by Rose Pearson
Yes, he was handsome, but it was his lack of character that pushed her away. She did not care for simply an attractive face, but rather found his selfish nature left him severely lacking. Perhaps, then, in time, he would see that his desire to converse with her, to urge her into the situation he wished for her to be in, was not about to be fulfilled.
Elsbeth imagined Lord Radford was not used to that.
Getting to her feet, Elsbeth dried her eyes as best she could and straightened her gown. She had to just get on with her new life, had to simply move forward and count each passing day as one step closer to her freedom. There was no use in her being upset or fraught over the situation, for it was not easily going to change. She would teach this niece of Lord Radford’s and pray fervently every day that Lord Radford would simply leave her be.
Splashing some cold water on her face, Elsbeth dried her eyes and looked at her reflection in the small mirror, seeing her skin red and blotchy from where she had been crying. Her hair was, at least, still perfect in its tight bun and she had no pronounced wrinkles in her gown. Holding her head high, she made her way to the door and opened it, finding the corridor empty. Walking along the hallway, she soon found the nursery and, with a sharp knock, stepped inside.
Chapter Six
Andrew took a long draw of his cigar, puffing out the smoke carefully as he let his eyes rove over the many books in his library – none of which he had read, of course. He did not care for reading in particular, finding it a rather dull pastime.
“Can I get you anything else, my lord?” the butler asked, setting down the small tray in front of him. “Should I alert the footmen as to your expected time of return to the house?”
“I do not think I intend to go out this evening, George,” Andrew murmured, aware at the surprised expression on the butler’s face, which was quickly hidden away. “You may retire, if you wish. As may the rest of the staff.”
The butler hesitated for a moment before inclining his head. “Thank you, my lord.”
Andrew chuckled to himself as the butler left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. He was well aware that this sudden desire to remain at home, behind closed doors, had taken the staff by surprise, but he felt no eagerness to go to Whites this particular evening. Perhaps it was due to the fact that his new governess had arrived only yesterday, and that his thoughts had been entirely caught up with her.
His brow caught with a frown. That in itself was rather unusual, was it not? Why was he so eager for Miss Blakely when he knew that he could have any other lady of his acquaintance? He only had to say the word and arms would be around his neck, kisses gently pressed to his lips, willing words whispered in his ear.
Taking another draw of his cigar, Andrew tried to come up with an answer to his own question, finding it difficult to explain what it was about Miss Blakely that tempted him so. She was beautiful in her own way, although he longed to see her hair flowing around her shoulders and her sky-blue eyes filled with something other than anger.
Perhaps it was because she simply presented him with a challenge he had not faced before. He had never been turned away by any lady to whom he had made his intentions more than obvious, regardless of their status in society and yet here came Miss Blakely with her outright refusal and her clear disdain. Mayhap he wanted to find a way to urge her into submission, to show her that she had nothing to fear from him. Perhaps he simply wanted to prove to her that the life he was offering her was a good life, one where she could be as free as she wished, so long as she kept her arms open towards him. Whatever it was, Andrew could not get free of her.
The door to the library suddenly flew open and, startled, Andrew saw Miss Blakely framed in the doorway, her face hidden in shadow.
“Miss Blakely!” he exclaimed, sitting up in his chair. “So, you came to speak to me after all! How fortuitous. I was just thinking that –”
“Your niece is only here for a short time?” she shouted, striding towards him as the door slammed shut behind her. “For a few months? That is how long I am to stay here for?”
He swallowed, hard.
“What is it you believe, Lord Radford? Do you believe that I will continue to remain in your house in another role by the time your niece is to return to her parents?”
That was exactly what he had hoped, although he could not exactly say as much to Miss Blakely, given how upset she appeared to be.
“No, of course not,” he replied soothingly. “There is, of course, another explanation.”
He saw the anger fade slightly from her eyes as she looked back at him, her hands slowly uncurling from their tight fists. However, he began to feel a little on edge, realizing that he had not thought this part of his plan through. He had believed that Miss Blakely would simply come around to his way of thinking in time but had never thought what her reaction might be to discover that the girl she was to teach was only with him for a month or two.
“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing for her to sit down opposite him. “I will not come near you, I promise, in case you are fearful that I might.”
She glared at him but eventually did as he asked.
“Can I fetch you something to eat or drink?” he said, waving his hand towards the bell. “The butler will still be hard at work, I am sure.”
“No.”
Her voice was sharp and hard, slicing through him and making him wince inwardly. It was clear she did not want anything other than an explanation from him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Andrew watched her for a moment, his cigar smoking gently in his hand. Her face was pale, her hair falling out of her tight bun in wisps – but it was the look in her eyes that had him pause. It was clear she had been crying, for her eyes were puffy and red.
Guilt streaked through him like a flash of lightning. It was an uncomfortable sensation, given that he did not often feel guilty over anything he chose to do, and he found himself suddenly unable to look into her face.
“Lord Radford,” she said, crisply, her voice shaking only a little. “What is it you intend for me to do here? Teach your niece for a month or so, only to have her return to her parents? She is so young that she is not quite ready for a governess, even though I do find her a very bright young lady.”
His eyes darted to hers. “What is it you are saying, Miss Blakely?”
She drew in a long breath. “I will speak plainly, Lord Radford. You wish me to be in your bed, that much is apparent. However, I have continued to rebuff your advances and still, despite that, you have found a way to have me placed in your home against my better judgment. You have manipulated me and the course of my life simply to get what you want.”
Looking away from her, Andrew felt heat rush up his spine and into his face, feeling as though he were some errant schoolboy in Eton being given a severe dressing down, yet knowing that he somehow deserved it.
“You have not considered anyone but yourself, Lord Radford,” she continued, her voice shaking heavily with emotion. “I have been forced here only to find that your intentions for me are just the same as they once were, although you somehow believe that you will be able to convince me to give up my reputation, my standards, my very self simply to satisfy your whims. You will not take my refusal as my only answer, believing that, since you are used to always getting what you want, you will be able to achieve your aims with me. I am simply a toy for you to play with, something that you will have for a time until you grow bored and choose to discard me in whatever way you wish.” She shook her head, her eyes glazing over with tears. “I will not allow myself to be treated so by anyone, Lord Radford, not even you with your high title, your wealth and status in society. I may be lesser than you in many ways but it does not mean that I should be treated with any less dignity and respect.”
Her words came to a close, echoing around the room before settling themselves neatly into Andrew’s heart. He could feel nothing but guilt and shame, her words sticking like needles into every part of him. This was not something he had ev
er experienced before and, to his horror, he felt his head lowering as the weight of her words settled on him like a heavy burden.
“You are quite right, Miss Blakely,” he mumbled, not able to so much as lift his head. “You are quite right.”
There was nothing but silence for a long time, whilst Andrew battled to keep his emotions from overwhelming him. Everything Miss Blakely had said was correct. He had not treated her with the respect she deserved, choosing to look at her as though she were nothing more than an object he could use for his own gratification. Did he truly believe that a lady was not to be treated with dignity simply because of her standing within society? Was that truly the kind of man he was?
A small groan escaped him as he sat forward, throwing his cigar into the fire before putting his head in his hands. In one moment, Miss Blakely had managed to pierce his heart and mind in a way no one had ever been able to do before. Suddenly, he was questioning everything, struggling to make sense of all that was going on in his heart.
“My goodness, I am nothing but a scoundrel.”
He closed his eyes, recalling how his mother, the Dowager Radford, had so often pleaded with him to take the responsibilities of his title seriously, almost begging him to marry and produce an heir, as was expected. He had always brushed her off, laughing, telling her that he was enjoying life far too much to allow such a thing as family responsibility to hold him back. Besides, he’d always told himself that his brother had already married and had produced a child, albeit a girl, which meant that, most likely, there would soon be a son and a possible heir should the worst ever happen to him.
His world was spinning and it felt as though he was about to lose his grip at any moment. His breath was coming hard and fast, pain shooting through him as he squeezed his eyes shut. What kind of man was he?
You have manipulated me simply to get what you want.
“Miss Blakely, I – I must ask you to leave me,” he said, hoarsely. “I do apologize. We can speak again tomorrow.”
There was a short, tense, silence. “Lord Radford, you do not need to play games with me,” came Miss Blakely’s reply. “I am not inclined to give in easily to such theatrics.”
He lifted his gaze to her, growing angry with her for disbelieving him only to realize that she had every right to do so. He had not given her any reason to trust him thus far and, therefore, he could easily understand why she had said such a thing.
“Miss Blakely, I can assure you that these are no theatrics,” he replied, managing to sit up to look at her more carefully. “You have spoken to me in a way that no one else has ever dared to do.” He shook his head, feeling as if his very soul had been broken open, spilling its blackness and darkness for all to see. “I am struggling to think clearly after what you have laid on my shoulders.”
Miss Blakely’s eyes narrowed.
“I have treated you repugnantly,” he said heavily. “I have asked you to be something to me that you have every right to refuse. I should never have spoken to Miss Skelton about you.”
She closed her eyes and, to his horror, Andrew saw a tear slipping down her cheek. Agony tore at his heart.
“Miss Skelton has always wanted me gone from her House for Girls,” Miss Blakely replied, quietly, not opening her eyes. “It appears you gave her a wonderful opportunity to do just that.”
His apology crumbled to dust in front of him. “I did not know.” The memory of Mrs. Banks speaking to him shot to the forefront of his mind, torturing him again and forcing him to take back what he had just said. “I mean, I did hear something from Mrs. Banks but I was so completely wrapped up in what I wanted that I chose to speak to Miss Skelton regardless.”
Opening her eyes, Miss Blakely looked back at him steadily, even though her eyes were swimming with tears. “Miss Skelton pushed me here in the knowledge that I would be gone from her House within a few short days, Lord Radford. She has long wanted me to be gone from her company and so, it seems, you were an answer to her prayers. And she to yours.”
He wanted to refute that, wanted to say that it was not the case and that he had not meant to force her to come to his home, but his shame would not let him. Everything she had said was quite true.
“I had so many hopes,” she continued, her voice breaking with emotion. “I hoped to have my freedom, to choose my own situation and then, in a few short years, be able to live the life I have always dreamed of, but instead, I was forced to come here at your bidding. The only thing I can do is continue to assure you that I will not be the person you wish me to be, Lord Radford. I will endure here because I have very little else open to me, but I swear to you here and now, that I will never willingly become your mistress.”
Lowering his gaze, Andrew felt sweat bead on his brow.
“I quite understand, Miss Blakely. I will not press you on this any longer although I understand that you will not willingly believe me on this.”
“No, Lord Radford, I will not,” came the calm reply. “You cannot expect me to believe in such a sudden change of heart over the course of a single conversation.”
“Then I shall prove it to you,” he replied, thickly, suddenly desperate for her to leave so that he might wallow in his pain and embarrassment alone. These thoughts were tumultuous; pain bursting through his head as he tried to calm his whirling emotions. It was all becoming too much. “Miss Blakely, I have need of a governess back at my estate. I will not go into detail now but there you have it. Once your time here with my niece is over, I shall send you to my country estate to take on your duties there.”
Managing to glance at her, he saw her expression to be one of confusion and doubt.
“It is not something that my staff here know of, however,” he continued, both horrified and astonished that he had spoken of his charge with Miss Blakely. “Please keep the matter to yourself.”
Miss Blakely shook her head, a small laugh of derision escaping her. “I hardly think so, Lord Radford. This is another scheme to –”
“No!” he exclaimed, slashing the air with his hand. “No, it is not, Miss Blakely. I am trusting you with information that I have fought to keep quiet for a very long time. You shall go alone to my country estate if you wish, to see for yourself.” He shook his head before burying his hands into his hair, staring at the floor. “I shall speak to you again on all this in a few days’ time, Miss Blakely. For the moment, I would like to be alone. I’m afraid your frankness has quite ended me.”
He did not look at her again, too afraid to see what would be there when she rose from her seat. Waiting for her to close the door, he drew in long breaths, trying to steady the trembling that had begun to work all through him. Finally, the door closed tightly and he was left alone, his hands gripping on to his hair tightly as he tried to come to terms with what Miss Blakely had said to him.
He had been right to tell her that no one had ever spoken to him in such a way before. His friends were always eager to hear whatever stories he had to tell about his recent conquests, were always urging him on and, without hesitation, condoning his behavior. After all, it was simply what gentlemen did, was it not?
And still, he felt the heavy weight of shame settling on his shoulders.
Miss Blakely had been more open with him than anyone before. She’d told him exactly what she thought of his character, exactly what she saw of his nature, and Andrew had found he could not disagree. There was nothing for him to disagree with since it was all quite correct.
He was a cruel, selfish, arrogant gentleman and it had never bothered him until the moment Miss Blakely had stepped into his life. Suddenly, he found himself questioning everything he was, everything he thought he enjoyed, everything he thought he lived for, seeing himself in a whole new light. A light that revealed every drop of dirt on his skin, every bit of grime that had seeped into his soul.
And now, for whatever reason, he had told her about his charge back at the Radford Estate. He could not renege on his promise now, not when he was trying to prove to
her that he would no longer pressure her to come to his bed as his mistress.
Letting out another loud groan, Andrew threw himself out of his chair and hurried towards the decanter, pouring himself a large glass of brandy which he swallowed in five large gulps. Pouring another – a smaller one this time – he made his way back towards the fire and looked into it, feeling the heat flicker across his face.
There was no thought of going to his bedchamber. He had too much to ponder, too much to consider, before his mind would let him rest. The shame he felt was agony, burning into his skin and branding him a rogue, a rascal, a scoundrel, a rake. He was not respectable or worthy of honor, and yet it was given to him regardless simply because of his title and status. Over the course of his life, he had simply come to expect such things, having never once considered how he treated those around him.
Setting his glass down on the mantlepiece, Andrew squeezed his eyes closed as his head began to thump painfully. He would not sleep tonight, not when there was so much to consider. One thing was for certain, however. He would emerge in the morning a different man than the one who stood here now and perhaps, despite the pain, that would turn out to be a good thing.
Chapter Seven
One week later and still Lord Radford had not sent for her. In fact, Elsbeth had barely seen him. He was not often at home, although she had heard the footmen comment that the master had not gone to his usual haunts either – not that she knew what they were.
She thought back to that night as she tidied away the slate and the chalk from Miss Sarah’s lesson, which had gone rather more smoothly than she had thought it would. Lord Radford had appeared to be tormented by what she’d said, but she had no idea how many of his words had been genuine. That being said, he had not appeared at her door or demanded that they meet to converse in order to try and convince her to give up her life as a governess. In fact, even though he had promised to speak to her again, he had not sent for her in the last week.
