She needed to discover what it was about him that allowed her to find her voice, but if her mother had her say, she’d never know. Determined, Genevieve straightened her shoulders. She could do this. Her eyes trained on the door, as she bit down on her teeth.
When the gentlemen walked in, she looked at every face, as she had never done before. Most were relaxed and involved in conversations with each other, while others were nervous or anxiously scanning the room for a particular person. None of the eyes glanced at her. She’d never had anyone seek her out in a crowd. As she watched the couples meet, she wondered what it must feel like to be desired.
Shaking off the sad thought, she waited for the men to settle before making a decision on whom she would approach. Her hands shook and her stomach rolled. When she saw one gentleman standing alone in the corner of the room, she focused her attention on him and nothing else. She only hoped her mother was watching.
When she almost reached him, her single-minded focus betrayed her as she caught her foot on the edge of a chair and, as if in measured motions, she flew forward. Horror filled her, and she squeezed her eyes closed as she braced for impact. It came in the form of warmth and smelled of port and cigars.
“Are you all right, Miss . . .”
Fire seared her cheeks with embarrassment so hot it singed her flesh and branded her. Once he righted her, she could tell every eye in the room was on her. She wanted to die. Tears welled up in her eyes to add to her humiliation.
Unable to take it any longer, she grabbed her skirts and hurried out of the room. After that horrific incident, it should be no surprise to anyone why she had never wed. Perhaps she should become accustomed to teaching. If she did well with Lord Andel, perhaps Lady Constance would consider hiring her, as that would be the best she could hope for her future at this point.
The next day, after a lot of cajoling on her part, Genevieve sat in one of the rooms at the House of Reform and awaited Lord Andel. As her mother had dropped her off early, she was trying to bring some kind of order to the chaos that was her last lesson. She couldn’t afford for the earl to decide he wanted someone else with more experience to continue his teaching.
“Good morning,” an elegant lady spoke to her from the doorway. “I don’t believe we’ve had a chance yet to meet.”
Resisting the urge to cringe at the lack of the simple rules in this place, Genevieve put on a smile. “I would be happy to arrange an introduction for us.”
The lady laughed, a musical sound that was unfair coming from a woman who was already far too beautiful. “Finding someone to offer introductions is a waste of time. I’m Hannah Dobson, Countess Rivers, and who might you be?”
Discomforted, Genevieve offered a curtsy. “Miss Genevieve Jubal.”
“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The countess walked in and took a seat on the sofa, holding her hand out to indicate Genevieve do the same. “So, I thought I had met all of the instructors. Have you recently been hired?”
“In a way, my lady. However, technically I’m not an instructor.”
Lady Rivers smiled. “That’s right. You’re the French lessons.”
Surprised her private arrangement would be discussed with other clients, Genevieve struggled for the correct response. “How did you know?”
“Calm now, child. Considering I’m here offering my services to the House of Reform, I am privy to information that others are not. Rest assured, your secret is safe with me.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“It’s Hannah. I don’t like to be hung up on titles with my friends.”
Genevieve froze at the word. Miss Shepherd had used the same one. In her entire twenty years, she’d never had someone who she could honestly describe as a friend. Her brother, Frank, was four years younger than her and had served as a playmate in her younger years, but beyond that, she only had her mother.
“Then, I’d be delighted if you call me Genevieve.”
The woman nodded. Genevieve wished she could have Hannah call her by some other name, but her mother hated when she tried to shorten it. In truth, Genevieve had never cared for her name. But, that was just another trouble that a person must endure, as her mother often told her.
“Wonderful. I understand your student will be arriving soon, so I will leave you now. But, we must catch up some other time. Perhaps over tea.”
“I’d like that very much.”
As Hannah left, Genevieve couldn’t stop smiling. She had a friend. An actual woman with whom she could talk to and would in turn confide in her. Her mother had been wrong. Coming to the House of Reform had been the best decision she’d ever made.
Movement caught her eye, and she faced the doorway to see Lord Andel had arrived. He scowled at her and heat rushed up her cheeks, erasing her smile. Although she didn’t know what she had done to anger him so, she would likely pay for it. In her experience, a man in his current mood didn’t bode well for her.
~ ~ ~
“Bonjour, mon seigneur.”
Christopher could see nothing good about this particular morning in spite of Miss Jubal’s strained voice as she greeted him.
Bowing a reply, he marched in the room and took up his spot on the sofa. He’d come here this morning to learn French, nothing more, and how did she respond? That damned beguiling smile on her too plump lips. It had no place in the classroom, and he did not appreciate her using it on him.
She cleared her throat, requesting his attention, and his attention she got. Her unruly, brown hair was pulled back in a severe bun, but that didn’t stop small pieces of it from escaping all over, creating a mess. And, the severity of the creation pulled at her face, bringing him discomfort, so he couldn’t imagine what the tight chignon was doing to her.
In an effort to keep his eyes off her mouth, his eyes trailed down to her ill-fitting down. The garment was faded and clearly had seen one too many seasons. Overall, the girl had nothing to recommend her. Then, as if on their own accord, his gaze moved back to those lips. He nearly groaned to see she’d caught the bottom one between her teeth. At least they weren’t smiling. He could handle this. Or, rather, he hoped he could.
“Have I done something wrong?” Her voice was afraid and resigned, and her eyes didn’t meet his.
He didn’t understand it, and he certainly didn’t like it.
“Why do you smile like that?” He blurted before his better judgment could stop him.
“Smile? Like what, my lord? Should I smile in a different way?” Her brows furrowed, and she finally lifted her gaze to his.
“No,” he quickly replied. “You most definitely should not. As a matter of fact, don’t smile at all.”
Her eyes widened. “You don’t want me to smile, and you’re angry at me because you saw me smile? I assure you, the action had nothing to do with you.”
A stab of disappointment caught him off guard. He hadn’t truly wanted her to have been smiling because she was happy to see him, but he had thought of the possibility. But, of course she couldn’t feel that way. Nor, did he want her to.
“That doesn’t matter. I saw it.”
“Perhaps, we should get to the lessons. You can be assured that I will not be smiling at you ever again.” Her voice was full of anger.
He felt like an ass, but he couldn’t help himself. The last thing this girl needed was him giving in to his curiosity to see if those lips were as soft as they appeared. He could imagine their taste. Would she open up to him or make him work for it? With lips that sensuous, he had no doubt they’d had plenty of practice.
With clenched fists, he folded his arms across his chest. Bloody hell, he needed to stop thinking like this. Never before had he been affected by anyone like this. He suspected it was in part that he never knew what would come out of that mouth, and he relished the idea of quieting he
r. Or, perhaps it was her comment yesterday about the water. Regardless, there was some plausible reason. He simply needed to find it, so he could get over it.
“Don’t you plan on pouring us some water first? For our overactive mouths?”
She crossed her arms and sat back in the chair. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can continue your lesson today. It seems I am coming down with a sudden illness.”
There was fire in her eyes, but a weakness in her words that made her claim almost believable. Right then, he knew exactly what he had to do. Although he’d never admit it to Jacques, the garden was the only thing that could help him now.
“I’m the one who should be sorry.” He stood. “If you would join me for a stroll in the garden, I would be happy to explain my purpose to you.”
Albeit very reluctant, she nodded and tentative fingers lightly touched his offered arm. The feel of her was so light he had to stop himself from checking to make sure she still had his arm. Likely, she was unaccustomed to receiving a man’s escort, but he would act as a gentleman regardless of her current situation.
Once in the open air, he went through his breathing exercises as Jacques had taught him. That man had truly been a Godsend. However, with Miss Jubal on his arm, he couldn’t say that he felt any better. Not to mention the fact that he’d upset her to the point she didn’t want to teach him any longer.
“What is it you wanted, my lord?”
He cleared his throat as he stopped walking and turned to face her. The sun reflected off her hair, revealing streaks of gold he hadn’t known she possessed. He wondered what it would look like loose around her shoulders. Was it long or just enough to cover a man’s pillow? He nearly choked at the thought and turned away from her.
“I wanted to tell you my reasons for being here.” He gritted his teeth at his gruff tone. Damn it. He was acting like a randy youth.
“I imagine it’s a desire to learn French.” Her monotone voice didn’t sound amused.
“Not so much of a desire as it is a need,” he explained, grateful that he was able to reclaim himself once again. “You see, I plan on marrying and my chosen bride only knows French.”
Peering back at her, he wasn’t surprised to see her eyebrows shoot up. And, those delectable lips formed a perfect oh. The sight had him clenching his fists and fighting from closing the distance between them. They were speaking of Miss Auclair, he reminded himself. His soon-to-be betrothed.
“You are, intentionally choosing a bride who doesn’t speak your language?” Shock rang in her voice. “How did you manage to get to know her?”
“I haven’t yet, but that is where you come in.”
She turned away from him and walked a few paces back and forth before stopping before him once again. After opening her mouth, she closed it and repeated her movements. It was as if she were working herself up to speak to him. The woman who’d never tempered her tongue before was at a loss for words. That was certainly intriguing. Not that he needed to hear what she thought about his plan.
“The good Lord knows you’ve never refrained from speaking your mind before, so don’t stop now. Besides, I can assure you, I’ve heard it already.”
The sigh she let out with her lowered shoulders indicated she wasn’t going to tell him her thoughts. Although, he constantly begged his brother to give him that consideration, that Miss Jubal would refrain irked him. What did she hope to gain from holding back?
“I will assist you as I can, however, as I mentioned, this process takes months.”
Realizing her misunderstanding, he straightened his stance, expecting her to argue. “I will require more than for you to teach me, as I will also need you to translate her letters.”
Again, that mouth opened in shock, and Christopher realized he was verging on a very bad state. He would like to blame his reaction on a lack of intimacy, but he didn’t even have the luxury of such an excuse. It was those bloody lips.
“I am to read your private letters from your betrothed?” Her face tinted a rather becoming shade of red.
“Private is exactly the correct word as I don’t even know the lady, and we aren’t betrothed as of yet. Likely, the missives will be impersonal to a fault. No maidenly sensibilities will be offended.”
She nodded and again walked away from him. It was killing him not knowing what she was thinking. This was ridiculous. She was his instructor. She needed to talk to him.
When she faced him again, her bottom lip was between her teeth, once again. “Since I will be doing something unusual for you, may I ask you a question of a personal nature?”
Heat enveloped Christopher, and he thought he would die from the flames. That mouth asking him a personal question? He couldn’t handle it. Suffering from a sudden lack of moisture, he licked his lips, and her eyes zeroed in on the action.
In that instant, he was done. All rational thoughts fled his mind, replaced with an intense desire to taste her. With no effort at all, he collected her into his arms and pressed his mouth against hers. He groaned at the feel of her soft, plump lips against his.
She was as stiff as an iron poker in his arms, and that certainly wasn’t acceptable. Moving his lips over hers, he coaxed until she relaxed against him. Victory filled him as he pulled her closer to his body, and he was surprised to feel such delicious curves hidden beneath her clothing.
The tentative movement of her hand on his chest was a small joy, but she still refused to give him what he wanted. Why would she deny him? With lips such as hers, he knew she’d been kissed before, so why not him? Frustration gnawed at him. He wanted more.
“Open up to me, damn it,” he demanded against her lips.
Instead of her obedience, she shoved at his chest, and he released her. She stared at him with horror in her eyes, then grabbed her skirts and ran from him.
He stood there for a long time after she was gone, trying to get his body under control. Bloody hell. He was in a lot of trouble.
Chapter 3
“I’m so glad you took me up on the offer of tea.”
“Just as I am glad you accepted.” Genevieve smiled at Hannah, then immediately regretted it. Did Hannah see the flaws in her smile the same way Lord Andel did? Although he didn’t like her smile, he still had kissed her. The thought brought heat to her cheeks, and she turned her face away, hoping her friend didn’t notice.
That had been her very first kiss, and it certainly hadn’t disappointed. His lips had been so soft and warm, and the feeling of him moving over hers had kept her up half of the night. And, his words, open up to me. It had frightened her at that moment, but also excited her. What did he mean? She wished she’d known.
In truth, the entire exchange confused her. He’d been so angry with her from the second he’d arrived, and he’d told her he would marry another woman. So, why did he kiss her? It just didn’t make sense. Except in her fantasies, as she knew she would relive the moment for many years to come.
“Clearly, I haven’t been in London long enough.” Hannah took a sip of her tea and grimaced. “It needs a bit of brandy.”
Shocked, Genevieve’s mouth fell open. “I—I’m sorry. I don’t have any to offer.”
With amused laughter, Hannah waved a dismissive hand. “I didn’t expect you to. I’m just being honest, besides, as my friend, you aren’t allowed to judge.”
“Of course.” Genevieve would remember that. Having a friend would certainly be a new experience, and she had a lot to learn first.
“Now, tell me, what do you do for fun?”
“London has a number of activities. You can—”
Hannah held out her hand. “Stop. I’ve lived here long enough to know this version. I’m tired of sitting in my lonely house. I want to do something. Do you shop?”
“I would be happy to accompany you,” Genevieve replie
d, keeping her tone neutral.
The lady’s eyes traveled down to take in her gown. “I see your manner of dress isn’t simply for teaching. Pardon my bold question, but do any of your gowns . . . fit?”
Heat flooded Genevieve’s cheeks. “My father thought it best to purchase gowns that had been ordered by others who didn’t pay on time. I have altered them myself to fit me each year.”
The horror on Hannah’s face made Genevieve clamp her lips closed. Clearly, she’d reveal too much. This friend matter was too complicated, for she felt as though she were being judged. Perhaps she wasn’t made for friendship, exactly like she wasn’t destined for a husband.
“Your gown has seen how many seasons?”
Genevieve swallowed, seeing no choice but to answer. “This will be my third.”
Immediately, Hannah burst from her chair and paced the room. “That’s so sad. I hadn’t heard the viscount had been experiencing such financial trouble.”
Dismayed at the idea that a rumor so ghastly could get out, Genevieve vehemently shook her head. “My father has no financial troubles. He simply sees no point in purchasing new gowns for additional seasons seeing as I failed in the first.”
Hannah froze. “Failed? My dear, you don’t fail a season. Not every lady can find a husband so quickly. There simply aren’t enough good men.”
The sadness in her friend’s voice made Genevieve feel selfish. She’d learned from the other women at the House of Reform that Hannah’s husband had died a few months prior. Considering how difficult it was to obtain a husband, Genevieve couldn’t imagine losing one.
“I’m sorry about your husband,” Genevieve blurted.
To Teach A Gentleman Page 3
