Tilting his head, he removed his arm and they continued walking side by side.
Miss West offered, “Some people…some people can handle more than others.”
“And you were helping someone who wasn’t quite as…resilient.”
“Yes.” The word was offered grudgingly, as if she were uncomfortable laying claim to this remarkable conduct.
Staring up at the star-speckled night, Steele realized that Miss West had a sense of justice that paralleled his. She’d seen someone being unduly harassed, saw that no one was doing anything to stop it, and took matters into her own hands. “I’m impressed.” Steele scratched his chin. “I imagine the bully had to be a good bit older than you and likely a few stone heavier as well. I’ll bet when he crossed you, he didn’t know what hit him!”
Her brow furrowed. “How do you know so much?”
“It’s my job to try to read between the lines. Although, I confess, I haven’t been very good at it of late.” His heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t admitted that to anyone!
He swallowed as the terrible fear of the politically astute pricked at his heart. No one in office confessed to failure. Not in his world. It was political and social suicide.
He forced himself to consider the ramifications. Miss West was a governess—and one with a frayed shawl, scrappy shoes, and spotty references, no less. He comforted himself with the thought that there was little harm to be wrought. Still, he never should’ve spoken so freely.
What’s wrong with me these days? he wondered. Heath Bartlett’s betrayal had shaken him, that was true, but he’d begun making mistakes long before then. And he was taking chances and accepting tasks that no man in his right mind would undertake. He’d taken in two young lads he had hardly even known existed before last week and had accepted guardianship of their lives. Additionally, he was assisting Lord Benbrook, a man who’d never wanted to be his relation and who had wrought turmoil in his life from the very moment they’d met.
Objectively, Steele accepted that the reemergence of his recalcitrant father-in-law in his life had raised thorny emotions better off unfelt. And that it was his love for Deidre and sense of duty to her memory and to her nephews that had inspired his actions. That, and Sir Lee Devane’s blackmail, of course.
He shook his head, realizing that he was under strain from Benbrook, the lads, the investigation, and his recent failings at work. He wasn’t operating at his best and needed to dig his way out of the rut he was in.
And crafting fantasies about pretty young governesses wasn’t going to help him one bit.
He needed to gain Miss West’s trust, get her to agree to work for him, and get on with his investigation. He had enough to do to unearth the truth behind Benbrook’s claims and stop a killer on the loose. There was no room in his life for anything else, particularly not for pesky emotions and moonlight confessions.
Nodding, Steele exhaled, feeling more in command now that he had his priorities in order.
Miss West bit her lip. “Headmaster Dunn called blunders ‘opportunities’ and taught us that it is only through mistakes that we learn.”
Her lack of censure reassured him even more, but he felt the need to add, “I can’t afford to make mistakes. Not in my position.”
“What is a solicitor-general?”
Feeling on safe ground, he replied, “I represent the Crown on legal matters. In the courts, I provide legal advice, questions involving public welfare. I’m consulted for legal matters involving debts to the Crown, thefts from the Crown…and the like.”
“So you wouldn’t handle the petty things…like ordinary pilfering or disorderly conduct and such?”
“Not usually, no.”
Nodding, she seemed to relax.
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I’m simply trying to understand.”
They had just reached the corner nearing his house. Feeling an urgency to settle matters, he stopped and faced her. “So what do I have to do to convince you to come work for me, Miss West?”
She bit her bottom lip. “Why do you want me to sleep in the mistress’s chambers?”
“Truth be told…” Steele mentally kicked himself, for he never trusted a word someone said when he prefaced a comment with “truth be told.” He was going to have to learn to lie better to maintain the façade. “The fact of the matter is that the upstairs is under construction.”
“Oh.”
He couldn’t tell if that was an “Oh, I believe you,” or an “Oh, that doesn’t seem quite plausible.” The light from the adjacent house glowed on her fair hair and washed her pale face in a golden radiance. Still, he could not read her features and realized that this lady had learned to hide her feelings well.
Steele added, “As I said before, I didn’t expect the children.” That much was true. “And so when I purchased the house I paid little attention to the nurseries. Regrettably, they are in disrepair, and I’m taking steps to remedy that situation. In the interim, I would like you and the lads to take advantage of the unused rooms on my floor, and that happens to include the mistress’s chambers.”
“If I may ask, how did you come to be the guardian of Seth and Felix? Lord Benbrook seems quite…attached.”
“That’s a very polite way of saying officious and demanding.”
He was pleased to see her lips lift into a little smile. “I did not say that, so don’t ever try to quote me.”
“Lord Benbrook is attached to the boys, certainly. They are his grandchildren.”
“Then why is he giving you guardianship?”
Steele considered his options and decided on a variation of the truth. “Lord Benbrook is my father-in-law. I was married to his daughter.” They were only words, he told himself, as he pushed away the familiar grief.
“Was?”
“She died.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her luminous eyes were filled with compassion.
“Thank you. It was a long time ago.”
“My parents died a long time ago, but that doesn’t diminish the loss or the fact that I miss them still.”
Surprisingly, her empathy somehow allowed him both to feel the pain, but not to experience its ache quite as acutely. “Yes, well, I’m the only family that Benbrook trusts with the safety of his grandchildren, and he fears that he’s…not long for this world.”
Raising her hand to her mouth, Miss West cried, “Those poor boys! First their parents and now this!”
Steele felt a tad guilty about working on Miss West’s sympathies, but he would do whatever necessary to get the job done. “Yes, well, Felix and Seth are certainly in need of kindness. And you leaving right now…”
Abigail swallowed as a fresh wave of mortification swept over her. “I suppose this whole misunderstanding is really my fault.” Her cheeks warmed, and she couldn’t meet Lord Steele’s eyes. “I jumped to some very unfair conclusions about you…I mean, you wishing to be with me…how absurd!”
“Yes, well…Carlton certainly complicated things.” His face was unreadable. Abigail probably should be counting her lucky stars that the man wasn’t insulted.
She cleared her throat, trying to move past the embarrassing faux pas. “Ah, Carlton…he may not be so pleased to have me stay on.”
“As I mentioned, I think I’m going to find him another post. But that is my concern. You just worry about keeping those boys safe.”
“Safe?”
“Their parents’ deaths have left them shaken, and I’ve promised Benbrook that I won’t let anything happen to them. So I’m going to take extra pains where they’re concerned.”
“That rule about the two adults accompanying them when they leave the house?”
“Exactly. I want them watched and attended at all times by at least two adults. For the first few months that we’re together, I want to ensure that not a scratch touches them.”
“But they’re boys…”
“I know, but I insist on this arrangement.” He extended his hand. “So do we
have an agreement? You help me with the boys and I take care of everything else.”
She stared at the graceful masculine fingers stretching toward her, appreciating how kind he was being about the whole misunderstanding business.
Yet there was something that made her hesitate, a tiny ring of alarm. It wasn’t fear, more like…agitation. Lord Steele made her belly tingle. If that wasn’t bad enough, he seemed to further incite the passions the masked rescuer had recently ignited in her. She didn’t quite trust him, either. He was disarming, far too handsome for her peace of mind, and there was something unsettling about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
But that was ridiculous. She desperately needed this job and was fond of Seth and Felix already. What was there to possibly be concerned about? She dismissed the warnings in her mind as the silly remnants of her appalling embarrassment.
Nodding, she slipped her small hand into his.
His fingers held her firmly, yet were gentler than she’d imagined. And his skin was surprisingly smooth and very, very warm. Heat seeped from his palm to hers with such intensity that she felt a tingle race up her arm and rush into her chest. Looking down, she stared at their joined hands, realizing that she could hardly tell where his flesh ended and hers began.
Their eyes met. A strange panic licked at her middle, and she quickly slipped her hand from his and stepped back. “Agreed.” She hoped he didn’t notice how breathless she sounded.
He shook himself, as if startled. “Yes, well. I’m glad that’s settled.” Distractedly he motioned toward the house. “If you will. I’m sure the boys must be ready for dinner.”
She stepped alongside him. “Ah, will you be joining us?”
“Regrettably, no. Lord Benbrook and I have some matters to discuss.”
“Of course.” Somehow she felt rejected. But that was ludicrous.
At the foot of the stairs to his house, he stopped and turned to her, as if wanting to say something. His mouth opened and then closed.
She stared up at him, realizing once more how elegantly handsome he was and how insane she’d been to have thought that he might want to bed her.
The footman opened the door, spilling light down the steps like a golden path.
Still Lord Steele hesitated, and she waited expectantly for his words.
“I…well…I suppose you’ve never quite had a first day like this one.”
“No.” Ruefully she shook her head. “Today certainly was unique. I’m sure that none of us will be quick to forget it, although I’d certainly like to try.”
“Not me. I found it quite…refreshing.”
Refreshing. An unexpected little thrill flashed inside her chest, but she dampened it, not understanding why it would matter.
Together they walked inside.
Chapter 7
For the next week Abigail tried not to think about how intimately her and Lord Steele’s hands had fit together after their stroll in the park. She attempted not to recall the astonishing thrill that had rocketed up her arm and into her chest when they’d touched. She tried exceedingly hard not to analyze the exhilarating flash in her middle when their eyes had met. She did her best not to dwell on Steele’s stonily handsome features and how they softened when he’d laughed. But most importantly, she’d done everything in her power not to think about the mortifying fact that she’d boldly declared that she would not sleep with him.
As if bedding him were even an option!
But this afternoon as she sat idly watching the boys as they attempted to fly a kite across the grassy knoll of Coleridge Square Park, it was very hard not to think upon such things.
Lord Steele had been quite nice about the whole bedding misunderstanding, actually. He hadn’t mentioned it once, since. He hadn’t said much of anything else, either. Abigail tried to pretend that she wasn’t disappointed.
He’d been closeted in his study for much of those seven days, and she’d hardly had a glimpse of him. The man seemed to live for work, not the other way around. He certainly wasn’t like the other gentlemen she’d known. But then again, he’d climbed so high because of his work. Now that he’d achieved so much, shouldn’t he enjoy the fruits of his labor?
Abigail sighed, chiding herself to count her lucky stars that she had an employer who knew how to leave her alone to do her job. Still, he should at least be spending some time with the lads. They needed to know him and love him—he was to be their closest family.
A familiar longing speared her gut. She sighed. “Where are you, Reggie?” she whispered to her wayward brother.
Was he involved with brigands? Deeply in debt? His letter had been so vague. Yet alarming in the extreme, begging her to come to London and bring any money she might have.
“If you ask me to come to London, you could at least have told me where you were,” she muttered, frustration and anger soothing her fears. Her brother was so inconsiderate at times. He’d told her to ask around Charing Cross, covertly, no less, to find him.
“Who does he think I am, a Bow Street Runner?”
But the day was too lovely to focus on such a frustrating state of affairs, she told herself. Abigail pushed it all from her mind, trying to force herself to enjoy the beauty around her and not allow herself to be haunted by fears that could not be assuaged.
Even though it was only spring, the afternoon air was thick with a heat that seemed to come down from the sun and swell up from the earth in a shimmer of humidity. Many of the governesses sitting on the benches lining the outskirts of the grasses fanned themselves with vigor. Abigail had given up on any attempt to waft the steamy air around her and had settled for simply sitting as still as possible. Sweat moistened her face, and her underarms had a very unladylike feeling of dampness. Still, the tree above her was heavy with green leaves and provided a welcome shade to relieve the worst of the heat.
The boys didn’t seem to mind the high temperature one bit as they raced and pranced. They were fully occupied with their new kite and wouldn’t have known if it was hotter than Hades. Felix was in the lead, holding the wooden spool, with Seth following after him whining for a turn.
The yellow kite had been a gift from Lord Steele, left for the lads to find after their studies. Lord Benbrook had departed that morning, and Abigail supposed that Steele had wanted to give the boys a distraction. It was a good thought, although he couldn’t have counted on such breezeless weather.
“Let go!” Felix screamed, yanking on the kite in Seth’s hands.
Seth gripped it harder. “I want to fly it!”
Abigail straightened, lifting her head.
Felix raised his hand as if to strike.
“No!” Abigail leaped from her seat and charged forward.
Felix looked up, his face twisted in anger. “He’s being an idiot!” But he lowered his hand.
“You’re the idiot!” Seth screamed, tears spilling out his red-rimmed eyes.
Abigail watched Felix carefully, but the taunt didn’t seem to trouble him.
Pointing a finger at Felix, Abigail charged, “Don’t you ever raise a hand to your brother! Do you hear me?”
“I wouldn’t have hit him.” Felix pouted, crossing his arms.
“Have you ever struck him?”
“Yes!” Seth cried. “He punched me!”
“When?”
Seth puffed out his chest in justified resentment. “On my birthday. He punched me in the arm for each year I was born.”
“That doesn’t count!” Felix exclaimed, flinging his arms in the air. “It’s a tradition.”
“One you relish hardily, I’m sure,” Abigail muttered with relief. It seemed that Felix might get irritated with his brother, but the anger didn’t propel him to real violence.
Abigail turned to Seth. “Do you get to punch Felix on his birthday?”
“Well…yes.”
“Then since he’s older, it would seem that you get to punch him three more times than he punches you.”
Seth blin
ked. “I…hadn’t ever thought of that.” He smirked, mollified.
“Now, about this kite.” Abigail crossed her arms. “Please don’t make me have to inform Lord Steele that you must return his gift.”
Both boys started. “What?”
“I’ll be forced to do so if you two can’t figure out a way to play together.” Unwinding her arms, Abigail held open her hands. “Do you want to fly the kite?”
“Yes!” the boys cried in unison.
“Then you must find a way to work together.” She looked each boy in the eye. “Agreed?”
Sighing, Felix nodded. “Agreed.”
“Yes.” Seth rubbed his eyes.
Abigail waved them off. “Go on now.”
The boys traipsed off.
“Here, let me show you the best way to hold it.” Felix leaned toward his brother.
“Thanks,” Seth replied.
A new air of camaraderie enveloped their play.
Satisfied, Abigail returned to her seat in the shade and sighed. But she could not seem to quiet the thread of anxiety woven in her heart. The altercation between the boys had brought her fears about how so many conflicts seemed to come to blows. She’d certainly had enough experience with lightning tempers. Her brother had been the worst offender.
It had happened again and again when he was a child. Reggie was easily affronted, and no matter how much Abigail had worked with him on trying not to take life too seriously, he always seemed to wind up in nasty confrontations. If a boy had pushed him in jest, he’d slammed him back at full force. If a girl had teased him, he’d barked out the nastiest retort. Heaven forbid someone said a cross word to Abigail, Reggie would make him pay, usually in resourceful ways that struck far deeper than any slight Abigail might have suffered.
Reggie used to say that he was the only one allowed to be cross with Abigail. And when he was feeling anxious, she bore the brunt of that favored treatment. His tongue-lashings could be quite scathing, but Abigail had never taken them to heart. Not the times he’d told her that if only she’d been born a boy, they could have earned a decent wage and not been homeless for a time before they’d made it to Andersen Hall Orphanage.
Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage 05] Page 6