The Ungrateful Governness

by Mary Balogh

  How perverse of her to have expected or even wanted some sign from him, she thought. What did she expect? That he still wanted her? She had convinced herself and told him in no uncertain terms that she had no interest in being wanted merely. Did she expect that he would treat her with more respect, deeper regard, knowing who she really was? She would despise such a change in his behavior.

  So what did she want?

  Jessica turned her head to rest her cheek on her knees. She wanted his love. How very, very foolish! What had she ever done to earn the love of the Earl of Rutherford? And what had he ever done to make her crave his love? He was a man for whom the satisfaction of physical appetites was the most important thing in life. A man to despise.

  Or was he? He had respected her wishes on more than one occasion, although she knew that on one of those occasions she had asked more of his self-control than any woman had a right to ask of a man. He had charm and knew how to set one at ease in conversation. There was some kindness in him. How many gentlemen would give up their bed to a mere governess? Especially when that governess did have a bed of sorts to go to? And he was dearly loved by a family of which Jessica was growing increasingly fond. There must be good in him when she had seen how anxious all his family had been lest he not appear for Christmas.

  It was stupid to pretend. Of course she felt a strong physical attraction to Lord Rutherford. She would be almost unnatural not to do so. He was extraordinarily handsome, and she had moreover tasted his kisses and caresses. Yes, of course she wished to be in his bed again but without any of the moral scruples this time to prevent her from knowing the deepest caress of all. Of course she wanted all that. Her body ached and throbbed at that very moment for his touch.

  But it was not just that. Oh, of course it was not just that. She wanted Lord Rutherford. All of him. Every-thing that made him the person he was. She wanted him to talk and talk to her, as he had at dinner at the inn. She wanted to share her thoughts and emotions with him as she had done unconsciously at Astley's. She wanted to laugh and be teased by him, as his nephews and nieces and cousins had been that day. She wanted to know him.

  Could one love someone one did not really know very well at all? If not, what other name could she use to describe this feeling that was washing over her, that would not let her go? This feeling she had not been free of since that night at the inn?

  And how foolish to love a man whose offer of protection she had refused twice, and whose marriage proposal she had rejected with some contempt. How very foolish to be depressed because he had shown no interest in her for a whole day. How ridiculous to have felt in the drawing room earlier in the evening that half the candles must have been snuffed merely because he had left the room talking and laughing with a couple of his cousins.

  She must live out the week somehow, Jessica decided. And then she must studiously avoid him whatever Grandpapa's decision was about where they would live. She must put him out of her mind, out of her life. She must encourage one of her present suitors. Or allow Grandpapa to find her an eligible husband.

  That was what she would do. She would concentrate on being a docile and obedient granddaughter. Had she done so two years before, she would probably be contentedly married by now and even perhaps have a baby of her own. She would have been immune to these painful and dreadful excesses of emotion.

  What was he doing now? she wondered as she slid down in the bed to lie staring at the canopy over her head, picked out by the flickering of the flames in the hearth. Was he asleep? Had he spared even a single thought for her? Did he still find her desirable?

  Jessica closed her eyes. Enough! she scolded herself. Tomorrow perhaps she would be able to have some private time with Grandpapa, and she would find out what was to be arranged for her future.

  12

  To the delight of all members of the younger generation, and some of the adults too, the ice on the large pond north of the house was declared solid enough for skating the following morning. By luncheon time a contingent of servants had cleared the snow off the surface, and the ice was smooth and clear, shining invitingly in the watery sunlight. The same servants carried out two large boxes of skates of all sizes that had accumulated over the years.

  "We all skate almost as well as we walk and ride," Lady Bradley explained to Jessica as they walked side by side out to the pond. They were slightly behind the main party of exuberant children, and adults trying to appear more dignified. "Hope and Charles and I, of course, had numerous opportunities as children to skate here. And even our cousins have been fortunate. If the weather is not cold enough at Christmas, Mama usually invites them all out here again in January. Of course, it is always a disappointment if there is no snow or ice at Christmas."

  "I have tried skating only once, I am afraid," Jessica said. "It was on the village pond when I was quite a child. I seem to remember spending more time sliding around on my posterior than impressing the villagers on my skates. They were very much too large for me as I recall."

  Lady Bradley laughed. "That was probably the whole problem," she said. "It is essential to have the right size skates laced to your boots so that they feel almost part of your feet. But you really "must not be too shy to try today. There will be plenty of skaters willing to help you along until you get your balance."

  Jessica felt even more dubious when they arrived at the pond to find that several of the children were already dashing all over the surface of the ice as if moving on blades at high speed were the most natural way in the world to move around.

  Lady Hope was looking brightly animated, seated on a makeshift bench, strapping skates to her boots and trying at the same time to help the efforts of two small children. Her cheeks were already flushed from the brisk air.

  "Ah, you have decided to try after all, Miss Moore," she called. "I was sure your refusal at breakfast time was mere temporary cowardice. You will find it easy once you try, I do assure you. Penelope and Rupert both learned to skate last year, but they have convinced themselves that they no longer know how. I am going to show them how wrong they are. Come on, children."

  She took a child's hand in each of her own, helped them down from the bank onto the surface of the ice, and skated slowly across its surface, encouraging the wobbly-legged younsters with a continuous and cheerful monologue.

  "Here," Lady Bradley said, returning to where Jessica stood. She had one arm linked through her husband's. "Aubrey has volunteered to be your instructor, Miss Moore. I do assure you that he is as solid as a rock on the ice and will not let you fall."

  "I think perhaps for this afternoon I shall watch," Jessica said.

  "Nonsense, Miss Moore!" Lord Bradley immediately stooped over one of the boxes of skates and drew out a likely pair, his eyes moving critically from the skates to Jessica's feet. "Try these. You will be considered a poor creature indeed among this family if you cannot skate. I know. It was one of the first things I had to learn when I married Faith. There is nothing to it really once you have sensed the correct balance over your skates."

  Jessica was far from convinced as he stooped in front of her and began to strap the skates to her boots. She was about to make a dreadful cake of herself. The children would surely consider the show more entertaining than the clowns at Astley's. And the adults! How foolish she would appear. Lord Rutherford was out there, skating very expertly with a young female cousin of his, even twirling with her and skating backward as well as forward.

  "Well," she said, smiling bleakly up at her teacher after he had strapped on his own skates, "I do hope you are as rocklike as Lady Bradley claims, my lord."

  He was a very solid and dignified man, one whom she had rarely seen smile or heard speak a frivolous word. But as she took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet, she was very glad of that solidity. Even before he stepped down onto the ice and helped her after, she felt as if her ankles would not be able to cope with balancing her weight above the flimsy blades.

  But really, she discovered afte
r a couple of minutes during which her eyes did not leave her boots, the thing was perhaps possible after all. It was true that Lord Bradley was probably supporting every last ounce of her weight, but she was beginning to feel some exhilaration. She was actually skating! She dared to look up for a moment at all the twirling figures, huddled warm inside their fur-lined cloaks and hoods, scarves covering necks and mouths.

  "Oh dear," she said. "I really should not have looked up. I thought I was doing quite well until I did."

  Lord Bradley laughed. "It is a humbling experience, is it not," he said, "to find that one performs some skill less well than even the smallest child? I would not worry about it, Miss Moore. You will do well with practice. You are relaxed. Many people tense up as soon as they step on ice. Then of course when they fall, which they inevitably do, they fall very heavily. I hate even to remember some of the bruises I sported during the first winter of my marriage to Faith."

  Jessica laughed.

  "Let us try an experiment," he said. "Link one of your arms firmly through mine. Right. That will do. Now let us see if you can skate along with me. Quite sedately, ma'am, as if we were strolling through Hyde Park on a spring afternoon. I shall not let you fall."

  And without the total support of one of his strong arms beneath each of hers, Jessica found that the thing was still possible. When her skates did suddenly move too fast and threatened to leave the rest of her behind, the arm through which her own was linked tightened with reassuring firmness and she regained her balance with only a slight loss of dignity.

  "How well you are doing, my dear Miss Moore," the cheerful voice of Lady Hope called as she and Sir Oodfrey came skating effortlessly up to them. Her cheeks beneath the fur-lined hood of her blue cape were glowing brighter than ever. A few strands of dark hair had blown loose about her face.

  "I am afraid I owe all my prowess to the steadiness of Lord Bradley," Jessica said ruefully.

  "I am quite sure you would do equally well with a little support from any partner," Lady Hope said. "All you need is confidence, my dear. Sir Godfrey, I am sure you would enjoy taking a turn about the ice with Miss Moore. Do so, please. Do not mind me. I have promised to play with the children."

  "And I have just been congratulating myself on capturing the best skater on the ice for my partner," Sir Godfrey said, relinquishing her hand. "You are quite wasted on the children, ma'am."

  "Oh, is not that a foolish thing?" she said. "Your flattery is quite outrageous, sir. What would you want with twirling about the ice with someone like me? Aubrey, if we can arrange the children in two long lines, each clasping the waist of the one in front, we could have a very enjoyable race-you at the head of one line and me at the head of the other."

  Lord Bradley groaned. "Try Charles with your mad schemes, Hope, please," he said. "I intend persuading Faith to skate sedately around the perimeter with me, as befits a couple approaching middle age. She thinks she is of an age to retire from skating altogether, of course. I intend to disabuse her."

  Jessica found her arm being transferred very carefully to Sir Godfrey's.

  "Come then, Miss Moore," he said, smiling cheerfully down at her. "Lady Hope thinks she has very subtly thrown us together in company again. She will eventually be most disappointed, will she not, when she discovers that we do not have a tendre for each other at all?"

  Jessica skated gingerly at his side. He was not nearly as large and solid as Lord Bradley. "You mean you do not?" she asked. "I am shattered, sir."

  "No, you are not," he said. "I believe Miss Jessica Moore has eyes for only one gentleman, and he, alas, is not I. Perhaps it is just as well that my feelings too are otherwise engaged."

  Jessica looked up at him quite startled, completely forgetting that every jot of her attention needed to be focused on her skating. One foot shot out from under her, she turned to try to grasp her partner's arm with her free hand, her feet became hopelessly tangled up with each other, and somehow she found herself sprawled ignominiously face-down on the ice.

  Pain was lost for the moment in embarrassment. Some female close to her shrieked. Several children laughed. Sir Godfrey apologized.

  "My dear Miss Moore," he was saying. "Are you hurt, ma'am? How could I have let you fall like that? I am most dreadfully sorry."

  Jessica pushed herself to her knees and brushed ineffectually at the snow that clung to her cloak. "I am all right," she said in a daze. "How foolish of me."

  She took a firm grasp of the arm held out to her and pulled herself somehow to her feet with its help. She clung with both hands.

  "Oh, thank you," she said, looking up into the rather amused face of the Earl of Rutherford.

  "Oh, but you have hurt yourself," he said, the amusement fading. He pulled his glove off his free hand with his teeth, reached into a pocket for a handkerchief, and stuffed in the glove in its place. "You have cut your mouth."

  She was totally his captive. The death grip she had on one of his arms was the only thing that ensured her survival, she was sure. Several people skated up to them to exclaim and commiserate. Sir Godfrey hovered, delivering abject apologies until Lord Rutherford sent him off to deputize for him in Lady Hope's race. He dabbed the handkerchief gently against Jessica's lips. She was shocked to see it come away red. Her mouth was only just beginning to throb.

  "Come," he said, "we will go and sit on the bench for a while. No, don't look so terrified." The amusement was back in his eyes for a moment. "I promise you will not fall again. I shall pick you up and carry you if you wish, but it would be a most ignoble end to an heroic first skating lesson, do you not think?"

  They were seated on the rickety bench a minute later, Lord Rutherford again turning his attention and his handkerchief to Jessica's mouth. She reached for the handkerchief in some embarrassment, but he tightened his grip on it.

  "There is no mirror here," he said. "Let me do it. What did you do, do you remember? Did you bang your lip on the ice or bite it as you fell? A foolish question. You are quite incapable of answering at the moment. Let me see."

  He took the handkerchief away and she felt a gentle thumb at either side of her mouth pulling down her lower lip.

  "It is not as bad as it could be," he said. "You have not bitten the inside of your mouth. You may have a fat lip for a day or so, Jess, but I do believe you will be able to enjoy your Christmas dinner tomorrow."

  His eyes were on her mouth. Uncomfortable feelings were churning Jessica's insides, completely distracting her mind from the throbbing lip. She felt no better at all when he looked up into her eyes and grinned.

  "Do you have any other injuries?" he asked. "Two scraped knees, for example?"

  "No!" Jessica said very firmly. "I am quite all right, I do assure you, my lord. This is all very humiliating."

  "And certainly not the memory to leave with the whole houseful of guests," he agreed. "Come. You will skate with me."

  "No," she said sharply. "No, I think I have entertained everyone quite sufficiently for one day, my lord. I shall go back to the house. I wish to talk to my grandfather."

  "If you leave now, Jess," he said, "you will never find the courage to return to the ice, you know."

  "I do not feel I shall consider the lack the great tragedy of my life," she said.

  "Coward!" he accused, grinning. "You were doing quite nicely with Aubrey. Godfrey, of course, is a careless creature who probably became so absorbed in conversation that he forgot he was your sole prop and staff. Trust me. I will not let you fall."

  It was the charge of cowardice that did it, probably. Jessica rose to the challenge even as she realized that the word had been deliberately thrown out to goad her. She got to her feet and wobbled slightly even before he jumped up and drew one arm firmly through his.

  "Try this," he said when he had lifted her down to the ice. A few lone skaters were twirling around. The main bulk of children and some of the adults were in a dense and noisy group at the far end of the ice, the race presumably over. "We will preten
d we are waltzing. You may put your hand firmly on my shoulder. Grasp one of my capes if you will feel safer. Your other hand quite firmly in mine. And my other hand at your waist like this. Now, have you ever felt safer in your life?"

  Many, many times, Jessica thought, her face upturned to his, drowning in his eyes. Oh yes, at almost any other moment of her life that anyone would care to name she had felt considerably safer than she did at this moment.

  "One problem," he said. "We cannot possibly waltz without music, can we? I would hum a tune, Jess, but I am afraid you would not even recognize my efforts as music. You will have to do it."

  "Hum a tune?" she asked, incredulous.

  "A waltz tune," he said. "Any one, Jess. Anything that goes one, two, three, one, two, three."

  "How foolish!" she said, glad of her cold-reddened cheeks that must mask the blush she could feel hiding beneath.

  "Coward, Jess?" he asked with one eyebrow raised, and she found herself humming a waltz tune that she remembered from Lord Chalmers's ball.

  "Mm, lovely," he said, smiling down at her and skating slowly backward in time to the music, drawing her with him. "But we will have to make one adjustment for your safety. Clasp both hands around my neck, Jess, and I shall set one on either side of your waist. Ah, much better, is it not? The music again, please, ma'am."

  She wanted to cry. How very stupid to want to cry. She felt so safe. It w:as her hold of him and his of her that kept her on her feet, of course, but she felt light, as if she skimmed over the ice of her own volition. They moved very slowly, but the hissing of their skates on the ice gave an impression of speed. His eyes held hers as she hummed her tune almost without realizing that she still did so. For the space of perhaps two minutes nothing and no one existed outside the circle of their arms.