Miss Fortune’s First Kiss

by Anders, Annabelle

  His hold tightened and she met him with equal force.

  If not for a distant burst of raucous laughter, the moment might never have ended.

  But of course, it did.

  He lifted his head and glanced around. She buried her face against his chest.

  After taking a moment to catch his breath, Jasper was the one to break the silence.

  “It seems I lose all manner of discretion when it comes to you, yet again.”

  He sounded apologetic, but matter of fact.

  Tilde nodded and drawing on willpower she’d completely relinquished this evening, she gently, but firmly, pushed him away.

  “It seems… ah… there is something… extraordinary…” Oh, Heavens, but she was making a ninny of herself. “Of course, it cannot be all that extraordinary...” Would he contradict her?

  Silence met her statement. When she deigned to look up at him, he was scrubbing one hand down his face.

  “It’s quite inexplicable, really.” She added. And then the thought struck her that he mightn’t have experienced their kiss quite the same as she had. She hesitantly took another step backward, placing more space between them. She bit her lip and winced.

  But he was shaking his head. “Will you throw your slippers at me if I beg forgiveness yet again? That must be a record, four times in less than one hour.”

  Had it only been one hour since he’d appeared to request a dance? Was it possible for a person’s life to be turned upside down so quickly?

  Her heart yet raced and she clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking.

  “Shall we return inside?” Her voice wasn’t trembling, and she supposed that was a good thing. “My sister will be wondering…”

  “But of course.” He started but then paused and reached out to touch her hair. “This braid is coming unpinned.” He winced. “There are quite a few actually.”

  A low moan escaped Tilde’s lips before she could stop it. She could not afford to draw scandal, as low as she was. Employers did not appreciate governesses who were immersed in public disgrace.

  “Hold still. Did you forget I just spent almost a full week travelling in a carriage with my twin five-year-old daughters? Without a nanny or governess?” He was winding and twisting her hair, removing pins and replacing them.

  Betsy would know it was different, but no one else would.

  “I didn’t think of that.” She murmured, enjoying the feel of his hands in her hair despite herself.

  “You mentioned you were between posts. When does your new one begin?” He moved to the back of her head and went to adjusting another braid.

  “The Stanhope agency has an interview lined up for me tomorrow morning.” His fingers faltered and then went back to work.

  “You’re a… governess then?”

  “I am,” she answered. “The girls I’d been caring for are too old to require a governess any longer. I was sad to leave them, but it’s quite satisfying employment.”

  He made something of a choking sound and then inserted one last pin.

  Chapter 8

  The Interview

  Tilde stared at the address and furrowed her brows.

  Number twelve Brooks. It seemed familiar somehow. Perhaps because it wasn’t very far from her aunt’s townhouse. The sun shone so bright and cheerful that she wouldn’t even hire a hackney.

  Peaches would enjoy the walk.

  Leaving her dog with Aunt Nellie was not an option, so she’d be upfront with whoever considered her services. If they wanted her expertise in raising and teaching their children, they’d make accommodations for her pet as well.

  She knew from experience, that an employer could do far worse. Furthermore, any family that wouldn’t welcome a sweet baby like Peaches wasn’t a family she’d wish to live with.

  Because a governess didn’t merely work for her employer. She spent practically every waking hour with them.

  Therefore, their approval of her pet was even more of an important consideration than their approval of her.

  Of which, considering the numerous ladies who’d made attempts to steal her from the Brightly’s, she didn’t doubt for a moment.

  The agency had sent a note around the day before stating that, upon approval, this employer would wish that she take up the position immediately. Tilde assumed that she would likely be leaving London. Most wealthy families didn’t relish having their offspring underfoot in the midst of the Season.

  She hoped the children weren’t too young… nor too old. She preferred taking on girls who were over the age of four but not past the age of four and ten. Boys, in her experience anyhow, tended to be more difficult to manage.

  Not that she wasn’t up to the task.

  So caught up in her thoughts she was––that had not been centered around Jasper––that she nearly passed her destination. She allowed Peaches to relieve herself on a patch of grass before approaching the door and lifting the heavy knocker that had been shaped into a rather impressive ‘W’.

  Number twelve. Again, something niggled.

  The butler opened the door and with a sniff, stared down his rather long nose at her. “Miss Fortune, I presume?”

  “Ah, yes. I’m here to interview,” she glanced down at the missive she carried. “A Lord Willoughby.”

  The butler took note of Peaches and scowled. “Are you certain, madam?”

  “The agency sent me over. I understand the family is in need of a governess.” The butler’s frown deepened and so she added, “My dog assists in all my duties. She is quite essential.”

  Another sniff.

  “Unless Lord Willoughby objects.” She went to step backward but he halted her with a wince.

  “No. Please. This way please. I’ll inform the earl that you’ve arrived.” If the butler’s demeaner was anything to go by, it was quite possible that she was wasting her time.

  Nonetheless, she and Peaches followed the butler. When he went to climb the long staircase, Tilde scooped Peaches into her arms. With such short legs, her pup would have required at least an hour to make the climb.

  Upon reaching the top, Tilde’s eyes were drawn to the paintings hung all along the corridor. His lordships ancestors, no doubt. But then.

  She stopped at one of them and tilted her head.

  It could not be.

  “Miss Fortune.” His voice rumbled from behind her, causing her to jump and invoking a sharp bark from Peaches. Peaches hardly ever barked, only when in this man’s company apparently.

  As she turned to confirm her suspicions, she found herself dismayed, pleased, confused... and…

  Disappointed.

  She’d have to ask the agency to find her another position.

  He’d been dressed in immaculate evening clothes the night before. Today he wore riding breeches and looked as though he’d already been out for some exercise.

  She stood filled with ironic astonishment, he seemed utterly at ease.

  “Did you know?”

  When he didn’t answer, she twisted her head to look for someone else. Perhaps he was merely a guest in the household. Or a figment of her imagination even…

  The disapproving butler had disappeared however, leaving them standing in the corridor alone… except for Peaches of course.

  When she settled her gaze on him once again, he shrugged.

  “I hadn’t a clue until you mentioned the agency. I didn’t even know you were a governess, although I should have.” He then gestured a hand toward a pair of open doors. “Shall we?”

  Oh, good heavens. He didn’t expect her to go through with the interview, did he?

  “I–“ She didn’t move from where she stood. “Um.” Oh, this was horrible. “There’s been a mistake.”

  He smiled in a manner she could only consider to be slightly patronizing. “You are here for the interview, are you not?”

  She stepped tentatively toward the staircase, clutching Peaches to her chest. Just last night she’d been locked in a most pass
ionate embrace, a most inappropriate one, and today…

  “I cannot have you for an employer.” Surely, he must realize this.

  “But you are in need of a position, are you not?” Was he joking?

  “I am, but––”

  “And I am in desperate need of a governess. You told me so yourself, on two separate occasions, I believe.”

  “Of course, but––”

  “Are you unwilling to take my daughters on?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then won’t you at least come inside and discuss it?” Those black eyes of his seemed almost to be pleading with her. But she just shook her head.

  “I cannot––”

  “It’s Miss Fortune! From the festival!” A childish voice called out in excitement.

  “Peaches!” A second, softer but no less enthusiastic declaration followed. And before Tilde could make her escape, two bundles of energy dressed in baby blue frocks burst upon them from behind two large plants.

  They might have knocked her over had their father not reached out and effortlessly swooped them up, each under one arm.

  “Papa! Is she going to be our new governess? You said you were meeting with the new governess this morning!”

  That would be Eloise, Tilde remembered, watching the girl squirming in her father’s grasp. Although considerably more subdued, Althea was all smiles, her gaze fixed on Tilde’s dog. Peaches was no help at all, tail wagging and tongue hanging out enthusiastically.

  “Girls!” He made every attempt to sound disapproving but the laughter in his eyes belied it. “Why aren’t you in the nursery?”

  “You said you were going to hire our governess this morning. Thea and I need to get a look at her so we could tell you if she is a good one or not.”

  Althea simply nodded in agreement.

  Tilde’s heart dropped into her shoes. She needed to capture control of this situation, somehow.

  Still holding Peaches, she placed the toe of her right foot behind her and dipped slightly. “I must admit, I’ve never curtseyed to two ladies hanging upside down before.”

  “It’s because Papa has taken us in hand.”

  Althea giggled.

  Tilde raised her gaze to Jasper’s––Lord Willoughby’s face. Oh, but it would be impossible to live in his home, care for his children… as his employee.

  “Won’t you come inside and sit down.” He winced as he glanced at the two imps he’d caught up. “Please?” he added.

  Oh heavens, how could she not? She only nodded.

  He lowered the girls onto their feet and with the most unconvincing disapproval, ordered them back to the nursery. Eloise turned to leave immediately but Althea tugged at her father and pointed toward Peaches.

  Appearing only minutely apologetic, he took hold of his daughter’s hand and rose to his full height. “I believe that Althea wonders if she might say hello to Peaches before taking her leave.”

  Tiny arrows pierced Tilde’s heart. “But of course.”

  Dropping to the carpeted floor, Tilde lowered Peaches so she could stand on her little legs.

  “Do you remember me?” The little girl’s wide eyes appeared concerned.

  Tilde was aware that her sister watched from a few feet away.

  “I am certain Peaches remembers you.” Tilde reached out, clasped Althea’s hand in hers, and drew her gently forward. “Do you remember how she likes to be petted?”

  The dark little head nodded and in a matter of seconds, she was petting and cooing at Tilde’s small companion. Peaches responded by licking the child’s hand, and occasionally the bottom of her chin.

  Althea turned to look over her shoulder. “Licks are kisses. Aren’t they, Peaches?”

  Tilde could only nod. Yes. Those licks, indeed, were kisses. When she glanced up at Jasper, she thought perhaps his eyes glistened ever so slightly.

  He cleared his throat. “Thank Miss Fortune. Althea, off to the nursery with you both.”

  The little girl kissed Peaches on top of her head, and then rose reluctantly. Rather than say anymore, she dipped into a curtsey and then backed up.

  “I’m sorry, my lord.” A stern looking middle aged woman stood in the doorway. “I left the nursery for a moment…” Ah, the woman had lost track of her charges. She threw a sour glance in the direction of the twins and then a repentant one toward Lord Willoughby.

  “You’ll be more diligent in the future Mrs. Crabtree.” His jaw tightened and his eyes turned cold. He seemed disinclined to assuage any guilt the woman experienced. Tilde had never seen this side of him, in the… six or so hours they’d spent together over the past eleven years.

  Her heart would shrivel up and die if he ever looked at her that way.

  “Good day, Lady Althea, Lady Eloise.” If Jasper was an earl, then that meant the girls were officially ladies. “Thank you for such a warm greeting.”

  Lady Eloise clung to the door frame. “You will be our governess, won’t you?”

  Tilde swallowed hard. “We’ll see. Even if I am not, you are more than welcome to visit me while I’m in London.” With a glance toward Lady Althea, she added, “and Peaches, of course.”

  The sour nursemaid then ushered Lord Willoughby’s daughters away, closing the door behind her.

  “Now.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “Won’t you take your seat again?”

  A web of need from those tiny girls wound around her. Staring at him, Tilde did not move, because she felt his need as well.

  He likely did not realize it. And he’d deny any such possibility, but Tilde knew how this would all play out.

  He would rely upon Tilde to manage the children and perhaps to comfort him as well. She would be available at his leisure and both of them might perhaps even succumb to physical passion.

  And that would be all.

  Because she would never be his equal.

  And knowing her heart had already engaged somewhat, she wasn’t willing to expose it to the inevitable trouncing it would take.

  * * *

  Jasper could not have been more pleased. She’d captured the girls’ hearts. She had a way about her… rational yet gentle and compassionate. She demanded a certain respect but always with a twist of humor. Miss Matilda Fortune would be perfect for his children.

  He dared not ponder how perfectly she’d fit in his arms the night before. Nor how perfect her lips had tasted.

  No, he must consider his daughters’ needs first and foremost. He must hire Miss Fortune to be their governess.

  Unfortunately, she appeared as though she was of quite a different mindset. She’d scooped her dog up and was backing purposefully toward the door.

  “Please. Stay.” It wasn’t often that one refused to do his bidding.

  Other than his mother, of course.

  And then there were his daughters…

  But she was shaking her head. “I cannot. You must understand…”

  Without thinking, he stepped forward and grasped her by the arm. He needed her.

  For the girls, of course.

  The moment he touched her, though, he understood her refusal. Because the instant his hand grasped her arm, he found it difficult to stop at that. An overwhelming desire to dig his fingers into her upswept hair, tilt her head back and plunder her mouth, was nearly too much to overcome.

  He released her, as though burned.

  “Of course, what was I thinking? I’m sorry.” He could not hire a woman–– one that he wanted for himself––to be given charge of his daughters.

  Nonetheless, she paused in her retreat.

  “Will you tell them… that I am sorry. And that I would love to be their governess but… it just didn’t work out.”

  Jasper clasped his own hands behind his back and stepped over to stare out the window, lest he act unforgivably with this woman for the millionth time since they’d become acquainted. “Althea doesn’t talk.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “She hasn’t said more than twenty words since her mo
ther’s death.”

  * * *

  Tilde furrowed her brows. “But?” The child had talked to her. And then she pondered that thought.

  The child had not talked to her. She’d talked to Peaches.

  Jasper was nodding. “You see. I would not ask you to stay here for me. But because I fear my daughter requires something special.” A small, ironic chuckle. “And that something special seems to be your dog.”

  Tilde blinked. Oh, but this raised the stakes indeed.

  It would seem the height of selfishness to refuse to help a sad and lost little girl. And worst of all, Tilde had guessed as much. She’d known Lady Althea required gentle persuasion. But to hear Jasper put her need so plainly crumbled her objections.

  Tilde absentmindedly lowered Peaches to the carpet and began pacing the room.

  After crossing back and forth three times she stopped, tapped her finger against her lips and addressed him. “She speaks with Lady Eloise.” This was not a question. “Not to you?”

  He continued staring out the window. “No.”

  Tilde felt confident that she could draw the child’s personality out––calm many of her fears. Althea quite obviously was capable of talking. It would simply be a matter of gaining her trust.

  Could she and Lord Willoughby set aside this… magic? No. She would cease to call it any such nonsense. Passion? Chaos? Whatever it was, could they ignore it?

  For the sake of the child.

  “I may, perhaps, have led you to believe that I’m a certain type of lady, by my actions on two of the occasions we met.“ She cleared her throat. “But now, at the risk of sounding hypocritical, I must adamantly insist that I am not that certain type of lady at all… and I do not intend to ever become such.”

  He cleared his throat. “I hold your character in the highest esteem, Miss Fortune.”

  She met his gaze, narrowing her eyes at him. “And regardless of certain…” She raised her hand and rubbed her fingers together as she searched for the proper word.

  “Inclinations?” He supplied helpfully.