by Danice Allen
Letitia registered the slightly sarcastic tone of his voice and lamented that he routinely hid behind mockery. She suspected how much he felt for the children beneath that hard exterior, and she wanted, ever so much, to break through that shell of protection. She sat down in the chair, smoothing her skirts over her knees. She was a trifle discomposed when she looked up and saw that he’d been watching her modest preenings.
Lord, why was she so fetching? Adam sat down on the sofa and negligently crossed his legs at the ankle. Perhaps if he feigned a relaxed attitude, he would eventually begin to feel relaxed.
“Would you pour the chocolate, Miss Webster?”
“If you’d care for some, my lord. I couldn’t swallow a drop myself.”
He leaned forward, surprised. “You’re nervous? Do I make you nervous, Miss Webster?”
“My immediate future lies in your hands. Why wouldn’t I be nervous?” She threw him a challenging look.
Still restless, he stood and paced the floor in front of her. “You’re an excellent governess. I haven’t a bone to pick with you about the children’s education. They’ve learned a great deal these past few days and seem to enjoy it. A singular talent, that, making children enjoy the process of education. Will you concede that my schedule has helped you succeed in this endeavor?” He stopped pacing and stood before her.
She looked him square in the eye, her voice wavering only slightly as she replied, “I cannot, in good conscience, concede such a thing, my lord, though you may very well sack me for saying so. I have succeeded with the children despite your restrictive schedule.”
His jaw hardened. “Is that so?”
“Quite so. I implore you to allow the children a play period each day after nuncheon,” she rushed on, seeming to gather resolve. “’Tis unnatural to be inside all day when spring beckons us outside.” She paused, her manner suddenly irresolute, her voice wistful. “Don’t you feel it, my lord?”
“Feel what, Miss Webster?” He knew he sounded caustic, cynical.
“Spring, my lord. Don’t you feel spring? The air, the scent, the softness of it?”
“No, I do not.”
He saw the pained expression in her eyes. “Then I pity you.”
Adam could stand impertinence. He could tolerate scorn, or even fear. But he could not bear to be pitied. Leaning forward, he grasped the arms of the chair Miss Webster sat in and pushed his face close to hers. “Save your pity, my dear, for yourself,” he hissed. “If you don’t quit meddling in matters that are not your concern, you’ll be sacked soon enough, despite your teaching abilities.”
Letitia was stunned by the intensity of Lord Blair’s reaction to her words, and just as equally amazed by her own urge to gather him close to her and soothe away the bitterness—her gaze dropped to his lips—or to tenderly kiss away the grim set of his mouth.
Letitia got her wish, but when Lord Blair grasped her by her upper arms and pulled her to a standing position, then kissed her, there was nothing tender about it. He held her flush against his chest, their bodies intimately touching from head to toe. His legs, those long, beautiful legs, were pressed against hers. His mouth was warm and urgent, his hands here firm and sure as they circled her waist and pulled her closer still.
Letitia had been kissed before, but never had she had the urge to kiss back. Caught up in such a novel and thrilling sensation, Letitia forgot propriety, caution, wisdom—all those pesky principles—and kissed him back. Her hands moved up the fluid musculature of his back and around to the sinewy cords of his neck. Her fingers felt the soft texture of his hair where it waved above his collar. She was in tactile paradise.
Adam was in a state of dementia, he was sure of it. Why else would he be doing the very thing he’d promised Miss Webster he wouldn’t do? But she felt so right in his arms, so pliant, so responsive. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth. He wanted … He wanted…
So this was what he wanted. Miss Letitia Webster. The children’s governess, for Christ’s sake. He released her.
Letitia eased down into the chair. Her lips still throbbed from Lord Blair’s demanding kisses. Her heart beat erratically; her breath came shallow and fast. She had completely lost control of herself as soon as this man took it into his head to kiss her. He had broken his promise. Or had he? He told her he’d not force unwanted attentions on her. Judging from her response to his kisses, on a very basic level she’d apparently wanted them very much. But she shouldn’t want them. She was a moral young woman. She was nothing like her mother … was she?
“I’m sorry, Miss Webster.”
Letitia looked up into Lord Blair’s troubled expression. He had backed away and had folded his arms across his chest, perhaps to indicate that he’d behave and keep his hands to himself.
“My conduct was unforgivable. I don’t know what came over me.” He walked to the fireplace and supported himself against the mantel with one elbow flexed, staring into the flames. “I expect I’m just like your other employers.” He laughed uneasily. “Indeed, Miss Webster, you’re too comely by half to be safe in the world.”
Letitia knew that Lord Blair was nothing like the other men who’d forced kisses on her. She’d felt no attraction to them, nor did she feel heart stirrings for her former employers as she did for Lord Blair. “None of them ever apologized, my lord. At least you have done that.”
“It doesn’t change my guilt, however. I expect you’ll be leaving, then?”
Letitia looked at her hands. Leave Kyle and Mary, Miss Grundy and Belnap? Leave Leys Castle and … Lord Blair? “I don’t want to leave.”
“I don’t want you to leave, either.”
Letitia’s eyes darted up. What did he mean? Did she dare hope…?
Lord Blair began pacing again. He appeared to be weighing his words before he uttered them. He stopped in front of her and blew a long breath between his teeth. “You’re an excellent governess, and the children like you very much. They’ve been behaving much better, Belnap tells me. No more banister rides.”
He smiled wanly. She responded with an equally unconvincing smile. She was foolish to hope that he might have an interest in her beyond a physical attraction. She was a mere governess, daughter to a disgraced baron who had died ignominiously and with pockets to let. Her best hope of sharing something like love with such a man as Lord Blair would be to live with him as his mistress. She could never do that. For two reasons she prayed God he’d never ask her: first, it would lower him in her estimation, and second, she might be tempted to say yes.
“Besides, Miss Webster, what would you do? I think it is requisite that you stay in one place for at least a year to establish your credibility. Don’t you?”
He was right. But how could she bear being near this man for a whole year? What if he kissed her again? Would she have the moral strength to resist him?
“As God is my witness, Miss Webster, I will not touch you again. Do you believe me?”
Letitia looked into Lord Blair’s green eyes and saw the sincerity, the resolve. She believed him. It made her unaccountably sad.
“I believe you, my lord, and I will stay under one condition.”
“Which is?”
“That you will allow me to establish my own schedule for the children, which will include play periods.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” he said dryly. “But I begin to think you know what you’re about when it comes to teaching children, so I shan’t dispute you. We will have another interview in a month. Next time, however, I will arrange a chaperon to be present for your safety.”
“But I trust you. After all, you promised.”
“If I must use outside help in keeping that promise, it is still kept, I suppose.” He paused, leveling a piercing gaze at her. “I do not trust myself.”
Letitia felt a thrill, knowing he desired her so powerfully that he needed a chaperon to help him resist her—even if it was just a physical attraction. She stood up and moved to the door. She turned to face him. “You said
before that you didn’t know what came over you. I think I know what came over you tonight.”
“You do?”
“Spring, my lord.”
“Ah … spring.” He smiled genuinely this time, almost tenderly. Letitia was reminded of another Norse tale of the golden-haired god, Balder the Beautiful, whose smile was the harbinger of spring.
“Good night, my lord,” she whispered, and left the chamber.
Letitia watched from her bedchamber window as Lord Blair’s coach left the front courtyard early the next morning. Since he usually rode his horse or took a small curricle to nearby social engagements, she knew he must be taking an extended leave of Leys Castle. Watching the coach get smaller and smaller, she felt her heart grow heavier and heavier. She would miss seeing him about the castle, even if it were only a glimpse of his coattail as he rounded a corner.
She finally admitted to herself that she was more than physically attracted to Lord Blair. She had developed a tendre for the man, however hopeless and unrequited it may be.
Later, Letitia casually “bumped into” Miss Grundy in the breakfast room in hopes of discovering the viscount’s whereabouts, and just as casually mentioned that she’d seen His Lordship departing the premises. She learned that Lord Blair had gone to Edinburgh to stay with friends for a few weeks.
“’Tis the Season, lass,” Miss Grundy explained as she busily checked the silver for spots. “He dinna stay fer the whole thing, but he deems it proper t’ make an appearance each year. Gets the matchmakers’ hopes up every time he shows his handsome face in Edinburgh, I’ll wager, but the silly lasses who bat their lashes at ’im might as well give up, I say. I ken he fancies a more mature sort. Like you, lass.”
Letitia was startled by Miss Grundy’s words and the sly look she slid in her direction. Letitia’s hand fluttered to her throat. “Like me?”
“Aye, lass, like you,” Miss Grundy confirmed with a shake of her head. “He left in a great hurry, dinna he?” she added, the dangling observation seemingly unrelated to her previous comment. It did make Letitia think, however, that their encounter last night might have discomposed him so much that he felt it necessary to leave quickly. His kisses certainly had had a powerful impact on her. She’d even dreamed about him.
Letitia’s brow furrowed as she remembered Kyle’s request to his father last night to tell him a story. “He didn’t say good-bye to the children, I suppose.”
“He went to their beds afore he left and kissed their wee sleeping faces. And he said t’ tell Kyle that he’d bring a storybook back with ’im t’ read, just as he promised.”
Letitia felt an eddy of warmth curl around her heart. He’d remembered.
Miss Grundy had found a spot on a large serving spoon and was vigorously applying the hem of her apron to it. “He’d never have done such a thing afore you came, lass.” Miss Grundy shifted her keen eyes to look at Letitia again. “Belnap and meself have seen how he’s changed these past few days.”
“Oh, Miss Grundy, you mustn’t think that I’ve wrought any change in Lord Blair,” Letitia sputtered, feeling her face warm with a mix of embarrassment and hope. “I’ve simply done my best to teach the children.”
“Ye brought a breath of fresh air with ye, lass. A spirit of hope. I’d say. Just like spring on the moors.” Miss Grundy replaced the silver spoon in the velvet-lined chest and turned to face Letitia with a big smile. “Belnap and meself—Nurse, too—we’re grateful to ye.”
Letitia’s gaze dropped to the carpet. “Thank you. I only hope he lets me stay. We don’t always agree about things.”
“He’d be a fool t’ let the likes of ye slip through his fingers!” Miss Grundy said with feeling. “Now off ye go, Miss Webster. I hear the bairns’ breakfast bell ringin’, and ye dinna dare miss a meal, what with that wee figure of yern t’ keep from wastin’ away t’ nothin’.”
And so Letitia was dispatched to the nursery to breakfast with the children, her mind reeling with the things Miss Grundy said, and the things she didn’t say but seemingly implied. Did she dare to hope that the servants thought her worthy of such a man? But perhaps it was only wishful thinking on their part. They probably missed having a mistress about the castle, and also liked her management of the children.
The real issue, of course, was what His Lordship thought of her. In Edinburgh, thought Letitia, surrounded by all the fresh new faces of the females regularly carted off to the city by their parents to make marriage alliances, he’d no doubt forget all about his impudent governess back home. The best course to take would be to put the viscount right out of her head and devote herself to the children.
Easier said than done. Devoting herself to the children was no problem at all, but she found herself continually thinking how wonderful it would be to share the children’s time with their father. How pleased he would be by Kyle’s progress in mathematics. How charmed he would be by Mary’s stitchery. How much fun it would be if he joined them in their rambles across the moor, knee-high in heather and bluebells.
He was always on her mind, his image forcefully brought to her attention by the similar way Kyle’s chin thrust out when he was being obstinate. Or the crinkle of Mary’s eyes when she smiled … just like her father’s. No, putting the viscount out of her mind and heart would be a difficult, if not an impossible, task.
By a small sheltered inlet of the Firth of Forth, Adam joined a group of genteel Scottish society for a boating excursion and an al fresco luncheon. Just an hour’s journey from Edinburgh; the ladies and gentlemen had traveled the distance easily and comfortably. The day was incredibly temperate. The breezes that blew off the firth, which could often be biting even in the summer, were mild. The sun’s persistent rays were neither too strong nor too hot, but were gently warming. Everyone felt the friendly influence of such congenial weather, and the prevailing mood was one of genuine pleasure and cheerfulness.
Adam stepped out of the carriage he shared with Geddes Wolfe, a professor at the University in Edinburgh, his wife, Katherine, and their daughter, Jane. He turned to lend a hand to the ladies as they alighted from the carriage in a whisper of muslin skirts. Even at the advanced age of forty, Mrs. Wolfe was still a trim woman. Her pelisse—dyed a rich capucine—fit her figure well and complemented her dark blond hair. But it was the sight of Jane that caused everyone’s eyes to turn in their direction, her dainty foot, shod in soft kid, pointing a toe at the step in front of her, her face framed by a straw poke bonnet, her mouth upturned in a sweet smile.
“Oh, this is delightful,” she said softly, pausing in the door of the carriage to look about. Adam followed her gaze. Indeed, he supposed there was much to be pleased with if one had an eye for the beauty of nature. The water was a sun-silvered blue, reflecting back the clouds that swirled like tufts of pulled cotton against the bright midmorning sky. The long, L-shaped dock was lined with punts, dinghies, and sloops—floating, waiting. Ladies in pastel muslins and ribbons, each carrying a matching parasol, promenaded along the shore in the company of gentlemen equally bedecked in springlike hues—white cravats, fawn breeches, and richly dyed jackets. Here and there he noticed a kilt, the tartan plaids lending a dash of piquancy to the otherwise mellow color scheme.
Adam usually reserved his kilts for evening wear and special occasions. Today he fit in perfectly with the other gentlemen in his bottle-green jacket, champagne pantaloons, pearl brocade waistcoat, and white cravat. He had unintentionally worn clothes that complemented Jane’s ensemble, but which coincidence made them look all the more like a couple. Jane was in sea-foam green, from the ribbons that tied below her chin to the laces in her half boots. Beneath her green pelisse, she wore a white gown dotted with ivy sprigs. She was as blond as Adam, and her eyes were a light, translucent hazel. Jane was, simply said, beautiful. Her looks reminded Adam of Maggie’s.
Professor Wolfe wet a finger with his tongue and lifted it high in the air. “Not much of a wind for sailing. I think I’ll take Mrs. Wolfe out in a dinghy, Adam.�
�� His bushy brows waggled as he darted a meaningful look at his daughter.
Dutifully taking his cue and choosing a course that would ensure sufficient chaperonage for Jane, Adam said, “And so will Miss Wolfe and I. We can row out together to the middle of the lake, Professor, then drift till lunch. Is such a plan acceptable to you ladies?” He smiled, deferring to Mrs. Wolfe. He knew Jane would agree to anything he proposed. In the three weeks, since his arrival in Edinburgh, she had been consistently agreeable. Too agreeable. Today he hoped to get Jane alone, relatively speaking, and to pry out of her a few original opinions. So far everything she’d claimed to admire or enjoy were blatant parrotings of his own expressed preferences. He knew there must be substance behind the beauty and he was determined to unearth it. Surely there was one woman in Edinburgh who could take his mind off Miss Letitia Webster!
Stopping to chat with people as they went by, Adam and the Wolfes slowly worked their way to the dock and boarded two dinghies. Adam controlled his rowing so that the professor’s boat stayed within a few yards of his, keeping a proper distance to preserve propriety yet drifting far enough apart that their conversations would be private.
Finally, floating in the middle of the lake, Adam pulled in the oars. Watching, Professor Wolfe did the same, throwing Adam a friendly salute. Adam felt a prick of conscience. Geddes and Katherine, acquaintances of his for over a decade, were hoping that Adam would ask for Jane’s hand in marriage. He’d encouraged their hopes over the past weeks by spending more time with her than with any other young woman.
Adam had been careful, however, not to be too particular in his attentions or to treat Jane with exclusivity. The Wolfes would be disappointed if he didn’t come up to scratch, but they wouldn’t blame him or claim foul play. Besides, he knew there were other suitors waiting in the wings, several of whom the Wolfes would, in time, find equally acceptable as potential sons-in-law.
