by Anna Bennett
“I’ll do no such thing. Diana trusts me.”
His brow creased as though he were mildly offended. “And not me?”
Meg shrugged. “She doesn’t really know you, my lord.” Although, the girl did seem to suffer from a case of hero-worship for the earl ever since the incident in the park.
“Fair enough. We’ll go together—as long as you agree to remain in my sight.”
Bristling, Meg tossed her head. “I’ve no intention of running away. At least not tonight.”
“How comforting.” He placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her through the hallway and back down the staircase.
They had just reached the foyer when they heard a yelp and several shouts from the back of the house. Will raced toward the commotion, and Meg followed closely on his heels.
“It’s her!” he called over his shoulder. “It’s Diana. She appears to be in one piece.”
Meg pushed her way past the earl and the kitchen maid and footman who were fussing over the girl. “Diana.” She pulled her into a hug, and tears she hadn’t even known were threatening spilled down her cheeks. “Thank goodness you’re safe.”
The little girl cried too, her tears streaking the dirt smudges on her face. “I w-wanted to find some stones for our arithmetic l-lesson. B-but the square across the street didn’t have enough, so I w-went a bit farther. And then I c-couldn’t find my way back.”
Meg swept Diana into her arms and rubbed her back. “Well you’re home now. How did you manage it?”
“I asked a nice-looking lady to p-point me in the direction of Mayfair and then walked until I saw the earl’s garden. It’s the only one with a fountain.”
“That was clever of you,” Will said. “But I think you know you shouldn’t have left the house. Especially on your own.”
Diana’s lower lip trembled. “Yes, sir.”
“There will be time to discuss the consequences of your actions later. For now, you need a bath and dinner, in that order,” Meg said.
“After dinner, may we have our lesson? I have plenty of stones—see?” Diana shoved a hand into the pocket of her pinafore and held out a palm full of dirt, pebbles, and Meg’s lavender ribbon.
“Keep the ribbon. And you certainly have collected enough rocks for our purposes,” Meg said, smiling.
“There will be no further lessons this evening,” the earl pronounced in a booming voice, and Diana clung to Meg a bit tighter. “You will do just as Miss Lacey has instructed—a bath and dinner, followed by bed. Now run upstairs and see your sister. She’s been worried sick about you.”
“Yes, sir.” Diana dumped the stones back into her pocket, wiggled her way out of Meg’s arms, and took off for the nursery.
Will raised a brow at the kitchen maid and footman. “I presume you have duties to return to?”
“Of course, my lord,” they muttered as they scurried off.
“Thank you for your assistance,” Meg called out after them. She swiped at her eyes, suddenly self-conscious.
“Why are you crying?” The earl frowned as though thoroughly perplexed. “She seems well enough.”
“It’s just that I’m so … relieved. I don’t expect you to understand.”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “Regardless of what you may think, I care about the girls, too. I made a promise.”
“A promise? What sort?”
He produced a crisp handkerchief from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “It’s a rather long story.”
She dabbed the corners of her eyes. “If it relates to the twins, I’d like to hear it.”
He considered that for a moment then gave a curt nod. “After the girls are settled and in bed, meet me in my study. We’ll have a much-deserved drink, and I’ll tell you how the twins came to be here.”
It warmed Meg to know that he would confide in her. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Just Will, remember?”
Oh yes. She remembered. “Until this evening … Will.”
A wicked grin lit his face, and her whole body thrummed in response.
Drat it all—it seemed she was suffering from a mild case of hero-worship herself.
Chapter THIRTEEN
The hour had grown so late that Will began to wonder if Meg would join him after all. Diana’s disappearance had temporarily erased the awkwardness between them, for as long as she was missing, it had been impossible to dwell on stolen kisses and intimate encounters with Meg.
But now … it was nigh impossible to think of anything else.
He heard the patter of her slippers a moment before she rounded the corner, brightening the doorway of his study in spite of her damnable brown dress. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still be here,” she said without preamble. “I didn’t want to leave the nursery until I was certain the twins were asleep.”
“At least we can be relatively confident that they will remain out of trouble for the next eight hours.”
“Yes.” Her gaze flicked to the clock on the mantel, and he was almost sure she was contemplating how fast the time would pass and worrying about all that she wished to accomplish before then. She lingered by the door like Persephone debating the wisdom of crossing the river Styx.
But perhaps she didn’t have to.
“Let us repair to the garden.” He scooped up his decanter and a pair of glasses.
“Now?” she asked incredulous.
“Why not?”
She shrugged helplessly. “Well, for one thing, it’s dark.”
“There’s some moonlight. I daresay our eyes will adjust. Come.” He led the way down the hall toward the morning room, then handed the glasses to her while he unlocked the French doors that opened onto the garden patio. “Here we are.”
He guided her to a stone bench beneath an ivy-covered arbor that offered shade in the daytime. Now, it afforded something more precious—a modicum of privacy.
She set the glasses beside her and perched on the edge of the bench with her hands folded in her lap, like she was there for an interview rather than a drink. To see her sitting there, her spine straight and expression impassive, one would never imagine that a few nights ago she’d been pliant and willing in his arms. Maybe she wished to pretend that evening had never happened. If he were wise, he’d follow her lead and revert to their old roles. She could play the part of prim and proper governess, and he’d be the overbearing and insufferable earl.
The problem was that he couldn’t quite forget the taste of her lips or the feel of her body pressed against his. The rapid rise and fall of her chest suggested she hadn’t entirely forgotten him either.
He splashed brandy into each glass, gave her one, and raised his. “Congratulations are in order. You’ve survived your first week.”
She peered into her glass thoughtfully. “I suppose I have. More importantly, the twins have.”
“Yes. Just barely,” he teased.
She frowned adorably. “If something terrible had happened to Diana tonight, I would never have been able to forgive myself.”
“I know. I would have felt the same way.” An unexpected but sobering truth.
“Are the girls related to you?”
“You could say that. Although I met them only a few days before you did. They were dropped on my doorstep by my late cousin’s mistress.”
“Why would she abandon her own children?”
Will shrugged. “Why indeed? Perhaps the more interesting question is, why did she hold onto them as long as she did?”
“I don’t understand. What kind of mother wouldn’t wish to have her children with her?”
He snorted. “The selfish kind. While my cousin, Thomas, was alive, it suited Lila’s purposes to raise the girls herself. He visited them weekly and lavished them with gifts … even if he was never able to publicly acknowledge them as his daughters.”
“Why ever not?”
“Lila forbid him to reveal to the twins that he was their father. She said he might only claim them as his ow
n if he agreed to marry her.”
Meg’s nostrils flared in indignation. “How awful. She would deny the girls their father in order to procure a marriage offer?”
“Women have stooped to far worse to achieve their desired ends.”
“As have men, my lord.” Her eyes shot daggers at him over the rim of her brandy glass, and his blood heated in response. This was what he admired about her. This was what he’d missed.
“We are back to my lord then?”
She regarded him coolly, not deigning to answer. “So, Lila’s plan didn’t work. Thomas never proposed.”
“He might have … if his life hadn’t been cut short.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder, awakening a host of feelings inside him. “I’m sorry.”
“He was like a brother. Very much like me, but better. Thomas was wise and decent.”
“Why didn’t he marry Lila, then?” She went still and gazed at him intently—as though his answer were very important.
“His mother, my aunt, would not have approved. Lila is not the type of woman to grace genteel drawing rooms.”
She pulled away and turned icy. “No? I suppose I am not that type of woman either.”
Alarms sounded in his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You are a lady.”
“And what does that mean, precisely? That I might kiss a man to whom I am not betrothed so long as I am not caught doing so?”
“You are twisting my words, Meg. Lila is an unscrupulous, conniving sort.”
“Maybe she has had to be,” she said quietly. “Besides, she must have some redeeming qualities. The girls seem to miss her.”
“She’s the only mother they’ve ever known. But she claimed she couldn’t take care of them anymore. She said she’d have no choice but to deliver them to the foundling home unless I took them in.”
She blinked, her long lashes guarding pretty hazel eyes. “And so you did.”
“Yes.”
“But surely you had other options. You could have sent the girls to live with a relative in the country or paid a kind family to raise them.”
Will let out a long sigh. “Thomas wouldn’t have wanted that. I promised him that I would be their guardian in the event that something happened to him.”
“How did he…?”
“A riding accident.” Will’s throat constricted. “A stupid, bloody riding accident.”
Meg set down her glass and scooted closer to him on the bench. Her nearness was comforting and highly distracting at the same time. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it?”
“No.” He wondered if she was thinking of her parents and the horrific accident that had claimed their lives and ripped her family apart. “Little in life is fair.”
“Your cousin Thomas was fortunate to have a friend like you. If you hadn’t intervened, the twins might be eating gruel in an overcrowded orphanage.” She shuddered at the thought.
“I can give them a roof over their heads. I can provide food and clothing. But they need more than that … and that’s the part I can’t give them.”
“Can’t … or won’t?”
He took a large swallow of brandy. “Can’t.” All he knew of parenting was what he’d learned from his own father. The sting of a switch burning the back of his legs. The echo of vile insults ringing in his head. The indifference of a man too preoccupied with his own miserable life to spend a few moments with his only son.
“I think that perhaps you do yourself an injustice.”
“No,” he said firmly. He couldn’t risk being a father—not in the real sense of the word. Of course, he’d need an heir one day, but he intended to parent from afar and leave the day-to-day responsibilities of child-rearing to someone more qualified than he—to someone who knew how decent and loving fathers were supposed to treat their children. “Trust me on this. I can’t be anything to those girls but their benefactor. That’s why I need you.”
“I am only their governess. That’s not the same thing as a mother.”
“I know. But for now, maybe it’s close enough.” He regarded her thoughtfully. “I confess, a small part of me was worried that you wouldn’t return. That your sisters would convince you to give up your position and remain at home with them.”
She looked away. “I wouldn’t—couldn’t—do that to the girls.”
Ah. So, it had everything to do with the girls and naught to do with him. “You’ve been avoiding me these last few days.”
Raising her chin, she met his gaze straight on. “I could say the same for you.”
“That is true. I thought to make things easier for you. I assumed you’d prefer I stayed out of your way.” He held his breath as he waited for her response. Because all she had to do was say the word, and he’d gladly pick up where they’d left off a few nights ago. Even now, as they sipped brandy in the evening air, he could barely resist the urge to plunder her mouth, unlace her ghastly gown, and tease the rosy tips of her breasts till she moaned for something more.
“It’s doubtful that anything shall ever be easy as far as the two of us are concerned,” she said, her voice oddly hollow.
He gave a bitter laugh. “Why must that be? Are we so different, you and I? Why does everything I stand for seem to repulse you so?”
“Repulse me?” Her eyes went wide. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
He shrugged. “Convents. Head-shaving. A general attitude of disdain.”
At that, she blushed scarlet. “That was many years ago.”
“And yet, it seems like yesterday.” He smiled and swirled the brandy in his glass so that she’d never guess how deeply her words had cut him.
“Would you like to know why I said those things?”
Well, that all depended. Was the truth going to gut him? “If you feel the need to get your thoughts off your chest, I have no objection.”
She cast a knowing smile his way and stood, her skirt rustling in the warm breeze. “Then I shall tell you. First off, it should be noted that I was a young woman of fifteen—an age that relishes drama as much as it eschews reason.”
Will crossed his arms over his chest and nodded casually. So far, he liked this explanation—primarily because it kept his pride intact. “Duly noted.”
“Second,” she said, pressing her nose to a pink flower, “I had good cause to think you were a cad.”
“Right—the incident at the lake.”
“The spying incident at the lake,” she corrected, “which gave me a most unfavorable impression of your character.”
“A false impression that has since been rectified?” he asked, hopefully.
Rolling her eyes, she glided to another bush bursting with red blooms. “I concede that there may have been extenuating circumstances. However, you are not entirely absolved of guilt.”
He could live with that. “Also duly noted.”
“But neither of those reasons in and of themselves would have precipitated such an extreme reaction from me.”
He went to her side, plucked a flower off the bush, and slid it behind her ear. The rich red petals accentuated the hue of her lips and the blush on her cheeks, almost blinding him to the unfortunate sludge color of her dress. Almost. “Then why did you reject me, Meg?”
Her lips parted, but she hesitated, as though afraid to form the words. At last, she said, “I don’t expect someone like you to understand.”
He felt his hackles rise. “What does that mean, someone like me?”
“It means you are a man. Someone with power and the ability to make your own decisions.”
“And you resent me for that?”
“To a certain extent, yes.”
“That hardly seems fair.”
“Don’t you see?” she pleaded. “I craved the independence you take for granted. I couldn’t bear the thought of someone dictating who my husband would be or what my future would hold.”
“You’re a bluestocking,” he mused.
She tossed her head. “Call me what you like. I chafe
d at the idea of taking a husband in order to please my parents. A successful marriage requires more than a handshake between prospective in-laws. It requires … love.”
“It seems you’re also a romantic.”
She waved a hand, scoffing. “Hardly. I’m a practical sort, intent on keeping my family together and my uncle out of debtor’s prison. My sisters deserve to own a new gown or two. That’s why I’m here.”
“So you wouldn’t really rather shave your head than marry me.”
She arched a wicked brow. “I didn’t say that. But I will admit that the words I spoke that night—they were less about you than my frustration with the situation.”
“I was frustrated too. And completely blindsided by our parents’ announcement.”
“Yes, but you were probably already plotting ways to extricate yourself from the betrothal.”
Damn, but she had an uncanny ability to peel away his polished veneer and see the scoundrel who dwelled beneath. “Weren’t you?” he countered.
“I fear I couldn’t get past the shock. Besides, if the engagement had become public and was subsequently dissolved, no one would dream that it was by my choice. Why would a mousy girl like me willingly break a betrothal to a rich gentleman who was heir to an earldom?”
“Don’t forget handsome.” He grinned at her.
“The point is,” she said softly, “you had all the power. I had none. And I found that vexing in the extreme. I still do.”
Contemplating her words, he reached for her hands and met her gaze. With her hair gleaming in the moonlight, her skin glowing with passion, and her eyes challenging him to deny the truth of her words, she appeared anything but helpless. “I think you underestimate your own power.”
“I lack wealth, status, and beauty,” she said matter-of-factly. “Pray tell, what power is it that I wield?”
Slowly, he lifted his hand to cup her cheek and brushed a thumb over her satin-soft skin. “You have power,” he breathed. “You have power over me.”
Chapter FOURTEEN
Meg’s breath caught in her throat and her heart pounded in her chest. The earl’s gaze dropped to her mouth like he wanted to kiss her but was waiting for her to grant him permission—with a sigh, a movement, or a sound.
