My Lady Governess (Zebra Regency Romance)

by Counts, Wilma

  Since overhearing the conversation between Adrian’s sisters, Elinor made more effort to sort out the various characters in the near theatrical production that was the Wallenfords’ house party. She like the ladies Tellson and Cambden, both of whom seemed level-headed and intelligent. Lady Elinor Richards would have welcomed their friendship. Their husbands were likeable sorts, too.

  Gabrielle was in her element. The ladies of the party supplied her with gossipy on dits and several gentlemen—two of them quite seriously—never failed to direct flattering flirtations her way. She did not appear to favor a particular gentleman, but Elinor thought the lovely Frenchwoman would not be the Dowager Marchioness of Trenville for much longer.

  Elinor had also taken note of the young woman Adrian’s sisters had mentioned. Merrilee Grimsley was a very pretty blond girl four or five years younger than Elinor. She had a sparkling laugh and seemed eager to please.

  And the person she seemed most eager to please was his lordship, the Marquis of Trenville. She was frequently in his company. If the game was charades, she was on his team. If they played cards, she was his partner. He often stood up to dance with her. That these pairings more often than not were the work of his mother or hers was beside the point—the girl commanded much of his time and attention.

  The centerpiece of the decorations in the ballroom was a “kissing ball,” a huge globe of mistletoe hung with a red bow. There was much laughter and teasing as various couples were caught—or allowed themselves to be caught—under the kissing ball.

  At the end of a lively country dance Adrian was caught there with Merrilee.

  Amidst much playful urging from onlookers he was encouraged to take advantage of the opportunity. Merrilee seemed to offer her lips and with a roomful of spectators, he could hardly have refused to kiss her, had he wanted to. And, so far as Elinor could see, there was little reluctance on his part to perform the deed. Perhaps he meant it to be a quick kiss, but Merrilee wound her arms around his neck and visibly pressed her body against his. Elinor felt a terrible wrenching sensation in her midsection and turned away to occupy herself elsewhere.

  Twice, in doing the gentlemanly thing of making all the guests feel welcomed in the last few days, Adrian had danced with her. Each time she felt the familiar physical reaction he seemed always to evoke. She was a fool, she now admonished herself, ever to think he might be remotely interested in an insignificant governess. And the fact she was not really a governess was of no consequence. Indeed, should it ever be found out, the result would be a monumental scandal. Meanwhile, his mother seemed to be enjoying success in promoting the match of her choice.

  The next day Elinor was returning from an afternoon walk when she encountered Lady Henrietta bundled up with a laprobe and reading a book on the terrace.

  “Are you not chilly out here, my lady?” Elinor asked.

  “Not really. The sun, weak as it is, feels good. Come join me, my dear.”

  “Thank you.” Eleanor took a nearby chair.

  “You seem decidedly unhappy to me,” Lady Henrietta said.

  “I cannot think why you would think so, Lady Henrietta,” Elinor equivocated.

  “My dear Miss Palmer, it is my body, not my perception that is impaired. I am said to be a very good listener, so tell me your story.” The words commanded, but the tone was gentle.

  “You would be unlikely to find my tale extraordinary, my lady.” Elinor again sought to divert the older woman’s attention.

  “Every human being has an extraordinary tale to tell if one only listens and observes. Now, tell me why you are so unhappy, my dear.”

  “I am not precisely unhappy,” Elinor began slowly. Perceiving Lady Henrietta’s disbelief, she went on, “It is just that I have a brother and he is more or less alone this holiday and I miss him.”

  Lady Henrietta nodded sympathetically. “Being a governess ain’t easy, is it? I narrowly missed that life myself.”

  “Oh?” Elinor prompted.

  “I did not take well, you see. My parents tried to arrange a match, but I was able to talk Papa out of it. Then Mary fell head over heels for Wallenford—he was Trenville, then, you know. They take care of me.” She laughed again. “Perhaps it is just as well I did not take, ending up in this chair as I did. But, as I said, I might have been in the same position you hold.”

  “It is not truly so bad,” Elinor said. “His lordship is very generous and the children are delightful.” She smiled and added, “Most of the time.”

  Lady Henrietta eyed her companion speculatively. “You are young and pretty. How is it that your parents did not do better by you?”

  Elinor blushed. How could she answer this question? “My parents are both dead, my lady. Mother died when my younger brother was born. And Father some time later.” She could hardly admit to this woman that it had been only a year and a few months since her father’s death.

  “And your brother?”

  “He is in school much of the time. He is spending his holiday with our uncle.”

  “Your uncle? Why are you not with him?”

  Elinor shifted uncomfortably. These questions were, of course, obtrusively nosy. Somehow, one did not resent them from this woman, but neither could she answer them in a forthright manner.

  “My uncle is not in a position to help me,” she said. Well, that was true enough.

  “How unfortunate for you,” Aunt Henny replied, “but fortunate for Adrian. He tells me you are very good with the children.”

  “His lordship is very kind,” Elinor murmured.

  “And how do you get on with him? He is accounted by some to be arrogant and overbearing, though I have personally never observed such,” Trenville’s aunt said.

  Yet another question to which it was hard to respond. Elinor kept quiet.

  Lady Henrietta patted Elinor’s hand. “I am sorry, my dear. I did not mean to put you in an uncomfortable position. I adore my nephew and it is my greatest wish to see him happy. He has been far too intense in recent years. Not the carefree young man he used to be.”

  “That is understandable, is it not?” Elinor asked.

  “Oh, yes, but he withholds himself. Does not trust others as he used to.” Adrian’s aunt sat pensively for a moment, then she added, “Or, perhaps it is his own judgment of others that he does not trust as he used to. There seems to be good rapport between the two of you, though.”

  “I hope so.” Elinor’s voice sounded neutral, but she wondered if Lady Henrietta suspected her attraction to her employer.

  For Adrian, the removal to Wallenford had brought few changes in his work with the Foreign Office. He continued to receive government dispatches and dealt with them as they arrived. In this respect, the visit was most fortunate, for Wallenford was considerably closer to London than the Abbey was.

  During the second week of their stay at his father’s chief residence, he received a message requiring immediate response. Ordering a footman to take the courier to the kitchen for some refreshment, Adrian retreated to his father’s library to prepare his reply. When he finished, he found no footman available to summon the courier. He carried the sealed packet to the kitchen himself.

  As he pushed open the door of the kitchen, he heard voices and laughter. There, seated at one end of the huge worktable in the center of the room, was his courier, placidly partaking of bread, cheese, sweet cakes, and cider. At an angle from the courier, her hands encircling a mug of cider, sat Miss Palmer. The two of them appeared to be enjoying a casual conversation with the cook and one of the kitchen maids.

  For a moment, everyone seemed locked in a silent tableau. The courier jumped to his feet as Adrian cleared his throat.

  “Thompkins, when you have finished your meal, you may be on your way.” He laid the dispatch case on the table between the man and Miss Palmer and with a gesture indicated that Thompkins should reseat himself.

  “Yes, sir. Right away.”

  “Mr. Thompkins was just telling us a most amusing tale from
his service in the Peninsula.” Miss Palmer’s eyes twinkled with merriment behind her glasses.

  Adrian raised an eyebrow in question.

  “It seems one of their pack donkeys adopted a dog as its companion,” she explained.

  “An’ that devil of a donkey wouldn’t move a step less’n his friend was with ’im,” Thompkins assured his audience.

  “Interesting. Do finish your meal,” Adrian said again to the courier. “We cannot have you fainting from hunger on the road.” He took a seat himself across from Miss Palmer. “I was not aware that you two knew each other.” He tried not to sound suspicious.

  The cook placed a cup of the hot brew in front of Adrian and retreated.

  “Oh, we do not really know each other,” Elinor explained, “but we did meet at the Abbey some weeks ago when Mr. Thompkins brought you a message.”

  “Miss Palmer’s a good listener.” Thompkins chuckled. “She always laughs at me jokes.”

  They talked briefly of weather and road conditions, then the courier departed and the others went about their business.

  Was this scene as innocent as it appeared? Adrian wondered. Or, was Miss Palmer an even better listener than the courier supposed? Adrian was fully aware that she had sent some sort of message to London via the post, though Olmstead had been unable to determine the precise direction. That she had chosen to post it herself without asking him to frank it was curious indeed. Now here she was—apparently quite at ease in the company of a man who regularly had access to extremely sensitive information.

  Adrian was as perplexed as he ever remembered being in his adult life. He absolutely did not want to believe her guilty of spying. Why did it matter so much? he asked himself. The spy was certainly someone connected to him. She was new. He knew little of her. She was a logical suspect, was she not? But, not her. Please, let it not be her. . . .

  Then he was struck by the personal interest this silent plea indicated on his part. He was not such a fool that he could ignore his own physical reaction to her. Dancing with her had been a mistake, but he had not been able to help himself—and doing the pretty for all the female guests had provided the opportunity. Even now, he recalled the scent she wore and the way she fit so perfectly in his arms.

  Nor was it just the physical attraction. He liked her as a friend, found her to be as easy to talk with as ever any of his best male friends had been. He liked watching her emotions flit across her face, seeing her eyes light with humor or soften with concern. He loved watching her with his children.

  Bloody hell! She was the governess. Of course she should be good with the children. That was, after all, what she was paid to do. And be.

  He should be concentrating on the lovely Merrilee. His mother had made her intent quite clear before the arrival of the Grimsley party.

  “I have included the Dowager Lady Grimsley and her son and daughter,” the duchess had informed Adrian when he joined his mother in her sitting room on the morning after his arrival. “I believe you are acquainted with them.”

  “Yes, Mother. You know very well I am.” There was a resigned, I-know-what-you-are-about tone in his voice.

  “Merrilee Grimsley is a taking little thing,” she suggested. “Now do not give me that arch look, son. It is beyond time you should remarry.”

  “And you think Lady Grimsley would make a perfect mother-in-law for me?”

  “Actually, I was thinking more of the daughter. Never mind her mother.” The duchess gestured dismissively. “She is silly and dotes on that spoiled son of hers. But the daughter’s behavior is all that is correct.”

  “I grant you she has always seemed intent on making herself agreeable and amiable.”

  “She has had proper training, I am sure. She exhibits all of the accomplishments one might expect of a lady.”

  “You have been examining her very closely, have you?” There was a slight teasing note in his tone.

  “She would be a very correct wife for someone of your station,” she said firmly.

  “Correct.”

  “Now, look.” He recognized the note of impatience he had known as a child. “She is agreeable, accomplished, cheerful. What more could you want?”

  “Someone to talk to. Someone to share my views. Someone to argue with occasionally. Someone who would be a good mother to my children.”

  “Well, give the girl a chance. Perhaps she can be that someone.”

  “Perhaps.”

  The conversation had then turned to other matters.

  Now—more than two weeks into the house party—his mother and Lady Grimsley and the accomplished, attractive, and agreeable Merrilee all seemed intent on bringing him up to scratch. She was a lovely girl, whose studied manner made little secret of the fact that she and her mama thought she would make a perfect nobleman’s wife.

  And she probably would.

  She had certainly responded warmly when he kissed her under the kissing ball. Moreover, she had subtly let him know she would welcome a more private repeat of that performance. But he had seen fit to restrain himself. Nor could he bring himself to offer for her. Every time he even thought of doing so, a pair of gray-green eyes flashed into his consciousness.

  After the conversation with Adrian’s Aunt Henny, Elinor had tried to take more pleasure in her surroundings. She was determined that no one else should perceive her as unhappy or elicit from her such confidences as Lady Henrietta had.

  Elinor quite enjoyed certain of the Wallenford guests. Aunt Henny was a favorite and as she became acquainted with the admiral, she grew to appreciate his dry sense of humor. He, in turn, seemed to appreciate her as a good listener and intelligent conversationalist. Adrian’s sisters had been kind, but not overly familiar. The Grimsley ladies were not rude, but neither did they condescend to spend any special time or effort with someone of so little rank.

  Only one person gave her pause.

  Lord Reginald Everdon, whose mother was a lifelong friend of the duchess, had accompanied his parents and his older sister and her husband to this country affair. Elinor knew he was considered something of a rake. Talk among the nursery maids and kitchen help was that he made himself obnoxious to more than one comely lass belowstairs. He often sought Elinor’s company during evening diversions and she had been paired with him for dinner more than once. He was a handsome, dark-haired man of an indeterminate age—mid—thirties to mid-forties. He dressed fashionably and exuded an air of self-confidence.

  Although she had initially accepted his attentions as friendly overtures, Elinor had begun to find his presence somewhat oppressive. He often found excuses to touch her as they stood talking, or he would stand too close. At table his knee chanced to bump hers too often for it to be purely accidental. He invariably sought her hand for dances.

  At the duchess’s grand entertainment with the mummers, he had been determined to have the seat next to Elinor, and afterward, he asked her to dance twice. The first time, he had tried to maneuver them under the kissing ball, but she was adamant in refusing to allow that. Their second dance occurred after Adrian had kissed Merrilee Grimsley under the kissing ball. As Everdon waltzed her around the edge of the room, Elinor was scarcely aware of her surroundings. She was aware that he holding her too close.

  Suddenly, he had ducked them into a dimly lit curtained alcove. He pulled her roughly into his arms and lowered his lips to her mouth, immediately trying to force his tongue between her teeth. She put her hands against his chest and shoved hard.

  “Lord Everdon! Let me go at once,” she said, her voice insistent, but kept low.

  “Now, why would I do that?” he asked with a throaty laugh. He sought her lips again.

  She turned her head abruptly and said, “Perhaps because a lady asked you to do so.”

  “You are overdoing the maidenly protests, dear girl. You have been teasing me for days now.”

  “I have done no such thing.” Strong indignation forced her voice to rise slightly.

  “Come now, my dear.
I know an invitation from a woman when I see one.”

  “You what?” she cried as he clapped a hand over her mouth, still holding her very firmly about the waist.

  “Keep your voice down, love.” His chuckle held a condescending sneer. “We would not want to be caught in this compromising position, now would we? It would not be my reputation that suffered.”

  She went still, knowing very well how such a scene would appear to others. She might even lose her job.

  “That’s better,” he crooned, his hand still over her mouth. “Now. We both know what these country house parties are all about, don’t we? You are not some green schoolgirl.”

  She made an incoherent sound of outrage against his hand and twisted herself from his grip. He pulled her back against him, his hands gliding over her body.

  “Let me go!” she hissed.

  “In a minute, my love.” He caught her face and pressed his mouth against hers again. “Until later. Leave your chamber door unlocked.”

  “You arrogant ass!” she whispered hoarsely. She saw a flash of anger cross his face, but he relaxed his hold on her slightly. “If you so much as come near me again, I shall scream my head off. I do not think the duke would take kindly to your behavior.”

  She knew this threat hit home, for he immediately released her and gave her a stiff little bow. She quickly escaped the alcove. She tried to look calm and at ease as she emerged into the ballroom. She wanted nothing so much as to escape to her room, but she forced herself to do so sedately, smiling and speaking trivialities as she made her way to the door.

  That night the nightmares came again. They had plagued her in London, but gradually ceased during her stay at the Abbey. Now they returned with a vengeance.

  Eight

  To Elinor, it seemed the incident in the alcove had whetted Everdon’s appetite for pursuit. She took care he did not again catch her in an intimate encounter. She also locked her chamber door now when she had not done so before.