Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage 05]

by The Governess Wears Scarlet

  Moreover, acting like a lovesick pup was the last thing that would endear her to her employer.

  Embarrassment and mortification would weigh down her joy as effectively as creeling stones.

  But he’d looked at her so endearingly last night, his gaze warm, his lips lifted in a sweet smile. Just remembering the glorious feel of his soft lips kissing the back of her hand raised bumps on her skin. She was overwhelmed with gratitude as she recalled how sweetly Steele had spoken to her, wanting to help her find her brother. All those wondrous feelings of joy and excitement would wash over her once more, making her feel giddy.

  Feeling as if her emotions were surging up and then down like the ocean’s waves, she muttered, “I’ll go mad if I keep this up.”

  Sighing, she went back to work. Tending a garden was such straightforward, enjoyable work, much easier than trying to sort the mixed-up feeling she had about Lord Steele.

  Jason, the name whispered in her mind. It fit him nicely, reminding her of Jason and the Argonauts. Strong, adventurous, a good leader…Jason…A man of honor and integrity, a man who watched over those he loved…Jason.

  A sudden shadow blocked the sun over Abigail.

  Lord Steele stood over her, looking around the garden. He stepped away and the sun shined on her once more. “What are you up to, Miss West?”

  She shadowed her eyes with her hand. “Just tidying up a bit, my lord. I hope you don’t mind. I thought it would be a good exercise for the boys.”

  “I’m delighted you’ve taken an interest in my garden.” Scratching his chin, he eyed the overgrown bushes.

  “It’s somewhat of a mess at the moment, but with a little work, it will be lovely.”

  “I’ve been neglectful when it comes to my yard,” Steele confessed, as he watched the boys gathering brambles and tossing them onto the pile by the gate. “This was an excellent idea. I think I’ll join you.”

  Abigail’s eyes widened. “But what of your injury, my lord?”

  “It’ll do me good to warm up the old muscles.” To her utter shock, Lord Steele shrugged off his coat and then rolled up his sleeves. “I purposefully wore this coat because it’s easy to remove,” he commented, reminding her of their entanglement the other night. Her cheeks heated at the memory and at the stirring vision before her eyes.

  In his white linen shirt and marcella waistcoat, he looked as fit and muscular as any Greek hero. His shoulders were broad and enticing enough to make any woman swoon, so much so that Abigail was glad that she was already on her knees. His trim waist only enhanced his strapping shoulders and back. The memory of the golden glow of his bare back flashed in her mind. Her hands clenched around the spade, recalling the feel of his velvety flesh beneath her fingers.

  “Is there a shovel about?” he asked, peering around.

  Abigail’s gaze fixed on the muscles of his thighs bulging in his tight breeches as he roved about the garden, looking for the tool.

  Her mouth went dry as sawdust. She swallowed, hard.

  “Ah, there it is.” Walking over, he grabbed the shovel from against a nearby tree and came back to stand before Abigail. “Where do you want me?”

  “Ah, ah…” She blinked.

  His brow furrowed. “Are you all right?”

  She shook her head to clear it. “Yes, ah…how about…I was thinking of clearing a path.” She pointed to the tree next to where she was working. “Right there. The boys want to put in ropes for a swing. If that’s all right with you, of course.”

  “Excellent notion.” Stepping over to the area she’d identified, Steele began to dig out the overgrown brush and toss it over to the side.

  Abigail watched, mesmerized by the powerful muscles of his arms. His white shirt stretched tight with every motion, outlining his broad chest and shoulders. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his bulging thighs as he leaned to and fro with each dig of the shovel.

  She realized that she was ogling, and shook herself awake from the heavenly vision of his thighs. “Are you sure you don’t mind, my lord? You must have a lot of important work to do.”

  “I’ve come to the conclusion that my work will still be on my desk in an hour’s time, so I might as well enjoy the day as much as I can.”

  Thrusting the blade into the soil, he set his boot upon the shovel and rammed it deeper. “I apologize for leaving so abruptly in the middle of our conversation last night.”

  Looking down, she swallowed. “Oh, that’s all right. You have guests…”

  “Can you tell me about your brother?” His voice was gentle.

  Clearly he’d noticed her difficulty the night before and was trying to make it easier for her. Gratitude washed through her for this considerate man, and her heart warmed.

  Biting her lip, she exhaled. “My brother. Well, his name is Reginald. But everyone always called him Reggie. Retiring Reggie, I used to call him, every time he called me Abby the Gale.”

  Steele rammed the shovel into the soil. “Abby the Gale?”

  Smiling shyly, she lifted a shoulder. “My name is Abigail and he used to tease me that I was too quiet. That I needed to get more ‘stormy’ now and again.” She sighed, muttering, “He was stormy enough for the both of us.”

  “How so?”

  Abigail paused, sudden fear pinching her chest. Was confiding in Steele a mistake? He was a man of the law, the most powerful prosecutor in the land. He would have to follow the law; he would have to stand by his oath of office…

  “There’s a warrant out for his arrest,” Abigail blurted, then covered her mouth with her hand, shocked that she’d spoken so bluntly.

  The shovel stopped mid-swing. “I see.” After a moment’s pause, he began digging once more. “No wonder he’s hard to find. You’re not the only one looking for him.”

  Abigail let out the breath she’d been holding.

  Kicking aside a rock, Steele asked, “What’s the charge?”

  “Theft.”

  Steele struck the shovel into the ground and leaned his elbow on it. “Did he do it?”

  “Yes.”

  “That could be a problem.” Exhaling, he looked around, ensuring that the boys weren’t within earshot. “Can you tell me what transpired?”

  Staring down, she realized that her hands toyed with the spade and she stopped. “It doesn’t reflect well on me…in fact, I feel like it’s my fault…”

  “Did you break the law?”

  She shook her head. “I was simply a reckless fool.”

  “Regrets?”

  A small, mirthless laugh escaped her mouth. “Huge.”

  “Byrnwyck?”

  Looking up, she nodded. “So you’d heard.”

  He shrugged. “A little. Not much. But I’d prefer to hear it from you.”

  Biting her lip, she realized that she desperately feared his knowing of her terrible mistakes, yet longed for his help with her brother. The two went hand in hand. Yet her love for her brother overrode any concerns she had for her injured pride or sullied reputation. I’m a scarlet woman, she told herself. I might as well own up to at least some of my misadventures. And perhaps it can help Reggie.

  Slowly the whole sordid tale spilled from her mouth like water pouring from a pitcher. Gradually the words increased, gushing forth; she couldn’t seem to stop until the carafe was bone dry.

  She spoke of losing her head over Phineas, of stupidly believing Phineas’s empty promises…She described Lord Byrnwyck and his nephew Silas’s outrage, her abrupt dismissal…Phineas’s betrayal…and finally her brother’s furious acts of revenge, including stealing the Byrnwyck family crest.

  Throughout her tale, she could not meet Steele’s eyes, fearful of what she might see there. “Lord Byrnwyck had a warrant issued for Reggie’s arrest and set the constable on him. Reggie ran off in the middle of the night. Lord Byrnwyck set a price on Reggie’s head and hired Bow Street Runners to track Reggie down. Reggie’s been running ever since. That’s…that’s…all of it.”

  When she w
as done, the silence was deafening. Abigail’s heart hammered with instant regret. She’d exposed her stupidity and her impropriety—and to the one man whose good opinion she prized above all others!

  He was quiet for so long, fearfully she looked up.

  Steele’s face was hardened in anger.

  Oh no! What have I done? Her bottom lip began to tremble, and her eyes burned with unshed tears. Stupid, stupid girl!

  “Did Byrnwyck come after you?” Steele bit out.

  “Wh-what?”

  “Did Lord Byrnwyck come after you? Did he try to hurt you?”

  Abigail rubbed her eye trying to grasp his response. “I…well…he tried to put me in jail as an accomplice but Jan and her husband saved me.”

  Steele kicked at the shovel, knocking it over with a clank loud enough that the boys’ heads turned in their direction.

  Steele waved them off. “It’s fine. Go inside and ask Cook to make lemonade.”

  Quickly the boys tossed their brambles into the pile and ran, happy for the break, but also clearly knowing that something was amiss and not longing to be a part of it.

  Abigail couldn’t fault them; Steele’s anger was like a storm cloud brewing and about to explode.

  “Are you going to dismiss me?” she asked, wincing.

  Steele’s head whipped up. “Pardon?”

  “Are you going to let me go?”

  “Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Abigail straightened. “Didn’t you just hear what I said? I acted immorally and protected a fugitive of the law!”

  His eyes flashed with fury, and the muscle in his jaw worked. “They took advantage of you. Every last one of them! Except your innkeeper friends, of course.” He began to pace, his boots crunching in the pebbled brush.

  “Phineas never should’ve laid his filthy hands on you. And Byrnwyck…well, he should’ve done right by you!”

  Dropping her head, Abigail stared down at her hands. “It was my own fault. I was a fool to believe that a nobleman would want me for his wife.”

  Abruptly he stopped pacing, crouched down beside her, and grasped her hand. “Don’t ever say that! He doesn’t deserve you! The slimy bugger!”

  Abigail blinked, shocked by the fervor of his words and the astonishingly wonderful sensation of his warm, large hand cocooning hers.

  He squeezed her hand. “You are more worthy than ten thousand Byrnwycks and all of their wretched cousins combined.”

  His faith in her brought tears to her eyes.

  Thinking of the masked rescuer, her joy dimmed. “Don’t say that,” she whispered. “You don’t know the scandalous things I’ve done.”

  His face softened, his eyes filling with compassion. “Nothing worse than what I’ve done.” Lifting her hand, he laid a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Nothing worse.”

  Abigail was swept up in the force of his affectionate gaze, which warmed her deep inside the secret places of her heart, giving her hope…“Perhaps we both need a little forgiveness?” she whispered.

  “I know I do.” His rumbling voice was like a caress.

  With her hand still wrapped in his, he lowered his head.

  She closed her eyes, her heart hammering, her body yearning…She leaned forward…

  His lips met hers. So smooth, so perfect…

  A chord struck deep within her soul, one that felt so familiar, so achingly true that all she could think was…I’m home.

  A deep sigh escaped her lips as she melted in his arms. Knowing him, loving him, wanting more of him, as she’d never wanted any man before.

  The masked rescuer cannot compare to this, she marveled, as his lips caressed hers, teasing, exploring, tasting…

  Suddenly he pulled back and she was bereft, until he lifted her to stand and pulled her into his arms.

  His mouth claimed hers with a passion that stole the breath from her throat and weakened her knees. She clung to him, surrendering to the desire that had been building between them from the moment they’d met.

  His mouth lit a fire deep within her, igniting desire so intense, she quivered.

  His lips grew more insistent, his tongue more demanding. She met his kisses with a passion that matched his, owning the desire flaming between them.

  Ripping off her bonnet, his fingers raked through her hair. He groaned deep in his throat, making her feel like the most desirable woman in the world.

  His lips nipped the column of her neck and he murmured, “You smell so good.” She moaned. His tongue traced her ear. “You taste so good.” She shivered as desire pooled within her. Setting his mouth to her neck, he sucked.

  Her head spun. Her mind went blank. She was lost. Her body was engulfed in the flames of his fiery desire.

  “Ahem!” A cough. “Ahem!”

  Steele looked up, his arms still wrapped around her. Abigail clung to him, her body flaming, her mind spinning.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but I must speak with Lord Steele.” Mr. Linder-Myer stood just a few feet away, leaning on his gold-topped cane and peering intently at them.

  The world came crashing into Abigail’s consciousness. She was wrapped in Steele’s arms, ready to give him everything…and now Mr. Linder-Myer, the man responsible for placing her in this household, knew it, too. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks and she looked down, mortified.

  “What is it?” Steele bit out.

  “That family I was talking to you about.” The agency representative sniffed. “The one with the India connections.”

  Steele straightened. “Progress?”

  “Most definitely.”

  Abigail’s heart skipped a beat. A match! For Steele?

  Steele’s gaze sought hers, apologetic. “I’m…I’m sorry. But I have to speak with Mr. Linder-Myer.”

  He wouldn’t accept the match? Not when he’d just kissed her with such passion? Or would he? Fear sliced through her as sharp as a blade. Was she falling victim to honeyed words and sweet kisses once more? Was she playing the fool yet again? How could she have imagined that a lord, a viscount no less, would want her?

  Perhaps as a mistress.

  Never as a wife.

  She was not worthy enough to make him a wife. The pain in her heart was like a wound reopened, aching worse than the original injury.

  But she wanted Steele more than she’d ever wanted any man before.

  I love him.

  The knowledge seeped deep into her bones, ensnaring her, owning her. From this day forth, her every action would be predicated on that basic truth.

  How far are you willing to stoop to get him? a shrill voice whispered in her mind.

  Could she bear being the kept woman?

  More importantly, could she bear to watch the man she loved wed another?

  Steele pulled away, and only then did Abigail realize that she’d been clutching him. “I’m sorry but I have to go.”

  “Yes, of course.” Her voice sounded dull even to her own ears.

  Steele noted the dismay on her lovely features, and he hated being the cause of it. He was tempted to tell her about the plot against Benbrook…

  But she seemed so fragile at the moment, so raw from telling her tale. He hated the idea of putting fear into her heart. And Sir Lee’s presence might indicate that the threat could already be gone. So where was the point in upsetting her further without cause?

  Part of him realized that he didn’t want to tell her because he’d lied to her about his reasons for always keeping the boys with two adults. He also hadn’t corrected her when she’d surmised, along with everyone else, that yesterday’s attack had been directed at him. She’d had such terrible dealings with nobles and employers, and he was afraid, he realized, that she’d categorize him with the lying bastards who’d abused her trust.

  But ultimately it was because of that kiss that he did not tell her the truth and was ready to make his escape.

  The kiss had shaken him to the core, and he was still reeling from it. His emotions were whirling, his ideas ab
out himself, the future, Miss West…It was a bit too terrifying to consider.

  So his mind veered away from having to make any decisions. He would deal with all of it later.

  Later, he promised himself, as the familiar panic of making himself vulnerable to another reared its ugly head.

  “Later,” he murmured to her, rising and grabbing his coat. “We’ll talk more, later.”

  Abigail watched the gentlemen go back into the house, her heart aching and her mind whirling. All the while, a familiar voice screamed shrilly inside her head, What have you done?

  Chapter 33

  Steele entered his study with Sir Lee close at his heels. For a man his age, the old gent was pretty swift on his feet, Steele realized.

  Sir Lee’s craggy face was not amused. “So you’re bedding the governess, now, eh?”

  Gritting his teeth, Steele slammed the door. “It was one kiss.”

  Sir Lee snorted. “Bullocks!”

  “It’s none of your business.” Steele tried to keep his voice calm. He couldn’t think of Miss West right now, so mentally he closed the door on her sweet face, barring the feel of her softness in his arms, banning the taste of her honeyed lips from his mind. She’d been on fire, and so had he. But it had been more than mere passion. That kiss had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. It had overtaken him, emotionally and physically; he’d been ready to completely relinquish control. He, the man with a carefully ordered existence, had been ready to simply…let go.

  Sir Lee scowled. “Benbrook won’t approve of the match. And thus he might not make you his heir.”

  Steele shook his head, trying to shake off the memory of that kiss. “I’m not marrying her,” he murmured.

  The former spymaster raised a brow. “Even I did not consider you so low.”

  Guilt and anger and fear lashed through Steele, stinging like strokes of a whip. “I’m not toying with her!”

  Sir Lee’s eyes narrowed. “Well, if you’re not marrying her and you’re not toying with her, then what are your intentions?”