Not Just a Governess

by Carole Mortimer

  Lady Cicely gave him a reproving look. ‘Are all young men as ignorant in their knowledge of women as you appear to be?’

  ‘Grandmama!’ He eyed her incredulously.

  ‘I am not about to apologise, Adam, so you may take that offended expression off your face!’ She eyed him impatiently. ‘Elena does not have a “small measure of affection” for you—’

  ‘Good,’ he grated through gritted teeth.

  ‘—but instead, it’s clear she feels emotions of the enduring and faithful kind,’ his grandmother continued. ‘No, you shall hear me out, Adam,’ she added determinedly as he would have interrupted once more. ‘Elena is not one of those flirtatious young débutantes who appear in society at the start of each new Season, but a poised young lady of almost one and twenty. Moreover, she is a young lady to whom life has dealt a harsh hand—’

  ‘Which is why I have no intention of taking advantage of the gratitude she expressed to me when we last spoke together!’ Elena’s gratitude, whilst better than having her feeling nothing for him at all, was not enough for Adam. Not nearly enough!

  Lady Cicely sighed deeply. ‘It is my belief that gratitude is definitely not all she feels for you. Far from it! Oh, she has put a brave face on things these past few weeks, accepting all that Edith, Jocelyn and I have arranged for her, has been very gracious to all in society. But we are all three agreed, Elena cannot hide from us the fact that she searches for a particular face every time we attend a party or ball and that her disappointment is palpable when that face is never there.’

  ‘And you believe that face to be my own…?’ Adam was almost too afraid to believe what his grandmother was telling him, his own heart pounding furiously in his chest as she imparted this last piece of information to him.

  ‘I know it is,’ Lady Cicely stated positively.

  ‘This is not another of your machinations to try to see me married again?’ He eyed her suspiciously.

  A delicate blush coloured her powdered cheeks. ‘No, it is not,’ she said huskily. ‘My only wish has been to see you happy again, Adam.’

  ‘I was not criticising, Grandmama, merely trying to ascertain whether or not this is all wishful thinking on your part.’

  She met Adam’s gaze unblinkingly. ‘I assure you, it is not.’

  Was it possible—could Elena really be missing him as much as he was missing her? Could she feel something more than gratitude for him, after all?

  There was only one way for him to find out…

  ‘Your hair is as dark and beautiful as a raven’s wing.’

  ‘You are too kind, Lord Randall,’ Elena responded politely to the compliment as the two of them stood talking together at the musical soirée being given by his mother; it was Elena’s usual response to the effusive praise and admiration which had been showered upon her over the last few weeks by so many of the eligible gentlemen of the ton.

  It had been a very busy time for her, the mornings spent shopping for suitable gowns and other clothing considered necessary by Lady Cicely for her entrance into society, the evenings just as full and busy, Elena’s popularity assured as she attended a different social occasion every evening, in the company of Lady Cicely, Lady Edith and Lady Jocelyn.

  It should have been every young débutante’s dream.

  And yet…

  There was something missing from Elena’s life, an absence which had resulted in her feeling hollow inside, no matter how busy she was, or how effusive and genuine the gentlemen’s compliments were.

  Because those compliments were never given by the voice she ached to hear again. And the eyes, which gazed so admiringly into hers, were never of a soft dove grey. Nor were the hands, which lightly clasped hers in greeting or during a dance, ever the hands she longed to feel again.

  Because they did not belong to Adam.

  It was silly of her, Elena knew, to hunger for the sound, the sight, the touch, of a man who obviously had not given her a second thought since the evening of Neville’s denouncement—yet she could not stop herself from doing so.

  She longed to see Adam again, to speak with him—oh Lord, if she could just see him again! Just once—

  ‘Lord Adam Hawthorne.’

  ‘What the devil!’

  Elena did not so much as spare another thought for Lord Randall, let alone have any interest in his sudden exclamation, as she instead turned sharply, as had all of the ton, to stare across to where Adam stood so tall and handsome in the doorway.

  Her heart leapt with happiness at her first sight of him in weeks, that happiness glowing in her eyes as she drank in her fill of the man she knew she loved so deeply he seemed to have taken up residence in her heart, so that she could no longer see and think of anything but him.

  Adam…

  Adam paid not the slightest heed to the stunned silence which had fallen over the Countess of Livingstone’s crowded salon after the butler had announced his presence. The ton were obviously extremely surprised to see him here, the first society function he had attended in the past four years, but Adam had eyes and ears for only one person in the room.

  Elena.

  Looking more wonderful, more beautiful than he had even imagined these past long weeks, in a gown of the softest turquoise, the darkness of her hair secured in a fashionable abundance of curls upon her crown, her eyes glowing that same deep, luminous turquoise as she gazed back at him in unadulterated pleasure.

  Adam continued to meet that glowing gaze as, nodding tersely to his twittering hostess, he began to stride purposefully across the room to where Elena now stood alone, a blush in her cheeks and a welcoming smile parting those full and rosy-red lips by the time he reached her side.

  They continued to drink their fill of each other with their eyes for several long, telling moments, totally unaware as the hushed conversation—speculative now—resumed around them.

  ‘Elena—’

  ‘Adam!’

  They both began talking at the same time, only to both stop at the same time, too. Elena started chuckling, Adam joining in seconds later. ‘Please tell me that I am not imagining your pleasure in seeing me again!’ he urged gruffly.

  She met his gaze unwaveringly. ‘You are not.’

  His breath left him in a relieved sigh. ‘It is so very good to see you again, too, Elena.’ His gaze roamed hungrily over her face. ‘And looking every inch the much-praised and admired Miss Magdelena Matthews.’

  Her smile faltered slightly. ‘Thank you, but I—I—’

  ‘Elena?’ He looked at her concernedly as he reached out to grasp both her gloved hands in his own.

  ‘I have missed you so, Adam!’ The air seemed to be forced from her lungs. ‘I—’

  ‘I love you, Elena.’ Adam could no longer bear to see that pained look in her eyes.

  ‘You do?’ Elena looked up at him wondrously.

  ‘I should have told you before,’ he confirmed huskily. ‘But I did not want you to think—I could not bear to think that you might feel kindly towards me because you felt grateful for—for—’ He shook his head, not wishing to talk of Neville Matthews’s treatment of her now, or his own part in removing the bounder from her life once and for all time. ‘And so I stayed away,’ he continued determinedly. ‘Wished for you to go out into the society to which you belonged, to find a more suitable gentleman to love you, to marry—’ He ceased speaking as Elena released one of her hands to place gentle fingertips against his lips.

  ‘I shall never marry, Adam.’ Elena gave a sad shake of her head, her heart heavy.

  ‘Why the hell not?’ he demanded incredulously.

  ‘We have never spoken of it openly but—you know the reason I can never marry, Adam!’ Tears stung her eyes. ‘I am no longer innocent!’

  ‘That is not of your doing!’

  She gave another despondent shake of her head. ‘It does not matter whose fault it is.’

  ‘Elena, I know what happened to you and it does not matter to me. You are everything that is good a
nd beautiful, and—’

  ‘And I shall never marry now,’ she repeated firmly. ‘Indeed, these past few weeks of missing you I have several times considered accepting the offer you once made for me to become your—’

  ‘Do not say it!’ Adam commanded. ‘I must have been insane to have ever made you such an offer. I wish for you to be my wife, Elena, not my mistress.’

  ‘You know I cannot.’ Elena’s heart felt as if it were breaking, as she listened to Adam tell her that he loved her, but knowing she could never be a proper wife to him. No matter how much she might long to be. ‘Besides which, you do not intend ever marrying again, remember, and are quite happy for your third cousin Wilfred to inherit the title,’ she reminded him in a broken attempt at teasing.

  ‘To the devil with Wilfred!’

  ‘People are staring, Adam,’ she admonished softly, lashes lowering as she became aware of curious stares.

  ‘Then let them stare!’

  ‘Perhaps we should remove ourselves somewhere more private…?’ Elena murmured.

  Adam looked about them, conversation once again ceasing as he boldly met, and challenged, those curious stares, pausing briefly as he met that of his grandmother, before he turned back to a now white-faced Elena. ‘I love you, Elena, dare I hope that you—could you ever love me in return?’ he begged.

  ‘I already love you. So very much, my darling Adam.’ She looked up at him glowingly. ‘More that words alone can ever express.’

  Adam looked down at her hungrily for several long seconds, seeing that love for him blazing unconditionally in those beautiful turquoise eyes.

  His fingers tightened about hers as he straightened to give her a respectful bow before dropping down on to one knee in front of her. She heard the gasps around them before the room once again fell deathly silent. Adam continued to look up at Elena as she stared down at him in shocked disbelief. ‘I love you, Miss Magdelena Matthews, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’ he spoke loudly enough for all in the room to hear.

  The tears fell unchecked down Elena’s cheeks as she continued to gaze down into the dear beloved face of the wonderful gentleman whom she loved with all of her heart. The same gentleman who had stated several times how much he hated any public display, that he never intended to marry again, but who was now on bended knee in front of her before many of the ton, as he asked her to become his wife.

  And he asked in the full knowledge of what had been done to her. Indeed, he stated that her lack of innocence did not matter to him, that he loved her and wished to marry her.

  Was it possible that she might accept? That she might become Adam’s wife, his to love, and for her to love him, for the rest of their lives?

  She raised her eyes to look quickly across the room to where Ladies Cicely, Jocelyn and Edith stood together, three dear and beloved friends who knew all there was to know of her past, and whom Elena had come to deeply respect and love.

  One by one they gave brief, approving nods, Lady Cicely’s accompanied by a glowing smile.

  ‘Elena, please…!’ Adam encouraged hoarsely.

  She turned back to him, her fingers tightening about his. ‘I love you, Adam, and, yes, I will marry you—’ She got no further as Adam rose swiftly to his feet before sweeping her up into his arms and kissing her with all the hunger and longing she could ever have wanted.

  Chapter Eighteen

  One day later—the London home of Lady Cicely Hawthorne

  ‘So, Edith, Adam is to marry Elena as soon as the banns have been read, which now leaves only Royston’s future marriage to be settled.’ Lady Cicely could not stop smiling, thinking about her own grandson’s future nuptials.

  ‘And only weeks of the Season left in which to do it,’ Lady Jocelyn put in sympathetically.

  ‘Plenty of time,’ Lady Edith dismissed airily.

  ‘And are you still of a mind that it will be to the lady whose name is written on the piece of paper you left in the care of Jocelyn’s butler?’ Lady Cicely looked doubtful.

  ‘I am more certain of it than ever.’ The dowager duchess gave an imperious nod of her regal head.

  Eleanor—Ellie—Rosewood, stepniece and companion to the dowager duchess, and deeply in love herself with Justin St Just, felt her heart go cold at the determination she saw in that dear lady’s face…

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

  All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II BV/S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

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  First published in Great Britain 2013

  by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited.

  Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,

  Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

  © Carole Mortimer 2013

  eISBN: 978-1-472-00397-3