut with anticipation that she shivered when his fingers touched her elbow. He tucked the stray tendril of hair behind her ear and escorted her to the couch.
"Come on. Sit with me."
She sat down gingerly, too aware of her arms and legs. Suddenly, she found she didn't know how to sit or how to arrange her body.
"You look terrified. Would you care for a scotch?"
Marnie gave him an incredulous look. "Miss Robin doesn't let us eat cake, much less drink liquor," said Marnie.
"But in this room, she doesn't make the rules. I do," he said. "Here—try a little. Tell me what you think."
He reached over to a side table where a crystal decanter stood with a single glass next to it. He poured Marnie one finger of whiskey and passed her the glass of undiluted spirit.
"A little courage," he said.
Marnie raised the glass to her lips slowly. She inhaled the smoky, earthy amber liquid.
Major Chance watched Marnie's hesitation with great amusement. Riled by his mirth, Marnie took the glass and tipped the dash of whiskey straight down her throat.
She was unprepared for the intensity of it, for the burn that followed its path to her belly. She coughed loudly.
"Are you trying to poison me?" she said, her eyes watering, a flush rising in her cheeks and reaching down her throat and across her chest.
The major tried and failed to suppress a smile. "I suppose I was expecting a tentative girlish sip. I didn't know you would drink it down like a hardened veteran. I see I will still mistake you for a lady on occasion. Forgive me."
Marnie's mouth set in a straight line. "Well," she said, "rest assured I shall never mistake you for a gentleman!"
The major's smile vanished. He plucked Marnie's now-empty glass from her hand and set it back down on the side table.
"That shan't be a problem, Miss Stowe," he said, his voice rich and dark. "I am not a gentleman. I was not born one; I was not raised one; and you should know from the outset that I have no intention of becoming one."
Something in the atmosphere of the room had changed. It felt charged. Her fit of coughing having passed, Marnie felt the warmth of the whisky spreading through her body. There was heat in her abdomen. And there was a heated throb even further down, a growing ache between her legs.
Without warning, Major Chance stood from the couch. When he reached for Marnie, her heart started racing. She expected him to take her arm or her hands—but instead, he put one broad hand on either side of her waist and lifted her, placing her, standing, before him.
"Now," he said. "Let's get rid of this frippery."
He spun her around and began to unfasten each of the delicate silk-covered buttons that ran down the back of her gown.
"Wait!" Marnie cried, turning
to face him. "You can't j-just start unwrapping me l-like a package!"
Major Chance reached around Marnie's waist and pulled the tail of the new pale-blue sash Mrs. Jones had tied about her waist. The knot came loose—the sash dropped to the floor.
"Apparently, I can," he said, smiling his wolfish smile.
"But—"
"But what?" he said.
He was so close that Marnie could smell him—that woodsy, outdoors smell of oak moss and cedar. It was heady, combined with the smoke and peat of the whisky. Her head was swimming. His eyes searched hers. Marnie found herself unable to answer—found she had forgotten the question.
In its stillness, his body had all the intention of a lion about to leap on its prey. Marnie caught a glimpse of the bulge at the crotch of his trousers and flushed an even deeper shade of pink.
"I won't wait all day," he said, and there was no mistaking his intention despite the evenness of his tone.
They remained still for a moment, their gazes boring into one another. Then, in a flash, Major Chance took Marnie's face between his hands and kissed her.
Marnie had a vague understanding that men kissed their wives. But she had never seen the appeal of kissing; she had found the idea rather absurd. In an instant, she realised her folly. When Major Chance kissed her, there was a rush of sensation—his lips parting hers, the warmth of his breath, the force of his tongue sliding into her mouth and twining with her own. The closeness of it, the intimacy, the urgency, made the blood rush to her sex in a way that was so intense, it was almost painful.
Marnie felt as though she were slipping. She was lightheaded. She reached out a hand to steady herself and succeeded in pulling the tails of the major's shirt out of his trousers.
Major Chance seemed to take this as encouragement. He broke off the kiss and removed his coat, cravat and waistcoat, almost tearing them free from his body in his haste. He unbuttoned his shirt and left it hanging open. Marnie caught a glimpse of the thick, defined musculature of his chest and abdomen, the dark ink of a tattoo on his chest. Her breath hitched.
A Major of Marnie (Miss Robin's Academy Book 3) Page 7