“Yes, that is indeed the case, Regina,” he replied after taking another sip of his coffee. He wouldn’t apologize for his inattention. Regina may have been the mistress here for ten years, but since his brother Benjamin’s passing two years ago, the woman was lucky he hadn’t had her and his two constantly twittering nieces relocated to the dower house on the edge of the estate. Examining the list again, Nicholas wondered if it would just be easier to accompany Miss Adams on a shopping trip...
Good Lord, what the devil is wrong with me? Such an expedition would invite too much comment and he doubted the governess would go with him anyway. Apart from that, he recalled that he loathed shopping.
“Nicholas, I’ve just had a letter from my sister and she’s invited me to stay with her in Brighton for several weeks,” persisted Regina. “The girls would love to see their cousins and I am dying to take the sea air. I shall need both carriages.”
Nicholas waved his hand dismissively. “Take both for as long as you like. My own carriage arrived from London, late last night.” Due to yesterday’s infernal heat, he’d opted to ride his latest acquisition of fine horseflesh, Oberon, rather than traveling in the close confines of his coach. In hindsight, it had been a more than satisfactory decision considering how he’d made the acquaintance of the delightful Miss Abigail Adams and her even more delightful legs. And arse.
Before he’d even considered the ramifications of what he was going to say next, Nicholas asked, “Are you taking the governess?”
Regina frowned. “Of course.” The furrow between her brows grew deeper. “Why?”
Nicholas drummed his fingers on the table for a moment sorting through the possible ways to answer his sister-in-law’s question. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I have another use for her.”
Regina’s fair eyebrows shot up. “Nicholas!”
“Now, now, Regina. There’s no need to look so alarmed. It’s not what you think. I was in the library this morning and I realized how woefully disorganized it is. Nothing is where it should be. It took me a good half hour to find the book on estate drainage systems that I was after. I was simply going to ask Miss Adams to catalogue the books. It’s a large undertaking but it needs to be done. Besides, I’m sure Lavinia and Kitty need some respite from their lessons.”
Regina studied him for a long moment through narrowed eyes. “You want Miss Adams to become your librarian?” she asked, her voice edged with sharp skepticism.
Nicholas shrugged. “Why not? I’m sure she is well-equipped for the task. Apart from that, I’m the one who pays her wages. I’m sure she’ll do whatever is requested of her.”
As he suspected, Regina had no response to that. She picked up her hot chocolate and simply glowered at him over the rim of the cup as she took a sip.
Ignoring her fit of pique, Nicholas glanced back down at the list in his hand. “Who makes your gowns etcetera?”
Regina gaped and almost dropped her cup. “I beg your pardon?”
“It’s a simple question, madam. I know you have at least one dressmaker as I foot the bill. Who makes your gowns? Apart from your modiste in London, is there someone local you use?
Suspicion glinted in Regina’s china blue eyes. “Well, it depends on what I want done,” she said carefully as she placed her cup back on the saucer with a decided chink. “Sometimes I use a modiste in Crawley. But there is a passable seamstress here in Hedgecombe. She conducts her business out of the draper’s shop. Mrs. Thorpe.” Her gaze grew even sharper. “Why do you ask? Perhaps I could be of assistance.”
Nicholas narrowed his own gaze. “I’m sure I can manage,” he responded dryly.
Regina’s mouth flattened. “I’m sure.” She picked up her napkin and dabbed at the corner of her still compressed lips before rising from her seat in preparation to depart. “So tell me, how long do you intend staying at Hartfield on this particular occasion? And are you planning on hosting any dinner or house parties that I should know about? Because if you are, I should consult with Mrs. Graham to ensure we have sufficient supplies before I leave.”
Nicholas cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll stay for as long as I damn well like, Regina. And invite whomever I like, whenever I like.” The woman’s imperious manner irritated him no end and he couldn’t resist the perverse urge to rankle her in return. “You know, you can always relocate to Hedgesparrow House at any time if you’d rather not put up with my habits... Or should I say, proclivities…?”
Regina paled beneath her powder. “Nicholas, I didn’t mean to offend.”
“Of course not,” he remarked with a sardonic twist of his lips. “You never do.” As his sister-in-law took her leave with a good deal of indignant flouncing and silk rustling, he called out after her, “Perhaps it would be wise to remind Lavinia and Kitty, to avoid walking about the north end of the lake near the folly whilst I’m here. It looks like we are in for another scorching day.”
Regina turned and inclined her head. “As you wish.” She took a few more steps toward the door but then paused on the threshold. “Oh, whilst I think of it, what are you intending to do with Miss Adams other than using her in the library? ”
Nicholas almost laughed at her question. You really don’t want to know... Instead, he simply said, “I don’t take your meaning.”
Regina puffed out her chest like a ruffled pigeon. “Well, she cannot take up residence in the Amber Room. If you entertain house guests, as I know you do on occasion, it will look decidedly odd if the governess is sleeping in one of Hartfield’s best suites. Aside from that, the servants will talk. But then of course, it’s entirely up to you...”
Nicholas sighed heavily. Although he hated agreeing with Regina, he was afraid she might be right on that score. Nevertheless, he wasn’t going to let her off easily. “You can install her in one of the spare bedrooms in the east wing then. I can’t imagine the third floor apartments ever get much use. And before you even think to quibble, might I add a fourth floor bedroom that is little more than a cupboard, is entirely unsuitable. I won’t have one of the upper servants treated so shabbily.”
Regina flushed scarlet at his intended slight, but nevertheless, she simply tilted her head again. “I will make it so.”
Telling himself he’d done all he could do to better Miss Adams’s lot in life at the present moment—whilst still steadfastly refusing to examine why he should care so much, indeed at all—Nicholas returned his attention to his other correspondence, but after fifteen minutes, he realized it was a useless endeavor. His mind kept straying to other things, or rather, a particular someone, he really shouldn’t be thinking about.
The fact that the breakfast room felt like the Devil’s own furnace wasn’t helping matters. Even though it was still quite early and the casement windows were wide open, nary a breeze stirred the gauze curtains or the foliage in the willow copse beside the lake. After discarding his navy tailcoat and loosening his damnably tight cravat, Nicholas wandered over to one of the doors with his coffee cup and leaned against the frame to admire the view. The sky, a cloudless azure blue, vividly reminded him of the long, lazy summer days he’d enjoyed during his sojourn in Tuscany last year.
Today certainly wasn’t a day for being holed up with his steward in a stifling hot office going over the accounts. It was a day for lying in the shade somewhere beside the lake, drinking chilled champagne and eating juicy summer strawberries or sliced peaches from the fingers of...
Miss Adams suddenly appeared on the northern edge of the emerald green lawn and like a hound who’d just scented the quarry, his heart rate immediately kicked up a notch. Dressed in a gown of pale yellow, she looked as bright and fresh as one of the roses in Regina’s garden. Even though a white parasol concealed much of her face, he caught a glimpse of her glossy brown hair as she turned—she was clearly sans bonnet—just before she called over her shoulder to someone. A moment later, his nieces came into view. Giggling and skipping, they quickly caught up to the governess and then all three of them headed across
the grass in the direction of the willow copse and the Doric temple folly.
He wondered if Regina had reminded Lavinia and Kitty not to go too far in that direction. Or perhaps more importantly, had she warned Miss Adams?
His mouth curved into a smile as he watched the governess disappear around a bend in the lakeside path. Then again, it might be quite interesting if Regina hadn’t informed her...
For several long moments, Nicholas considered his options for the day ahead whilst he finished his coffee. As much as he hated to deny himself a swim in the lake, he really should wait until later in the afternoon. And whilst he couldn’t ignore estate matters forever, right now, there was a duty that was even more pressing. A task he couldn’t entrust to anyone else.
Thrusting aside the thought he was acting like a fool possessed by midsummer madness, Nicholas strode over to his chair and retrieved his tailcoat.
It was time to go shopping in Hedgecombe.
* * *
“Miss Adams, I do not think we should go any farther.”
Abigail paused on the path that led to the lakeside folly and frowned down at her nine year-old charge, Miss Lavinia. The small Doric style temple was one of Abigail’s favorite haunts in the park surrounding Hartfield, and given the hot weather, she was particularly looking forward to sitting on a marble bench in the cool shade as she conducted today’s reading lesson. Even at this early hour, the schoolroom was far too hot. “Whyever not?” she asked, adjusting the small bundle of books threatening to slide from her damp, slippery grip.
Kitty, Lady Barsby’s youngest daughter, giggled before whispering, “Uncle Nicholas might be about. He likes to swim... with nothing on.”
Oh, thought Abigail just as Lavinia cried, “Kitty!” The girl’s blonde ringlets quivered about her flushed cheeks as she stamped her foot. “You cannot say things like that. It’s not good manners.”
“Well, it’s true,” pouted Kitty, crossing her arms. “Mama says Hartfield is Uncle Nick’s home now and he can do as he likes, even if that means swimming during the day without a stitch on. I also heard Keziah whispering to Nurse about it, and Keziah said she would very much like to see—”
“Kitty, it is never a good idea to listen to the idle chat of servants,” chided Abigail, but her tone was far from stern. Keziah wasn’t the only one who would like to see such a thing. The mental image of Sir Nicholas striking out across the lake, his sleek, muscular body plowing effortlessly through the water made desire bloom low in her belly and a hot blush washed over her cheeks. In a feeble attempt to cover how flustered she was, she added with a bit more conviction, “Besides that, eavesdropping is not a ladylike behavior.”
“We could always sit over there,” suggested Lavinia, nodding toward the willow copse beside the bank.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think that would be wise,” said Abigail with a sigh. The problem was, she was wearing a gown of pale lemon dimity cotton; she couldn’t bear wearing one of her more serviceable gowns of calico or stuff on such a sweltering summer’s day, and both Miss Lavinia and Kitty were wearing white muslin. Because Abigail had anticipated sitting upon a bench in the folly, she hadn’t brought a blanket along, only the girls’ books. The grass was probably still damp from yesterday’s downpour and all their dresses would become horribly stained if they sat down. She couldn’t afford to ruin another dress, not when she’d just spent a good deal of her savings on items that were now lost. Even more importantly, she was loath to incur the wrath of Lady Barsby who was very particular about how the girls presented themselves.
She glanced longingly down the gravel path toward the white marble temple. From here, she couldn’t see anyone on the set of stairs leading into the shady interior, or on the short grassy bank sloping down to the water. Even though her view of the lake was obscured by a strategically placed rhododendron hedge, she was certain no one was swimming nearby. If Sir Nicholas were bathing, surely she’d hear splashing.
There was only one way to find out if she was correct.
“Wait here a moment,” she instructed the girls. Sir Nicholas might be the master of Hartfield, but it hardly seemed fair that he should have the run of this part of the grounds for the entire day. Especially on an abominably hot morning like this. At the risk of getting her only remaining pair of kid slippers dirty, Abigail stepped off the path and crept along the grass, using the towering hedge as a shield until she reached its end. Holding her breath, she listened for any signs of activity in or around the lake for another moment or two before hazarding a look.
Save for a pair of mallard ducks floating by, the lake and the temple were deserted.
Thank heavens. Abigail blew out a shaky sigh of relief. If Sir Nicholas had been bathing in the nude, she really didn’t know what she would have done. When would she learn to curb her reckless nature?
“Miss Adams?” Lavinia called uncertainly.
Abigail plastered a confident smile on her face as she turned around. “Good news,” she declared with false brightness. “No one else is about. I think it is quite safe for us to use the temple for our lesson today.”
Kitty clapped her hands and skipped forward. “Hurrah. I wish we could have our lessons here every day.”
“Me too,” added Lavinia. She took her younger sister’s hand and tugged her across the lawn.
As Abigail followed in their wake, she once again mentally kicked herself for acting so rashly. Brazen and foolish, that’s what she was. And wanton. Because if she were perfectly honest with herself, it wasn’t just a burst of rebellious petulance that had driven her to take such a risk.
God help her, it was lust.
Chapter 4
After Abigail delivered Miss Lavinia and Kitty back into the care of their nurse a few hours later so they could take nuncheon, she discovered that in her absence she’d been allocated yet another bedroom, this time in the east wing on the third floor. Directly above Sir Nicholas’s apartments.
With her disapproval clearly etched across her narrow face, Mrs. Graham had explained the situation in clipped tones whilst Bessie and another housemaid finished putting away the last of Abigail’s few possessions in the cherrywood wardrobe and matching chest of drawers.
Whilst the chamber wasn’t quite as grand as the Amber Room, it was certainly an improvement on the cramped bedroom Abigail had been using for the past six months. Her appreciative gaze wandered over the wide tester bed with its intricately carved headboard, also in cherrywood, the plush rug before the marble fireplace and the large window adorned with damask curtains of a deep rose pink. Heavens, there was even a window seat. She couldn’t quite believe her good fortune. Or that Sir Nicholas was being so generous.
Unless he had an ulterior motive... The thought niggled away at Abigail’s brain like a worm inside an apple.
Mrs. Graham clearly had similar thoughts. After the maids departed, she said in a voice so wintry, it could have blasted the very waters of the lake to ice, “Sir Nicholas would like to see you in the library.”
Abigail’s stomach began to flutter wildly with an odd combination of nervous anticipation and confusion. “I can’t think why.”
Mrs. Graham looked down her long beak of a nose. “It is not your place to think, Miss Adams. It is to do as you are told and behave with the utmost decorum at all times. Need I remind you that her ladyship puts a good deal of trust in you? I should hate to think you would do anything to sully the impressionable young minds of her daughters or indeed, besmirch the name of this good family.”
A furious blush of indignation scalded Abigail’s cheeks. “Mrs. Graham. I must protest.”
The housekeeper stepped forward and pointed a gnarled finger straight at Abigail’s face. She was so close, Abigail could see beads of perspiration glistening on her lined upper lip. “Don’t lie to me, my girl,” she spat like a cornered tabby. “I have eyes. I saw the way you and Sir Nicholas looked at each other yesterday. You’d best watch yourself.”
Abigail raised her chin an
d glared back. “Or what, Mrs. Graham? What will you do? It is Sir Nicholas who is the master of this house and pays the staffs’ wages, including yours. Might I suggest it is you who should remember that pertinent fact.”
Mrs. Graham’s face grew beet red and Abigail swore she could hear the woman grinding her teeth together. But she stood her ground. She wouldn’t be cowed by such a spiteful martinet. After a moment, the housekeeper made a low sound in her throat like a growl before she spun on her heel and stalked out of the room.
Abigail heaved a shaky sigh of relief and after shutting the door, pressed her hot forehead against the cool wood. A rush of stinging tears pricked the back of her eyelids. Dear God. What a horrible, horrible woman.
And how absolutely terrifying to think Mrs. Graham’s assessment of the situation was so frighteningly accurate. And that by retaliating, she had made everything just that much worse.
But she didn’t have time for self-indulgent histrionics. Sir Nicholas expected her.
Abigail drew a deep, fortifying breath then crossed over to the washstand by the bed. After splashing her face with cool water, she examined her appearance in the looking glass: her eyes were a trifle bright; her cheeks were flushed but other than that, she looked relatively composed despite her inner turmoil. Because she hadn’t worn a bonnet, her hair had even managed to stay in its chignon for once.
She glanced wistfully at her empty bottle of lavender water sitting bedside her cake of rose-scented soap. She’d washed again this morning but given the heat of the day, she would’ve loved to dab a few drops of scent upon her wrists and behind her ears. She’d added lavender water to the list of items she’d lost—a list she had completed most reluctantly before she’d left it on Sir Nicholas’s desk in the library as he’d instructed. Perhaps he simply wanted to speak with her about it.
An Improper Governess: An Improper Liaisons Novella, Book 2 Page 3