Breaking the Governess's Rules

by Michelle Styles

  Miss Daphne took the cards and her face lit up, becoming twenty years younger. ‘Mrs Blandish, my nephew, Viscount Furniss, and Lord Chesterholm have both come to pay their regards as well. What a shame you cannot extend your call.’

  ‘Mama,’ Miss Nella Blandish said, ‘we ought to depart. Miss Milton always used to say—fifteen minutes and no longer.’

  Mrs Blandish made a face like she had swallowed a particularly sour plum. ‘Come along, girls. We have other business to attend to. The day is wasting.’

  ‘But, Mama …’ Miss Blandish wailed. ‘Surely we can stay a moment longer. They are both … eligible.’

  Louisa stared at the woman in astonishment.

  ‘Has Susan become utterly devoid of sensibility?’ Miss Nella Blandish asked in a stage whisper. ‘The Viscountess Ravensworth would be horrified!’

  ‘You will consider staying, Mrs Blandish,’ Miss Daphne said, patting the sofa with a conspiratorial expression. ‘Some rules were meant to be broken. particularly when faced with an unmarried daughter and two highly eligible titled men.’

  Mrs Blandish hesitated, obviously debating the demands of propriety and the demands of matrimony. Matrimony won out and she settled herself back down on the sofa. ‘I suppose we can impose on Miss Elliot and Miss Sibson for a few moments longer.’

  Miss Daphne gave a beatific smile. Louisa narrowed her gaze. Miss Daphne had some scheme in mind and wanted the Blandish tribe to stay.

  ‘I had hoped you would see reason,’ Miss Daphne said. ‘Miss Nella tells such interesting stories. My nephew loves a good tale.’

  Louisa stood up and reached for her beaded reticule. She would find a way to speak to Jonathon in private. The letter was far too damning to be waved under his nose in public, particularly with the Blandishes hanging on every word. But she had cried her last tear over him four years ago.

  Jonathon strode in, his frock coat flaring to emphasise the length of his legs. He surveyed the gathered throng, every inch the proud aristocrat from his immaculately tied stock to his butter-yellow gloves and silver-topped cane. Despite all the promises she had given throughout the years, her pulse beat faster as his eyes appeared to linger on her. Louisa turned her gaze to the reticule, going over each damning line of the letter in her mind, reminding her errant heart. He had ruined her life once. Only a fool would allow that to happen a second time and she was no fool.

  ‘Lord Chesterholm, Rupert, what a delightful surprise,’ Miss Daphne said, fluttering her fan. ‘You must have guessed that Cook baked iced buns today.’

  ‘I tempted him with a promise of your iced buns, Aunt,’ Lord Furniss said with smug superiority in his voice. ‘You always have iced buns at your At Homes. A shameful extravagance, but a welcome one. My mother would never approve.’

  ‘Just like burning more than one candle?’ Louisa asked.

  ‘Precisely, Miss Sibson. You remember my mother’s odd quirks.’ Furniss flushed slightly and gave a decided nod. ‘What my mother remains in ignorance of, she cannot condemn.’

  ‘Dear Rupert,’ Miss Daphne said, holding out her hand. ‘You must meet the Blandishes. They were involved in the doings at Gilsland Spa. You know … when poor Edward Heritage died.’

  ‘Charmed, I am sure.’ Lord Furniss gave the briefest of nods towards the Blandishes, before capturing Louisa’s hand and pressing it tightly. Spying Jonathon’s glower, she resisted the temptation to pull away and allowed Lord Furniss to hold it for a half-minute more than was strictly proper. ‘Now, my dear Miss Sibson, have you missed my company? Did you count the minutes?’

  ‘Rupert!’ Miss Daphne exclaimed and Lord Furniss dropped Louisa’s hand.

  ‘What is the temptation of the iced buns?’ Miss Blandish asked, wrinkling her nose. ‘I must confess to never having tried one.’

  ‘You have never tried one! You have not lived until you have eaten iced buns,’ Lord Furniss exclaimed. ‘Is that not right, Miss Sibson? My aunt’s iced buns are known far and wide. The mere memory of them from our days at Eton is why Chesterholm accompanied me here today.’

  ‘And the pleasure of Miss Sibson’s company. I found last night’s exchange to be most enlightening.’ Jonathon’s blue-green gaze caught Louisa and held her. Everything else seemed to fade into insignificance.

  A small tingle coursed through her. She forced her breath in and out of her lungs. Her reaction was a ghost from ages past. It had nothing to do with the infuriating man standing in front of her and everything to do with her younger, impossibly naïve self. ‘Do you not agree, Miss Sibson?’

  ‘Do we agree on anything?’ Louisa pasted a smile on her face. ‘We spoke of long-ago trifles that had no meaning then and even less now.’

  ‘The value of intriguing conversation is immeasurable,’ Jonathon returned smoothly as his eyes taunted her. ‘One can learn such fascinating facts through a few moments of idle talk.’

  ‘I think you are correct, Lord Chesterholm,’ Mrs Blandish called out from where she sat, making it clear that she for one was following the entire exchange with interest. ‘The pursuit of knowledge is always enlightening.’

  Jonathon’s lips turned upwards and his eyes took on a mischievous expression. ‘Particularly when one chances upon old friends one had considered long departed from this world.’

  ‘The way you talk, Lord Chesterholm—’ Mrs Blandish’s turban quivered with disapproval ‘—one might think Miss Sibson was dead when she stands before us, breathing and in good health. It would be monstrous to spread a tale like that about anyone.’

  Jonathon’s gaze travelled slowly down Louisa’s form, his eyes lingering on her curves. His smile increased, becoming that special smile, the one which he had always given her just before kissing her. ‘No, I agree she is very much alive. I had been wrongly informed.’

  ‘And you are pleased with that,’ Miss Daphne said.

  ‘Did I ever say I wasn’t?’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Simply surprised to discover the fact. It would appear I put my trust in the wrong people.’

  ‘The notions some people entertain without bothering to check the facts.’ Louisa clenched her reticule. She looked forward to seeing Jonathon’s arrogant expression replaced with abject begging. And for each barb he sent her way, she’d make him beg a little longer.

  ‘Are we going to discuss cooking utensils now, Miss Sibson?’ He gave a slight flourish with his hand, daring her.

  ‘Is that a pile of stones I see beside you, Lord Chesterholm? What is the state of your soul?’

  ‘Utensils, stones and souls? I fear I cannot follow this conversation,’ Miss Blandish declared with a slight pout and shake of her golden curls.

  ‘Honestly, Susan.’ Miss Nella rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘A pot calling a kettle black. And from the Bible about someone without sin casting the first stone. Miss Sibson and Lord Chesterholm are having the most interesting quarrel. Now do be quiet and you might learn things.’

  ‘It is a long-standing argument,’ Louisa said quickly.

  ‘Miss Sibson and I used to enjoy such arguments,’ Jonathon said with a teasing glint in his eye. ‘She was quite notorious for her skill with … words.’

  ‘Miss Sibson was renowned for her wit in Sorrento as well,’ Lord Furniss said, hooking his thumbs into his waistcoat. ‘For my part, I always think of the right words precisely five minutes after I have left a gathering.’

  ‘My poor tongue is feeble compared to the late Matilda Elliot’s.’ Louisa ducked her head as her insides churned. She had been wrong to give in to that impulse.

  ‘Come, come, Miss Sibson, false modesty does you few favours,’ Jonathon said. ‘Your remarks were often repeated when you were in my stepmother’s employ.’

  Louisa fought against a tide of red heat that threatened to engulf her face and banished it. It was up to her whether or not Jonathon discomforted her. Her choice, not his. She gulped a breath of air and met his gaze full on. ‘I rarely think about that time. It was far from the happiest period in my life.’


  ‘Indeed.’ His eyes became glacial ice. ‘It is always pleasant to discover the truth of the situation. I regret that you spent one moment of unhappiness.’

  Quietly Louisa consigned Jonathon Fanshaw to the hottest room in Hell. He regretted nothing. He had come here to torment her. He probably intended to make it his mission in life. Well, he’d learn that the new Louisa played by a different set of rules. ‘It was a long time ago. I have put it from my mind.’

  Jonathon lifted an eyebrow, as if he were inviting the next round. Louisa gave a slight shake of her head and turned her body towards Lord Furniss.

  ‘What do you think of Newcastle, Lord Furniss? Does it meet with your expectations?’

  ‘Very much so.’ Lord Furniss made a low bow towards her. ‘The day is brighter for having seen you and my aunt.’

  Jonathon began to rapidly speak of the latest John Martin exhibition in London to Mrs Blandish, asking Lord Furniss to comment as he had seen it.

  ‘The discussion about John Martin should divert their attention,’ Jonathon’s low voice rumbled in her ear. ‘It is a topic of conversation to keep everyone entertained, but not you, I think. You never did care for painting.’

  ‘You know nothing about me.’ Louisa took a sip of her lukewarm coffee. ‘I happen to enjoy John Martin’s paintings.’

  Jonathon pressed his lips together. ‘You do?’

  ‘I have changed, Jonathon.’

  His eyes searched her face. ‘Not that much. You only think you have. And I have only done what your eyes implored me to do—rescue you from Furniss and divert the conversation.’

  ‘I happen to like Lord Furniss’s company. Why should I want attention diverted?’ Louisa asked between gritted teeth.

  ‘Our conversation last evening is far from finished,’ Jonathan said, looking down at her with hard eyes. ‘I wait with baited breath, Louisa. Where is your infamous proof? I had fully expected it to land on my breakfast table while you took the first boat out of Newcastle back into the arms of your aged baronet.’

  The words stung far more than they should.

  ‘All things come to those who wait.’

  His voice lowered to a seductive and intimate growl, which made her insides curl with warmth. ‘I devotedly hope so.’

  ‘You are attempting to disconcert me.’

  ‘Perish the thought.’ His eyes deepened. ‘My only desire at the moment is for a cup of tea.’

  ‘It is good that your desires are easily satisfied’ Louisa said before wincing. Open mouth, insert kid slipper.

  ‘As long as you satisfy them.’ The banter was gone from his voice.

  Louisa hurriedly looked away and concentrated on pouring the tea. In her haste, she knocked a spoon to the ground and then sent the sugar bowl flying—the actions of a flustered débutante rather than a companion of several years’ standing. Miss Daphne gave a mildly disapproving stare from where she sat, but made no move to intervene.

  ‘Are you disturbed about something, Miss Sibson?’ Jonathon asked, taking the cup and then placing the sugar bowl back on the little table. ‘You appear flustered. But everything is quickly put to rights once one sets one’s mind to it.’

  ‘Should anything disturb me, Lord Chesterholm?’ Louisa poured another cup of tea. This time, she managed to keep her hand steady.

  ‘Such action could be construed as a guilty conscience.’

  ‘I do have proof, Lord Chesterholm.’ Louisa reached for the reticule. ‘My conscience is clear.’

  ‘Why didn’t you wave the proof under my nose when I walked in the room? The Louisa I knew would have done. Wasn’t that what you did with my sister’s poem? But then the action was to pique my interest. And this one is …’

  The old Louisa. Louisa gritted her teeth. She too remembered that day and what had happened after-wards—their first kiss, a stolen kiss. It was low of Jonathon to bring it up, particularly now. And she had not been flirting with him. He had simply assumed that she did not have anything else to do except answer his impertinent questions about how pretty girls could ever have serious thoughts in their brains. And she had shown him the papers. She had mistaken flirtation for kindness, a silly naïve mistake, and had paid a heavy price.

  ‘I would, but Mrs Blandish is addicted to gossip and her hearing is very acute.’ Louisa nodded towards where Lord Furniss was rather grandly informing Miss Blandish that she was completely wrong to consider Turner a better painter than John Martin. ‘I would hardly wish to involve you in scandal.’

  ‘It makes a first. As far as I recall you courted it. You were an active participant in our little games.’

  ‘Any scandal that happened was down to your actions and not mine,’ Louisa whispered in a furious undertone. ‘I behaved impeccably.’

  He leant forwards. ‘Or are you merely mouthing words without understanding the implications, Louisa? You played your part as much as I did.’

  ‘I grew up.’ Louisa batted her eyelashes and made her voice sound as much like treacle as possible. ‘Trials and tribulations have a way of doing that to people.’

  ‘We are at an impasse, Louisa. Why not accept that I do have a claim and come away with me?’

  ‘Must you sound like a villain in a penny novel?’

  ‘Why are you casting me as one?’ A muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘Shall I force you to be alone with me? Or are you scared about what you might discover? When shall it be? This afternoon?’

  ‘Unfortunately, I must decline.’ Louisa kept her voice even. ‘I must visit the chemist later this afternoon. Miss Daphne finished her tincture this morning. And without Miss Daphne’s tincture, the world stops.’

  ‘Ah, our old code.’ Jonathon’s eyes deepened to a storm-tossed green. ‘Shall we meet inside the chemist? What shall I say that I am searching for? A hair restoration tonic?’

  Louisa’s stomach tightened. She should have remembered about the code and the visit to the chemist for a hair restoration tonic. How they accidentally met to have a proper conversation. And the other times she had pretended to have to get more ink or blotting paper so that she’d get a glimpse or stolen moment with him as he solemnly carried her packages.

  She had thought at the time that the code and the meetings made what they shared more special—keeping it private and between the two of them. But now she saw it for what it was—a means to keep the relationship clandestine until it was far too late for anyone to intervene. And when it had ended, she had been ruined, in the gutter, but he had remained a pillar of society.

  ‘You are misconstruing my words and their meaning.’

  ‘Am I?’ He raised his eyebrow higher and she felt the heat begin to gather on her cheeks.

  ‘Yes, I sought to explain why it would be impossible to meet.’ Louisa regained control of her body. She refused to be attracted to him. ‘I will send you the letter. There will be no need to meet after that. I will return to Sorrento and our lives will go on as before, our paths never crossing.’

  ‘A forlorn hope, Miss Sibson,’ Jonathon said. ‘You will not get rid of me that easily.’

  ‘Watch me.’

  ‘A challenge.’ He put his tea cup down. ‘Good. I love it when you issue challenges. Watch and learn, Miss Sibson. Afterwards, and in private, we can discuss how easy I will be to dissuade.’

  Louisa shifted slightly on the sofa, feeling that she had played into his hands.

  ‘Miss Elliot,’ Jonathon said, giving a loud cough.

  The entire room went still. ‘Yes, Lord Chesterholm?’

  Silently Louisa prayed that Jonathon was not going to do anything untoward, not with Mrs Blandish in the room.

  ‘I understand that you spent some time in the Kingdom of Two Sicilies. Did you manage to collect any Roman cameos? My late great-uncle had a collection and, since his death, I have developed an interest and I am eager to learn more.’

  Louisa stared at Jonathon. Since when had he become interested in cameos? He had been far more interested in racing and placi
ng bets, living the life of an overly indulged son. She doubted if he could even name any of the Roman emperors.

  ‘My sister was a keen collector. It was how we first met Arthur Fanshaw.’ Miss Daphne waved an arm. ‘I am afraid I did not have the head for it. All Latin and Greek. Louisa is the woman to speak to about such things. In her last years, my late sister relied on Louisa’s eye.’

  ‘Miss Mattie and I travelled to inspect the diggings at Pompeii and Herculaneum.’ Louisa’s shoulders relaxed slightly. Jonathon had miscalculated. She could easily turn the talk to her travels. The days she and Miss Mattie had spent in Pompeii with Mount Vesuvius gently billowing smoke in the background had been some of the most pleasant of her life.

  ‘Are the ruins as good as they say?’ Miss Nella Blandish asked, sticking her face between Louisa and Jonathon. ‘Miss Milton told me all about them. How you can walk the streets. And how they have put the skeletons that they found in various places just as they would have been.’

  ‘With Herculaneum, you have to descend stairs and go underground,’ Louisa said, expounding on the theme. A few more minutes and the allotted time for a visit would be up. Jonathon would be forced to make his excuses and leave. ‘The guides carry torches. But Pompeii is exactly like walking a deserted street. They say that there’s over a hundred years of digging to be done. Miss Mattie found several pieces for her collection there, including a very lovely Psyche.’

  ‘And are they here?’ Jonathon asked, breaking into the conversation. ‘Or have they remained in Sorrento? I have heard rumours about certain Roman cameos that she might have had in her possession. I believe she outbid my late uncle on one or two pieces.’

  ‘Oh, yes, my sister did enjoy besting your late uncle!’ Miss Daphne clapped her hands. ‘And you are clever to guess that Louisa brought a few pieces with her, including the Herculaneum ones. Not the whole collection, just a few to show honoured guests.’

  ‘And Miss Sibson is now the expert.’ Jonathon wore a superior expression. ‘She knows the ins and outs … of the cameos.’