To Tempt A Rogue

by Adrienne Basso

  Harriet remained beneath her tree, tapping her toe impatiently against a rock. It was sheer torture for her to sit here and say nothing, while these questions swirled about in her brain. Yet she forced herself to be calm. The air was warm, the sound of the water babbling in the stream restful, the merry spirits and excitement of the children infectious.

  It all seemed so natural, so ordinary. Still, it could not distract Harriet from her pain.

  “I’ve caught one!” Jeanne Marie shrieked. The little girl yanked on her pole, imitating her sister’s actions, but when her hook came into view there was nothing to be seen. “Drat! That nasty old fish got away.”

  Jeanne Marie sighed with exaggerated tragedy, and attempted a swoon on the rocks, which nearly landed her in the cold river.

  Harriet found herself scrutinizing the gesture. Maybe the children’s mother had been an actress? That would certainly explain Jeanne Marie’s flair for dramatics. And why Nathaniel would not marry the woman.

  Actresses were known to live by a different code, a different set of rules. They did not feel it was a betrayal of their family or their upbringing to enter into such an arrangement with a wealthy man.

  Yet, how much had the poor female sacrificed for her love? ’Twas often said that a man cherished his mistress while he tolerated his wife. Was that the case here? Had Nathaniel taken a proper, acceptable wife and then lavished all his attention and affection on his mistress?

  Had they shared a love that crossed the barriers of class, a love that was so pure it survived without the legal bonds of matrimony, without the honor of wedded security? Was that why he now showed such great concern and regard for his children even if he did not publicly acknowledge them as his own?

  “I am tired of fishing and I’m tired of digging for worms,” Gregory announced suddenly. He picked up a sizable rock and tossed it into the river. “Let’s do something funner.”

  “More card games?” Jeanne Marie asked, as she quickly abandoned her pole and scrambled down from the rock where she had been waiting, unsuccessfully, to catch a fish.

  Phoebe caught the tip of her sister’s pole just before it slid into the rushing river. “I don’t want to play cards. ’Tis no fun if Uncle Nathaniel wins every hand.”

  All three turned to stare accusingly at Nathaniel. He struggled manfully to hide a grin. “How about a race? The first one back to our picnic blanket wins.”

  He didn’t have to suggest it twice. In the blink of an eye, all three children had disappeared down the path, shoving and laughing and running as hard as they could.

  Caught off guard, Harriet scrambled to follow them, but Nathaniel grabbed her arm and held her back.

  “A word please, Miss Sainthill.”

  “The children—”

  “Will be perfectly fine on their own for a few minutes.”

  Harriet did not like the commanding look he was giving her. Earlier he had ceased questioning her mood and seemed to accept it. That apparently had changed and Harriet was not about to listen to a lecture on her attitude or answer any questions about it. So instead she straightened her spine and went on the attack.

  “Will you answer a question, Mr. Wainwright?”

  “Certainly.”

  Harriet wasted no time. “Will you promise, nay, will you swear that your answer is the solemn truth, that you are being honest and forthright, no matter how you imagine I will react?”

  Nathaniel jerked his head up. “I shall endeavor to try,” he said slowly. He rubbed his palm on his breeches, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

  Harriet straightened and looked him directly in the eye. “Are you married?”

  His reply was a choking sound of pure astonishment.

  Harriet did not know what to make of that reaction. Astonishment at the question or was it amazement at being confronted with the truth? She waited, but he did not answer.

  “Do I really need to repeat the question?”

  “No.” The harsh answer echoed through the tree tops. “And no.” The muscles around his lips tightened. “No, you do not need to repeat the question and a most emphatic no to that same unbelievable question. I do not have a wife, nor have I ever been married.” His voice grew pensive. “And I cannot, for the life of me, imagine what possessed you to ask me such a ridiculous, inappropriate question.”

  Harriet glared at him for a long, angry moment, then lifted her chin. “No, I don’t suppose you would.”

  She took advantage of his momentary shock to hurry away before he had a chance to say another word.

  Though she greatly feared a chance encounter with Nathaniel, Harriet knew it was important that she look in on the girls before retiring to her own chamber, especially since the young nursemaid who slept in the girls’ room had reported they suffered from nightmares and were often restless during the night.

  Tonight, all appeared calm when Harriet entered the room. The nursemaid was dozing quietly on her pallet near the fireplace and Phoebe and Jeanne Marie were in the large bed, tucked safely beneath a warm coverlet.

  Harriet made her way across the room to examine the burning candle she had instructed be left lit each night. Confident that the taper was long enough to last until dawn and the flame was not near any of the bedcurtains, Harriet turned to leave. Yet as she began to walk away she heard the sheets rustle.

  Approaching the bed, Harriet saw Jeanne Marie’s legs moving and noticed that her head was jerking from side to side. The child was also making incoherent mumblings and uttering short, painful little cries.

  Distressed to realize the child was having a nightmare, Harriet came closer. As the little girl’s thrashing grew increasingly agitated, small beads of sweat began to form on her forehead.

  “Wake up, Jeanne Marie.” Harriet cradled the sweet face in her hands, rousing the child from the demons of her nightmares.

  Her arms flayed out, then Jeanne Marie’s red-rimmed eyes opened. Pale and frightened, the child stared at her. “Miss Sainthill?”

  “I am here,” Harriet answered, sitting on the edge of the bed. “There is no need to be frightened.”

  “I had a bad dream.” The little girl’s mouth worked as if she were trying very hard not to cry.

  “Would you like to tell me about it?”

  “No.”

  Harriet brought out her handkerchief and dabbed at the moisture on the child’s forehead. “Were you dreaming of fishes? Sometimes when something new and exciting happens during the day, we dream about it at night.”

  Jeanne Marie shook her head. “I like fishes, even though I didn’t catch any. They wouldn’t make me feel sad.”

  “Something made you feel sad?”

  “Yes, sad.” Jeanne Marie’s brow wrinkled into a frown. “And lonely.”

  “Really?” Harriet began combing the little girl’s hair with her fingers. “Even with Phoebe and Gregory and me and your Uncle Nathaniel around, you still feel lonely?”

  “Uh, huh. I was missing someone very special,” Jeanne Marie yawned, nuzzling herself closer to Harriet. “I was missing my Mama.”

  Harriet felt her pain and understood from her own experience how difficult it was to lose a mother at such an early, impressionable age. “It is sometimes frightening when we no longer see and talk with and just hug and kiss those special people we love so much. But that does not mean the love we felt for them and the love they had for us is gone. We carry it always, deep inside our hearts.”

  “Uncle Nathaniel says Mama still loves us very much.” Jeanne Marie’s face contorted into a frown of incomprehension. “But why did she go away? Why did she die?”

  A sharp pain pierced Harriet’s chest. “I don’t know. All I can tell you is that someday you will begin to feel a bit better about it.”

  “Really?”

  “I promise.” Harriet settled her hand between the child’s shoulder blades and rubbed lightly back and forth.

  “Lady Julienne always helps me feel safe.”

  “I know.” Harriet sig
hed. The missing doll was certainly contributing to the anxiety the child was feeling. “I can make no promises, but perhaps there is a way for Lady Julienne to come to Scotland. Do you think she would enjoy living here in this large, old castle?”

  Jeanne Marie took a quavering breath. “Can she stay in my room? I don’t have such terrible dreams when Lady Julienne is with me.”

  “Where else would she stay?” Harriet smiled. “Certainly not with your Uncle Nathaniel.”

  The child attempted an answering grin. It tore at Harriet’s heart to see how brave she was despite her real distress. “Will it take a long time?”

  “Probably. I know you remember it was a long journey when you came to Scotland. And you must understand that I cannot be certain Lady Julienne will be able to make this very long trip. I can only promise to try my best to get her here.”

  The gratitude that shone in Jeanne Marie’s eyes gave Harriet a start of guilt. She truly would do all that she could to bring the child’s toy here, but there were no guarantees. Perhaps it was a mistake to tell the little girl of her plans, for she might be worse off if the plan failed.

  Yet Harriet knew from experience it was important to have hope. And she really would do everything she could to make sure that somehow that doll was put back where it belonged—in Jeanne Marie’s arms.

  “It probably would be best if you don’t mention anything about this to anyone else,” Harriet suggested.

  “May I tell Phoebe?”

  “Well, only Phoebe. After all, she too is a girl and will understand such an important matter.” Harriet let out an exaggerated yawn. “Time for sleep. Scrunch down under the covers so I can tuck you in nice and tight.”

  The child followed her instructions without protest. “Will you stay until I go to sleep?”

  “If you wish.”

  “Thank you. I do believe you are the finest governess I have ever known,” Jeanne Marie whispered solemnly. Then she turned over and cuddled next to her sleeping sister.

  High praise indeed, from a child who at the very most had known perhaps one or two others in that position. Still Harriet knew the words came directly from Jeanne Marie’s heart and they touched her deeply. She swallowed hard and got to her feet.

  Stepping into the shadows of the chamber, Harriet waited until the quiet, even breaths told her the little girl was deep in slumber.

  The moment she arrived back at her room, Harriet lit several candles and pulled out a leaf of her private writing paper. It took her a long time to compose the letter to Mrs. Hutchinson, housekeeper of a grand mansion in Grosvenor Square. She wanted to convey a sense of urgency and importance, but it was difficult to strike the right balance when discussing a child’s toy.

  Yet Harriet was hopeful that the children’s fond memories of the housekeeper illustrated an accurate account of her character. When she was finally satisfied with the missive, Harriet sanded the page and sealed the letter.

  Early the following morning she sought out one of the stable lads, remembering the boy had mentioned he had a brother who had recently joined the army. The young soldier would be leaving for his post in a few days, passing through London before making the journey to the continent. It would take weeks, perhaps even a month for a letter to reach England from this remote area, but if this soldier was willing to take the letter for her, it could arrive in record time.

  Harriet forced herself to ignore the stab of guilt as she handed over the missive and several coins to the eager young recruit. The boy seemed to be an honest, sensible lad and Harriet believed he would indeed deliver the letter personally.

  Knowing she was going directly against the orders of her employer made this a more difficult task, but Harriet had never been the type of woman who took the easy, expected path when making decisions. Right or wrong, she often had only the courage of her convictions to give her the necessary strength to face down censure and adversity.

  She was not acting on a whim or out of defiance or spite. Jeanne Marie was hurting and Harriet saw a way to ease that suffering.

  Still, she could not fully suppress the nagging feeling that she was somehow betraying the trust Nathaniel had placed in her by so blatantly ignoring his command to let the matter of the missing doll drop. Harriet could only hope that when Jeanne Marie was united with her beloved toy, that feeling would disappear.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next week was tense and the week following that put Harriet’s nerves even further on edge, for she found herself spending a good deal of her time eluding her employer. Yet it seemed that the more she tried to retreat, the more determined he seemed to seek her out. Perhaps it was the challenge of the chase. Or the fact that she was the only gentlewoman with whom he had any contact.

  Whatever the reason it created an awkward situation. She knew very well that when he chose to be, Mr. Wainwright could be a most charming man. He was also too darn attractive for his own good. And her peace of mind.

  It took continuing effort, but Harriet did succeed in keeping her distance from him. She never allowed herself to be alone with him, fearing she would remember the closeness they once shared, fearing she would once again long for those things a responsible, respectable governess would never even imagine when thinking of her employer.

  As was proper, it was the children who became Harriet’s main concern. It took a few attempts, but eventually she was able to establish a daily routine that provided a good balance between lessons and leisure. The youngsters’ abilities were as varied as their ages, but they proved to be eager students, with quick minds and inquisitive natures. She was pleased with their progress, however, Harriet often worried about the future they would one day face.

  Illegitimate children were not welcomed into the better families and Harriet feared the girls would have a difficult time making an advantageous match. No matter how genteelly raised, Society and the landed gentry would not look favorably upon those born on the wrong side of the blanket. The wealthy merchant class had an even stricter moral code, so a generous dowry would make little difference to them.

  Gregory would have a slightly easier time, as men often do. He would have an opportunity to establish himself in business or perhaps even own a small parcel of land. Yet many doors would remain closed to him due to the circumstances of his birth.

  Harriet was not one to bemoan the unfairness of fate, however she knew in her heart that if given the opportunity she would eagerly express her opinion to Mr. Wainwright on the consequences of bringing three innocent souls into the world when he had no intention of giving them his name.

  She therefore redoubled her efforts to prepare the children to face the world. If she could give them a sense of self-worth, a thick skin, and a positive outlook, they would be far better equipped to face the many challenges in life that awaited them.

  Harriet began taking all her meals with the children. She thought it best to spend as much time with her charges as possible and this arrangement also had the added benefit of separating her from Mr. Wainwright. He, however, quickly put his foot down and insisted that the children and their governess join him each evening for dinner.

  It was a highly unusual request and Harriet assumed that after one disastrous meal the invitation would be rescinded. But Mr. Wainwright appeared only mildly distressed when the children spilled their drinks, refused to eat anything remotely resembling a vegetable, and had heated discussions on a variety of topics ill-suited for the dinner table. Harriet made a few, gentle corrections during the first meal, but since her objective was to discourage spending this time with Mr. Wainwright, she quickly gave the children free rein in their behavior and expressing their opinions.

  It did not produce the desired effect. More often than not, Mr. Wainwright was amused by the youngsters’ antics. She would feel his gaze upon her, knowing he was trying to catch her eye, to share the humor of the moment. Harriet stubbornly kept her attention focused on her plate or her charges, never once directing her gaze toward the head of the
table where Mr. Wainwright sat.

  Her one relief was that the young trio seemed unaware that anything was amiss. They began to look forward to the evening meal, thriving in an environment where they were encouraged to relax and enjoy themselves. They competed unabashedly for Mr. Wainwright’s attention, but he showed no overt favoritism to any of them, treating the children as if each one was the most important one.

  These dinners were difficult, but Harriet soon discovered that nights were hardest of all. Either she would lie awake for hours, eventually drifting off to a fitful sleep in the very early morning, or she would immediately fall asleep upon entering her bed, wake up, and then toss and turn restlessly through the wee hours of the morning.

  Realizing it was useless to stay in bed when she could not sleep, Harriet began leaving her bedchamber and wandering down to the library in the middle of the night. She would work on her lessons, browse through a book or just relax in front of a warm fire. There was something calming and strangely soothing about being awake and in the center of the castle while the rest of its occupants slept. At least it made her sleepless nights more tolerable.

  Tonight had been especially long. No sleep at all had come, so Harriet left her bed, donned her robe, put on her slippers and lit a candle. She made her way quickly through the long corridors, down the stairs to the second floor, then turned the corner.

  Nathaniel suddenly appeared at the end of the hallway. Harriet choked back a gasp of surprise. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who had difficulty sleeping at night. He was dressed in the same scarlet red dressing gown he had worn on the night she arrived at the castle. The vibrant color of the garment emphasized his dark, sculptured features and broad shoulders. He looked fierce and menacing and disturbingly handsome.

  The moment she spied him, Harriet came to an abrupt halt. Thinking fast, she blew out her candle, then waited in the darkness, her ears alert to the slightest sound. She prayed he had not seen her. All remained quiet for several long minutes and Harriet dared to breathe a small sigh of relief. Using her right hand, she felt along the stone wall and carefully began to ease her way backwards.