Forever Yours (The Forever Series #1)

by Cheryl Holt

  “I refuse to fan your ego.”

  He kissed her again, long and slow, and when he drew away he pressed his forehead to hers. For an eternity, they were frozen in place, pondering, their breath mingled, their respiration completely attuned.

  “I’m glad I’m here,” he said as he pulled away.

  “So am I.”

  He picked up her hand and studied the flecks of paint under her nails. “Have you been painting while I was away?”

  “Yes. I don’t sit and mope when you’re not around.”

  He was the only person she’d ever allowed to see her paintings. He’d begged her to let him take them to London, to sell them for her so she could start making a name for herself, but she’d never been brave enough to agree.

  She was convinced they were good and was proud of them, but she was afraid she wouldn’t measure up in a larger crowd of artists. And there was the distinct possibility he didn’t really think she had any talent, that he was just being kind.

  If she ever learned that he hadn’t been sincere in his compliments, she couldn’t imagine how she’d bear it.

  “Will you show me what you’ve done since my last visit?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  But before they could rise and proceed to her studio, he glanced out to the path that led to the beach.

  He scowled. “I believe that’s Miss Barrington and the twins.”

  She scooted off his lap and slid onto the chair opposite. “Have you met her?”

  “Yes. She was walking up the lane when I rode in. I introduced myself.”

  “She went over to talk to Alex. I thought she was resigning, but she didn’t.”

  “He likes her.” Price stared at Faith, flashing a grin she couldn’t misinterpret.

  “He might like her, but she would never return his interest. She’s too sensible.”

  “She’s very pretty.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “If he grew infatuated, maybe he’d split with Camilla.”

  They were conspirators in wishing they could pry Alex away from her, but so far none of their plans had come to fruition.

  “There’s nothing about her that would appeal to him in the slightest,” Faith said. “She has no decadent traits or habits. She’s decent and respectable, and if she’s decided to stay it’s because of the girls and her feeling very sorry for them. It would never be because of him.”

  “Bring her to supper with you,” he ridiculously suggested. “Let’s get them dancing and socializing.”

  “I can’t. I’m hiding her from Camilla.”

  “A wise move.”

  He leaned over and furtively squeezed her hand.

  “I have no desire to chat with the governess,” he said.

  “I didn’t suppose you would. She’s nice though.”

  “I’m still not about to chat with her. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Neither can I. You’d better look amazing for me. Don’t waltz in attired like a frump.”

  She laughed. “I won’t. I swear.”

  He gazed at her so longingly that for a second it seemed he might kiss her a final time, right out in the open where Miss Barrington and the twins could observe them. Instead, he winked and stood, then vanished around the side of the house.

  Faith masked her expression, not wanting to give away the least indication that he’d affected her at all.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Abigail sat on the sofa in the parlor of the cottage. Though it was a summer evening, it was cool and cloudy outside with a hint of rain in the air. A cozy fire burned in the grate, and she was snuggled under a knitted throw and actually enjoying a glass of wine.

  After a lengthy day of school lessons, hiking, and chatting, the girls were in bed in their room upstairs. It had taken forever to calm them down. They’d talked and talked and talked, constantly remembering one extra detail they had to share with her. They were incredibly lonely and didn’t believe she’d remain at Wallace Downs. They seemed bent on telling her every single fact that might convince her to stay.

  Miss Wallace was attending a party over at the manor. She’d dressed in a gorgeous blue gown, and a maid had styled her hair. She’d looked stunning, like the sister of a rich and powerful man, and Abigail had been delighted to see her appearing so grand and flitting off to a fancy gala.

  She’d been a bit jealous too. Once in her life, she’d been the belle of the ball, had regularly attended soirees and dances. But that era was over, and she always had to remind herself not to mope or regret what she’d lost. It was pointless to pine away.

  To her surprise, Miss Wallace had begged her to come along, and Abigail had been so charmed by the invitation that she’d nearly relented and agreed. She would have loved nothing more than to have danced the night away, but she hadn’t had a gown that was appropriate, and she was the governess.

  She couldn’t forget it, and she had no business reveling at a party. As Miss Wallace had floated out to her carriage—her brother had sent it to fetch her—she’d told Abigail to make herself at home, to relax and have a glass of wine, and that’s precisely what she’d done.

  In light of her reduced circumstances, it was a rare occasion when anyone offered her anything, and even though it was only her second day she was beginning to think her job might be perfect. Mr. Wallace’s reputation was terrible, but her working conditions were wonderful.

  The cottage was mostly Faith Wallace’s residence. There were a few servants, and they came over from the manor to do chores, then they left. So there were no gossipy housemaids lurking and spying around every corner. Mr. Wallace rarely stopped by so there was no employer criticizing her every move.

  She would be free to live as she pleased, unencumbered by rules laid down by a persnickety wife or mother. There would just be the twins and Miss Wallace, and Miss Wallace didn’t care to be bothered about the girls. Abigail could set her own schedules and routines without seeking permission.

  She was happy in a manner she hadn’t been in a very long time.

  She’d finished her wine and was pondering whether she was brazen enough to have another when the front door opened and closed. She scowled, worried that a mishap had befallen Miss Wallace to force her back. Abigail wished for her to have a fun evening of dancing.

  She glanced over, and to her consternation Alex Wallace sauntered in.

  “Hello, Miss Barrington.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought I should check on you.”

  “There was no need.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” he pompously stated. “How was your day with the twins? I’m extremely curious, and I had to find out.”

  She was frozen with astonishment, not sure if she should stand and greet him, if she should escort him to the door and push him out, or if she should run up the stairs and lock herself in her bedchamber. None of the options satisfied, and she didn’t want him to think he frightened her.

  He didn’t, but it was outrageous for him to have visited so late.

  “Aren’t you hosting a party?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then why would you leave?”

  “Matters were proceeding brilliantly without me. I won’t be missed.”

  He strolled by her, bringing in the scent of the out-of-doors: fresh air and rain. He was wearing a coat, and his shoulders were damp with sprinkles. He tugged it off and tossed it on a chair, then he went to the fire and warmed his hands.

  “It’s chilly out,” he said. “I was hoping you’d have lit a fire.”

  “I have no idea why you’d have been considering me at all.”

  He peered at the table by the sofa where she’d just deposited her empty wine glass, and he raised a brow.

  “Drinking, Miss Barrington? I’m shocked—shocked!—I tell you.”

  “I’m sorry, but your sister told me I could hel
p myself.”

  He waved away her comment. “I was joking. I don’t care if you imbibe. I generally like women more when they do.”

  He walked to the sideboard and poured his own glass, then he returned and filled hers too. When she didn’t reach for it, he picked it up and offered it to her. It would have been churlish to refuse so she grabbed hold.

  “To your first day.” He clinked the rims together in a toast. “Or is it your second?”

  “Technically, it’s my second, but let’s call it my first.”

  “How was it?”

  “Fine.”

  “You’re settling in?”

  “Yes. Everyone has been more than gracious.”

  Actually, it was the nicest first day she’d ever had. There had been no whispered horror stories from the servants, no lists of do’s and don’ts, no threats of consequences for rules that were violated. People were friendly, the twins respectful and courteous, and Miss Wallace was interesting and pleasant.

  All in all, she was thrilled with her new post.

  “And how about my sister, Faith?” he asked. “She can be snotty. She’s not being too rude is she?”

  “No.”

  He didn’t appear to believe her. “Because if she’s been uncivil, I’ll talk to her.”

  “She’s been very cordial.”

  “Faith has been cordial?”

  “Yes.”

  “You must be a miracle worker. She never likes anybody.”

  “I’ve tried to be quiet and not bother her too much. She hasn’t been partial to some of those you’ve previously brought here.”

  He snorted. “That’s putting it mildly. I admit they were all dreadful.”

  “Why did you hire them then?”

  “It’s hard to find a woman who will come all this way—and then remain after they discover my history. I don’t always have good candidates to choose from.”

  She chuckled at that. “What’s your excuse for selecting me?”

  “I informed Mrs. Ford that I was tired of grumpy old hags. I insisted she send someone smart, young, and pretty. I figured the twins would be happier—and I would be too.”

  At his describing her as pretty, she was disgusted to feel her pulse race.

  Their discussion in the garden behind the manor had been disturbing. He’d been flirtatious and amusing and likable. She couldn’t deny that she found him very attractive, and ever since she’d left the manor, she’d been replaying every word they’d exchanged as if she was a debutante enjoying her first beau.

  Her reaction to him was dangerous and out of bounds and very, very wrong, but if her life—and his—had wound in the proper directions, he was exactly the sort of suitor her father might have allowed to court her. It was a sad realization. He represented what could have been in the past, but would never be in the future.

  She glowered at him. “You actually told Mrs. Ford you wanted someone pretty? I know Mrs. Ford quite well, and she’d never heed such a silly request. Didn’t she try to dissuade you?”

  “She tried, but she couldn’t. Why would you deem it silly for me to request a pretty governess? You’re much easier on the eyes which I regard as an enormous benefit.”

  “A pretty one is never the kind an employer is seeking. In my view, it only causes trouble.”

  “Your beautiful face has caused you trouble? I don’t doubt it for an instant. How horrid has it been? Were you constantly pestered by adolescent sons? Did they write poetry about you and attempt to kiss you in dark corners?”

  “I never suffered any incidents like that, but there have been occasions that were…difficult.”

  “With how remarkable you are, I can just imagine the mischief you’ve endured.”

  “And stop flirting with me. I don’t like it.”

  “Who’s flirting?”

  He abandoned his comfortable spot by the fire and came over to the sofa. He sat down beside her, much nearer than he should have so they were snuggled together.

  “Mr. Wallace,” she scolded. “What are you thinking?”

  “Considering that we’re alone and there’s no one to eavesdrop on us, why don’t you call me Alex?”

  “No, and you’re scaring me.”

  He scowled. “I am not. I don’t scare you. Don’t pretend.”

  “All right. You’re not scaring me precisely, but you’re making me awfully nervous.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because—as you mentioned—we’re very much alone, and I have no idea why you’ve visited me or what you intend.”

  “I have no idea either.”

  “That makes me even more nervous.”

  He shifted toward her, and she shifted too. The sofa was so small they were practically nose to nose. She could smell the starch in his clothes and feel the warmth of his body emanating from under his shirt. The moment he entered, she should have jumped up and ran, but she hadn’t.

  She’d meant it when she said she wasn’t afraid of him, but apparently she needed to be afraid of herself. He was behaving inappropriately, and she was too charmed by him to respond as she ought.

  It had been such a long time since a handsome man had looked at her in a positive way. Her position as a governess rendered her invisible so it was a heady experience to sit next to Alex Wallace, to have him studying her so meticulously. She wasn’t about to move away.

  “Have we ever met before?” he surprised her by asking.

  “No. I’m sure we haven’t. I’d remember.”

  “You seem so familiar to me.”

  “Do I?”

  He seemed very familiar to her too, but she would never admit it. She didn’t want to encourage him in whatever folly he was pursuing.

  “I can’t believe we haven’t been acquainted forever,” he said. “It’s as if I know everything about you.”

  “You couldn’t possibly. For some reason, I’ve spurred you into flights of fancy where you suppose we’re very close, but I can’t figure out why I would have.”

  “Who is your family? Where are you from?”

  “I’m an orphan from a tiny village I’m certain you’ve never heard of.”

  “Who were your parents?”

  “No one of any account.”

  “You’ve been highly educated. Who paid for it?”

  “I was a charity case at my local school, and I was good at my lessons.”

  She stared him in the eye and lied which was incredibly easy. She’d been hiding her identity as a Henley, as the daughter of Lord Middlebury, for so many years that she might never have been that spoiled, rich girl. Perhaps that other identity—her real identity—was just a dream. Perhaps she’d always been pitiable, orphaned Miss Barrington.

  He leaned in and scrutinized her, then he scoffed. “You’re lying to me, but I can’t decide about what facts.”

  “Why would you assume I’m lying?”

  “Your face is an open book to me so we shouldn’t ever gamble. I’d beat you unmercifully.”

  “Trust me. You and I will never gamble. A person has to have some money to wager, and I don’t have any.”

  “Don’t you hate being poor?”

  “Yes.”

  He assessed her again, then chuckled. “That’s true at least. Were you a spoiled, rich girl in the past?”

  She couldn’t swallow down her gasp. “What made you say that?”

  “Ah…so you did grow up rich and spoiled. What happened? Did your father pass away in penury? Did he lose his fortune in a shady investment scheme? Did he run off with his mistress and strand you? How is it that you’re out on your own and working for the likes of me?”

  She gazed at him, overwhelmed by him and the quiet, cozy room. He was correct that a potent familiarity had blossomed between them.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to blurt out every detail of her sordid history: her parents diplomatic trip to Rome with her brother, Hayden; their all dying at sea o
n the way back; her cousin, Jasper, inheriting the title and estate; his wife, Desdemona, explaining to Abigail and her sisters that there were no dowries, that they no longer had a home at Middlebury.

  He would understand, might empathize and commiserate. But she couldn’t bring herself to expound. Her problems were private and distressing, and with Jasper being such a scalawag and spendthrift, she was ashamed to name her relatives. Even to a scapegrace like Alexander Wallace.

  “It’s none of those things, Mr. Wallace.” She stared down at her lap. “I’m simply alone in the world. Could we leave it at that?”

  “Was it a terrible scandal that ruined him?” he kindly asked. “Is that it? If so, you can definitely tell me about it. I live in a glass house so I’m not in any position to throw stones.”

  “Let’s not discuss it. Please?”

  For a moment, they were frozen in place, silent, pondering, then he said, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You haven’t. I just don’t like to talk about myself.”

  “I won’t inquire again, but if you’d ever like to confide in me, I’ll listen—and I’d never judge you.”

  She was still staring at her lap so she hadn’t realized what he intended. He dipped in and kissed her. It occurred so quickly and was so unexpected that she didn’t try to divert it. Because she didn’t, it seemed as if she was complicit.

  As he drew away, she murmured, “Mr. Wallace, I don’t want this from you.”

  “Hush.”

  “If I’ve behaved in a manner that would—”

  “Hush!” he repeated a tad more sternly.

  Without warning, he kissed her again.

  She’d been kissed several times in her life, back in the period when she’d first been moving toward adulthood so it wasn’t as if she didn’t know how. But those had been bestowed by boys her own age, and the embraces had never shocked her as Mr. Wallace’s did. It was so hot and stirring that she yearned to wrap her arms around him and never let him go.

  She was trembling, and she jerked away and staggered to her feet, hurrying across the room to stand by the fire. He came up behind her, clasped her waist, and pulled her to him. Suddenly, the entire front of his torso was crushed to the back of hers.