Forever Yours (The Forever Series #1)

by Cheryl Holt

  “Yes, I’m eager to hear your opinion. Earlier, you mentioned stellar qualifications and references. Share some information that will astound me.”

  Her brow wrinkled, her perplexity blatantly visible. “I’m confused. I was told in London that I was already hired.”

  “By who? By that old bat, Mrs. Ford?”

  “Ah…yes.”

  “She must be deaf then. I insisted I’d have to see you first. Why would I proceed without talking to you?”

  “I have no idea. It seemed bizarre to me.”

  “What are the terms? Are you assuming we have a contract in place?”

  “Yes. The term is for a year, but if you are satisfied with my performance I will stay on for a second year—if it’s agreeable to both parties.”

  He snorted. “Meaning what? If I consented to a second year, and you didn’t like it here, you could trot off and I couldn’t stop you?”

  “Yes.”

  She glowered at him in a manner he felt to the tips of his toes. Her expression was imperious and arrogant, as if she was far above him in status and rank, and he was humored by her lofty demeanor. She acted as if she was too grand to work as a governess, as if she’d be doing him a favor.

  He’d witnessed some of her haughty comportment out on the road. She’d been in no hurry to arrive at the cottage and hadn’t been overly grateful for the opportunity he’d provided.

  Her disinterest was incredibly intriguing to him. He was handsome, rich, and from a prominent family. His ancestors had all been soldiers, generations of them earning their fortunes in the King’s army.

  His entire life, women had fallen over themselves to please him. Even now, when he was completely disgraced and his career ruined, they couldn’t help extending offers they shouldn’t. Just look at Camilla.

  Miss Barrington wasn’t impressed at all. She was scowling at him as if she was about to tell him to take his post and stuff it. Which is exactly what she did.

  “I’m sorry about you and Mrs. Ford,” she said.

  “Why would you be sorry?”

  “Because I traveled here under the misguided notion that I had a job.” She stood and nodded regally—as if she were a queen and he her serf. “I’m sure you’ll understand if I pack my belongings and go.”

  “I won’t understand, Miss Barrington. Sit down.”

  “I’d rather not,” she had the temerity to respond. “Could you have a footman drive me into the village? As you’re aware, my portmanteau is very heavy. It would be difficult to carry it such a distance.”

  “Sit down, Miss Barrington. Don’t you listen? How will you ever make a good impression if we have to argue about every little thing?”

  “I’m not really concerned over whether I’ve made a good impression or not.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t think this is the right situation for me.”

  “And I think it probably is, and my opinion is the only one that matters.”

  “You have bullying tendencies.”

  “Yes.”

  “You like to boss others, and you’re determined to have your own way.”

  “Yes.”

  She finally complied, plopping down instead of easing into her seat. Her aggravation was obvious. She didn’t like him very much, and his fascination soared.

  They glared, the air between them charged with energy as if an explosion was imminent. He’d never felt a similar sensation. She was staring down her pert nose as if he was her pupil and he’d failed every exam.

  “Would you put down your libation?” she said.

  “My libation? Why would I?”

  “I don’t like to talk to men when they’re imbibing. I’d like you to be lucid.”

  The comment was so impertinent that he laughed aloud. Apparently, she’d decided he didn’t warrant any courtesy, and normally he would have ignored her request. But she had such a strict gleam in her eye that he didn’t dare disobey.

  He swallowed down the contents of his glass—merely to prove he could—but once the glass was empty he set it on a nearby table.

  “Are you happy now?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “I don’t care. You should realize that about me. I don’t care about anything.”

  “I’m certain that’s a satisfying way to go through life,” she derisively said, “but don’t be surly. I don’t like it.”

  “You don’t like it? You’re very brazen, aren’t you?”

  “Are we finished? I’d like to leave.”

  “You’re not leaving, Miss Barrington. Haven’t I been clear? The job is yours—if you will simply deign to share a morsel of information that will make you seem worth the bother.”

  “My background contains no significant details. I’ve had scant experience, and my resume is forged so I’m completely ill-suited to teach your daughters.”

  “Nice try, you little liar, but I’ve had lengthy correspondence about you with Mrs. Ford.”

  “Mrs. Ford—who was totally mistaken about this position. Were you drinking while reading and answering her letters? Is that the problem? Were you inebriated and you don’t remember what was discussed?”

  A muscle ticked in his cheek.

  He drank to excess on occasion, but only in private and never when it could cause undue harm. Years earlier, he’d learned his lesson so he’d been sober during his dealings with Mrs. Ford, but he didn’t recall them reaching an agreement.

  He’d apprised her that he needed someone highly educated, as well as someone who could come immediately. He’d also apprised her that he’d like someone young and pretty, feeling that a younger person might have better rapport with the twins.

  He was tired of the hags and shrews Camilla had hired in the past. The twins had never bonded with any of them which made the dull matrons disinclined to remain. That and his scandalous reputation. Once it was revealed, they fled so Camilla was constantly interviewing new candidates.

  Abigail Barrington wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Mrs. Ford insisted you’d be perfect,” he said.

  Without hesitation, she claimed, “I bribe her to recommend me.”

  He laughed again and shook his head in amazement. “You have to be the most exhausting female I’ve ever encountered.”

  “Yes, I’m incredibly exhausting. You won’t be able to bear it.”

  “Probably not.”

  “I can be annoying and horrid.”

  “Annoying and horrid?”

  “Yes, I’m a renowned harridan with a sharp tongue.”

  “Is this how you speak to all your prospective employers?”

  “No, only to the ones who are offering jobs I don’t want.”

  Her remark ignited his temper. He never allowed others to thwart or contradict him, to insult or deny him. Especially not a woman.

  He was the most contrary individual who’d ever lived, and with her being so adamant about leaving she’d taken the wrong tack with him. The more she begged to be released, the more firm he would be that she not.

  “It’s settled,” he told her.

  “What is settled?”

  “I’m hiring you—under whatever terms Mrs. Ford wrung out of me.”

  “No, thank you,” the insolent minx replied.

  She actually stood again, and her audacity flummoxed him. No female ever dared to defy him. Not even Camilla. She knew how far to push, but also when to relent and heed him.

  “Sit, Miss Barrington! I don’t give you permission to depart.”

  “Mr. Wallace, you are not my father or my husband, and I am clearly not your employee. You have no authority over me whatsoever.”

  She turned to go, providing stark evidence that she wasn’t fit to be a governess or for any other role. Where did she come by her confident traits? How was a man to lord himself over a woman who refused to be bossed?

  He stood too, and in two quick strides he was across the
floor and had grabbed her arm. He pulled her around to face him, and the motion was so fast that they were both off balance. Her body collided with his, the fronts of their torsos pressed together from chests to knees.

  She gasped, and he scowled. Those pesky sparks caught fire again, and it occurred to him—should he let her escape—he would be missing out on an unusual and exciting experience. It was early June, the summer stretching ahead in a tidal wave of tedium where he had nothing worthwhile to occupy his time.

  She would bring verve and vitality to the dratted cottage, would change all of their lives for the better. He was sure of it. Why, with her in residence, he might visit the twins occasionally. He might be happier and more enthusiastic about being back in England, back at Wallace Downs.

  He had no idea why such wild, ludicrous thoughts were pelting him, but she was staying and that was that.

  She eased away and frowned up at him. “Are you trying to scare me? You never could.”

  “I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to reason with you.”

  “By manhandling me?”

  “I don’t see how to get you to listen otherwise.”

  “And I don’t know how to get you to listen either. You’re particularly obtuse.”

  “As are you.”

  “We should call this a failed experiment. I shouldn’t have come, and I’m eager to return to London without delay.”

  “No. You’ll work for me for the next year, and to guarantee that you will I’ll double the salary I agreed on with Mrs. Ford.”

  “You will not.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I just stated in plain English that I will double the amount.”

  “Yes, but I don’t believe you.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “So are you,” she snapped back.

  He had to take several deep breaths to calm himself. “Miss Barrington, I must explain my character to you. I am impossibly vain and self-centered. I’m always in control, and I always have the last word. The more you argue with me, the more I will assume I am right and you are wrong.”

  “You’re too spoiled to let me leave?”

  “Yes, that’s about the gist of it.”

  “I didn’t like you when I stumbled on you out on the road. I didn’t like you then, and I like you even less now.”

  “You don’t have to like me. You simply have to like Mary and Millie. Have you met them? I don’t think you have.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Will you abandon those poor girls to my care? It’s a dire fate to have me watch over them. You wouldn’t be that cruel, would you?”

  She bristled with disgust. “I pity the children who have you as their father.”

  “That’s why you should stay. They’re lonely and miserable, and I’m desperate. They haven’t had a teacher in four months.”

  “Why is that exactly?”

  “We’re so isolated here, and the women grow bored. Plus, I’m certain you’ll acknowledge I might be difficult to work for.”

  “Yes, I can vehemently concur with that comment.”

  “You’re the only one brave enough and steady enough to travel all this way. Will you refuse to aid us in our hour of need?”

  Her eyes narrowed, worry lines creasing her cheeks. “You don’t play fair.”

  “No, I never have.”

  “You’re trying to make me feel guilty.”

  “Absolutely. Have I succeeded?”

  “Not yet.”

  He didn’t like that she’d stepped away, that there was space between them. The energy that flared when they were close had burned out, and he wanted it to ignite again. He leaned in, coming so near his leg brushed the skirt of her dress.

  She gazed up at him, looking vexed and irritated, and he thought she was the most spectacularly beautiful female he’d ever seen. When he’d advised Mrs. Ford to send someone pretty, the old harridan had definitely listened.

  “What are you doing?” she inquired.

  “I’m overwhelming you with my superior size and stunning personality.”

  He’d managed to drag a smile out of her. “I’m overwhelmed, but not by any of your positive attributes. You’re a bully and a menace.”

  “Those are two of my best traits.”

  “I’m sure that’s true.”

  “Tarry for a week,” he murmured, and he brazenly laid a hand on her waist. “Meet the twins. Explore the property. Walk on the beach. Let’s find out if you could like it here.”

  She shoved his hand away and pondered his suggestion forever, then she muttered, “All right. One week, but that’s it.”

  “Today is Wednesday. Next Wednesday, we’ll confer again. We’ll discover if I’ve changed your mind. Or if the girls have changed it.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “My hopes are always up, Miss Barrington, and I always get what I want.”

  “Not with me, you won’t.”

  “We’ll see.”

  He whipped away and yanked the door open. Faith was in the foyer, waiting for the appointment to conclude, waiting to hear if Miss Barrington had been hired.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Miss Barrington is staying,” he said.

  “Only for a week,” Miss Barrington insisted.

  He ignored her and told Faith, “Settle her in, then introduce her to the twins. School can start in the morning.”

  Then he sauntered out without glancing back. Like a besotted boy, he was anxious for a final glimpse of Miss Barrington which was the precise reason he didn’t.

  She had a peculiar effect on him. She made him eager to linger, to nit and pick and goad until she began to like him. No woman had ever spurred him to behave like a fool so there had to be magic afoot.

  Where would it lead? Where would it end? He had no idea.

  Behind him, Miss Barrington asked Faith, “Is he always like that? Is he always so rude and abrupt?”

  “Yes,” Faith responded. “Always, and I never get used to it.”

  “I’m certain I won’t either.”

  He hurried to the barn, mounted his horse, and trotted out of the yard. He was hosting a large party at the manor, and he’d been gone too long. He couldn’t waste more of the afternoon chatting and flirting—flirting, gad!—with the new governess.

  At the last second, before he was swallowed up by the trees, he couldn’t bear it and he stole a quick peek at the cottage. Miss Barrington was standing in the doorway, watching him. He grinned and waved, but she simply scowled and went inside.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “This is Mary and Millie Wallace,” Faith Wallace said.

  Abigail smiled at them. “Hello, Mary. Hello, Millie.”

  “Girls, this is Miss Barrington,” Miss Wallace told them. “She’s to be your new governess.”

  “Hello, Miss Barrington,” they chimed in unison, and they made a cute curtsy so someone had instilled a few manners.

  They studied Abigail, and she studied them just as meticulously.

  They were very fetching, blond and blue-eyed, slender and willowy. At age nine, they were beginning to provide hints of the beauties they would be when they were older, and she wondered if busy, distracted Alex Wallace had ever considered how annoyed he’d be by the bevy of suitors they would eventually generate.

  To Abigail’s great surprise, they looked very much like her. With identical features—the turned-up noses, the freckles and dimples—and the same intense, curious expressions, they were similar enough that they could have been her daughters.

  She felt an instant and compelling affection for them, and she couldn’t guess what was causing it, but she suspected it was their bedraggled condition.

  They’d been playing in the wood—unsupervised. Apparently, with school canceled due to lack of a governess, they were allowed to freely roam and get into mischief with no adults paying attention.

  Abigail
had been chatting with Miss Wallace on the rear patio when the unkempt pair had wandered up. How long had they been off on their own?

  Their faces were dirty, and their hair hadn’t been brushed or braided. It hung in a snarled tangle down their backs. Their clothes were disheveled, their shoes scuffed, their stockings in need of mending. Their dresses were too small too, as if they’d grown over the winter and no one had noticed.

  She’d consented to tarry for a week, but Mr. Wallace was a wily, shrewd negotiator. His daughters desperately required routine and discipline, and he’d known Abigail wouldn’t be able to ignore their plight. She was predicting she’d never leave in seven days.

  “Have you been hired? Truly?” Mary asked.

  “Yes.”

  Millie jumped in with, “Will you stay? The others never liked it here.”

  “I’m sure I’ll like it just fine.” Abigail was too concerned about them to clarify her plan for a short sojourn. She sensed the news would hurt them.

  “It’s a very good place to live,” Mary said. “We can show you the beach if you’d like. It might make you glad you came.”

  “I’m already glad,” Abigail said, “and I would love to see the beach, but first we should talk about your lessons so I have some idea of your education.”

  They wrinkled up their noses, school instruction obviously not high on their list of priorities.

  “Could we do it tomorrow?” Millie asked.

  “No,” Abigail replied. “Mr. Wallace wishes to have classes start in the morning so I have to assess where you are.”

  “We’re very smart,” Millie claimed. “All our governess have said so.”

  “I’m certain you are,” Abigail agreed.

  Faith Wallace pointed them toward the house. “Go to your room and wash up. Then find your school books and bring them down to the dining room.”

  “Yes, Miss Faith,” they responded together, and they walked off.

  Their heads were pressed close, and they were whispering, most likely about Abigail. They glanced back, taking a final peek, and she motioned for them to hurry. They rushed inside, and she and Miss Wallace were alone on the patio.

  Miss Wallace went over to a table and sat down. She gestured for Abigail to sit too, and Abigail pulled up a chair.