by Rose Gordon
She stopped walking and looked over her shoulder at him. “Drainage ditches?”
“You know, those shallow ruts in the ground that run downhill and away from the tenants’ houses,” he explained as if it were the most fascinating thing in existence.
“I know what they are.” She nudged him playfully with her elbow. “But why would he wish to talk about them?”
He waved a hand through the air. “Believe me, he'll be intrigued. He's a viscount, remember? He has tenants just like I do. He likes to talk about this kind of thing.”
“If you say so.” She stepped aside to let him open the door for her.
He followed her inside and went down the hall to his room, Emma right at his side. “Perhaps you should use a different room just now,” he suggested when she stopped outside his bedchamber door and looked as if she was waiting for him to open the door for her.
She blinked up at him. “Why?”
“Because I have no mirrors in there,” he said quickly. “I think you'll be all right to walk up the stairs now.”
She nodded somewhat sadly and climbed the stairs. He would have stopped to watch her as she went if he hadn't needed to change out of his wet clothes so badly.
As quickly and haphazardly as possible, Marcus put on another pair of trousers. His shirtsleeves, however, were not wet enough to bother changing. He put his stockings on and slipped into his boots before gathering his coat, waistcoat, and cravat. Walking down the hall, he slid his arms into his waistcoat and then his coat. He was certain he looked as disheveled as his friend Alex usually did, he just didn't care. Entering the room, Marcus glanced around to make sure Emma wasn't there yet as his fingers worked a knot in his cravat.
“Patrick, I need a favor,” he said without ceremony. “When Emma comes down, she's going to want to talk to you about the girls and their lessons. Please humor her and ask questions.”
Patrick blinked his brown eyes at him. “Why?”
Marcus glanced over his shoulder to make sure Emma wasn't in the hallway then closed the door. “In order to get her to stay, I told her you needed her to act as the girls' governess.”
A grin broke out across Patrick's face. “That's why she's willing to watch them five out of the ten days she's here? Wait, a governess is supposed to teach every day. I believe I'm being cheated.”
“Stop it. There's no time to argue about this. She'll be coming in here in a moment, and she truly believes she's their governess. Please treat her as such.”
“Doesn't she find it strange she's tutoring my girls at your house without ever talking to me directly about it?” Patrick wondered, cocking his head to the side.
“Yes.” Marcus sat down and bent forward to tie his bootlaces. “She also found the schedule you set for her odd. However, I've convinced her that's the way you want it because it's only temporary and she believed it, so please keep up with the charade.”
“All right. I can do that.”
Marcus nearly groaned at Patrick’s tone and the mischief in his eyes, but was glad he hadn’t when the door suddenly opened and Emma strode in.
Patrick's eyes widened in surprise at the way Emma’s bosoms nearly fell out of the front of her dress. “Miss Green, do you often dress that way?” he drawled.
“Patrick,” Marcus snapped, sending his friend a warning look.
“Right, well, Miss Green, I've come by today to discuss my daughters.” Patrick steepled his hands below his chin. “Would you care to tell me how you feel they're faring with their sums?”
“We haven't gotten that far, my lord,” Emma said, biting her lip. “And I should tell you—”
“Don't bother,” Patrick said, cutting her off. “Please have a seat.” He gestured to an open spot on the settee. “Mathematics was never their mother's chosen academic. I'd hoped they'd have inherited my way with numbers, but it's of no account really. How are they doing with their musical lessons?”
Emma’s brows knit together. “Musical lessons?”
“You know, the pianoforte or flute or some other instrument. You have been instructing them on how to play, haven't you?”
“Once,” she said, shooting Marcus a curious look. “But Lord Drakely, I should tell you—”
He dropped his head and held up a hand. “Don't,” he said, shaking his head. “Let me guess, they cannot play a single note, can they?”
“Well, no. But that's not—”
“I should have known,” he interrupted. “I must confess they get that from me. I tried to play the trumpet like Marcus here, and I never could get the sounds to come out right.”
“Well, their letters and numbers are good,” Emma said softly, clearly trying to make him feel better. “However— ”
He groaned loudly. “Don't tell me, they haven't a clue about fashion.”
“I don't think that's a problem,” she said slowly.
“Phew.” He wiped his sleeve across his forehead. “I was afraid I was going to have to fire the maid who dresses them if you were going to criticize the way they dressed.”
“Lord Drakely,” she said, catching his attention. “You do realize they are only four, eight, and nine, don’t you?”
“I know. I even know their birthdays.” He smiled as if he were the proudest man on Earth.
“That's good.”
“You bet it is. Ask any other lord of the realm, and he'd have trouble. But not me.”
Marcus couldn't help noticing the pride showing in the man's face. There was no mistaking the love he had for those three little girls. Emma must have noticed it, too. “That's very nice,” she said smoothly. “However, I'd like to talk to you about my post.”
“I'd like to, as well,” he agreed, sending a wave of dread to wash over Marcus. “Miss Green, I believe my girls would benefit from more of your tutoring, and I'd like to hire you permanently. You may start immediately. Girls,” he called. The three girls Marcus hadn't noticed in the corner came over to Patrick. “How would you like to see Miss Green every day?”
Three girls squealed with excitement.
“It's settled then,” Patrick said, smiling broadly. “Girls, Miss Green is to be your governess and you shall be staying here at Ridge Water until I'm done in London.”
The three little girls ran over to a stunned Emma and clung to her as if she were their saving grace.
Emma swallowed and smiled at them. Marcus could be wrong, but he thought he detected a hint of worry and possibly insincerity in her smile. “Lord Drakely,” she said stiffly. “May I speak to you privately?”
“There's no need.” He waved his hand in the air. “I've no doubt about your ability to give my daughters the best education. Although, I mean no offense, but I'd like to contract a seamstress for you.”
Emma's eyes went wide and red crept up her face, irritating Marcus to no end.
“Patrick, I need to speak to you for a moment in my study please,” Marcus nearly barked.
Patrick stared at him for a moment before gaining his feet. “I'll be back to say goodbye, girls.”
“What are you doing?” Marcus demanded once the study door closed.
Patrick smiled. “If she wants to be a governess, I have no problem letting her.”
Marcus scowled. “You know full well she wouldn't have stayed with me otherwise. Why did you have to go and do that? Now, when you're done in London she's going to insist on going with you.”
“No, she won't,” Patrick countered. “She has no desire to leave.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“She tried to quit on me half a dozen times in there. Not wanting my girls to suffer Mrs. Jenkins’ company alone for a week, I wouldn’t let her.”
Marcus’ jaw dropped. He raked his hand through his hair and tried to remember the previous conversation. Had Emma tried to resign? He honestly couldn’t remember. Patrick had interrupted her so much, it was hard to tell. Anyway, what would happen in a week if she didn’t go with Patrick? Would she go back to Caroline’s? She�
��d have to. She couldn’t stay here. His heart sank. She could never stay here. “Thank you,” he said solemnly, falling into a chair.
“For what?” Patrick asked, crossing his arms.
“Securing me another week with her,” Marcus replied, mentally planning what he’d do with her for that week.
“A week?” Patrick echoed in disbelief. “I think it’ll be longer than that. Besides, I should be the one thanking you for letting my girls stay here for a week.”
Marcus nodded, not really listening to his friend’s words. His thoughts were filled with more days like today. Perhaps tomorrow he’d take her for a picnic—
“You’re not planning to expose my girls to anything inappropriate, are you?” Patrick asked, breaking into Marcus’ thoughts.
He sighed. With three little girls underfoot, he’d not get more than five minutes alone with Emma to do anything inappropriate. “I’ll be on my best behavior,” he lied to Patrick, once again his mind trying to think up situations where he could have Emma all to himself.
“Good. I need to say farewell to the girls then leave for London.” Without waiting for another word from Marcus, Patrick left.
***
Emma tried to smile as the three girls bounced around, asking her what lessons she had planned for them. It was odd they were interested in lessons when just two days ago they appeared dreadfully bored. She'd tried to tell Drake she'd not be available for the post after all. Now that she'd told Marcus she loved him and he admitted the same feelings for her, it was just a matter of time before they married. She shouldn't get too attached to Drake's girls. She sighed. It was only for a week. When he returned from London, she'd resign. Just not verbally, of course. She'd have to write him a letter of resignation if she actually wanted him to let her go.
“All right, young ladies,” she said, standing up. “Let's go see what’s in the nursery, shall we?”
“I imagine it's full of dust and old books,” Drake offered from the door.
Emma whirled around and faced the smiling man. She stepped back as he told his girls he'd see them in a few days and reminded them to be on their best behavior for Miss Green.
“Actually, they'll need to be on their best behavior for me,” Marcus intoned. “Emma, Mrs. Crofter is here to see you now. I'll take Celia, Helena, and Kate to work on their first official music lesson.”
Drake chuckled. “Do you have some cotton for your ears?”
“No, and I don't believe I'll need any,” Marcus said smugly. “The other day I let them make merry with several of the spare instruments around here. You'd be surprised at the skill these three possess, especially, little Katie over there.”
Drake shot a disbelieving look at his youngest daughter, who smiled like a court jester.
“Say, why don't we put on a performance for you when you come back next weekend?” Marcus suggested, an amused grin on his lips.
Emma nearly choked on her laughter. What she remembered from the time Marcus let them play those instruments, those girls were awful. Not that she was musically inclined, but one didn't have to be in order to identify others who weren't.
Drake nearly growled but then smiled at his girls. “Very well,” he agreed, shaking his head ruefully. “I suppose I deserve that.”
Emma didn't know what he was talking about. However, Marcus did, because he said, “Excellent. I shall work with them an hour a day so they can play the perfect song for their papa upon his return next weekend.”
Nodding, Drake agreed and said one more quick goodbye to his daughters before leaving.
Marcus slipped out of the room for a minute and came back in with Mrs. Crofters. “Miss Green,” he said, looking at Emma. “Mrs. Crofters is going to do your fittings in here while I practice music with the girls. I hope that's all right.”
“That’s perfect,” she said with a grin, stepping back so two footmen could bring a dressing screen into the room. It wasn't appropriate for Marcus to be alone with the three young girls, nor alone with her. It was an odd situation, but if they all stayed in the same room with Mrs. Crofters present and able to go to both sides of the screen, it made the whole situation as acceptable as it could possibly be under the circumstances.
The girls ran over and each grabbed an instrument they fancied. Celia chose Olivia's old three-stringed violin (the fourth one was broken, of course). Helena decided she wanted to plunk out an awful tune on the pianoforte. Kate thought it necessary to pierce all their eardrums with the flute, while Marcus accompanied them on the trumpet. Emma slipped behind the screen and disrobed with the help of Mrs. Crofters.
An hour later, all three adults were ready to quit the room and see Cook for a tonic for headaches then take a nap; all three little girls, on the other hand, only left the room after having their chosen instruments pried from their little fingers and receiving a promise of a double portion of dessert if they didn’t so much as play or sing another note until this time tomorrow.
Chapter 12
Getting time alone with Emma proved harder than Marcus originally thought. Following her fitting, she'd taken the girls up to the third floor to become familiar with Ridge Water’s nursery, and he didn't see them again until dinnertime.
After they ate, she helped them bathe and dress for bed before retiring to her room for the night.
Much to his dismay, on Monday he only saw her at breakfast and dinner.
At nine that night, his arms ached to hold her, his lips yearned to kiss her, and his eyes longed to see her so much so that his feet set out to find her.
By ten, he'd nearly given up his search when the door to the drawing room creaked open and a tired Emma stepped out. “Good evening, Marcus,” she said, looking slightly surprised, but mostly tired.
“Why aren’t you in bed yet?” He put his arms around her and pulled her to him.
“I had to come up with a lesson plan for tomorrow.” She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes.
He rubbed her back with long, even strokes, slightly swaying her. “Do you need any help, or do you have it all done?”
“It's done,” she said with a sigh.
He bent his head lower and kissed her soft lips. She responded instantly and opened her mouth to allow him entry. His hands tightened their hold on her as his tongue tangled with hers. She sighed against his mouth and he pressed his hard body against her soft, yielding one.
Her hands reached up and found his hair, twirling her fingers into the back. He groaned as she boldly pressed her hips into him, slowly grinding against his erection. Where had she learned to do that? “Emma.”
“I love you, Marcus,” she whispered as his lips trailed kisses from her lips down to her ear.
He parted his lips and lightly nipped her skin. “I love you, too,” he replied, dying to show her just how much, even though he knew he couldn't.
“Miss Green,” a four-year-old Kate called from somewhere on the stairs, startling them both.
“Yes.” Emma stepped back from Marcus. Her face was flushed and her hair was all out of sorts.
Kate walked further down the stairs. “I had a bad dream.” She wiped a tear from her eyes.
Emma walked up to the girl and picked her up. “How about we go to the kitchen to see if we can find something to eat, and you can tell me all about it,” she said, holding the girl against her breast.
“Mind if I join you?” Marcus asked.
“Only if you carry me.” Kate reached out to him.
Marcus smiled and took the little girl from Emma. “Lead the way, Miss Green.”
Emma flashed them a smile and strode down to the kitchen. Marcus put the little girl down in one of the chairs surrounding the small round table. He took a seat next to her while Emma dug through the pantry until she found some treats for them to eat.
She set them down in the middle of the table and took the seat directly across from Kate. Marcus took one of the biscuits and handed it to an anxious Kate. She took the treat from him and ate
it without another word.
Marcus grinned at her then turned his gaze to Emma. She was looking down at Kate, her brows knit in worry. Under the table, Marcus extended his foot in her direction and brushed her calf with his.
She looked his way and he immediately turned his attention to Kate. Though he wasn't looking at Emma, he could feel her eyes on him—he continued to brush her leg with his.
Emma reached out and took a biscuit. His gaze trained on Kate, he nearly jumped out of his skin when the side of Emma’s foot touched his ankle and made a slow, provocative trail up to his knee before descending back to his ankle.
His eyes shifted to Emma. She wasn't looking at him now. Her foot was still resting on top of his, but her eyes were resting on Kate. “Would you like to talk about your dream?” she asked, reaching forward to push a stray lock of Kate's hair off her forehead.
The little girl shook her head.
“All right,” Emma said slowly. “Do you need anything to drink? Some water or milk, perhaps?”
“Milk,” Kate said, snatching another biscuit.
“Milk it is.” Emma left the room then came back with a little container of milk. She poured the little girl half a glass. “Will that be enough?”
Kate eyed the glass for a second before nodding. “It should do.”
Marcus and Emma both chuckled at her expression. “Would you like some, too?” Emma asked him.
He shook his head. He wasn't much of a milk drinker. Water, tea, and lemonade were his preferred drinks.
Emma sat back down, and the three sat quietly while the little girl finished her snack. After she was done, Marcus watched as Emma escorted Kate back up the stairs to put her to bed. It would likely be tomorrow night before he got to see Emma again, he thought sadly, walking to his bedchamber.
Fortunately for Marcus, it wasn't an entire day before he saw her again. After breakfast the next morning, she asked him if he had any mounts which would be suitable for the older girls. He closed his eyes and inwardly cringed. Ever since his accident, he'd been wary of horses and had only ridden when absolutely necessary, never for pleasure.
