* * *
After they’d shared a refreshing cup, waving off Miss Overton’s protest that she really ought to retire, Stephen said, ‘Not quite yet, Miss Overton. I’ve prevailed upon my good friend to do yeoman duty, playing for us. Now it’s only fair that I play and allow him the pleasure of dancing with you.’
Her eyes widening, Miss Overton looked over at Hugh. Once again, their gazes caught and held. ‘I... I doubt he has any interest in dancing with me,’ she faltered.
She was wrong—oh, how wrong she was! With the music having lightened the weight of all his burdens, he felt more alive than he had for months. And every fibre of that more responsive body craved the feel of her in his arms.
Painfully conscious of how sharp that desire was, Hugh probably would have refused her hand had Stephen not practically shoved Miss Overton at him. ‘Come now, Glendenning! Surely you don’t mean to insult the lady by refusing to dance with her.’
‘It’s probably not appropriate—’ she started to protest.
‘Perhaps not in the squire’s parlour,’ Stephen cut her off. ‘But we’re at Somers Abbey, among just old—and new—friends. And I promise you, Glendenning is eager to dance with you. As you should be with him. He was accounted one of the finest dancers in the regiment—after me, of course.’
‘I’m sure he doesn’t—’
‘Oh, but he does,’ Hugh found himself saying. Hell and damnation, he knew touching her wasn’t wise, but the presence of a guest that made this opportunity possible wouldn’t last much longer. Easily shrugging off the feeble protest of his conscience, he held out his hand. ‘Miss Overton, would you do me the honour of this dance?’
Gazing up at him, she swallowed hard and for a moment he feared she would refuse. But apparently she was no more able to resist the madness than he was. ‘I would be delighted, Colonel,’ she said at last.
A moment later, Stephen played the opening measures and Hugh pulled her close. Close enough to smell the delicate rose scent she wore, to feel the warmth of her waist under his hand, a warmth that seemed to burn through his gloves and set his fingers—and his desire—ablaze.
As he moved her into the rhythm of the dance, he sensed the softness of her skin under the gown’s satin veiling. The brush of her breasts against his chest as he twirled her around the room hardened him instantly, making him ache with need.
Intoxicated by her nearness, he whirled her through the movements, each spiral further loosening the years-long stranglehold he’d maintained over his senses. Leaning his chin into the silk of her hair, he tightened his grip on her waist, his fingers memorising the curve of hip and the swell of belly. He pulled her closer still, until he could feel the whole length of her torso against his, his deprived senses devouring the feel of her and ravenous for more.
When the last note sounded, he glided to a halt with her still in his arms. Standing there, the rapid tattoo of her heartbeat vibrating against his chest, he couldn’t seem to let her go.
When he did not release her, she looked up at him, her gaze questioning—but made no move to pull away. In her eyes he saw the same reckless need that was pulsing through him.
Exultant, conscious of nothing but the woman in his arms, he bent down to kiss her.
In the last instant before his lips would have touched hers, he heard it—just a breathless little gasp. Of surprise, of need—or of protest?
Whatever it meant, that small sound gave his appalled brain just enough time to wrench control back from his rampaging body.
Trembling, he straightened and pushed himself away from her. Had he really meant to commit the incredible folly of ravaging her mouth, right here in the salon, with his best friend looking on?
Calling upon every ounce of discipline instilled in him through fifteen years’ service as a soldier, he made himself drop his hands to his sides and back away.
But before he could summon words to frame an apology, with a stuttered ‘Ex-excuse me’, she picked up her skirts and ran from the room.
* * *
‘Confound it, you idiot, go after her!’
Stephen’s strident voice completed Hugh’s return to full recognition of where he was—and what he’d almost done.
‘Now?’ he objected, looking over at his friend. ‘Granted, I owe Miss Overton an apology for...’
Luring her in? Frightening her with his inappropriate passion?
Leaving the sentence unfinished, he went on, ‘Given the haste of her departure, I imagine at this moment I’m the last person she wants to see. I... I should allow her time to compose herself.’
Certainly he needed time to gather his scrambled wits and make sure his randy body was back under control before he faced her again.
‘Well, you’re not the only one who owes her an apology,’ Stephen said grimly. ‘And mine had better not wait.’
Chapter Eleven
Halting in the corridor several rooms away, Olivia raised a hand to lips that tingled in the wake of the Colonel’s nearness.
He had been about to kiss her—she was absolutely sure of it. Though everything within her had yearned to respond, some primitive sense of impending danger had sent her fleeing from the room.
Alarm coursed through her anew as she thought again about what she had nearly done. Or rather, what she had nearly let the Colonel do.
No man she’d ever waltzed with had affected her like the Colonel. Despite the mindless yearning that drew her to him, her limited experience hadn’t prepared her to know how to manage such powerful feelings.
Feelings that she, as merely an employee, absolutely could not allow herself to develop for her employer.
It was past time for her to return to her duties and forget she’d ever been granted the indulgence of dining with him, dancing with him...
‘Are you all right, Miss Overton?’
Startled, Olivia looked back to find Mr Saulter hurrying after her, concern in his gaze. ‘Won’t you come into the dining room? Let me pour you some wine.’
Still too stunned to feel embarrassed, she let him take her arm and lead her into the silent room, where he swiftly relit several branches of candles on the table and sideboard before pouring them each a glass.
Motioning her to a chair, he said, ‘Please, sit and drink this. You’ve had...something of a shock, for which I fear I am mostly responsible.’
‘What just happened?’ she murmured as she seated herself—and was aghast to realise she’d uttered the question aloud.
Taking a chair beside her, Mr Saulter gave a short laugh. ‘Something I should have managed better. You see, these last few days, Hugh has seemed so much more alive, so much more like the man I first knew in India, that I got ahead of myself. I was so excited to observe how he responded to you, I pushed him too hard. And was most unfair to you in the process. I assure you, he meant no disrespect!’
Feeling her face colour, Olivia shook her head. ‘It wasn’t his fault. The dance—the music—I’m afraid I was carried away, too.’
‘Please, you aren’t the one who needs to apologise!’ Sighing, he continued, ‘I’ve observed what a great help you’ve been to him, taking care of his wards and easing him into shouldering a burden that can’t be anything but painful. I don’t think I’m in error in thinking you admire the Colonel and are concerned for his well-being.’
‘No, of course not. I wish to assist him in any way possible.’
Saulter nodded. ‘That’s what I thought. So believing that, I hoped you wouldn’t mind my encouraging his attraction to you. You can’t imagine how much it gladdened my heart to see him show signs of admiring, and coming to trust, another lady, after what he’s endured! I had begun to despair that he would ever get over Lydia’s betrayal and the manner of her death. After all, to suffer the pain and humiliation of having your wife run off with another man hard on the heels of losing your only son—I can’t
even imagine the agony!’
About to take a sip of her wine, Olivia’s hand froze on the glass. ‘What?’ she gasped, certain she could not have heard Saulter correctly. ‘I—I thought his wife died shortly after the death of their son.’
‘Oh, she did—’ Saulter broke off abruptly. ‘D-Didn’t you assure me, when I enquired earlier tonight, that you were fully aware of the sad circumstances surrounding the tragedies that occurred to Glendenning in India?’
‘I... I know that his son died suddenly of a fever, and that his wife perished a short while later—that is all.’
Closing his eyes briefly, Saulter swore under his breath. ‘Then I’m afraid I’ve just been horridly indiscreet.’
Olivia shook her head, unable to make sense of it. She simply couldn’t imagine how any woman lucky enough to have won Hugh Glendenning’s love could have ended up betraying and abandoning him. ‘You can’t be telling me that the Colonel’s wife...left him?’
Catching herself, she added hastily, ‘I shouldn’t enquire further, particularly if you have pledged to keep silent about the matter. I’m just...shocked. And heartbroken for him. As if losing his son and wife alone weren’t enough of a blow.’
Grimacing, Saulter nodded his agreement. ‘Horrible, all of it. Having dropped such a lighted cannon ball to explode in your face, I suppose I can’t leave it at that. I’m not pledged to silence and, sadly, all the tawdry details were soon known to every Englishman and woman in the cantonment, and probably passed along to every English settlement from Delhi to Calcutta.’
‘How perfectly awful for him. I... I wouldn’t enquire, but knowing the circumstances surrounding the deaths of his wife and son would allow me to guard against inadvertently saying or doing something that would touch on that grief. By the way, as far as I can tell, no one in Somerset knows more about his wife’s death than that she passed away soon after their child died.’
‘That’s a mercy anyway. I’d halfway feared Hugh had imprisoned himself here, refusing to see any of the neighbours, to avoid the scandal.’
‘I’m not acquainted with any of the gentry in the neighbourhood, so I can’t say for sure about them, but none of the long-time retainers at Somers Abbey are aware of it, I’m certain.’
Travers couldn’t have assured her of the Colonel’s undying love and loyalty to his wife had she known of it, Olivia thought.
‘Very well, with the goal of having you avoid any missteps, I’ll give you the bare details.’ After taking a long pull on his wine glass, Saulter said, ‘Not that Glendenning ever discussed it with me, but it had become obvious for some time before his son’s death that all was not well between him and his wife. Lydia...never adjusted to living in India. The smells, the insects, the wild animals, the unintelligible languages and strange customs of its people—all the foreignness that made the land so fascinating to her husband and me made her anxious and fretful. In those last months, she often complained publicly that Glendenning neglected her. Not that she lacked for companionship, not when even the plainest European females are besieged with invitations to dance or play cards or stroll about the cantonment. I think... I think the death of their son was simply the last straw for her and Hugh was too submerged in his own grief to be able to help her.’
‘How sad for them both.’
Saulter nodded. ‘In any event, she persuaded one of her most fervent admirers to run away with her, intent on returning to England. But the rivers, always treacherous, were swollen from the monsoon rains. Somewhere on the trip downriver, the boat capsized. There were no survivors.’
‘Awful,’ she murmured. ‘Simply awful. I can’t imagine how he managed to keep going.’
‘I have to admit, I worried for a while that he might put a pistol to his head. Instead, he pushed everyone away, refused to attend any social functions, even with the officers of the regiment, and buried himself in his work. Until he was notified of his brother’s death and was obliged to come back to England to claim his inheritance.’
‘Where he once again buried himself in his work.’
‘Yes. He...he does admire you, Miss Overton. And I can see that he has begun to trust you, at least in the matter of his wards. I can only beg you to proceed...kindly with him. As for the debacle of that waltz, I’d be willing to bet he hasn’t touched a woman since the last time he embraced his wife, and—well, a man is a man. But Glendenning is a man of iron will. He wouldn’t have lost control of himself if he hadn’t...let down his guard around you. Please remember that and don’t judge him too harshly.’
‘I can only repeat, he wasn’t the only one...letting down his guard,’ she said ruefully. ‘This does...somewhat complicate things moving forward.’
Saulter sighed. ‘I’m afraid my little trick with the waltz may have made things awkward for both of you.’
‘Well, we shall simply have to get beyond it,’ she said briskly. ‘Much as I’ve enjoyed your company, I think it best if I resume my place as the governess of the household and no longer dine in your company.’
‘Although I am most unhappy with that proposal on my own account, I have to admit, that would probably make it easier for Glendenning. For both of you.’
She nodded, despite the protest rising within her. But she squelched it. She needed time to think through the implications of the horrifying truths she’d just discovered before she could chart out how best to go forward while causing herself and her employer the least amount of embarrassment.
‘Then I shall finish my wine and bid you goodnight, and goodbye, Mr Saulter. I truly have enjoyed our evenings together.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘Save for the last little bit tonight.’
‘Not nearly as much as I have enjoyed them, I assure you, Miss Overton! These evenings and also the chance to meet Hugh’s charming wards yesterday. What sweet girls they are! Finally, you must let me apologise again, as I shall do to Glendenning, for thrusting you into so uncomfortable a position.’
‘Apology accepted.’ Taking the last sip of her wine, she set down the glass. ‘Let me thank you again for trusting me with a full account of the Colonel’s losses. Goodnight, Mr Saulter.’
‘Goodnight, Miss Overton,’ he said, rising as she did. Just before she reached the threshold, he said, ‘I do hope my...unfortunate revelations tonight haven’t altered your opinion of—or will alter your behaviour around—the Colonel.’
She shook her head. ‘I can only admire him more for enduring what he has suffered. And I assure you, he will never receive the merest hint from me that I am aware of the true circumstances of his wife’s death.’
‘Thank you, Miss Overton. You are a princess among women.’
The princess whose time at the ball was over, she thought as she made her way upstairs to her chamber. Back to her rags and ashes...and thinking through how she was to meet the Colonel again without her cheeks flaming at the wanton encouragement she’d given him for that kiss that never happened.
She wasn’t sure what pained her more—returning to the loneliness and isolation of her governess’s life, or being cheated out of the kiss she’d wanted so badly.
* * *
Fortunately, Mary was sleepy enough that she was content to help Olivia out of her gown and go straight back to bed without peppering her with questions about her evening. Once the maid had gone, she carefully folded the gown in tissue paper and slid it to the back of the wardrobe.
She wouldn’t be needing it again at Somers Abbey.
Cinderella’s day was done and it was for the best. Worse than having her employer nearly kiss her tonight was admitting how much she’d wanted him to. Though her treacherous emotions had initially rejoiced at realising that Saulter’s revelations about the death of the Colonel’s wife meant, contrary to Travers’s belief, he had not set his late wife up on a pedestal, a paragon to whom no other female could measure up, a parallel realisation soon dissipated that excitement.
How could he allow himself to love or trust any woman again? Why would he even want to?
Even though, as Saulter had put it, ‘a man is only a man’, and natural physical desires couldn’t be repressed for ever, she suspected that only the exceptional intimacy of the waltz had induced the Colonel to relax the iron control he maintained over himself. No matter how much lust he might feel, under normal circumstances, so rigidly honourable a man would let no sign of it show.
What had happened tonight did not change the truth she’d been repeating to herself ever since the dining adventure had begun. There was no prince waiting for her. She was an indigent female who would live out her life earning her bread. The Colonel was simply her employer.
She thought he liked her and hoped that he approved of her handling of his wards, but that was as far as any relationship between them could go. As attractive and admirable as she found him, she’d be a fool to let her emotions become any more entangled. Especially not for a man whose tragic past meant it would likely be impossible for him to ever truly love or trust a woman again.
As for the physical attraction between them, she was more at risk from the promptings of her own desires than she was from the Colonel’s. She must guard against the dangerous temptation of indulging herself, just a little touch or brush against him there, lest she tempt the Colonel against his will into compromising her. Or worse, lured him in so completely, she became his fancy woman, forfeiting whatever respect she’d earned and being sent off in disgrace once his lust was sated.
She must shut her heart and mind to all the tantalising possibilities her attraction to him whispered about and focus on her sole reason for being at Somers Abbey—caring for the Colonel’s wards—no matter how much it saddened her to let those dreams go.
The Tempting of the Governess Page 13
