“Thank you, but I think I’ll have the roasted chicken and mashed potatoes instead.”
“A commendable choice. I’ll have the same,” he said. “And to drink?”
This question stumped her, judging from her baffled appearance. “I don’t really know. Perhaps you can recommend something?”
“Let’s enjoy some red wine then.”
Agreeing with his decision, she waited for him to place the order, then leaned forward and asked, “Do you always help your servants with their tasks?”
Taken aback by the question, Alistair met her curious gaze. “I must confess that I find your question surprising.”
She tilted her head. “Why?”
“Because of what it implies.”
Blushing, she averted her gaze, and for a second he was sure she would shirk from the topic, but then she said, “You know I was watching you, my lord. Denying it seems rather silly.”
“I suppose it does.” He didn’t think such a factor would deter most young ladies from pretending they’d been admiring the scenery instead. There was no doubt in his mind they would rather lie than admit to spying on him. But not Miss Potter. She was different in ways he not only liked but admired. “In answer to your question, I don’t enjoy idleness. If I can lend a hand, I do. Especially when it comes to my horses.”
Hesitantly, she raised her gaze to his once more. “I find that commendable.”
He wasn’t sure why that pleased him as much as it did, but he felt his chest puff out a bit in response. “Thank you, Miss Potter.”
The wine arrived and he filled their glasses, then clinked his with hers and took a sip. Watching as she set the rim to her lips, he held his breath while she drank. The tendons in her throat flexed to accommodate the liquid. It was a mesmerizing sight from which he could scarcely look away. And yet he did precisely that before she became aware of his perusal for a change. He would have to get his growing desire for her under control somehow. Especially since he’d only met her that morning. It really didn’t do for him react so strongly, least of all when he would spend seven more days in her company. If his attraction toward her continued to grow at a constant rate, he’d turn into a lust-crazed lothario before they reached Whitehaven, and then where would they be?
So he forced himself to think of something to talk about – something to take his mind off her silky hair, her dazzling eyes, and her kissable lips. Christ, he was even beginning to find her grey, long-sleeved dress with its high collar alluring. It made him wonder what she might look like beneath.
Feeling himself respond to her closeness once more, he took another sip of his wine. “Have you always wanted to be a governess?” he asked.
She gave him a peculiar look. “I don’t think it’s the sort of position any woman aspires toward. It certainly wasn’t for me.”
“So you would rather do something else?”
Her eyes widened a fraction, and she hastily said, “You mustn’t misunderstand me, my lord. I am extremely happy your niece deemed me worthy of being in her employ, and I do look forward to teaching her children. But it is also a job I’ve been forced to take out of necessity, not one I dreamt of having when I was a girl.”
“What did you dream of then?” He knew they would delve into personal territory if she answered his question, but he could not help himself from asking it. She intrigued him in ways no one had ever intrigued him before, perhaps because it surprised him that a woman in possession of Miss Potter’s beauty and grace had not yet married. He would have to inquire about her reasons for that as well if he wanted to sate his curiosity completely.
A soft smile teased her lips in a way that lent a nostalgic element to her expression. “Of traveling the world and exploring new and wonderful places. I dreamt of writing a book and getting it published and even of studying literature at university.”
“You are aware that women do not attend university?”
Nodding, she said, “These were my dreams, and in my dreams, anything was possible, even that.”
“What sort of book did you think of writing?” He chose to focus on the least impossible dream.
“An adventure novel in which a young woman travels the world exploring new and wonderful places.”
He grinned, as did she. “You would live out the life denied you by writing about it.”
“In a sense.”
The food arrived, and he waited until the serving girl had left them alone once more before saying, “If you’d married, you might have had the chance to travel abroad. I have no doubt your husband would have accommodated such a wish.”
“Perhaps.” A distinct touch of sadness clung to her voice. “But after Mama passed, marriage became impossible.”
“Why?” He simply had to know.
But rather than answer, she shook her head and focused her attention on cutting her food. “Might we talk about something else? I find this subject incredibly depressing.”
And personal.
She didn’t have to say he’d dug too deep. That much was implied in the way she spoke and the stiffness of her comportment. “Of course.” He tried to hide his disappointment beneath a casual tone. “I could tell you about Whitehaven instead so you know what to expect. Geoffrey, Henry, and Jack are wonderful children, but they are boys, so getting into mischief is an inevitability for them.”
“I hope I can be the disciplinarian they need me to be,” she said as she stuck a piece of chicken in her mouth. “So they won’t run completely wild.”
“I doubt that will happen,” he said. “You stood up to me without any trouble, proving you have an exemplary backbone. Considering your looks – and this is a compliment lest you think otherwise – they will probably be smitten the moment you walk in the door.”
Her blush turned her whole face a lovely shade of pink, and although he sensed she found it uncomfortable, he didn’t regret his comment one bit. On the contrary, he enjoyed how easily she responded to his flattery.
“This may surprise you, but I find your remark about my backbone more pleasing than the one about my looks. It pertains to my character, and that is something I can take some credit for, while the other was merely a lucky coincidence.”
Chuckling, he ate his mashed potatoes and chicken while pondering how rare this woman was that she simply refused to be admired for her beauty. Her explanation made perfect sense, although it wasn’t something he’d ever considered before she’d pointed it out.
With this in mind, he chose to focus more on her intellectual capabilities, but before he could do so, she asked, “Is it terribly grand, the Channing estate?”
“It is large, to be sure, and it is also quite ancient. But Lady Channing has given the building a comfortable touch, so I’m sure you will feel at home there.”
“Do you think she and I will get along?”
“Certainly.” He could tell by her careful phrasing and the softness with which she spoke that she was nervous. “You needn’t worry. She and her husband are good people – kind people – the sort who will do what they can to make you feel welcome.”
Expelling a breath, Miss Potter nodded. “Thank you for putting my mind at ease. It has been a great many years since I’ve last ventured into high society.”
That comment gave him pause. Why would a soon-to-be-governess – a member of the working class – ever have mingled with the peerage? Unless… “Are you gentry?”
She went completely still, her fork hovering between her plate and her mouth. Then she finished the action of eating, followed her bite of chicken with a swallow of wine, and afforded him with the most pointed look he’d ever received. “Does it matter?”
“I’d say so.” For one thing, it made her more untouchable if she were, and for another, “You should be seeking a husband, not going off to work.”
That hardened her expression. “My lord, I am four and twenty, so I dare say the time for finding a husband has passed. And as far as working is concerned, it is necessary, not shameful.
”
“But—”
“My path has been determined. Finding fault with it will serve no purpose at this point, so please stop trying to do so.”
“I am merely attempting to understand you,” he said, but the dubious look on her face suggested she didn’t believe him. Which prompted him to say, “Even you must admit how unusual it is for a young lady of good breeding to take on such a position.” In fact, he believed it might be unheard of, but chose not to say so as this was clearly a prickly subject for her.
“Perhaps,” she conceded, “but one does what one must, my lord. Seeking employment as a governess in a respectable household is, in my opinion, better than the alternative.”
“Which would be?”
“None of your business.”
And on that note she clamped her mouth shut, bowed her head, and gave all her attention to her meal.
Alistair dropped his gaze to his own plate, then set his knife and fork aside. He’d pressed her until she’d put up a wall, and he’d lost his appetite. “You’re right,” he said, and he meant it. “You asked me twice already to leave the matter alone and I refused. Please forgive me for being so insensitive. My only intention was to try and understand you.”
Blowing out a deep breath, she looked up, her eyes – filled with tortured pain and regret – touched his heart in a way nothing else ever had. “Why?” Before he could answer, she said, “You and I have only just met, and while circumstance has forced us to share each other’s company on our way to Whitehaven, our acquaintance will come to an end upon our arrival there. My position demands it, since governesses do not socialize with their employers or their employers’ friends and family. Instead, they take their meals alone and keep to themselves whenever they’re not busy caring for the children.”
“I know.” He did not like it, but he was well aware that once their journey was over, he would only catch rare glimpses of Miss Potter during his stay. And then he would return home and not see her at all until his next visit. “So you see no point in getting to know each other better.”
“As diverting as I find our conversation since it does make the passage of time more bearable, the subject you wish to discuss is one that will force me to open up in ways I’ve no desire to do with someone who doesn’t care about me.”
“You make me sound like an unfeeling cad.”
She gave him a sharp look. “You know what I mean.”
Regrettably, he did. Her past was a painful one, and to speak of it would make her feel vulnerable. She did not want to take such a risk with him – a man she could not even call a friend yet – one of higher rank who might find reason to judge her.
Deciding in that moment to avoid any further prying, he turned their conversation back to something safer and asked her about her favorite authors. This led to an entertaining debate – one which made him regret the moment when she asked about the time and said she ought to retire. Knowing she had a point, however, since they would set out early the following morning, he escorted her out of the dining room and through to the stairs.
“After you,” he said, since the stairwell was much too narrow to let them walk side by side. So he followed her up, unable to ignore the gentle sway of her hips while she walked or the wild imaginings such a perusal provoked. All he had to do was reach out and she would be there. His fingers itched at the idea of doing precisely that – of allowing himself to feel the body she hid beneath layers of unflattering wool.
By the time they reached her room, his blood was pumping fast through his veins. She opened the door, allowing him a glimpse of her bed – the bed where she would soon be lying – and he felt himself tremble in response to this particular fantasy as lust took control of his body. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to push her inside, follow her through, and shut the door firmly behind them.
Instead, he stepped back, drew a deep breath, and bid her goodnight. He then turned on his heel and strode away, wondering how the bloody hell he was going to survive seven days in her company when he was barely able to get through one.
3
Unfortunately, when Louise went in search of Bridget the following morning, she found the poor maid huddled beneath her bed sheets and trembling with fever. “Is it already time to leave?” Bridget asked, punctuating her question with a wet cough.
She looked worse now than she had the previous evening. After saying good night to Lord Alistair, Louise had left her room and gone to check on the maid. Her face had been flushed but she’d assured Louise that a good night’s rest was all she required, but she’d clearly been mistaken about that.
“We’re supposed to depart in half an hour,” Louise said, handing Bridget a handkerchief.
Blowing her nose, Bridget nodded. “I’ll be right down.”
Louise frowned. She really shouldn’t suggest this, but demanding a woman with influenza endure a week-long carriage ride when she’d be far better off in bed prompted her to say, “I think you ought to remain here.” She also had no desire to catch the affliction and pass it on to the Channings.
“Oh no, Miss. I can’t do that.” Bridget tried to sit but promptly collapsed onto the mattress with a groan. “You’ll have no chaperone. It wouldn’t be proper.”
Louise was keenly aware of the fact. “I am well aware, but you are not in any condition to travel and we cannot delay our journey. Lady Channing expects our arrival.” She hesitated, perturbed by the only logical option yet quite intent on being practical. “And Lord Alistair is a gentleman.”
“Yes, but for you to be alone with him in the carriage is inadvisable.”
“I’ll be fine,” Louise said, hoping to dispel not only the maid’s concerns but her own as well. “You obviously can’t travel in this condition, and we cannot wait for you to recover. All things considered, it will be best for you to remain here until you are fully recuperated.” She had no idea how Lord Alistair would respond to her making such a decision, but it seemed like the reasonable thing to suggest.
As it turned out, he fully agreed. So they left the inn after he ensured enough funds were left to support Bridget’s continued stay and her subsequent return to London.
Two hours passed. Although they spoke amicably of their various interests, Louise regretted the comment she’d made the previous evening. In an effort to respect her wishes, Lord Alistair had refrained from asking personal questions and had shared nothing special about himself, either. And while she knew she ought to appreciate this, she now felt as though a ravine had been wedged between them. It strained the atmosphere and turned it into a stilted awkwardness that grated on her nerves.
“I think I made a mistake,” she finally said, when the fourth hour rolled around, and they’d exhausted their opinions on fashion, their thoughts on art, and their views on the British landscape and agricultural industry.
He frowned. “How so?”
She drew a deep breath. “I’ve ruined what promised to be an enjoyable journey and turned it into something from which I’m sure you now wish to escape.”
A gruff sound made her wonder if he agreed, but then he said, “Nothing could be further from the truth. The fact is, I like you. More than I imagined I would. And if you will set your preconceived ideas aside for a minute, I would like to say that I never turn my back on my friends. No matter what.”
“I wasn’t implying you would.” She was suddenly horrified by the possibility that she might have insulted him.
“Yes, you did. I know I didn’t comment at the time, but I intend to do so now since you’ve opened the topic.” Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees while peering into her face. His eyes held hers so confidently, she was prevented from looking away. Instead, a tiny thrill of something unknown ignited inside her, the intensity of it tightening her belly and prompting her heart to beat faster. “You may be taking on the role of governess, but you will be doing so in an unconventional household. Mark my word when I say you will become fast friends with the cou
ntess, and I myself would never in a million years be able to ignore you.”
Swallowing this assurance, Louise dug her fingers into the bench on which she sat. For reasons she could not begin to imagine, he’d made her skin prick with awareness, her insides quiver with a strange sort of anticipation, and her mouth go completely dry. And all he’d implied was that he’d be her friend. But the way in which he’d said it while subjecting her to a most intense stare left her feeling a bit out of breath.
“It is kind of you to say so, but—”
“Kindness has little to do with it, Miss Potter.” He must have perceived the puzzlement she felt since he chose to clarify. “I am a man and you are an extremely attractive woman. Ignoring you would be out of the question.”
Her heart made a funny leap and heat surged inside her. She’d known he found her pretty – beautiful even – for he’d told her so plainly enough. What she hadn’t considered was a possible attraction – the sort that wasn’t based on looks alone but on need and desire. She felt it now as he held her gaze. It hummed through her body, tickling her senses, heightening her awareness, and forcing a longing upon her she’d never felt before.
“I…”
Words failed her as the reality of her situation came barreling toward her. She was alone in a carriage with a handsome and virile man who’d all but expressed his desire for her while making her acutely aware of her own. She should be afraid – very, very afraid – and yet she found that she wasn’t. Quite the opposite, really.
Which was why his next comment felt like a bucket of ice water dumped on her head. “You needn’t worry however. I will remain on my best behavior. Nothing will happen between us. You’re perfectly safe.”
As relieved as she ought to have been to hear it, disappointment brought her swiftly back to reality – the reality in which a man like him was not supposed to have designs on a woman like her. One in which he could have, if she’d belonged to the middle or lower classes. But now that he knew she didn’t, he’d be sure to keep himself in check and avoid succumbing to any form of temptation.
The Governess Who Captured His Heart (The Honorable Scoundrels Book 1) Page 3