Victoria had mumbled an apology and fled the room, feeling nothing less than a complete ninny.
She slowed the mare to a walk as they rounded the last corner and entered a spacious courtyard, enclosed on three sides by a handsome set of red brick stables and several outbuildings. The main tower house at Kinglas might be ancient, but successive generations of Kendricks had modernized their holdings over the years by adding two spacious wings that jutted out from the original castle.
While the current earl was also keen on modernizing, his estate manager was not. Victoria had witnessed more than one terse disagreement between Arnprior and his grandfather, and she’d even heard a few shouting matches from behind the closed doors of the library. The old man had seemed to do most of the shouting, usually along the theme of the superior utility of traditional ways.
Since it was none of her business, however, Victoria usually pretended not to hear—no matter how much she might sympathize with her much put-upon employer.
As she guided her horse toward the mounting block, the earl strode out from the wide double-doors of the stable building in boots and breeches, wearing a leather jerkin over his shirt. In such an outfit, he might have been a groom—although she’d never met a groom as devastatingly handsome as Arnprior.
When her hands involuntarily tightened on the reins, the mare pranced a bit.
“Hush,” she murmured, bringing the dainty lady under control.
The earl hurried over to take the bridle. “Problem, Miss Knight?”
“Not in the least, sir. In fact, we had a lovely ride.”
His gaze ran swiftly over both her and her mount. Apparently satisfied, he nodded. “I’m happy you took advantage of the fine weather. I’m afraid it won’t last much longer.”
“You would have to say that,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “I was just convincing myself that we were in for a mild winter.”
He snorted. “Yes, we can pretend if it makes you feel better. Now, let me help you dismount, so the groom can take this lassie in and get her settled in her stall.”
When she hesitated, his eyebrows went up in a faint, incredulous lift.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, forcing a polite smile.
She placed her hands on his broad shoulders and let herself slide into his arms. As he guided her to the ground, supporting her easily, she could feel the impressive strength in his body.
Victoria could feel quite a few other things too, like her breasts tingling when they brushed against his chest, and her legs quivering when they momentarily pressed against his thighs.
He kept his hands on her waist when she wobbled a bit. “All right?” he murmured. His breath whispered across her ear and neck, making her shiver.
“Are you catching a chill?” Arnprior asked when she didn’t respond.
She shook her head and stepped back from his loose embrace. “I never get chills, sir.”
He still looked worried, so she gave him a reassuring smile. “I may be rather slight, my lord, but I’m perfectly fit. Skinny but strong as an ox, my grandfather used to say when I was a child.”
He laughed. “I take it your grandfather was a blunt-speaking man.”
“That, sir, is an understatement.”
“Then I suspect we would have gotten on very well.”
She paused, arrested by the thought. “Yes, I think that’s true.”
“You must tell me about him someday.”
“I’m sure you have better things to do than hear stories about my relations.”
The earl nodded to the stable boy, who was patiently waiting to take the mare. “Not true. I’m very interested, especially since my coachman said you were able to diagnose a problem he was having with the old traveling carriage.”
“Oh, that. It was simply a small issue with the roller bolt.”
He braced his long legs in an easy stance and crossed his arms over his chest. The pose did lovely things to his broad shoulders and muscular arms, something she should not be taking note of.
“You are an exceedingly capable woman, Miss Knight,” he said. “A talented governess and an expert on carriage repair.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m rather good with horses, too.”
“Apparently, although I’m still not comfortable with the notion of you going out without a groom or one of my brothers to escort you.”
She adopted a horrified expression. “My lord, if your concern is my safety, then riding out with the twins might have the opposite effect.”
“True enough. They can barely get out of bed in the morning without creating mayhem. I still don’t like you riding alone, however. If anything happened to you . . . well, Sir Dominic would murder me.”
He’d gone back to looking worried, which she hated.
“Sir, my grandfather placed me on my first pony when I was two years old,” she said with a reassuring smile. “It’s not an exaggeration to say that I grew up around horses. In fact, they were my first friends.”
Her only friends, really, since she was the oldest of the grandchildren by several years. The stablemen and yard hands had always been kind to her, in their gruff way, but Victoria’s aunts had frowned on forming friendships with the help.
“You must have had quite an unusual upbringing,” he said.
“I suppose,” she hedged. She usually avoided talking about her childhood. In addition to the embarrassment of her parentage, growing up in a coaching inn wasn’t the sort of background one usually looked for in a governess.
“I won’t hold it against you,” he said matter-of-factly. “One should never look down on honest work, no matter how humble it might be.”
In her experience, noblemen rarely took such a high-minded position, but Arnprior certainly looked and sounded sincere. She supposed there was no real harm in providing some limited detail.
“I grew up in a coaching inn,” she said. “My grandfather owned two of them, just outside Brighton. My uncles and aunts helped to run them.”
His expressive eyebrows went up again. “No wonder you’re so good with horses.”
“If you’re ever short-handed in the stables, I’d be happy to help out,” she joked.
Victoria couldn’t help feeling awkward. Her family was prosperous, but their background was humble. Schoolmates at Miss Kirby’s Seminary for Young Ladies had often teased her, suggesting a career as a groom rather than a governess. One particularly nasty girl, whose father was a successful haberdasher, used to sniff loudly and claim that their dormitory room smelled like a stable.
But growing up with a mother whose conduct had invited all manner of ribald remarks had taught Victoria—rather painfully—not to react to such insults, or even slights about her parentage. She’d earned a great deal of respect from her teachers for her restraint, though she’d raged inside, often dampening her pillow with silent tears at night. It had all seemed so unfair. Her father would one day be king of England, but the blue blood that ran through her veins meant nothing. All that had mattered was the sin her mother had committed in bringing Victoria into the world.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Arnprior said with a mocking little bow.
She felt her shoulders inch up around her ears. “Well, if that’s all, my lord, I must—”
He put a hand out. “Do you think your background bothers me? Because it doesn’t. I was only jesting.”
“Oh, I . . . thank you.” She gave him a tentative smile.
“I’m a soldier, Miss Knight,” he said. “And a glorified farmer, truth be told. I would be a fool to look down on anyone who makes a living through hard work or the use of her hands. In fact, I’d like to know more about your life. How did you go from coaching inn to governess, for instance.”
She hesitated. “It’s all rather boring, actually.”
He took her by the elbow and steered her in the direction of the kitchen gardens. “You’re not the least bit boring, Miss Knight. Besides, I like to know as much as I can about the people who work
for me.”
While that made perfect sense, it was awkward, given several rather pertinent secrets in her past.
As if sensing her reluctance, he glanced down at her with a reassuring smile. “It’s not an interrogation, I promise. I’m more than satisfied with your performance. In fact, I’d also like to speak with you about Kade. About how you think he’s progressing.”
“Of course, sir. I should be happy to update you.”
As she snuck a sideways peek at his rugged profile, it occurred to her that she wouldn’t mind spending some time with him. In truth, she was a little lonely. Most of her day was spent with Kade, which was lovely, but she longed for adult conversation. At dinner, she usually found herself seated between the twins—who while good-natured could hardly be deemed intellectual—or next to Royal, who barely spoke a word. As for Angus, the less said, the better.
She was now fairly certain that Arnprior had been avoiding her since that night they waltzed. She shouldn’t be bothered by that fact, but honesty compelled her to admit she was.
Because you’re a nincompoop.
“I thought we could stroll in the garden while we chat,” the earl said, “since it’s such a nice day. I like to spend as much time as I can outdoors before the snows and storms come.”
“Please don’t remind me about our impending doom. I’m convinced my flannel petticoats and woolens will not be nearly sturdy enough to get me through the winter.”
When he made a slight choking noise, she wished for a sudden earthquake to swallow her up. Had she lost her mind, talking about undergarments in front of a man—her employer, no less? That was a page stolen right from her mother’s disreputable book. Although God knows her mother would never have worn flannel.
“Ah, I didn’t mean . . . that is . . .” she stammered.
“Come along, Miss Knight, before we get ourselves into trouble,” he said in a dry tone.
He guided her between rows of neatly planted cabbages and boxes of herbs that were mostly empty by now. Victoria was so mortified she barely noticed her surroundings. Normally, she was the most composed of women, but something about Lord Arnprior unsettled her, although not in an unpleasant way.
Quite the opposite.
“You were about to tell me how you became a governess,” he prompted as they passed under the trellis that separated the kitchen and ornamental gardens.
They strolled along a stone and gravel path set between large, rectangular flowerbeds, bright with late fall mums.
“As I mentioned, sir,” she said, trying to order her thoughts, “my aunts and uncles helped manage my grandfather’s inns. Everyone lived on the premises or close by, so a number of children were always underfoot. Since I was the oldest grandchild by several years, it fell to me to look after the little ones. It seemed natural that I begin teaching them their letters and numbers.”
She smiled, remembering the simple but cozy schoolroom she’d convinced her grandfather to set up. “Because I had a surprising aptitude for teaching little children, my cousins were turned over to me when they were old enough to be away from their mothers.”
“Surprising? Why?” he asked.
“Oh, I suppose it was because my mother wasn’t particularly nurturing in that respect,” she said vaguely. “Although I do get my musical talents from her.”
Mamma’s talents had found their expression in singing ribald songs for the men who frequented the taproom. Victoria had hated her mother’s willingness to put herself on display, as had her aunts. But Grandpapa hadn’t minded. Men came from all around to hear Rose Knight sing, which meant more money spent on ale and spirits.
“Did your father also work at the inn?” the earl asked.
It was the question she hated more than any other. “No. I . . . I never knew my father.”
“Ah, I’m sorry. He must have passed when you were very young.”
The Prince Regent had certainly passed out of her life, so she supposed that was true. “Yes.”
Arnprior moved closer, his shoulder brushing hers. “I was only seven when my mother died.”
She glanced up, taking in his somber expression. “That is much too young for a boy to lose his mother.”
He’d experienced a great deal of sorrow, first losing his mother at such an early age and then his wife.
“Fortunately, my father recovered from the loss and happily remarried a truly estimable woman,” he said.
She couldn’t help wondering if the man walking beside her had recovered from the loss of his wife. It didn’t seem so, since he’d never remarried.
“And your mother never married again?” Arnprior asked.
“Er, no, but I was fortunate to have a wonderful grandfather and several fine uncles. Not to mention Sir Dominic, who has always been kindness itself. I have never lacked family to care for me.”
Just a mother who truly loved her. And a real father.
“I understand Sir Dominic assisted with your education.”
She smiled. “Yes, he sponsored my placement at Miss Kirby’s Seminary. It’s an excellent establishment. I was very lucky.”
The earl’s glance could only be described as enigmatic. Inwardly, she groaned, realizing too late that any mention of Sir Dominic was bound to be fraught. After all, there was no way to describe their relationship without telling outright fibs.
“Sir Dominic was friendly with your grandfather, I believe,” he said.
“That is correct.”
He flashed her a wry smile. “He seems acquainted with half the population of the kingdom, does he not?”
“Indeed.”
“And how old were you when you met Sir Dominic?”
“Nine, sir,” she said tersely. Victoria held her breath as he gently nudged her in the direction of the lawn leading down to the loch.
“And how many years did you spend away at school?” he finally asked.
She breathed a mental sigh of relief that they were leaving the potentially fraught topic of Dominic behind. “Six, the last as a teacher’s assistant. I would have been happy to stay longer, but there wasn’t a placement for me. I took my first position as a governess when I was nineteen and have been teaching ever since.”
He stopped by a stone bench that looked out over the water and was partially sheltered by a tall hedge. She’d discovered this spot on her first foray into the gardens, and it had become a favored retreat when the weather was mild. The bench retained the warmth of the sun, was out of the wind, and was perfectly situated to take in the magnificent vista of loch, mountains, and sky.
Arnprior waved a hand to invite her to sit. He remained standing, propping a booted foot onto the other end of the bench.
“And so here you find yourself,” he said in a lighter tone. “Far from civilization and all but buried alive with a group of scapegrace Highlanders. I wonder what could have brought you to this sorry pass?”
“I believe it’s the excellent salary you’re paying me, sir.” That, at least, was the truth.
He looked politely incredulous. “Surely a governess of your caliber is in great demand, is she not?”
The man was as persistent as a dog with a bone. “My lord, is there a specific question you wish to ask, or a particular concern you’d like me to address? I feel we are beginning to retread old ground.”
His sudden grin was so charming that her heart skipped a beat.
“And here I thought I was being so clever,” he said.
She took a moment to gather her wits around her like some sort of armor. “Since I cannot reasonably respond to that comment without causing offense, I will simply encourage you again to ask your question.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “My lord.”
His laugh was low, warm, and seductive. She curled her hands into fists, fighting a silly, girlish response.
“Very well,” he said. “In all seriousness, I cannot fathom why a woman of your obvious skills, one who has excellent references and the sponsorship of Dominic Hunter, would choose
to accept a position that most would run screaming from.”
“I almost did run, as you recall, particularly after meeting your grandfather.”
“Ah, yes. Angus is one of the reasons we’ve had difficulty keeping tutors in the first place. He all but ran off the dancing tutor I managed to hire from Glasgow—at the end of a dirk. And I wish I was joking about that.”
She contemplated that alarming image for a few moments.
Then Arnprior leaned down and rested a forearm on his thigh, bringing them to eye level. “You seem to have declawed the old fellow, though,” he said with a faint smile.
“Really? Why, just yesterday he reprimanded me for bothering the twins with a lot of frippery and nonsense.”
“What were you doing?”
“Suggesting they refrain from slurping their soup.”
He laughed. “Poor Miss Knight. Well, that example certainly makes my point. Why are you putting up with my sorry family, and with such patience? And don’t say it’s the salary, because I know that’s not the only reason.”
Clearly, he was not going to give up. “Well, if you want to know the truth—”
“I do.”
His smile took some of the sting out of his words, but she heard the warning. Arnprior still had doubts about her, and she knew it stemmed from the glaring lack of references from Lord and Lady Welgate. Although the twins and Royal would be as likely to commend her for killing her attacker as not, the earl was something of a high stickler. He would not approve, she suspected, so she needed to continue to tread carefully.
“After my last position, I needed a change,” she said.
“You felt your pupils were not a match for your skills, I recall.”
“They were a bit young, but there were also other difficulties.”
“Go on,” he prompted.
“There was a family member who was quite f-forward.” She winced at her stammer. “He made my situation difficult, so I decided to leave.”
When Arnprior straightened up, Victoria breathed a sigh of relief. The earl never frightened her, but he was a big man and he’d been all but looming over her. And although she trusted him implicitly, recalling those ugly memories made her feel skittish.
The Highlander's Princess Bride Page 15
