She put distance between them and smoothed down her dress, striving to find some measure of calm.
Fool. Fool. You bloody fool.
“Perhaps if you explained,” he said, his manner so gentle and coaxing she wanted to scream at him for being kind to her. Hadn’t she shown what kind of woman she was? Didn’t he realise a nice young lady would not have invited him to touch her with such a lewd invitation?
“There is nothing to explain,” she snapped, the effort of will to stop herself from crying making her brittle and angry. “I’m not for you. I’ll not be your mistress and I’m so far from a suitable bride you’d not even wish to speak with me if you knew the truth. There is nothing more to be said, no future for us, nothing to be done except to stay far away from each other until this journey is at its end. I will part company with you as soon as you reach your destination. It is for the best.”
She dared to look at him, a little stunned to discover her words had neither made him angry nor shocked him. He stood with one hand braced on the back of a chair and she wondered if perhaps he was as shaken as she was.
“Perhaps you’re right,” he said, never taking his eyes off her. “But I think you might confide in me all the same. I would help you, if you’d let me. If there is someone who is pursuing you, if you are in some kind of trouble…. I’m not an ogre, Miss Wynter, I…. Lord, I don’t even know your name. Can’t you trust me with that much?”
Gwenn closed her eyes and forced herself to shake her head.
“No,” she said, as the last vestiges of her willpower began to fray. If she stayed here any longer the temptation to run back into his arms and pretend he could make everything all right would be too hard to resist. “If you’ll excuse me, Lord Cheam. I’m very tired.”
“Don’t go,” he pleaded, moving towards her though he made no move to stop her leaving. “Please, Miss Wynter, you’ve not even eaten.” Gwenn heard his protests but only ran faster for the door and snatched it open. She didn’t turn back, didn’t wait to hear any further pleas to allow him to help. She didn’t stop until she reached her room and slammed the door shut, turning the key and leaning back against it with her chest heaving and tears pricking at her eyes.
“Oh, Marie,” she said, blinking them back. “I should have listened. How cross you will be when you discover what a fool I am.”
She laughed, though it was not in the least a happy sound, and the bitterness of it echoed around the empty room until she gave up, threw herself on the bed, and sobbed.
Chapter 11
“Wherein fate falls gently from the skies.”
Sampson stared at the door Miss Wynter had fled through. With a hand that was not entirely steady, he raked at his hair, and then sat down at the table before his knees gave out. Something momentous had happened, and he was shaken by it, changed by it. From the first moment he’d seen her, he’d been certain it was fate throwing them together, though he’d not admit that to another living soul for he knew precisely how outrageous it sounded. It was outrageous. He was a man who read science journals and kept up with innovations, always keen to discover the newest discovery, not some whimsical old lady who believed in fairies and put a saucer of milk out for the little people. Yet he’d never felt such a connection to another human being before, such a desire—no, a need—to be in their company.
It made no sense, he knew it didn’t, but the sensation persisted. She wasn’t a lady, she’d said as much; she’d implied that he’d not want to know her if he knew the truth of her past, but he did want to know her, the past be damned. Perhaps she was ruined, perhaps there had been a scandal, or a failed love affair. Perhaps there was a child… but no, she’d never leave her child. He’d not believe that after the care she took with his sisters.
Besides which, there was that kiss, bold and unashamedly wanting yet surprisingly unpractised. The way she’d touched herself, inviting him to do the same, the way she’d spoken, it all suggested a woman who’d had lovers and knew how to drive a man mad with desire. She’d accomplished it with ease, hadn’t she? Yet that kiss had been eager and… strangely innocent. It made no sense. She made no sense. What was she was running from?
There was something, something she was ashamed of, or believed he would be ashamed of.
Sampson had wanted to explain to her, to promise her he didn’t care, didn’t care about the past. He only cared that she trust him with it. Perhaps he didn’t want to think of her having had a lover, certainly didn’t want to imagine it, but he was not the kind of man to condemn her for it.
She had a kind and loving nature, that much was certain. Perhaps she’d been taken advantage of. Except then he remembered her bold perusal of his person when they’d first met, the way her lingering gaze had looked him over, head to toe and back again. He remembered the sight of her just moments earlier, touching herself to inflame him, such a blatant invitation. Perhaps a passionate affair gone wrong, then, for she was passionate. She’d been ablaze in his arms, clinging to him, inviting him to keep taking, and he’d wanted to badly, but he’d wanted to know her even more.
Maybe he’d been selfish, but he’d known then that her kisses weren’t enough, her body wasn’t enough. He wanted it all. He wanted her secrets and her fears and her past and all of it, and God damn him, but he was a fool because she was right. It wasn’t in his future, she wasn’t in his future. If she was right, and she’d bring him scandal, then he needed to stay away, stay clear, as she’d warned him to do. The girls were his priority. He owed them a future free of the taint their father had bestowed upon them, and he could not be so cruel as to make them ever more notorious as a family.
This had to end before it began, for it could only bring them misery.
So, tomorrow he must continue this farce, continue to pretend that Miss Wynter was not in the carriage, that his entire being was not attuned to her every move, every word she spoke. He must pretend he didn’t ache to reach across the carriage and haul her into his arms, but that she was nothing more than the governess, and therefore beneath his notice.
Cursing, he reached for the wine and poured himself a glass, downed it, and poured another. The third he drank a little slower. Hangovers and long carriage journeys did not make comfortable bed fellows, as he knew to his cost. By God, but he would have Samuel’s hide when he caught up with him.
Sampson stared at the covered dishes on the table and his stomach rebelled at the thought of eating but he forced himself to dish out a serving all the same. Staring down at the plate with little enthusiasm, he picked up his knife and fork and then set them down again and strode to the door, calling for the inn keeper or someone to attend him.
The maid appeared once more.
“Have something taken up to Miss Wynter,” he instructed. “She was feeling unwell and has retired early, but she has eaten no supper. If you would prepare something suitable?”
“Of course, my lord. I’ll see to it at once.”
Sampson nodded his thanks, and the woman bobbed a curtsey and hurried off. With a sigh, he returned his attention to his meal and the long and sleepless night that was bound to follow.
***
Gwenn told herself that she was relieved when Lord Cheam greeted her with cool civility the next morning. He’d taken her words to heart and realised she’d spoken true. Now they could get this interminable journey over with and, as soon as may be, she’d be on her way. It appeared his half-brother lived in the wilds of Scotland and far from civilisation, however, so that might present some challenges. All the better, she assured herself. A challenge was just the thing to keep her occupied instead of pining for something she’d known she couldn’t have from the outset.
Honestly, if she’d known she could be such a peahen as to have her head turned by the first handsome man who paid her any attention, she might as well have allowed Marie to sell her to the highest bidder. She could at least have fallen in love with a wealthy duke who would have been generous when he grew tired of her. Better that th
an the temptation to throw herself at Lord Cheam, and for what? A night of passion and a lifetime of regrets?
No, indeed.
Wait….
Fallen in love with?
No, she scolded herself soundly. She certainly had not fallen in love with him. Gwenn had never believed in love at first sight, and she wasn’t about to believe that a few heated gazes, some insults, a few soft words, a carriage ride and an embrace….
Not just an embrace.
Very well.
A knee-trembling, breath-stealing, soul-shattering embrace, on top of the few other shared incidences, was not enough to send her head over ears in love. She was an idiot, but even she wasn’t that great a ninny.
Thankfully, Selina and Susan appeared before she could spend any more time considering just how great a ninny she was, which was just as well.
“How are you feeling, girls?” she asked as they sat down to breakfast.
“Better,” Susan said, and sneezed.
“Fine,” Selina added, sniffing and wiping her nose on her sleeve.
“Selina!” Gwenn exclaimed, hurriedly producing a handkerchief and thrusting it at her.
“Sorry,” Selina muttered before blowing her nose, hard. She offered Gwenn the hanky back.
“No, no, dear,” Gwenn said, her lip curling as she waved the offending item away. “You keep it.” She looked from one to the other and put a hand to each of their foreheads. “No fever, that’s good.”
“It’s just a head cold,” Susan said, sniffing. “We’re fine, really.”
“Are you sure?” Gwenn asked. “I’m certain your brother would delay until you feel better, if you think the journey will be too much for you.”
“Ugh, no,” Susan said in disgust. “There’s nothing to do here and my bed was lumpy.”
“And the chimney smoked,” Selina grumbled. “We’ll be fine.”
Thank heavens, Gwenn thought. Being stuck here with Lord Cheam would be the worst kind of torture. She’d been overwhelmed with relief when she’d looked out this morning and not seen a scrap of snow on the ground.
Liar.
“Well, come along, then. A hearty breakfast will do you the world of good, and we’ll get some extra blankets, so you’ll be as snug as a bug in a rug for the journey.”
The girls laughed.
“Are there sausages?” Susan asked hopefully, taking her hand.
Gwenn smiled at her and squeezed her fingers. “Why don’t we find out?”
***
As Lord Cheam had suggested, Gretna Green was underwhelming. The girls were mad with the desire to see the blacksmith’s shop but were told in no uncertain terms that there was not time.
“Oh, but Sunny, please?” Susan pleaded, but was met with stony silence.
“You and Miss Wynter could get married,” Selina added with a wistful sigh.
“Selina!” Lord Cheam snapped at her. “You will keep such inappropriate comments to yourself.”
Selina’s lip trembled a little, but she put up her chin and folded her arms, turning her back on her brother to stare out of the window.
Gwenn held back a sigh and tried to soften the blow by surreptitiously offering Selina a sweet. The girl gave her a faint smile and accepted it, leaning her head on Gwenn’s arm.
The weather was worsening, and snow drifted from above once more. Only tiny flakes for the moment, but the sky was a dirty white and the temperature had plummeted. Even though they were buried beneath thick travelling cloaks and blankets, with hot bricks at their feet, as the day wore on it was hard to keep warm. The girls sat either side of Gwenn now, huddling closer for warmth and she cuddled them to her, trying not to notice the growing concern on Lord Cheam’s face as he watched the weather.
By the time they changed horses at Ecclefechan the snow had stopped, though a thin covering had settled over the hills beyond the window, and Gwenn was certain it had grown colder still. The terrain was becoming ever more challenging, and she feared the roads would soon be too bad to continue. For the moment they pressed on, though it was slow going and they changed horses more often as much of the way was steep and the beasts tired quickly.
When they stopped at the Beattoch Bridge Inn, the snow began again and Lord Cheam would not allow them to linger. Their overnight stop was a good many miles distant yet.
Gwenn did her best to entertain the girls, as much to keep herself occupied instead of fretting over the fat snowflakes falling in slow, graceful tumbles outside the window. It appeared they would be stuck with her a while yet, so she tried to act as a governess might and to teach them a little French and Italian and read another of the Shakespeare tales. It had been awkward at first, with Lord Cheam there too, but it seemed he really was sleeping now, and soon she was too caught up in the story to care if he was listening or not. Now and then she glanced out of the window as the weather worsened and spared a thought for the poor coachmen and the horses, exposed at they were.
Having exhausted her own talents and the girls themselves, the three of them were dozing when Lord Cheam’s voice roused them.
“We’ll not make it.” He sounded resigned as he stared out at the dazzling white, his jaw tight. “I can’t ask them to go on any further in this,” he added. “Besides which, if we don’t stop soon, we risk getting stuck.”
Gwenn nodded her understanding, though her heart sank at the idea of being snowed in with Lord Cheam. “I’m sure the girls would welcome a warm fire and something to eat,” she said, doing her best to sound cheerful for their sakes.
“Oh, yes, please,” Susan said, before punctuating that with a lusty sneeze.
“We ought not have pressed on,” Lord Cheam said, and she could almost hear him cursing himself. “It’ll have done the children no good to be frozen all day.”
“We’re fine, Sunny,” Selina said gamely, before snatching up her handkerchief and sneezing louder than her sister.
Lord Cheam sighed.
“You had no way of knowing the weather would close in so quickly,” Gwenn said, hoping to soothe him.
“Yes, I did,” he replied. “My brother’s note said as much, but I thought he was just making mischief in order to get us—” He snapped his jaw shut, but Gwenn’s concerns that Mr Pelham had thrown them together on purpose were obviously not so far from the mark. “And I wanted to catch them up,” he finished stiffly.
“Well, never mind,” Gwenn said, smiling at the girls. “We shall consider it an adventure, stuck in the wilds of the snowy highlands.”
“Can we build a snowman?” Susan asked, her blue eyes wide with excitement.
Gwenn laughed. “Not whilst you both have such a cold, I think, but when you are feeling better, I shall insist upon it. We shall build the biggest snowman Scotland has ever seen.”
“Sunny must help us, though,” Selina said, grinning at her big brother. “He makes the best snowmen.”
“Oh, yes, he does. You must help us, Sunny,” Susan said, turning pleading eyes on him.
Lord Cheam frowned and looked uncomfortable as he glanced at Gwenn. She could not help but tease him a little.
“I can believe it,” she said. “He looks like an expert snowman builder.”
Despite his obvious anxiety, he gave a begrudging huff of laughter.
“Of course I’ll help,” he said, before turning his attention back to the increasingly white scenery outside.
They gave up in Crawford, though John Coachman and his fellow driver urged them to try for Abington, much to Gwenn’s surprise, as they must be frozen to the bone. Lord Cheam was adamant, however.
“No, my sisters are cold and need to rest in the warm and I fear we might not make it to Abington in this.” He gestured to the skies and the steady fall of white flakes that settled in silence around them. “Besides, there aren’t any other guests staying here, and they’ve plenty of room for us. The inn at Abington is half the size, and for all we know they’re full. No, we’ll stay. See to the horses.”
Gwenn wa
tched the head coachman turn to his companion, and they exchanged a wary glance before doffing their hats and doing as the viscount bid.
“I thought they’d be relieved to stop,” she said to Lord Cheam, once Susan and Selina had been hustled inside.
He rolled his eyes and lowered his voice. “We stayed here a few months ago and poor John had a bit of a turn. Swears he saw a ghost.”
Gwenn’s eyes widened with alarm. “No!” She gasped, horrified.
Lord Cheam, the wretch, seemed amused by her appalled expression. “Oh, yes,” he said, smiling a little now. “Apparently, this place is notorious. It has three ghosts. It appears John saw the apparition of a young woman. She was the daughter of one of the former proprietors and had the misfortune to be run down by a carriage on the street there. She haunts the stables.”
As he spoke Gwenn found her hand moving to her throat, and she swallowed her alarm, telling herself that Lord Cheam was only teasing, and she would not be bird-witted enough to let him see how unsettled she was.
“Well, no doubt it is an amusing tale to frighten travellers with,” she said, her voice fainter than she would have liked. “I expect it leads them into spending more on strong spirits than they might have otherwise done.”
Grace turned away from him and hurried to find her charges and get them settled in the warm as soon as may be. Anything to keep her mind from ghosts. She’d been terrified of such night-time spectres since a child, and hated the dark. The idea that the inn was teeming with the damn things and that now they were stuck here… well, of all the rotten luck.
***
Sampson watched Miss Wynter hurry away and allowed himself a small smile. It was shameful of him to have tormented her so, but she’d been tormenting him all day with her scent and her voice and her beauty so close to him. It seemed only fair. The more time he spent in her company the more he wanted to know her. She was funny and affectionate with the girls, and remarkably clever. His aunt had been right; his sisters enjoyed her company so much, half the time they didn’t even know they were being taught something.
Melting Miss Wynter (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 17) Page 11