Governess Gone Rogue

by Laura Lee Guhrke

  She had to face him, confront the situation head-on, and make it clear that though both of them were equally to blame for what had happened tonight, she wanted no repetition of it. Then perhaps they could both forget about it.

  Amanda rose and left the attic, relieved that she had a plan to deal with the situation. But her relief proved short-lived, for as she lay in bed later that night trying to fall asleep, her lips still tingled from Jamie’s kiss, her body still burned everywhere he had touched her, and she knew that for her, at least, forgetting about that extraordinary kiss was going to be easier said than done.

  It took three days for Jamie to regain his equilibrium.

  Kissing Amanda had shattered the numbed state of body and mind that had kept him from going mad these past three years. It had reawakened raw physical needs within him that he’d almost forgotten, and three days of cold baths, relentless work, and sleeping at his club were required before Jamie was able to put his priorities back in order.

  He owed her an apology for what had happened. Even now, he wasn’t quite sure if he had made the first move that night in the attic or if she had, but he also knew distinctions like that didn’t matter. He possessed position and wealth, and the power that came with them. She had none of those things. As tempting as it might be to fashion excuses for himself, he knew his conduct had no excuse.

  He also had a duty to his sons, a duty he’d spent far too long neglecting in the past, a duty Amanda had been the one to finally force him to face. She was an excellent tutor and the first person he’d found capable of watching over his sons with any degree of success, and he had no intention of losing her.

  By Tuesday morning, he’d managed to force any erotic notions about her out of his mind, and he felt sufficiently master of himself to make his apologies. The timing was ideal, for Tuesday was her day out, and Samuel had already taken the boys for an outing, giving Jamie the perfect opportunity to speak with her alone before she departed to enjoy her day of freedom.

  He found her at her desk in the nursery, the boys’ pet cat, Oscar, asleep in her lap. She was writing a letter and seemed so preoccupied with her task that she didn’t notice his arrival.

  Sunshine coming through the window fell over where she sat, making her short black curls gleam almost blue in the bright morning light, but that wasn’t what made him pause in the doorway. In the sunlight, the silhouette of her shape was faintly visible through her white blouse, and the shadowy curve of her breast nearly sent his hard-won composure sliding off into oblivion.

  Suddenly, Oscar woke, lifting his head to give Jamie a warning hiss. Interrupted in her letter writing, Amanda looked at the animal, then turned her head toward the doorway, and when she spied Jamie standing there, she looked away again at once, rosy color washing into her cheeks and reminding him forcibly of the reason he was here.

  He watched her shove the letter she was writing into her blotter, and fearing the worst, he cursed himself for waiting three days. “Good morning,” he greeted.

  At once, she moved to stand up, causing Oscar to jump off her lap with an indignant wail and stalk off in a huff.

  “My lord,” she greeted, not quite looking at him. “The boys aren’t here this morning, I’m afraid. They’ve gone with Samuel to the London Zoo. They wanted to see the Aquatic Vivarium.”

  “Yes, I know. Samuel told me where they were spending the day when he valeted me this morning.”

  That garnered her full attention. “You slept here last night? So, you’ve decided to stop—” She broke off, but her unfinished question hung in the air so clearly he could almost hear it.

  You’ve decided to stop avoiding me?

  He gave a cough. “I’ve elevated Samuel formally to the position of valet, by the way. I wrote to Torquil about it last week, and he agreed to the change, and he promised to send another footman from Ravenwood. So now, there will be three servants to watch the boys on your day out, or to help you with them when they become overwhelming.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Richmond told me this morning. Is that . . .” She paused, shifted her weight a bit nervously, then went on, “Is that why you’ve come up? To tell me this news?”

  “No. But I did want to speak to you alone, and when I learned you hadn’t yet departed for your day out, this seemed a good opportunity.” He gestured to the space between them. “May I?”

  The color in her cheeks deepened, and he hastened on before she could refuse. “I wouldn’t intrude upon your free time if it wasn’t important. I do hope you can give me a moment?”

  “Of course.” She gestured to the wooden chair by her desk. “Please, do sit down, my lord.”

  He crossed the room, pulled the straight-backed wooden chair around so that he could face her directly across the desk, and once she had resumed her seat, he sat down as well.

  The sun coming through the window had, thankfully, moved behind a cloud. If it hadn’t, he feared his task would have been even harder than it was already proving to be. “I hope I’m not intruding. You looked quite preoccupied when I came in.”

  “No, no. I was just writing you a letter.”

  “Me?” His half-formed apprehensions realized, dismay rocked him, and he tried to brace himself for the worst. “Is it a letter of resignation?”

  Her eyes widened a bit, in surprise or alarm, he couldn’t tell, but when she spoke, her voice was quiet and composed. “Should it be?”

  Realizing what she meant, he hastened into speech. “No, God, no. I only ask because I wouldn’t blame you if you did resign. God knows, most women would, after—”

  He stopped, cursing himself. Damn it all, what was he doing? Trying to push her out the door? He knew what he needed to say, and it was best to get on with it before he said anything else that would only make things worse. But as he opened his mouth to express regret for his conduct and offer the requisite apologies, he couldn’t make the words come out.

  The reason, he appreciated in chagrin, was that he felt not a scrap of regret for that kiss. Even now, desire to repeat the experience was rising within him, and he feared only the flimsiest excuse was needed for him to act on it. Hell, if there weren’t a desk between them right now, he feared he’d be more inclined to repeat his mistake than apologize for it.

  Thankfully, the cat decided to stop sulking and jumped up into Amanda’s lap again, providing Jamie with a much-needed neutral topic. “Oscar seems quite fond of you.”

  “Thankfully, yes. If he wasn’t, I think the boys’ opinion of me would be much lower.”

  “They do adore that cat. Sadly, no one else does.”

  That surprised her. “But why?” she asked, stroking the gray tabby’s head. “He’s very sweet.”

  “To you, perhaps,” he countered wryly. “And he loves the boys. I, however, am beneath his contempt.”

  “Perhaps because you just don’t show him enough affection.” She grinned, lifting the cat to face him, and Oscar immediately began spitting at Jamie. “Want to hold him?”

  “Not a chance.”

  They both laughed, and Oscar, clearly not liking this show of comradery between the two humans, wriggled free of Amanda’s grasp, gave Jamie one last hiss, and jumped off the desk.

  “You see?” Jamie said, watching as Oscar departed the nursery in a huff, his tail swishing indignantly behind him. “He hates me. Other than the boys, he hates everyone else in the house, too, including the servants. He always has.”

  “If that’s so, why did you let the boys keep him?”

  He gave her a wry look. “Deny those boys the half-starved, pathetically hissing baby cat they rescued from a tree? I’d have liked to see you try.”

  “I see your point.” She settled back in her chair and gestured to the blotter on her desk. “But to answer your question, I was writing you a report of the boys’ progress to date. Given how busy you’ve been, I wasn’t sure when we’d have time to talk in person. Is that . . .” She paused and gave a little cough. “Is that why you came up? To talk about the
boys?”

  He seized on that excuse, even though he knew he was only postponing the inevitable. “I do need to keep abreast of how they are progressing,” he said.

  “Of course,” she agreed at once. “You’ll be pleased to know they seem to be settling down a bit.”

  “No practical jokes recently?”

  “Well, there was the rash on Colin’s hands,” she began.

  “Rash?” He stiffened in his chair. “What rash?”

  “Don’t be alarmed, my lord. It was nothing. I applied some cream, made him wear gloves the past few days, and he’s healed quite nicely.”

  “But what caused it, do you know?”

  “Oh yes. I recognized the rash at once. He had plucked bunches of rue leaves out of the kitchen garden with his bare hands, and since it was a bright, sunny afternoon, of course he got the reaction. In sunlight, rue oil has a detrimental effect upon the skin.”

  “Rue allergy?” Jamie frowned, still puzzled. “But how could that possibly be a practical joke?”

  “Because he did it on purpose. You may remember, I’m making them polish all the duke’s silver, one hour every day, as punishment for the slugs in my bed? Well,” she added when he nodded, “the day of the rue incident, they’d been polishing silver as usual. That afternoon when the rash appeared, he tried to claim it was the silver polish that was causing it and declared that I couldn’t possibly be so cruel as to make him continue.”

  Jamie grinned. “My son is so clever.”

  “Not as clever as he thinks he is,” she countered dryly. “His little ploy didn’t fool me for a second. I know rue allergy when I see it.”

  “Still, you must admit, it was rather ingenious,” he said, still grinning. “With a rash on his hands, he surely got a reprieve from the silver.”

  “A very temporary one, I assure you. I will have him back to his task in a day or two. Those boys shall not be allowed to stop until they’ve polished every last piece.”

  He wiped the grin off his face. “You’re a hard taskmaster, Amanda,” he said, striving to sound appropriately solemn.

  “Perhaps, but I doubt I’ll have slugs in my bed ever again. And the rue provided the perfect opportunity to explain the scientific principles behind phototoxicity.”

  “You do like to use real-world examples in your teaching, don’t you?”

  “As much as possible. It’s more effective than merely studying academic texts, and so much more interesting. By the way, there’s something I want to ask you. Because your work takes up so much of your time, I feel the boys ought to understand what you do and the importance of it, so we are commencing lessons on the workings of Parliament. I was hoping you might be able to take some time and give us a lecture on the subject?”

  “I’d be happy to, but I think I might have a better idea than a mere lecture. Since you’re so fond of teaching by example, why don’t you bring the boys to Westminster one day? I can give them—and you—a tour, explain what I do—”

  He broke off at the sight of her smile, a smile filled with such pleasure that it drove his own suggestion—and any other coherent thought—straight out of his head.

  “Oh, what a wonderful idea,” she exclaimed. “That will be so much better than a schoolroom lecture. Thank you, my lord. Given how busy you are with Parliament in session, it’s very kind.”

  He stirred in his seat, embarrassed, well aware that kindness wasn’t at all what he felt right now. Shifting a little, he went on in a rush, “Well, you did say I ought to spend more time with them, and I’ve been letting you down in that regard. And it would be good for them to see for themselves how our government functions. They’ll be able to envision so much better what they’re learning about if they’ve seen the rooms and chambers for themselves.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad we spoke about this,” she cried excitedly. “The boys will love it.”

  He wanted to ask if she would love it, too, but he refrained. “I have to be in the Chamber before the end of Question Time,” he said instead, “so if you come about two o’clock, that gives us plenty of time for a tour beforehand, and tea as well.”

  “Can we watch the debates?”

  “Of course. The view from the Ladies’ Gallery isn’t much, I’m afraid, but nonetheless, you can see and hear everything that goes on.”

  “What day should we come? Perhaps,” she added before he could reply, her smile taking on a teasing curve, “we ought to visit on the day you give that speech of yours?”

  He groaned. “Must you?”

  “The boys would love to hear it.”

  “I doubt that, since it’s utter rubbish.”

  Her teasing smile immediately vanished, and she eyed him with sympathy. “It can’t be that bad.”

  “Honestly, I can’t say.” He sighed. “But I do know that every time I practice it, it seems boring as hell—so boring, in fact, it even makes me want to fall asleep. I doubt it will persuade anyone to vote to send the bill to committee, much less agree to bring it back for a second reading.”

  “Do you want some help? I am a teacher, after all. I could read over what you’ve got, give my opinion, perhaps assist you with editing it?”

  His gaze slid down, his body began to burn, and he hauled his gaze back up. “I don’t think that would be wise, Amanda.”

  She looked down, fidgeting with her blotter. “No,” she murmured. “Perhaps not.”

  “I don’t wish you to misunderstand me,” he said hastily. “I appreciate the offer, I do, but . . .” He paused, staring at her, knowing he may have given offense but unable to quite make the humiliating admission that he didn’t trust himself where she was concerned and that he needed more time and distance before he dared to chance it. “It wouldn’t be wise,” he said again.

  “Of course,” she agreed at once, nodding fervently, not quite looking at him.

  It was time, he realized, to stop stalling. “We’ve come, I think, to the perfect place for me to say what I came here to say.” He paused, then went on, “Amanda, I owe you an apology. I behaved abominably the other night. No, please,” he added as she started to speak. “What happened should not have happened, and that is my fault. It’s just that it’s been so long since I’ve wanted—”

  He broke off, appreciating that he’d nearly ruined his apology by attempting to justify what was unjustifiable. Worse, he’d almost confessed aloud the barely containable desire he felt for her. How mortifying.

  Taking a deep breath, he tried again. “I broke my word that you were safe from my attentions, and I have no explanation to give or excuse to offer. I’m sure it’s little consolation to you, but please know that I berate myself bitterly for my actions, being aware of how your previous employer had subjected you to the very same attention—”

  “Oh, but it wasn’t,” she protested, cutting off his stream of self-recrimination midsentence, and even as she spoke, color flamed in her cheeks again. “It wasn’t . . . it didn’t . . . that is, it didn’t feel . . . I mean . . .”

  Her voice trailed off, and her tongue darted out to lick her lips as if they were dry, riveting his attention and sending his imagination onto even more dangerous ground. “It wasn’t the same at all, Jamie,” she whispered.

  “It wasn’t?” That was such a gratifying piece of news that he couldn’t help grinning. “Truly?”

  At once, her severe dark brows drew together in a frown of reproof, and he hastily wiped the grin off his face. “But nonetheless,” she went on, “it was a mistake.”

  He ought to wholeheartedly agree, but then he glanced down, and as he envisioned the curves he’d had a shadowy glimpse of earlier and remembered how she’d felt in his arms the other night, that kiss began to seem less like a mistake and more like the most ripping thing he’d ever done.

  “One we should never have made.”

  At the sound of her voice, he jerked his gaze back up. “Quite so, yes,” he agreed, his voice firm, hearty, and so patently insincere, it almost made him wince. “Y
ou may be assured that it won’t happen again,” he added, praying he was a strong enough man to make that assurance the truth.

  She nodded, but she did not reply. His goal had been accomplished, they seemed in complete accord, and it would be a good idea if he departed now, before he was tempted to act on any of the erotic thoughts and impulses that were still plaguing him. Lingering here, he appreciated, was akin to lighting matches in a room full of gunpowder, and yet he didn’t move.

  Instead, he looked into her eyes, with all their deep, murky colors, and suddenly, he felt as if he was hanging on the edge of an abyss. He tried to think of his boys, and Pat, and the honorable, responsible man he had spent over a decade trying to become. But as he looked into Amanda’s eyes, he didn’t want to be that man. He didn’t want to think of Pat. He didn’t want to mourn and grieve. He didn’t want to be good and responsible and keep his promises and set an honorable example for his sons. He wanted . . . oh God, what he wanted . . .

  The yearning that came over him was so strong, it felt like a hand reaching into his chest and pulling his heart out. A yearning for what, he couldn’t have said, but it was an ache far deeper than unslaked lust.

  He drew in his breath, caught the powdery scent of talc, and forced himself to pull back from the brink. It felt like tearing himself in half.

  “I really must be on my way, or I’ll be late,” he said, and stood up. “Again, please accept my apologies for my conduct. As to Westminster,” he added as she rose to her feet, “if you think the boys would really want to hear me speak, then come on Tuesday, one week from now. Tuesday’s your day out, I know, but that’s the first day of debate on the Education Bill, and it’s scheduled first on the docket, so that’s when I have the best chance to give my speech. I can’t guarantee that I will catch the Speaker’s eye, of course, especially since I’m not a minister, just an ordinary backbench MP, but Peel likes me, so there’s a good chance he’ll call on me when I stand. If so, I expect it will be well before the dinner bell—somewhere between five and seven would be my guess.”