‘I… I…’
His mouth covered hers, blocking out speech, all thought. The only thing she knew was the pressure of his lips against hers, the way his hands felt on her back—safety and something more.
Her hand curled around his neck, burying itself in his thick hair.
His tongue traced the outline of her lips, demanded entrance once again. Her mouth parted, tasting him, as his arms drew tighter around her.
The nature of the kiss changed, deepened, asked rather than took.
A wild surge of heat went through her, blocking out all sensibilities. This was nothing like his goodbye in the trees. This kiss had hunger and something else, something that called to the inner reaches of her soul. His hands gripped her shoulders, pulled her closer, prevented her from leaving, even had she wanted to give into that tiny warning voice that whispered about a governess’s reputation.
‘Miss Milton, I have collected lots and lots of flowers this time. Oh, my! Oh, my! Oh, my!’
Chapter Seven
Daisy turned in Lord Ravensworth’s arms and saw Nella standing there, her mouth opening and closing like a cod fish’s as she held the basket up over her head.
Before Daisy could utter a word of protest or move away from Lord Ravensworth, Nella dropped the basket with a crash and ran down the corridor.
The delphiniums fell into the ink puddle and became stained blue-black. Such a pretty flower to be ruined like that, Daisy thought abstractly. Ruined—the word reverberated in her soul.
‘Nella!’ she called in a throaty voice that did not sound like her own. But the only answer was Nella’s footsteps resounding down the stairs, each step another nail in the coffin of her reputation.
Daisy knew she might have withstood the earlier squall, but not today’s tempest. She had no excuse. Her lips ached where Lord Ravensworth had touched them. His arm remained curled about her waist, holding her to his body.
Holding out her hand towards the door, Daisy tried again. ‘Nella, come back! I can explain. It is not what you think.’
From far away, she heard Nella calling to her mother.
‘Miss Milton, Daisy, we will have company shortly,’ Lord Ravensworth murmured in her ear. ‘We must decide what to do. What we are going to say.’
‘What is there to be done? How can this ever be made right?’
She knew her hands should be searching for pins, straightening the mass of hair that tumbled about her shoulders, but all she wanted to do was to lay her head against his chest and have it all go away. She shook herself. It was that sort of action that had led to this mess.
Her mind kept going back and back to the same thing—she had been caught in a flagrant embrace with Lord Ravensworth, a man she barely knew, a man who had the reputation of a notorious rake. What was it that Nella had whispered—the most famous courtesans in Europe swooned after him?
She had kissed and pressed her body up against his for no good reason except that she had desired the sensation. Mrs Flyte had warned her of such behaviour and had predicted a bad end. And now, despite her years of caution, the prediction had come true. Her life was at an end.
‘Everything is destroyed.’
‘Be brave. A governess does not wilt. A governess is strong and fearless when faced with such things as spilled ink.’
Daisy moved away from the circle of his arms. This was about more than spilled ink. She knew it and he knew it. But he stood there, watching her with hard amber eyes, spouting platitudes about ink. No doubt for him, being caught embracing a governess was a minor incident, an inconvenience. His reputation would never suffer. But hers… She refused to allow her mind to go on such paths. ‘Then I had best get to work cleaning up this inconvenience. You might wish to depart, Lord Ravensworth, if you don’t want to get your boots dirty.’
She averted her face from his. She wanted him to stay. And the worst thing was that she wanted him to sweep her into his arms again and whisper that it would be all right, that he would be honourable. But he stood there, unyielding and silent.
Daisy took hold of a bit of blotting paper and knelt down. She wouldn’t beg.
Behind her, Lord Ravensworth’s footsteps resounded against the carpet. A bottle clinked against her basket as he moved it, but she did not look up. She stared resolutely at the ink puddle and the way it was spreading—blue-black, smearing and destroying everything in its path. Her skirt touched the puddle and even the grey wool turned blue-black. She uttered a loud oath.
‘Is there a problem, Miss Milton? You appear distraught. Allow me.’ He took the useless blotting paper from her stained fingers. ‘It will not be as bad as you fear. Trust me. I know what is required in these situations.’
‘You have already done enough, Lord Ravensworth.’ Daisy stared resolutely at the ink stain, rather than at her seducer. ‘Nella was here. She has gone to fetch her mother. Mrs Blandish will be appalled at the state of the room. Mrs Blandish is a great one for propriety…for a proper order to things.’
Daisy looked down at her trembling hand. She hated the way her throat closed every time she attempted to say the word—reputation. She should be screaming at him.
‘Your basket is here with everything in its place. Nothing was taken from it. What is a governess without a basket?’
He brought the basket over to her and set it down. His arm brushed hers and sent fresh tingles through her. His whole being appeared relaxed as if what had just happened was of no consequence. If anything, his whole countenance appeared more relaxed. Daisy gritted her teeth, hating her attraction to him and the consequences of it. Two played this game.
‘You are right. It should not take long to clean up this mess. Luckily the ink did not reach the hearth rug. It would be a great shame for that carpet to be utterly beyond repair.’ A single tear slipped out and with angry fingers she wiped it away. ‘For people for ever to point and to whisper about this incident and say what a silly ninny the governess was.’
A firm hand gripped her shoulder, turned her around. His face was dark and angry without the slightest hint of pity. ‘The hearth rug be damned! You will have to do better than that, Miss Milton. It is your reputation that matters here. People will not draw their skirts back or look down their pointed noses at you. Not because of what happened in this room today.’
‘You’re wrong.’ She put her hand to her head as a wave of weary resignation washed over her. ‘It does not take much imagination to know what happens next. Mrs Blandish will dismiss me without a reference. But I will find a way to survive. I do have friends, Lord Ravensworth. You can stop worrying.’
Lord Ravensworth crossed his arms and his face became more remote than a statue’s. A muscle twitched in his cheek; his nostrils flared as if he were attempting to control his temper. ‘Will you attempt to wrap the shreds of shattered reputation about you, Daisy, and hope? You might survive, that is true, but somehow I doubt it. Few will believe your prim-and-proper act when Mrs Blandish’s juicy tale gets about. The gossips will want to enjoy themselves at your expense. Where to next? The Continent? Or will you try your hand at a different profession?’
‘That is an infamous suggestion!’ Daisy balled her fists and longed to hit something hard. A courtesan! Her! Not on this earth! ‘I would rather starve first. I am no short-heeled wench, Lord Ravensworth. How is that for answer?’
‘I am offering you protection, Miss Milton. But it would be remiss of me not to point out the alternatives. You will be unable to carry on as a governess in Britain if Mrs Blandish wants to smear your reputation.’
‘I believe I already know the alternative. No one stays a governess long without learning about the pitfalls. There are other places such as Italy and the Kingdom of Two Sicilies where they do not listen to local gossip.’
Daisy hated how her voice caught. Italy. Louisa Sibson had found employment there after the Jonathon Ponsby-Smythe débâcle. But Louisa’s letters always spoke of the longing to return home. Daisy’s heart plunged. And what would Felici
ty do if she was in Italy? Would she bring Kammie out? Could they live there? The annuity barely covered Felicity’s living expenses and Felicity was so insistent that Kammie be brought up as a proper English girl, despite her illness.
‘Italy is full of ruins and artists. You wouldn’t like it.’ Lord Ravensworth dismissed the idea with a snap of his fingers. ‘And you forget—we are both caught in this coil.’
Daisy sat back on her heels. ‘It may surprise you, Lord Ravensworth, but I am not in the market for an illicit relationship, even after this. I would rather die than betray my principles. And how would you know if I would like Italy or not?’
He swung away from her like he was attempting to control his temper.
She stood, but discovered her legs had turned to jelly. She staggered a few steps to her chair, sank down and put her face in her hands, rather than see the look of scorn on his face.
‘I have been very naïve and stupid, Lord Ravensworth. Arguing with you about the merits of where I should next search for employment will not make it any easier. Please go. I decline your infamous offer of becoming your mistress. Your honour must therefore be satisfied. Go, you stubborn man.’
The mantelpiece clock ticked loudly and she peeped through her fingers at him and immediately wished she hadn’t. He was standing there with an indulgent expression on his face.
‘You are very pleasant to argue with.’ His eyes flickered with a strange light, promising pleasure in their depths, a subtle shift. ‘A refreshing change from the mealy-mouthed women who think no further than the latest trinket or bonnet.’
Her hands itched to smooth the errant lock of hair from his forehead. She wanted to hate him, but there was something about the way his smile transformed his features… His eyes burnt with warm fire. Daisy gripped the arms of the chair until her knuckles shone white. Thoughts like those were going to guarantee the destruction of her dreams and everyone she held dear.
‘Why do you remain here, Lord Ravensworth?’ she asked, to break the silence that was beginning to press down on her soul. ‘Why have you not taken to your heels and fled? Most men would have. We have fallen out of all civility, you and I.’
‘For once in my misbegotten life, I am attempting to do the correct thing, Miss Milton, and to save your life.’ He stood, glowering. A tiny pulse beat at the base of his throat and his hair still retained the imprints of her palm. ‘You are being wilfully blind, Daisy Milton.’ He slapped his fist against his hand. ‘I intend to marry you. There will be no martyred governess today.’
She stared at him in astonishment. The room spun slightly and then righted itself. The infamous Lord Ravensworth had proposed marriage. Proposal? It sounded more like a declaration of intent, an order. She had to have heard him wrong. Men like him walked away from governesses and left them begging on streets, penniless and pregnant. Wasn’t that what everyone warned her of?
‘Is this some sort of joke? A jape that you can then boast about to your friends? Viscounts marry débutantes with perfect pedigrees and well-endowed marriage settlements.’ She fluffed out her skirt. ‘I am hardly what you would call a catch—well and truly on the shelf with no dowry or family connection.’
‘Marriage has never been a joking matter for me, Miss Milton.’ The flame in his eyes had become cold and hard. ‘I came here today to make sure you were safe. And you will be safe after you marry me.’
‘Your immersion in the river must have affected your senses. Are you suffering from a fever? Delusions?’ Daisy gripped the edge of the chair. What reason did Lord Ravensworth have for offering for her? There had to be an alternative reason, something she knew little about. There was no pretence of love. Daisy tried to think. There were many practical reasons why most women would grasp the opportunity with both hands, but she had always wanted to marry for love and because she had great regard for her husband. She had seen other governesses marry men simply because it was a way to escape, only to end up far worse off. And this would be no easy match. He was demanding and stubborn. ‘You are a stranger to me. We do not have finer feelings for one another.’
‘It is what engagements are for.’ The dimple flashed in and out of his cheek as if she had tumbled headlong into his trap. ‘A long engagement, if you wish, but we will marry, Miss Milton, and I will have you in my bed as my wife.’
Daisy sat completely still. Her fingers pinched her hand hard. She was awake. This was not some strange waking dream. Yesterday, she had thought marriage and such things were not for her and now a man, a man with a fortune, was offering, a serious offer. But acceptance was out of the question. She had always vowed that she would marry a man who understood her need for independence and who would let her have some measure of freedom. With Lord Ravensworth, compromise was not an option. He was the sort to rule his own house. And she had seen where that could lead with Felicity’s marriage.
She lifted her chin, gazing directly into the shifting amber of his eyes. ‘It is my life, Lord Ravensworth. We merely shared a kiss.’
He put his hands on either side of the chair, pinning her there. ‘Must I destroy your reputation entirely, Miss Milton?’
His face loomed closer. She could see the place where his hair caressed his collar, and the way it curled about his ears as well as the curve of his sensuous mouth. The warm place in her middle ignited, blazing once again. Despite the danger, her body longed for his touch. She gripped the arms of the chair tighter, fighting against the growing warmth inside her and the temptation to simply lift her mouth.
‘But why? Are you seeking to ruin me? What have I done to you except to help you? I saved your life,’ she whispered as the tingling started again in her insides.
‘Are you always this difficult?’ The small place where his valet had forgotten to shave him as closely was but inches from her, tempting her fingers as she remembered the rough silk of his face. ‘Will I have to kiss you again? And this time, I will not stop for modesty’s sake.’
‘Miss Milton!’ Mrs Blandish thundered from the doorway, her jowls slightly swaying. Daisy sat back with a start. Lord Ravensworth leisurely righted himself, tucking a stray tendril of hair behind her ear as he did so, as if they were already…lovers. Daisy’s stomach somersaulted.
‘Mrs Bland… Blandish.’ Daisy stammered and wished her brain could think up something more intelligent, some way of explaining, but her wits appeared to have deserted her along with her sense of self-preservation. ‘This may appear odd to you, but can I assure you that it is not what it looks like… Lord Ravensworth and I…’
Lord Ravensworth merely raised his eyebrow and his forefinger indicated her top three buttons were undone. She put her hand to her throat and fumbled with them, missed the buttonhole and tried again.
‘It all depends on what Mrs Blandish thinks it looks like,’ he said with a maddening smile.
Daisy gave up on the buttons, clasped her hands together, and prayed. ‘Is there some difficulty, Mrs Blandish?’
‘I came to teach my daughter a lesson and to call her bluff.’ Mrs Blandish closed her eyes and adopted a pious expression. ‘And what do I discover—you in a flagrant embrace with an unknown man? You have to have known my daughter spied you before. I gave you time, Miss Milton, as I did not want to lose you. And you persist in being here with this man.’
‘We have not yet been introduced, Mrs Blandish. Adam Ravensworth, third Viscount Ravensworth, at your service.’ Lord Ravensworth executed a precise bow, the sort one found in the best drawing rooms or on the dance floor. ‘Pray forgive me for calling in this manner, but your gift of the calf’s-foot jelly aided my recovery immeasurably. It is seldom that one encounters such Christian behaviour.’
‘Lord Ravensworth?’ Mrs Blandish went white and then red. ‘My governess was embracing Lord Ravensworth? Why on earth would Lord Ravensworth embrace a governess?’
Adam regarded the turban mountain with the tiny mouth and piglike eyes. Any pretence towards beauty had long since vanished under the veneer of good living.
However, he would accept her as an ally in this war with Miss Milton’s sensibilities. Daisy would marry him. He would not permit whoever had attacked her to try again. The necklace had been waiting for him in its hiding place, and, God willing, Daisy Milton would never know the danger she had been in. Adam touched the necklace in his pocket and silently repeated the vow.
‘I was a friend of Miss Milton’s brother before his untimely demise. Miss Milton’s father was known to my grandfather, Lord Charles Ravensworth.’
The tiny mouth smiled. ‘You are a respected member of the ton, Lord Ravensworth. I feel certain we must have a number of acquaintances in common, besides my dear friend, Lord Edward. But I remain confused—were you seeking to give Miss Milton comfort? Has she suffered a bereavement?’
Adam fought against the temptation to punch the air. The woman had taken his lead. Daisy would have to agree to the marriage. It was a source of irritation that he had not considered the prospect before now. Miss Milton possessed all the qualities he desired in a wife—refinement, wit and an interesting mind. He might not love her, but love only existed in poetry. He would never treat her unkindly and his debt to her brother would be repaid.
‘You are quite correct in pointing out the impropriety of the situation. The fault is mine.’ Adam gave a slight wave of his hand. ‘Miss Milton is about to do me the honour of accepting my proposal of marriage.’
‘You are perhaps being over-sensible on this matter, Lord Ravensworth.’ Mrs Blandish regarded him with a greedy expression, her hands moving like some ponderous trunk. ‘My younger daughter is prone to exaggeration. I am willing to say that I saw nothing untoward when I arrived. My new butler was remiss. He should have escorted you to the garden where you belong.’
Adam clenched his jaw. Mrs Blandish was supposed to be his ally, and not Daisy’s. The stupid woman. She was not going to ruin his rescue.
‘And that is the truth,’ Miss Milton said. ‘Nella is prone towards exaggeration. I was simply feeling over-wrought with the state of the schoolroom and screamed. Lord Ravensworth came to my rescue.’
Compromising Miss Milton Page 10