Chapter Seven
Dolph jerked back, noticing a fiery blush colouring Miss Thame’s cheeks as her lashes swept low to conceal her innermost thoughts. The entire interlude had lasted a second...less than a second...but had seemed endless.
‘You did not hurt me,’ she said. Then her eyes opened, and she was visibly back in control of her feelings, once again the archetypal governess, any hint of a sensual being ruthlessly quashed. ‘You are right. He is exceedingly strong. Thank you for your help. But...’ She lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned closer. His breath seized all over again, with the anticipation of her touch, but that touch never came. ‘Please...tell Stevie to call you Papa. He usually does when he speaks of you. He is unsure of himself, and of you, and he is desperate to please you.’
Then she moved away, leaving Dolph to silently rebuke himself for his uncharacteristic... He struggled to come up with a word. Lust? But, no, that did not fit. And when the word eventually came to him, it was need. Hardly flattering and not at all as he would normally view himself, but it perfectly described how he had been overcome with the sudden desire for someone to be close to...someone to share his innermost feelings.
Maybe returning to Dolphin Court had been a mistake? He’d had no choice, however. He must think of the children, which meant he must come to terms with his guilt over his failure as a husband, and he must get used to the ghostly reminders of Rebecca. Time might have helped him over the worst of his grief, but he was no closer to forgiving himself for his failure to recognise how mentally disturbed she had become in her final months.
But those feelings, unexpectedly awakened by his return to Dolphin Court, were no excuse for him not to maintain a proper professional relationship with his sons’ governess, no matter his sudden craving for intimacy.
He wrenched his thoughts away from Rebecca and onto his sons and Miss Thame, who was saying in a laughing voice, ‘Did Wolf get you all wet? Come...it is time we went home, and you can change out of your damp clothes.’ She looked towards the cave and then back at Dolph. ‘I see Lord Hinckley is returning—shall you wait here for him?’
Dolph read the unspoken plea on both boys’ faces. ‘No. George will soon catch us up, and I would prefer to walk with you three, if you have no objection?’
Nicky whooped and ran ahead. Stevie, on the other hand, smiled—a touch hesitantly—and said, ‘Of course we do not object, Father.’
‘I do have one condition, though, Steven... Stevie.’
The small solemn face tugged at his heartstrings. ‘Yes, Father?’
‘My condition is that you call me Papa, as you used to. When you call me Father it feels as though you are cross with me.’
Those grey eyes...so like his own...searched Dolph’s face. He smiled encouragingly, noticing Miss Thame put her hand on Stevie’s shoulder and give him a gentle squeeze. Then Stevie smiled and the solemn little man transformed into the small boy he should be.
‘Very well. Papa.’ He gave a little skip, then shouted, ‘Come on, Wolf, let’s catch Nicky,’ and hared off after his brother.
Dolph watched his son scamper away with a smile and a sigh. ‘Thank you,’ he said to Miss Thame. ‘That was a timely reminder.’
He waved to George and pointed up the beach before he and Miss Thame started to stroll in the direction of home. Off to their left, George altered his direction to intersect with them at the top of the beach.
‘You are welcome, my lord. And I am pleased you do not object to my...um...interference, some might say.’
He was pleased to note she seemed to have put that instant of... What had it been? A frisson of awareness? A spark of some current between them? Well, she appeared to have put it behind her, and he would do likewise. No good could come of him lusting after a governess. Or even needing her. She was a gently bred lady in his employ and his own honour would not allow him to take advantage of her.
‘Interference? Have you been accused of such in previous posts?’
He knew Miss Thame had been governess to other families before she came to Dolphin Court.
‘Once or twice.’ She was unsmiling, but her voice revealed hidden amusement. ‘I cannot help myself, it seems. It is often easier for an outsider to detect strains within a family and how they...er...mismanage those strains, thus worsening them. And, in those circumstances, I confess I find it difficult to keep my opinion to myself. Not everybody is open to advice, however, and previous employers have raised objections to my getting above my station. Understandably, perhaps, for we none of us enjoy criticism, do we? Even if, deep down, we know it to be justified.’
‘That is true. At least I am forewarned, and I shall now brace myself for more of your interference.’
‘Oh, I try to keep my advice to a maximum of once per day, so you are quite safe until this time tomorrow.’
Dolph roared with laughter. George joined them at that moment and said, ‘What is the joke? Do share.’
‘Miss Thame is managing my expectations about our future working relationship,’ Dolph said, still chuckling. ‘She has just warned me she will have no compunction in educating me, should she deem it necessary.’
‘Oh. I say...that is a bold manoeuvre, Miss Thame, if I might say so. And what sort of education did you—?’
‘George...’ Dolph put as much warning as he could into his tone, realising his guest had mistaken his meaning. ‘Miss Thame has promised to help me rebuild my relationship with the children and will tell me if I make mistakes. That is all I meant.’
‘Ah. Yes. I see.’ George executed a bow to the governess. ‘My apologies—I assumed you were to teach Dolph decent penmanship at long last, Miss Thame. His handwriting is quite abysmal, you know.’
Smoothly recovered, my friend. Fortunately, Miss Thame appeared innocently oblivious of the end of the stick George had initially grasped, much to Dolph’s relief after that earlier frisson between them.
‘Now, then.’ George rubbed his gloved hands briskly together. ‘I understand from Dolph you are to dine with us tonight, Miss Thame?’
‘Oh! I...’ Her gaze flew to Dolph’s. ‘I was unsure if that was something of a spur-of-the-moment suggestion, my lord? If you would rather—’
‘Nonsense!’ George grinned at Dolph. ‘No offence, Dolph, but a third to vary the conversation would be welcome, would it not?’
‘Yes, without a doubt. And no offence taken, George. Your presence, Miss Thame, will hopefully lead to more civilised subjects of discussion at the table.’
George guffawed. ‘Are you suggesting my conversation is uncivilised, old fellow?’
Dolph bit back a grin. ‘I cast no such aspersion, old fellow. I was merely expressing a general desire. Well, Miss Thame? What do you say? Are you prepared to lend your calming influence at the dining table each night?’
‘As you put it like that, my lord, the answer is yes.’ A smile curved Miss Thame’s lips, her eyes crinkling with silent laughter. ‘After all, I have garnered plenty of experience in directing and diverting the attention and conversation of small boys, and that skill will no doubt prove valuable.’
They had reached the track that led to the Court. Steven, Nicholas and Wolf had ranged far ahead of the adults and were currently tussling over a fallen branch in a tug of war, the boys at one end and Wolf at the other. Shrieks of laughter rent the air.
‘Evidently,’ said Dolph.
‘My lord...one of the most important lessons with children is to learn which battles to fight.’
Miss Thame’s smile turned wistful as she watched the boys, and Dolph once again realised how lucky he had been it was she who had replied to his advertisement. Her fondness for his sons was clear, and she had undoubtedly helped them to recover from their mother’s death.
‘I do have one request, though, as we are on the subject of evenings,’ said Miss Thame, her attention still on the boys. ‘D
uring your absence, I have been accustomed to play the piano for a short time after the boys are asleep. I wonder if I might continue the practice—mayhap while you gentlemen indulge in your after-dinner port?’
‘Of course, Miss Thame, and we would also be delighted if you would play for us on the occasional evening as well.’
‘I should say so,’ exclaimed George. ‘Unfortunate there are no ladies with whom to dance, though, eh, Dolph?’
Dolph just smiled. He, for one, had no desire to dance with anyone. But some light piano music to soothe the soul? That would be most welcome.
* * *
Dolph spent the afternoon visiting his tenants with Roger Pople, followed by catching up with his correspondence while George—claiming to be in need of exercise—set out to walk the half-mile to the village. He returned two hours later with a smug smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes that put Dolph immediately upon the alert.
‘And what delights did you discover in the village?’ he asked his friend, somewhat dryly. ‘I am surprised you were away so long, unless you dawdled at a snail’s pace all the way there and back.’
‘I called at the church and the Reverend Strong told me all about its fascinating history and showed me its interesting architectural features.’
‘Such as?’
‘Eh?’
‘I wondered which architectural features in particular?’
‘Oh...you know...columns and stained-glass windows. The altar. The bell tower—you know, Dolph. The usual churchy type stuff.’
‘It must have been a thorough examination of the building. As I recall, it is not that extensive.’
‘Oh, well, we got chatting and he very kindly invited me to the vicarage for a glass of Madeira. Well, I could hardly refuse, could I? Not after he had been so attentive.’
‘And was Miss Strong at home, perchance?’
‘Why, yes. She was. I was delighted to be properly introduced to her. A charming girl.’
‘George...please do not forget these people are my neighbours. And Miss Strong is an innocent.’
George’s eyes opened wide. ‘Dolph! You wound me! I am not Bluebeard, you know. And what is a little harmless flirtation? Miss Strong blushes most delightfully—she reminds me of a plump little chicken.’
He sighed, his expression dreamy.
‘I have never yet seen a chicken blush, George. Do, please, take care. Miss Strong is young and not at all worldly-wise. You ought not to raise her expectations.’
‘So you said before, old chap. And I shall watch my words, believe me. I have no wish to be sued for breach of promise.’ He winked. ‘I am too worldly-wise to fall into that trap.’
* * *
Later, Leah stared at her reflection in her mirror. It had taken no time to choose a gown to wear to dinner, as she only had two suitable dresses from which to choose—a green sprigged muslin round gown, more suited to day wear, and an evening dress of light blue net over a white satin slip that she used to wear on the odd occasion Papa invited guests to the vicarage to dine. Both were somewhat outmoded, but neither of the gentlemen would expect a governess to wear the latest fashions. Besides, she was not dressing to impress—although that did not stop her spending an inordinate length of time styling her hair. For once, rather than scraping it back from her face, she pinned it more loosely and teased out a few tendrils to frame her face. She hesitated over whether to wear the necklace she had made out of Mama’s wedding ring but, in the end, she decided in favour of it, simply because her upper chest looked horribly bare without it and it detracted from the horrid freckles that marred her skin.
Finally, it was time to go downstairs. The boys had been in bed for a while—they were both early risers—and Cassie had agreed to listen out for them as well as for Tilly. Leah’s nervousness had killed her appetite and, as she descended the staircase and heard male voices drifting from the drawing room, her hands grew clammy and her pulse raced. Never had she dined in such exalted company and she prayed she would do nothing to disgrace herself.
‘Miss Thame!’
Lord Hinckley leapt to his feet as Leah entered the room while Lord Dolphinstone was already standing next to the fireplace in a similar pose to that he had struck in her sitting room last night. That memory did nothing to quell her nerves but sent more heat spiralling through her as her mind’s eye conjured up that intriguing glimpse of dark chest hair and her hand twitched in memory of that solid wall of muscle beneath her palm. Her unruly imagination painted a picture of his entire chest and she felt another of her wretched blushes rise up her neck to flood her cheeks.
Hinckley ushered her across the room, while Dolphinstone looked on, his expression—as it often was—inscrutable as his gaze roved over her, appraising her. As their eyes met, without volition that moment on the beach sprang into her consciousness—the moment when they had been so close, and time appeared frozen, and he had looked deep into her eyes and she had seen...what? Heat? Desire?...flare in the depths of his, triggering that same tug of attraction she had experienced before.
Her mouth dried, and she licked her lips. His Lordship’s grey gaze dropped to her mouth, causing her pulse to leap. She lowered her own gaze, resolutely quashing her growing fascination with her employer.
‘Good evening, my lords.’ She bobbed a curtsy.
‘Welcome, Miss Thame.’ Dolphinstone pushed away from the mantel and nodded to her. ‘Might we dispense with the “my lord” appellation? Sir will be sufficient. If that is agreeable to you, George?’
‘Yes, indeed. Or Hinckley, should you prefer, Miss Thame. After all, you’re almost one of the family, ain’t that right, Dolph?’
Her employer’s grey eyes gleamed with amusement, and he bowed again—this time, Leah felt sure, somewhat ironically. ‘Indeed. But Dolphinstone is such a mouthful, so perhaps you would prefer to stick to “sir”?’ He clearly did not intend Leah to reply as he continued, ‘Shall we make our way to the dining room?’
Leah was surprised when Hinckley proffered his arm—it was a courtesy she had not anticipated, with them both being earls and her a mere governess. She supposed gentlemanly behaviour came naturally to men of their ilk—although that had not been her experience in the past—but she still felt a fraud as she placed her hand on Hinckley’s forearm. As they entered the dining room, however, she reminded herself this was an excellent opportunity for her to practise the etiquette expected in Society.
In the dining room, Dolphinstone himself held her chair as she sat, and she began to feel less of an interloper. A glass of wine served with the meal helped her relax, but she took little part in the conversation other than to reply when directly applied to for an opinion, which was seldom. Lord Hinckley proved to be an entertaining guest with a ready supply of stories, many of them self-deprecating. He clearly enjoyed being the centre of attention, and he recounted many anecdotes about London—in which Leah had no need to feign interest—before embarking on conjecture about the forthcoming Season.
‘I hope I am not boring you, Miss Thame, with all this talk of people you have not met. I did not mean to rattle on so.’
‘Not at all, sir. I am interested to hear about lives and places so far removed from my own experience.’
‘Have you ever been to London?’
It was the first time Dolphinstone had directed a question to Leah, and she noticed his gaze lingered somewhere around the crown of her head as he avoided meeting her eyes.
‘No. I have never visited, but I should like to.’
‘Oh, you must! You would enjoy it. I have told Miss Strong the same thing.’
It was easy for Hinckley to say. He clearly had no clue how impossible it was for a woman in Leah’s position to simply go to a big city like London upon a whim. Although now, of course, she had precisely that opportunity—but she could not admit it. Fortunately, Hinckley did not wait for her to answer.
> ‘I am eager for the start of the Season. Are you not, Dolph?’
‘No, I have no intention of going away again so soon, as I told you before we left London.’
‘But...’ Hinckley’s brow puckered. ‘I made sure you would change your mind. After all, you missed the Season last year when you were overseas. Although, come to think of it, last year would have been too soon after Rebecca’s death, would it not?’
Leah cringed at Hinckley touching on such a personal subject in front of her, and a glance at Dolphinstone saw his brow darken. Hinckley, however, appeared not to notice as he forked roast beef into his mouth, chewed and swallowed before continuing.
‘Really, Dolph...you must reconsider. You ought to marry again, for the children’s sake if not your own.’
‘George. I have no intention of marrying again. Ever.’
Dolphinstone’s growled words brought Hinckley up short.
‘Ah. Yes. Of course. I apologise. None of my business. I quite see that.’
A strained silence prevailed. Leah wished the ground could swallow her up, even though it was Hinckley who was at fault, with his glib chatter. She raised her wine glass and sipped as the two men applied themselves to their food, casting around for a subject to ease the strained atmosphere.
‘My lord...sir...’ Dolphinstone looked up, his grey eyes hard. Leah’s spirit reared up in response—she would not be cowed by that look. ‘Might you visit the boys at their lessons tomorrow? They would be delighted to show you what progress they have made. Stevie, in particular, has made great strides in his reading and writing. Although that is not to decry Nicky’s ability but, being younger, he is, of course, behind.’
‘Yes. I will come in the afternoon, if that will fit in with your plans, Miss Thame.’
Embarrassment that she’d witnessed his reprimand of his guest gave way to nervous but pleasurable anticipation of him visiting the schoolroom the next day. Dolphinstone continued to stare at her, his features rigid. Then his expression softened.
The Rags-to-Riches Governess--A Cinderella Regency Romance Page 7