Born to Scandal

by Diane Gaston

His words and his arms were meant to comfort, but they only tortured. She yearned for more and knew she could not have it.

  She drew away. ‘You could dismiss me for taking the brandy. That is how precarious my life is. What would happen to me then? I have nowhere to go. No one to help me.’

  ‘I do not begrudge you the brandy.’ His expression was sincere. ‘You are safe here, Anna. You are wanted here.’

  She wiped a loose lock of hair off her face. ‘I do not mean to complain. Or to feel sorry for myself. Please do not pay me any mind.’ She tried to rise, but he seized her hand and pulled her back on to the sofa.

  ‘Anna.’ He stroked her arm. ‘What can I do to ease your worry?’

  ‘Nothing, my lord,’ she said, trying to remain composed. ‘It is the lot of a governess.’

  He turned her to face him. ‘You know you are more than a governess.’

  His lips were perilously close. His body was warm and hard-muscled. The scent of him filled her nostrils, so male, so pleasant, so unique to him alone. She yearned to join with him.

  Wrenching herself away, she cried, ‘I—I must go.’

  She ran from the library.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Anna!’ Brent ran after her.

  When she reached the second floor, he caught her by the arm and made her face him.

  ‘What is wrong?’ He gave her a shake.

  She tried to pull away. ‘Sometimes—sometimes I cannot forget all that I feel.’

  He could not forget, as well. Travelling with her had changed something in him, made him wish to be a mere man, not a marquess. It had been a long time since he’d yearned to turn away the trappings of his title and strip himself down to mere flesh and bone.

  He put his arms around her and held her close, wanting to comfort her, wanting her to comfort him. It was like a match to tinder. Her arms encircled his neck and through the thin fabric of her nightdress he felt the roundness of her breasts, the curve of her body, the special place that fired his senses. His hands travelled to her narrow waist and he pressed her pelvis against his, drowning in desire.

  She tilted her face to his and he took possession of her lips, this time indulging in the full taste of her. Her tongue immediately sought his. She tasted like brandy.

  He lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bedchamber, taking her to his bed. She was as willing as any woman could be, as lost in the passion as he was.

  He tore his shirt off and lay with her on the bed, their legs tangling as his hands explored her and his mouth revelled in her kisses.

  What harm could it do to make love with her? They both wanted it. And he would be good to her. He wanted to be a man with her, to join his body to hers, to bring them both to physical release.

  What harm if they continued?

  His hand slipped between her legs, to that place where pleasure could explode. She moved against his hand and his craving surged.

  They could have many nights of pleasure until—

  Until he married.

  He stilled and moved away from her.

  ‘No, do not stop,’ she rasped. ‘I want this.’

  He took her face in his hands. ‘I cannot.’

  He ought to tell her that the Marquess of Brentmore was soon to make a respectable marriage, but this seemed the worst possible time and, when he was with her, he wanted to pretend his fiancée did not exist.

  Her expression showed all the anguish he felt inside. ‘Why?’

  ‘You could have a child,’ he managed.

  Her eyes widened. ‘Like my mother,’ she whispered.

  He climbed off the bed, found his shirt and put it back on.

  He ran a hand through his hair. ‘God knows I want to make love to you, Anna, but it would be wrong. It would change things between us.’

  She pressed her fingers to her temples. ‘What are we to do, then?’

  ‘Not this.’ He shook his head. ‘We must take care. I promise, I will not do this again.’

  ‘I am not certain that is what I want,’ she said in a quiet tone.

  He glanced at her. ‘I know it is not what I want, but what I must do.’

  ‘Things are changed between us anyway.’ She gave him an intent look. ‘I feel as if a door has opened that I cannot close, no matter how hard I try.’

  He returned her gaze. ‘I am sorry, Anna.’

  She looked away and was silent.

  If she were in society, he would be duty bound to marry her for behaving in such an ungentlemanly manner. But she was not in society. And there was no one—no father who cared about her—to insist he wed her.

  That thought made him ache for her, her vulnerability, her aloneness.

  If he made love to her, he would have to marry her—how could he live with himself otherwise? He could just imagine the scandal of it. Jilting Miss Rolfe to marry a governess with a background as scandalous as his own.

  His children would suffer the consequences if he behaved dishonourably.

  ‘We must think of the children,’ he said. ‘I want what is best for them.’

  She nodded and climbed off the bed, raising herself to her full height. ‘I have behaved abominably tonight. I hope you will forgive me for it.’

  Before he could compose a response, she walked out of the room.

  * * *

  The next day they behaved as mere employer and governess, maintaining a distance between them that was as distressing as it was necessary. Having come so close to making love to her, Brent’s desire surged stronger than ever, but she had been correct. Things had already changed between them.

  If that were not enough, London beckoned. Parker had any number of matters to which Brent must attend. And he had letters from Members of Parliament who wished him to return. Even though it was August, they were still in session.

  All these he could ignore, but today letters arrived from both Peter and Baron Rolfe, begging him to return to London and make final plans for the marriage. Matters were becoming urgent for Lord Rolfe.

  He needed to return.

  It seemed too soon to leave the children.

  Or Anna.

  Rain and chill kept them all indoors and the confinement did nothing to relieve Brent’s unease. He wandered through the house, winding up in the gallery, gazing at portraits of ancestors stretching back to the sixteenth century. Men with pointed beards and embroidered jerkins. Women in lace ruffs. It was difficult for Brent to believe that their blood flowed in his veins. After all these years, he still felt as if he were in a foreign land.

  Wyatt found him. ‘Ah, there you are, m’lord.’ The butler stood at the far end of the gallery and his voice echoed. ‘Dinner is served.’

  ‘Thank you, Wyatt,’ Brent said.

  By the time Brent reached the beginning of the gallery where Wyatt had stood, the butler had disappeared from the hallway. When he reached the dining room, Anna was already seated.

  ‘I am sorry to keep you waiting,’ he said. ‘I lost track of time.’

  She smiled politely. ‘Mr Wyatt said he’d had difficulty finding you.’

  Brent sat. ‘I was in the gallery.’

  ‘The gallery,’ she repeated in a perfunctory tone.

  ‘With my ancestors.’

  The footman served the soup almost immediately and Brent asked about the children’s lessons.

  Anna responded in dutiful detail about what they had done on that rainy day. ‘I hope we can go outside tomorrow,’ she added. ‘Both of them were very unsettled.’

  ‘As was I,’ he said, pained at how stilted their conversation was.

  She dipped her spoon into the soup. ‘If it continues to rain tomorrow, I will move to the music room and give them dancing lessons.’

  He looked up from his bowl. ‘If it rains tomorrow, I may join you.’

  She caught his gaze. ‘I would like that.’

  Their gazes held.

  She glanced away. ‘And the children will love having you.’

  When the second
course came, he looked down at his plate. ‘I tackled my pile of letters today.’

  ‘Was there any news?’ she asked, polite again.

  ‘Parliament is still in session.’

  ‘Is it?’ she asked without real interest.

  ‘Mr Parker has amassed a number of matters I must address.’ He glanced over at her.

  She stared at him.

  He glanced away. ‘I need to go to London.’ When he returned his gaze to her, she’d gone pale.

  ‘The children will miss you.’

  He felt the emotions behind her words and reached over to her. He pulled back, remembering that touching made things worse for both of them. ‘Will it do harm to leave, do you think? Is it too soon?’

  She put down her fork and turned her face towards him. ‘You must leave us some time, my lord.’

  The inevitability of that statement depressed him. These weeks had given him more peace than any other time he could remember. With Anna he felt more himself than anywhere else.

  The conversation between the two of them virtually ended at this point, even though Anna asked him dutiful questions about his need to go to London and he provided dutiful answers while they finished the meal.

  He still did not tell her about his betrothal. When he was with her, it seemed too unreal to speak of. Besides, their emotions were still too raw after they’d nearly made love the night before.

  ‘When will you leave?’ she asked finally as the dishes were removed and his brandy was poured.

  ‘In a couple of days, I suppose.’ He stared into the liquid in his glass and remembered her in the library. Nearly naked. Hair flowing about her shoulders.

  She stood. ‘Well. I will bid you goodnight, my lord.’

  He stood as well. ‘Goodnight, Anna.’

  As she walked towards the door, he was seized with a desire to call her back. ‘Anna, wait!’

  She turned to him.

  He walked towards her. ‘Come with me.’

  Her face coloured. ‘My lord,’ she whispered.

  Without thinking he put his hand on her arm and spoke in a low voice. ‘I meant you and the children should come with me to London.’ Why had he not thought of this before? ‘It will only be for a few weeks. There is much we can show Cal and Dory in London.’

  She looked wary. ‘I do not know.’

  ‘We could take them places. Astley’s, for one. Dory would love the horses at Astley’s. We can have new clothes made for them. They need new clothes. It will be a good experience for them.’ He held his breath, waiting for her response.

  She regarded him with solemn eyes. ‘Very well, my lord. We will go to London.’

  * * *

  A few days later they made the trip to London. Lord Brentmore rode his horse. Anna rode in his carriage with his children and Eppy.

  It was a difficult trip. Cal and Dory had never travelled further than the village. They were both giddy with excitement as well as unused to the rigours of riding in a coach all day. To break up the day, their father allowed them to take turns riding on Luchar with him, but that only temporarily amused them. By the time the carriage pulled up to Lord Brentmore’s town house, the children—and Anna—were exhausted.

  The door opened to the familiar hall where Anna took the first step into a new chapter of her life. Little did she know that day how thoroughly the previous chapters would be closed to her.

  Brentmore entered first, but stood just inside the door waiting for Anna, who had taken the children by the hand.

  Mr Parker stepped forwards. He’d obviously been awaiting their arrival. ‘My lord.’ He bowed to the marquess. ‘Good to have you back. I’ve taken the liberty of having Cook prepare a meal for us. With your permission, we can discuss some of the more pressing matters that await your attention.’

  Lord Brentwood shot a glance Anna’s way and returned to his man of business with a stern glare. ‘Have your manners gone begging, Parker?’

  Mr Parker looked puzzled, then realised what his employer meant. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon.’ His apology was directed at Brentmore. He turned to Anna. ‘Good day, Miss Hill.’

  ‘Good day,’ she replied, noting that he paid no attention at all to the children who hid behind her skirts as soon as they’d seen him.

  Lord Brentmore spoke again. ‘I am not prepared to discuss business at dinner, Parker. Come back in the morning.’

  Mr Parker looked as if he’d been slapped in the face. ‘My lord, there are one or two things that I believe cannot wait, even for tomorrow.’

  Lord Brentmore did not relent. ‘Well, since you have invited yourself to dinner, we may talk about this afterwards, but I have no intention of boring Miss Hill with tedious business, not when she has spent the day riding in the carriage with two small children.’

  ‘Miss Hill?’ Mr Parker’s brows rose into his forehead.

  Clearly it had never occurred to Mr Parker that she would dine with the marquess.

  And she was too weary to put up with not being welcome. ‘My lord, if you do not mind, I would like to dine with the children. They are in a place that is new to them. I want to be certain they are comfortable.’

  Lord Brentmore’s brows knitted. ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘With your permission,’ she responded.

  He turned to Mr Parker. ‘Very well, Parker. It will be as you wish.’

  ‘May we see our rooms?’ Anna asked.

  ‘Certainly.’ Lord Brentmore turned to his butler, who had just re-entered the house and closed the door behind him. ‘Davies! Find someone to show Miss Hill and the children to their rooms.’

  At that moment a grey-haired portly woman bustled in from the servants’ entrance. ‘My lord! I’ve this minute learned you’d arrived.’

  ‘Ah, Mrs Jones.’ The marquess nodded towards her. ‘Allow me to present you to Miss Hill, the children’s governess, and Eppy, the children’s nurse. Mrs Jones is the housekeeper here. You did not meet her before, I believe.’

  ‘That is correct,’ Anna replied. ‘How very glad I am to meet you now, Mrs Jones.’

  The housekeeper’s smile was friendly. She leaned down to peek behind Anna. ‘And who is that hiding behind you?’

  Anna brought the children forward. ‘This is Lord Calmount and his sister, Lady Dory.’

  The housekeeper put her hands on her hips. ‘Well, what a treat to have you here. We’ve fixed up a set of rooms for you that I hope you will like.’

  Lord Brentmore came over to the children. ‘Go with Mrs Jones to see your rooms. We’ll have your trunks and your dinner sent up to you.’ He glanced at the butler. ‘Is that not right, Davies?’

  ‘The trunks are being carried up as we speak and Cook has planned a special meal for the young ones.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Brentmore turned to Anna. ‘Is there anything we’ve forgotten?’

  ‘Not that I can think of,’ she replied, although she was really too fatigued to think at all.

  ‘Then you children can be on your way.’ He gave Cal a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder.

  ‘I want Miss Hill and Eppy to come, too!’ Dory whined.

  Lord Brentmore crouched down to her. ‘Of course they will come with you. And Miss Hill said she would eat dinner with you tonight. That will be a treat, will it not?’

  ‘I want you to eat dinner with us, too, Papa,’ Dory whimpered.

  He patted her arm. ‘I cannot, but I will come up later to say goodnight.’

  She popped her thumb into her mouth and Anna did not bother to tell her to take it out.

  She also did not trouble herself to say goodnight to Mr Parker.

  They followed Mrs Jones up to the third floor.

  ‘We’ve set up one room as the school room and another for the children to sleep in. There is a small room for Eppy and another for you, Miss Hill. I hope that sounds satisfactory.’

  ‘I am certain it will do very nicely,’ Anna replied. ‘I think Lord Cal and Lady Dory will be happier in the same room. Everything w
ill seem strange to them.’

  Mrs Jones smiled. ‘That is what his lordship told us.’

  ‘His lordship?’

  Mrs Jones nodded. ‘The marquess wrote very specific instructions. You are also to have a maid attend you. I will send her to you after we settle you in.’

  ‘How very kind of him.’ Although his kindness made everything more difficult. How unfortunate he was not the stern, fearsome man she had first met in this house. It would be so much easier to dislike him.

  She shook herself. Of course it was preferable for him to be kind, especially for the children. She was simply much too fatigued.

  Their rooms were satisfactory, but the school room was sparse. Anna had packed the children’s slates and chalk, their sketchpads and some books, but she doubted it would be enough to amuse them.

  Their dinner consisted of roast beef and plum pudding, with wafers for dessert and a hot milk posset when the children were ready for sleeping.

  * * *

  As he had promised, Lord Brentmore came to wish the children a goodnight. He tucked the covers around them and kissed them each on the forehead. Hid tenderness made Anna’s heart ache.

  Making them promise to sleep well, he started to leave the room, but whispered to Anna, ‘May I see you a moment?’

  She nodded and hurriedly said her own goodnights to the children. ‘You know which room is mine and which is Eppy’s, so come fetch us if you need anything during the night.’

  She walked out of the room to where Lord Brentmore waited. The hallway was narrow, placing her much closer to him than she would wish.

  ‘How are they, do you think?’ he asked her.

  ‘Dory is much subdued and Cal has not said a word, not even to his sister,’ she told him. ‘But most likely that is from sheer weariness.’

  He frowned. ‘Did I make a mistake to have you come with me?’

  Perhaps it would have been better to leave them all in the country. Perhaps accustoming herself to his absence was better done sooner than later.

  But she could not speak to him of that. ‘If I am able to keep the children occupied, it should be satisfactory, but there is nothing here in the house to occupy the children.’

  His brows rose. ‘I meant you—but, never mind. What do you mean, nothing in the house?’