“All right. If Miss Palmer will indulge us, let us add three more big people to the group.” He smiled as the children whooped their delight with the additions.
For the next half hour and more the three children and their six newfound playmates vied to secure a decreasing number of seats. Each time the music stopped, there was a mad scramble for seats, much giggling and laughter, and one person would be eliminated. When Trenville was eliminated on the second round, he came to stand beside the pianoforte to watch as the game progressed.
He also watched the musician and during one of her pauses, he said, “May I?” with a gesture toward the bench.
She smiled uncertainly, but slid over and took up the music again for the players. He put his hands to the keys and they quickly developed an impromptu duet. He looked at her, his eyes filled with laughter. After a minute or two, she gave the signal for the music to stop and there was the mad scramble again.
“Surprised you, hmm?” he asked. “See—you are not the only one who had a parent with rather unorthodox ideas about education. My mother insisted all her children learn to play an instrument.”
“You play very well, my lord,” she said.
He smiled. “Only the simplest of tunes, Miss Palmer. I haven’t your talent.” His eyes held hers for a moment, then he reluctantly pulled his gaze away.
As they took up the tune again, he was acutely aware of her hip and leg touching his own and an occasional brushing of their hands as they reached for keys.
Adrian was disconcerted by his physical reaction to the governess. After all, there had been many a comely damsel among his staff and those employed by his parents as well. Early on, it had been drilled into him and his brother that Whitson men just did not take advantage of persons in their employ. If that dictum required passing up even a blatant invitation now and again, so be it.
Temptation had never been a serious problem—until now.
Good thing I am to leave for London and then Derbyshire in a few days, he told himself.
The next day Adrian noted that Gabrielle, or, more likely, the housekeeper, had, indeed, found a suitable habit for Miss Palmer. It was not in the first stare of fashion, of course, nor was the dull brown color and serviceable woolen fabric particularly attractive. The matching hat had seen better days. In view of his reaction to her the day before, it was just as well that she looked more the part of a dowdy governess this morning, he thought sourly.
She had come to the stables this morning in response to his summons. He was there before her and had his own mount, a nervous gray stallion, saddled and ready as a groom brought out a mare for her.
“Oh! She is beautiful,” Elinor said. She patted the mare’s neck and crooned to her softly. “And you are a very proud lady, are you not?”
“Actually, her name is Lady—Lady Titania, that is,” Adrian said, offering Elinor a hand to swing into the saddle.
“The fairy queen. It fits, I think.”
“We will go through the south pasture,” Adrian said as he swung into his own saddle. “There is a trail down there to the beach.” He gestured for her to ride ahead so that he could observe her handling of the horse.
The mare was skittish, tossing her head, and a good deal less than cooperative, but he could see that Miss Palmer had little difficulty establishing her own mastery of the situation.
“She has not been ridden much of late,” Adrian said.
“I gathered as much. The Lady Titania has great spirit,” she replied, devoting her attention to maintaining her seat. He noted that she did so with the poise of an experienced horsewoman.
He watched carefully as she managed the ride down a steep incline. He was prepared to leap to her rescue if necessary, but she was more than a match for the task. He was frankly admiring of her skill. By the time they reached the sandy beach, Miss Palmer and her mount had become good friends, moving in unison and seeming to enjoy each other. Adrian pulled his mount up beside the sorrel mare. Elinor patted the mare’s neck affectionately.
“Are you all right with her, then?” Adrian asked.
“Oh, yes. She is wonderful! I thank you so much for allowing me this treat.”
“Good. Then, what say we let them really go? Saracen and I shall race you to that rock down there.” He pointed to a boulder rising at the edge of the sea some distance away.
She eyed his mount appraisingly and gave him a look half questioning, half accusing, but she said nothing.
“All right,” he said, laughing. “We will give you a count of ten as a head start.”
“That is better.” She flashed him a grin and urged the mare into a trot, then a gallop. The wind whipped the hat from her head so it hung by its ribbons on her back. Despite the head start, the Lady Titania was no match for the stallion which reached the designated rock slightly ahead of the mare.
“That was absolutely marvelous!” Elinor exulted, her breath coming in short bursts. “It has been so long since I have ridden like this!”
Adrian observed the woman at his side. Several strands of hair had escaped her prim governess bun, giving her a carefree look. Her cheeks were bright pink with the cold of the morning and her exertion. Behind her glasses, her eyes were brilliant with the excitement of the ride. He was breathing hard himself, but he was not entirely sure it was from exertion. Suddenly, he wanted to kiss her and even allowed his mount to move closer to hers before abruptly catching himself.
“Shall we walk a bit, then?” he asked, dismounting and turning toward her. He reached to help her down, placing his hands at her waist.
She slid into his arms and it was the most natural thing in the world for those arms to tighten around her ever so slightly. He drank in the flowery scent of whatever it was she used to wash her hair. His eyes were on her lips.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
He let her go and stepped back a pace, stunned by the effect of her nearness. It seemed to him that they both held their breath for a moment, then she said, “Did I pass?”
“Hmm?” His mind was still elsewhere.
“Did my riding skills meet with your approval?”
“Oh. Yes. Of course. You ride superbly, Miss Palmer. You may take the Lady out any time you like. I shall inform the stable.” He gathered the reins of both horses and handed hers over to her.
“Thank you.” She reached one hand to push errant strands of hair behind her ears. His fingers fairly itched to perform that task for her. He turned away abruptly.
They walked in silence for a few minutes. Then they began to discuss riding lessons for the children and, by the time he assisted her to remount and they returned to the stables, he thought the employer-employee relationship had been restored.
Five
Lady Elinor Richards was still in a dither as she raced the mare across a field a few mornings later. Never had she found herself so attracted to a man. Of course, she had experienced the usual schoolgirl infatuations—she recalled with no little embarrassment some treacly poems to a music teacher. And there had been the squire’s son who had always asked her to dance at country assemblies and sneaked a kiss once or twice. He had been safely married these two years and more.
She had even had a most respectable offer at the end of her season, but happily her father allowed her to refuse that erstwhile swain. Now here, in the person of Lord Trenville, was a man who stirred her as no other had before, a man who would be eminently suitable, had they only met under ordinary circumstances. But here she was—the governess—who could no more command his attention than Lady Titania!
Yet she felt sure there was at least some attraction on his part as well. A certain expression on his face when his eyes met hers. A certain shyness when they had played the pianoforte for the musical game. And she just knew he had been about to kiss her on the beach that morning. How would she have responded, had he done so? Probably like a shameless wanton, she admonished herself, remembering the feel of his arms as he helped her dismount.
Afte
r their return to the stables, and in the time since, it seemed to Elinor that the marquis deliberately avoided her. She had, of course, been occupied with her duties, so could not be certain her perception of his attitude was correct. He had been polite and meticulously proper whenever they chanced to meet.
The previous evening, Gabrielle had invited neighboring landowners, along with Captain Olmstead and two of his officers, to an informal dinner party. The guests included a local squire who had earned a knighthood for some long forgotten service to the now ailing king. Along with the squire’s wife and spinster daughter, there was a baronet and his wife. Lady Vincent seemed to take great pride in her title and was obsequiously pleased to have been invited to the home of a marquis. The baronet’s lady did not trouble to conceal her surprise that the governess had actually been included.
Elinor was more amused than chagrined by the woman’s attitude. Nevertheless, she took a faint dislike to her. Lady Vincent struck Elinor as very like her uncle’s guest, Lady Hempton, another who used gossip—the more salacious, the better—as an entre to society. Trenville’s French chef outdid himself with a sumptuous meal that included three fish dishes and two meats, not to mention side dishes and desserts. Afterward, there had been charades and lively conversation in the drawing room.
Elinor was speaking quietly with the squire’s daughter when Gabrielle broke into their conversation.
“Miss Palmer, I am feeling a bit chilled. Would you be so kind as to fetch my shawl for me?” Her voice carried clearly to the ladies she had been talking with and to the gentlemen standing near, including Adrian and Captain Olmstead.
Elinor was startled by the request, a thinly veiled directive. “Of course, my lady,” she murmured.
“Surely a servant can be summoned for that,” Adrian said quietly to his sister-in-law.
“Well ...” Gabrielle responded, her tone clearly suggesting that she had done precisely that. She had caught the attention of the other guests.
“Truly, I do not mind,” Elinor said softly, her tone belying the two spots of color on her cheeks. “I shall just be a moment.”
Adrian gave Elinor a look that seemed to express gratitude at her avoiding a scene, but the look he gave the marchioness was a good deal less than amiable.
Elinor fumed as she made her way to the marchioness’s chamber and secured the shawl from her ladyship’s maid. How dare the woman treat her as a common servant! Never in her entire life had Lady Elinor Richards suffered such a public set-down. Ah, but Miss Palmer undoubtedly has, she told herself. Perhaps it is just as well to be reminded of your position in this household. She paused to take a deep breath before reentering the drawing room.
As she unobtrusively handed the Frenchwoman the shawl, there occurred one of those simultaneous gaps in several conversations that occasionally happen at such gatherings. Suddenly the gossip Lady Vincent was relaying to the ever-receptive Gabrielle commanded everyone’s attention. And chilled Elinor’s blood.
“I tell you, my dear, the girl seems to have just disappeared. Though ‘girl’ is hardly the term, I think. She has been on the shelf for three or four years already.”
“It is not true then that she joined her godmother in Italy?” Gabrielle asked.
“That is the story her uncle is still giving out, but my cousin Arabella says it cannot possibly be true. The godmother,” here Lady Vincent’s voice became a stage whisper, “is with Princess Caroline and Arabella’s sister is there, too, and she writes nothing of this Richards chit being there.”
“But why would her uncle put such a story about if it were not true?” Gabrielle asked ingenuously.
“Why, indeed?” Lady Vincent’s tone was knowing. “ ’Tis not unknown for females in an ‘interesting condition’ to suddenly be traveling abroad, now is it? And, of course, now that the war is over, it is much easier to put that story about. But this case is strange because the uncle truly does not seem to know where that girl is.”
“Oh, dear, you do not mean to say . . .” Gabrielle seemed suddenly to realize the conversation was taking a rather indelicate turn for mixed company. “Well, perhaps she will turn up with a perfectly innocent explanation.”
At that comment, Elinor felt a surge of charity for the marchioness that warred with her previous vexation.
“Perhaps.” Lady Vincent’s tone was disbelieving. “But why is her uncle still looking for her on the sly? I tell you, there is something havey-cavey about it all.”
Olmstead had been standing nearby with Trenville and the baronet. Something in Elinor’s demeanor must have attracted the captain’s attention. He moved so that his group now included the ladies.
“Are you acquainted with the Richards woman, Miss Palmer?” he asked. When she turned startled eyes to him, he continued, “You appeared to recognize the name.”
Suddenly, everyone seemed to be looking at her. A frisson of fear snaked through her. She said a silent prayer. Please help me through this! Without conscious volition, she looked toward Trenville. He returned her gaze with interest.
“Uh ... no. I believe she is the daughter or sister of some earl. Mr. Huntington mentioned this story to us when he arrived.” She was surprised at how perfectly normal her voice sounded and how easily the lie slid off her tongue.
“The Earl of Ostwick,” Lady Vincent interjected, her tone condescending. “She is his sister. He is a mere schoolboy and Arabella writes that he says he knows nothing of her whereabouts, but his uncle does not believe him.”
“Arabella seems remarkably well informed,” Elinor said, hoping her mild tone concealed her contempt for the gossipy correspondent.
“Arabella is Lady Burton.” The baronet’s wife directed this information almost as a reprimand to the governess. “She is an intimate friend of the wife of the new earl’s guardian. Arabella says this story has all of London buzzing.”
“Until a new one comes along,” Elinor said tartly.
“Well,” Lady Vincent intoned with a sniff, “people in society care about one another.”
“I daresay they do,” Elinor responded. Too much, she added silently. Knowing she had been far too assertive for a governess, she was grateful when Gabrielle said something to divert the entire conversation.
In her own chamber later, she relived the apprehension and embarrassment she had felt. An “interesting condition” indeed! Is that what people were saying of her? And what would they say if they knew that the “Richards chit” had been living in a nobleman’s household these several weeks?
Oh, dear. Oh, dear! Oh, God! What had she done? If this ever came out, Lord Trenville would likely pay a terrible price in the gossip mill. It might even jeopardize his position with the government.
Peter was right. It had been one of her harebrained schemes. How many times in her youth had she gone off pursuing some idea or plan she had concocted, only to find she had not thought it through thoroughly enough? But what might be overlooked in a young girl could not be excused in a grown woman. She had thought only to escape her uncle’s perfidy, to avoid disaster for herself. She was devastated by the possibility that her actions could bring real harm to another, especially to a man who had treated her with fairness and generosity.
Please, she prayed silently, let me not be an instrument of harm to him.
Surely, though, the truth need not come out. Not if everything went as well as it had gone so far. As soon as she could collect her inheritance, she would, in truth, be off to the continent. There would be no need for the Earl of Ostwick’s sister and the Marquis of Trenville ever to be connected in any way.
But that thought gave her no comfort.
The next morning, there was another thought to give her little or no comfort. The marquis was gone. He had announced last night that he would be away for three weeks. He would journey to London to consult government figures and then be off to a house party his friends Lord and Lady Markholme were hosting in Derbyshire. The governess had been given directions in case of emergency. Now
, he was, indeed, gone. He had left long before the household awakened.
In the days that followed, Elinor’s routine remained the same, of course, but there was always something missing. She missed him at breakfast, though often as not, he had not appeared in the breakfast room. She missed the occasional morning ride with him, though there had been few enough of those. And she missed being able to share some tidbit of information regarding the children’s lessons or their other activities.
Not only was the marchioness, the other parent involved, simply not interested in such details, she spent very little time in the company of the schoolroom set. Elinor had observed that the Lady Gabrielle deplored spending any time alone—and she was happiest in the company of gentlemen. With them she was invariably charming, amusing, flirtatious. However, Elinor admonished herself for her critical thoughts, the woman’s behavior seemed never to stray beyond the limits of strict propriety. Her ladyship was engaged most evenings. When she was not invited elsewhere, she hosted local gentry, often inviting Captain Olmstead and other officers as well to dinner and card parties.
The governess was not left out of these activities. Elinor was even asked twice to perform at the pianoforte for the guests’ amusement. But often as not, Elinor now took her evening meal in the schoolroom, preferring the honest chatter of the children to the empty gossip that passed for conversation in the Abbey’s elegant dining room.
Thomas Huntington had remained in Devon. He seemed occupied most days with the ongoing task of reorganizing the library. He was frequently commandeered as a driver for Gabrielle’s visits. When no one else was available, Gabrielle settled for the secretary’s company. For his part, Huntington seemed happy enough to take her about.
Occasionally, Huntington would appear at the stables as Elinor arrived for her now customary morning ride, weather permitting. Having grown up in the area, he was a most informed and amiable companion on these mornings. Since she often sought refuge in the library, it was not unusual for them to be thrown together there as well. As two people of similar status in the household, an easy camaraderie grew between them.
My Lady Governess (Zebra Regency Romance) Page 6
