Dangerous Lord, Innocent Governess

by Christine Merrill

  It shocked her to see the depth of bitterness and loathing for his late wife that was plain on his face. ‘If you hated the girl’s mother so, then why did you marry her?’

  He smiled. ‘The obvious reasons: she was rich and beautiful. I desired her. I was young and foolish enough to think that would be sufficient.’

  He made no mention of love, even from the first. ‘No wonder she grew to hate you.’

  ‘Grew to hate me?’ He smiled. ‘You question my motives. But you do not think to wonder why she married me. There was never love between us. On her part, not even the physical desire was returned.’

  Daphne did not respond. She did not like to think that Clarissa’s behaviour over her unhappy marriage had no justification.

  Tim smiled again and continued. ‘I was a grave disappointment to her, you know. She and her family had such hopes for me and I failed them.’

  ‘Disappointment? You are a baron, are you not?’ It was certainly more than she had expected, when and if she found a husband.

  ‘A very lowly one. And that came late, after we were married. I earned a knighthood, as well.’ He said it with such mock distaste that it almost made her laugh. ‘For cross breeding wheat. And if you could have seen the look on my wife’s face when that happened. She was horrified. She told me often enough, if she’d have wished for a husband to earn her respect, then she’d have married a cit with a fat wallet. That, at least, would have been more useful than the meagre awards I’ve earned with my scholarship or my poor family connections. She and her family were rather hoping that I would inherit a better title, and the land associated with it. Not hoping so much as expecting.’

  ‘Surely not.’ It made her family sound common, as though they were willing to sell their daughter for a coronet.

  ‘I have an uncle who is a marquis. A lovely gentleman, with a weak constitution. Unmarried, at the time I met Clarissa. I told her in retrospect that if all she wanted was the title, she’d have done better for herself in seducing the old man.’ He gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘She told me she thought the same thing. Uncle Henry’s miraculous recovery was disappointing enough. But that he should marry late in life, and father an heir?’

  Tim shook his head. ‘I did not mind the change in succession, for I’d given little thought to the matter before Clare pointed it out to me. She could not believe the fact. That she had bound herself to a man who was not only poor, but devoid of political ambition, was quite beyond her understanding. She was not willing to live as I am, a tenant to Bellston. But my influential friends were valuable to further her own social climbing.’

  He was so very cold and matter of fact about it that it made her want to scream in frustration. It was even worse that she remembered Clare as bright, beautiful, elegant and well versed in the ways of London. She had been so witty, and always surrounded by admirers. And totally dismissive of her husband.

  There had been no doubt in Daphne’s mind that when she met him he would be ugly, and more than a bit of a brute. She looked again at her employer. There was nothing dull about the man. He was obviously more intelligent than her, and with a wit as quick, or quicker, than Clare’s. Nor was he brutish, for his manner was easy, and his frame trim and graceful. There was none of the hesitance she expected in a man given over to learning. Had she met him in a drawing room, she would have found him an equal to any man present in looks and behaviour.

  ‘I was a grave disappointment to her in all ways that mattered. And she was a millstone around my neck. I enjoyed her money, of course. The house was in need of repair, and I owe the success of my experiments to the wealth she brought with her when we married. The children have been a delight and a comfort to me. I was willing to bear much for their sakes, for they are my greatest achievement.’

  He looked at her, and his eyes were flat and emotionless. ‘But it all came with a cost. She took advantage of every chance to humiliate me, in public or private. There was no disciplining her. If I chose to put my foot down, tried to punish her, or attempted to embarrass her, she would repay me in kind. She enjoyed watching me suffer and was more than willing to besmirch her own reputation, if it would pay me out. She even took up with my closest friend, removing what little companionship I enjoyed, and replacing it with suspicion and doubt.’

  He shook his head. ‘I schooled myself to hide my response to it, to pretend that none of it mattered to me. And some days, I think I even believed it myself. Other than that? The best I could manage was to keep the children away from their own mother, so that they might not see the truth. She did not mind it overmuch, for she had little patience for them. But I fear that it has harmed them permanently, to have no woman who cared for them.’

  ‘They are unharmed, I swear,’ she assured him. ‘Bright, pleasant children. Co-operative and kind.’

  ‘And is Sophie unmarked by what has happened?’ He gave her a cynical smile. ‘She barely speaks. And she was a little chatterbox, before I…’ His throat stuck on the word. ‘Before her mother died. Now she cannot stand to be in the room with me. The other children are a little better. But not as they once were. We four were a merry little family, once. Very happy, as long as Clare stayed in town. But at the last she provoked me, until I was unable to contain my rage.’

  He ran a hand through his hair. ‘If not for my weakness…’ Then he looked up at her. ‘I do not regret what I have done, so much as I regret not planning better. I can think of at least three plants in my possession right now. Untraceable poisons. I could have administered them, and been far away when they took effect. No one would have been the wiser.’

  ‘Don’t say that. You do not mean it.’ She was frantic to believe the words. ‘You are too good a man to be capable of premeditated murder.’

  He smiled sadly at her. ‘I am honoured by your belief in me, Daphne. But you do not know me so well as you think. I am who I am, and that man is not worthy of you.’ He pushed the packet of herbs across the desk toward her. ‘If you mean to stay, then take these with you and see that you use them. The situation is quite complicated enough, without bringing another unfortunate child into it.’ Then he returned to his paperwork, and she was dismissed.

  She walked slowly back to the schoolroom, tucking the packet of herbs deep into her pocket. She should be ashamed at what they symbolised. What kind of woman feared a child rather than welcoming one? But the herbs meant that he would visit her again. And for the moment, that was all that mattered. She would not think of her old life, or what would happen when she needed to return to it. For now, she would be a governess by day. And at night, she would be Timothy Colton’s mistress. Each new day would be as much future as she needed.

  She stopped at the door to the schoolroom, surprised at the sound of children’s voices, raised in argument. It was strange, for they normally got on so well together. She had not heard a cross word between them since the day she’d arrived.

  ‘Lily!’ Edmund dropped easily into the role of leader. ‘I forbid you to speak.’

  ‘You are not the oldest, Eddy,’ she muttered. ‘You cannot forbid me anything. It is time. Maybe she can—’

  ‘No. We already decided. You must not. We said nothing to the others, and we will say nothing to Miss Collins.’ As she stepped around the door frame and into the room, they did not see her. They were both casting worried glances at Sophie, who was playing in a corner and oblivious to the conversation.

  ‘But it cannot go on like this. Perhaps Father—’

  ‘What cannot go on, children?’ She stepped in between them and gave them her best no-more-nonsense smile.

  They looked up at her, obviously guilty. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Really? In my experience it is seldom necessary to be as worried about nothing as you two are. I will find out the truth eventually, you know.’ She gave them a playful smile. If it was a broken window or a spoiled book, she knew of all the locations that such problems might be hidden, from personal experience.

  But her friendliness had no
effect on them. ‘No, you will not. Because we will not tell you.’ Edmund said it as though he were announcing a death, and Lily closed her eyes tightly, as though she could wish away the consequences.

  Daphne went to them, going down upon her knees before them, so that she could look into their eyes. She hoped they did not suspect what had happened between her and their father. They would be far too young to understand. ‘If there is something you wish to say to me, something that worries you, perhaps? You do not have to be afraid. Not of anything or anyone. No matter who it is. You will feel better, once you can share the secret.’

  Lily’s green eyes filled with tears. ‘No, Miss Collins. Eddy is right. We promised we would not say. And telling will not help. It will ruin everything.’

  So she ceased her quizzing and reached out to hug both of them.

  And as they trembled in her arms, Sophie noticed nothing, sitting in her chair by the window, smiling to her papers and paints.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tim went to her again, that night, after the children were in bed and the rest of the servants had retired below stairs. He had warred with himself over the visit for most of the day. Never mind that she had agreed to it, there were a hundred reasons why it was wrong. The virtue of the girl, her class, the fact that she was in the house to care for his children. She deserved better treatment. And had he still been a man of honour, it should have mattered to him.

  But the stain on his soul all but laughed at the idea that he would stick at debauchery after forgiving himself for murder. If the girl was foolish enough to submit, then what compunctions need he have about using her? In the end, he let his lust overcome his judgement and focused on the vision of naked female flesh, warm and willing, waiting in the little room at the top of the house. He could lose himself there, calm the guilty voices in his head, rut himself to exhaustion and come down to sleep in his own bed. When he finally climbed the stairs and came into her room, arousal was strong in him, like a caged animal pacing behind a gate.

  She sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for him. He closed the door. But he made no effort to douse the light, for he wanted to see her body. She was naked, as he had imagined her, the cold air peaking her breasts, limbs smooth and pale. He pulled off his clothing and left it in an untidy heap on the floor. Then he walked towards the bed, bare. He could feel the air raising bumps on his skin, and his hair standing up in protest. ‘How can you stand the room so cold?’ he asked. And then realised that, even if it mattered to her, there was no fireplace. He’d provided nothing to keep her warm. ‘You should wear a nightshirt, or you will catch your death.’

  She smiled. ‘My only one was torn last night, and I have not yet had the time to mend it.’

  He had done that to her as well. ‘I will buy you another,’ he blurted. ‘As fine as you might wish. Sheer cotton, perhaps, or a very fine embroidered linen.’

  ‘So that you might rip it off me again?’ And she gave a small laugh. It was not the knowing sound of a courtesan, or the laugh of derision he would have got from his late wife. This was a sweet sound that seemed to say he could do whatever pleasured him, for she trusted him to bring her pleasure as well. She was looking at him through the lashes covering her slanted green eyes, trying not to appear too curious about his arousal.

  And the illusion shattered in him that he could treat her as though she were a nameless stranger with no part in the matter of their coupling. She was looking at him like a bride. Innocent, but unafraid. Whether he wanted it or not, tonight she offered herself to him because she had given him her heart.

  For a moment, it was easy to believe that she was his by right, the wife of his heart. There was nothing wrong or sinful about what he wished to do.

  He smiled back at her, and said, ‘I do not like to think you are cold because of my carelessness. Let us climb beneath the covers and warm you up.’ And he pulled back the blanket and climbed into bed beside her. Soon, their mutual fumblings beneath the covers had them laughing, and far more than warm. When she was gasping with pleasure, he wasted no time in coming into her body as though he belonged there. He should not have rushed, for it was over too quickly, and she curled close to him, laying her cheek against the hair on his chest and sighing in contentment.

  She’d stayed.

  He had told her the truth, which should have been more than enough to send her running back to London. And yet, here she was, at his side.

  His actions last night should have been enough to drive her away, if his words had not. He had tricked her out of her maidenhead. For even though she’d shown no sign of pain, there was nothing to make him believe that he was not her first lover. Tonight, she had been curious, but inexperienced.

  He stared down at the top of her head, soft chestnut curls spreading out over the pillow. They looked better that way, and would look better on soft linen instead of the rough cloth here. She should be lying on down, wrapped in silk, with a roaring fire in the grate to chase away the chill.

  He could give her that, if he wished. Move her downstairs into a guest bedroom. Dress her in satin, shower her with jewels. Stay in her bed so that he could feed her a breakfast of apricots from the orangery, and make her lick the juice from his fingers. But it would make her position too clearly that of a mistress.

  Could he live with himself?

  Instead, she was huddled in an attic, and tired from a day of caring for his children. He understood the satisfying feeling of fatigue, after a day’s labour. But even at the worst times of his life, it had always been by choice. To be forced to take a position to survive… And to be forced again into the kind of service he required of her. He shook head in disgust at his own hasty actions.

  She woke from her nap and looked up at him, smiling.

  He gathered her close to him again.

  She’d stayed.

  When he’d confessed, she’d faced it without flinching. She didn’t dance around it, not wanting to hear the truth, as even his dearest friend did. And she must have forgiven him for it, even if he could not forgive himself. It was the first proof he’d got that such was even possible. It gave him hope that there might be a way past what he had done, and a future after it.

  And it occurred to him that there was a perfectly good way to keep her safe and warm and at his side for ever, with her honour restored. If she could accept his offer, knowing the villain that he had been, then he would put it behind him and work to be worthy of her love. They need never mention Clare again, or think of the time before Daphne had come into his house.

  He could start anew.

  She was nestling against him, again, and he felt her head dip as she began to doze.

  He kissed her hair. ‘You are tired. I should not disturb you.’

  ‘It is nothing.’ She yawned. ‘The children…’

  ‘Do you like them?’ he asked hesitantly, afraid that he was overstepping yet another boundary that an employer should not cross. ‘Not just the job, mind. But the children themselves.’

  She gave a little start. ‘Yes, I do.’ She sounded almost surprised by the fact, and he wondered if this were in some way different from her last position. ‘There were some difficulties at first. But they are bright and good company. And Sophie is a darling.’

  ‘That is good. I think they like you as well.’ There was one hurdle, at least. For he could not very well ask her to make a life with him, if she could not accept another woman’s children.

  ‘And how do you like me, Lord Colton?’ Her lips teased his chest. Her tone was low and sultry, and went to the very core of him, stirring his body and his mind.

  ‘Very well indeed.’ He tipped her chin up, and kissed her properly, tasting her mouth. She returned the kiss, rocking gently against him. He could feel the heat rising in him, the desire to have her again. But he wanted to prolong the play. ‘And am I to believe that you are growing to like me in return?’

  She was kissing her way down his throat. ‘Now that you have stopped trying to frighte
n me away, I think I like you very much.’

  And he saw how much things had changed in a day, for though he had woken wanting nothing more than to be rid of her, it was now of the utmost importance to him, a matter of life and death, that he do nothing that would make her leave. ‘Was it so obvious that I was trying to scare you?’

  ‘Of course. You were nearly successful. For I do not want to say the things I thought you capable of, listening to the wind howl while lying in this bed, night after night.’ Her hands were stroking his sides now, and it was only a matter of time before she touched him as he longed to be touched, and then conversation would be impossible.

  ‘Say them, all the same. For I wish to know.’

  ‘I thought you were a violent brute who cared for nothing but his own pleasure.’ And she laughed softly.

  He remembered the way he’d come to her, ready for sex but barely able to think of her by name. And lust for her mingled with a kind of sick dread.

  ‘I thought that you would hurt me, if I opposed you.’ She looked up into his eyes, and hers were as green as a cat’s in the darkness. ‘But now that I see the real you, the one that you hide from the world, I think my fears were quite ridiculous.’

  The apprehension in him grew. And she continued, ‘You are no more capable of hurting me, or anyone else, than you are of hurting the plants in your garden.’

  She did not believe him.

  ‘But…but I told you… You understand what happened here…’

  She smiled her satisfied cat’s smile. ‘I understand what you think happened here. You feel responsible for your wife’s death.’

  He grabbed her hands, and held them so that she would stop tormenting his body. Then he said slowly, so that she could not doubt his meaning, ‘I killed Clarissa. This is not just guilt over an accidental fall. I murdered my wife. She had preceded me to Wales. And I knew it was to be with her lover, a man I thought to be a friend. I followed. I arrived at the house. And through the windows I saw her in the drawing room, entertaining him. I went to my study and poured a brandy, even though it was still morning. Then I went to Bellston to talk to the Duchess. Adam arrived and we fought. He sent me away.’