The Brooding Earl's Proposition

by Laura Martin

  ‘It is out of character with the rest of the house,’ she observed.

  Manresa House was imposing and severe whereas the folly was whimsical.

  ‘Courtesy of my great-grandfather,’ Lord Westcroft said quietly. ‘I understand he was quite mad. His father built Manresa House.’

  At the front of their little group Priscilla pushed open the door to the folly, revealing a spiral set of stairs winding up. Before Selina was inside Priscilla and Theodosia had started clattering up the wooden stairs, their blonde hair trailing out behind then as they ran.

  ‘After you,’ Lord Westcroft murmured, allowing Selina to ascend first. It was surprisingly tall, with the spiral staircase winding round and round again and again before opening out on to a platform at the top of the folly. With the girls already up there it was a tight squeeze for Selina and then Lord Westcroft to step up on to the wooden flooring.

  ‘Steady,’ Lord Westcroft said as she stepped back almost on to his foot. Selina glanced around, aware of his proximity, knowing she should press herself against the wall to make room.

  ‘No chance of seeing the sea today,’ Priscilla said, throwing a challenging look at Selina.

  ‘The conditions aren’t the clearest,’ Selina admitted. ‘But it is still pleasant to be out exploring the countryside.’

  Theodosia was standing on her tiptoes, squinting out into the distance and trying her very hardest to see the cliffs and the sea beyond. It was cloudy, the visibility poor beyond the immediate area, but Selina’s heart squeezed for the little girl as she looked, scrunching her nose with concentration.

  ‘This way,’ Lord Westcroft said quietly, directing his niece’s gaze. ‘If you look hard enough, you might see the white crest of a wave.’

  Priscilla rolled her eyes, slouching against the stonework.

  Stepping back to give Lord Westcroft the opportunity to move closer to his nieces, Selina stumbled, correcting herself quickly. Even before she had reached out a hand to grasp the parapet she felt Lord Westcroft’s hands on her waist.

  ‘Careful,’ he said quietly, his words tickling her ear. ‘It’s a long way down.’

  He held her for a moment longer, his hands seeming to burn through the fabric of her dress. Selina swallowed as his body brushed against hers momentarily before he released her and stepped to one side.

  As he leaned his forearms on the stone wall that ran round the edge of the tower Selina risked a glance sideways at him. Her heart was still pounding in her chest and she wasn’t entirely convinced it was because of her little stumble. No, her body was reacting to what had come after, that feather-light touch from a man she wasn’t even sure she liked.

  Lord Westcroft was attractive, there was no denying it. As well as his looks he exuded a self-confidence and sense of authority that were powerful.

  Selina looked away, gripping on to the parapet herself to give her a distraction. Thoughts of attraction were inappropriate and unhelpful. He was her employer, but more than that he was a man of the aristocracy. A man not to be trusted.

  ‘Shall we continue?’ Lord Westcroft motioned to the stairs.

  Obediently the girls clattered down, Selina following. She had to squeeze past Lord Westcroft to duck her head back through the low doorway and as she did so she felt a steadying hand on her arm.

  ‘Watch your footing,’ he said quietly, his eyes meeting hers.

  They descended the tower in silence, emerging once again into the ferocious wind at the bottom, the girls flattening themselves against the stonework to shelter from the gusts.

  ‘I think you are going to have to admit defeat,’ Lord Westcroft called above the wind.

  Selina chewed on her lip. She wanted longer, wanted to stride across the moors, to allow the girls to burn off some of the restless energy that had been building for the past few days. Even more than that she wanted a little longer with Lord Westcroft. For the children, of course, but if she was being completely honest with herself, for her, too. It was lonely here, with only the children for company during the day and servants who barely acknowledged her.

  ‘Theodosia will blow away if we venture any further,’ Lord Westcroft said, a fleeting smile passing over his lips. Selina was pleased he was no longer angry with her—fresh air did wonders for everyone. ‘Come, girls,’ he said, holding out his arms to usher his nieces back towards the house. ‘We can continue our exploration of the estate another day. A day when the weather is a little kinder.’

  Selina studied the faces of her two charges, saw the hint of disappointment there despite both girls having protested initially to the excursion. She suspected it was disappointment that their time with their uncle was going to be cut short.

  ‘Instead I propose hot chocolate and biscuits in front of the fire in the library,’ Lord Westcroft said. Theodosia and Priscilla both smiled, linked hands and began to hurry back towards the house.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘You saw their disappointment and you didn’t ignore it.’

  ‘I was worried if I did you might march us all the way to the sea.’

  ‘You can joke all you want, Lord Westcroft, but what you did there was kind.’

  ‘I’m not a complete monster then,’ he murmured quietly.

  ‘No, not completely.’

  With a smile he offered Selina his arm and she felt a thrill of anticipation as she took it. It was reckless speaking to her employer like this, but it was very hard for her to act meek and submissive. Her upbringing hadn’t trained her for a position in service and, despite all her practice, Selina still often thought of herself as the respectable daughter of a wealthy man.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘You enjoyed yourself today,’ Miss Salinger murmured as they watched the girls slumped on the sofa. It was warm in the library with the roaring fire and the sofa had proved too inviting and comfortable for the young girls. Theodosia had nodded off soon after she’d finished her steaming cup of hot chocolate and the little girl had biscuit crumbs all over her lap. Priscilla had managed to hold out for longer, talking to the adults in her solemn, grown-up way as the light faded outside the window and the evening drew in.

  ‘Anyone who says they don’t enjoy chocolate and biscuits is a liar,’ he said.

  ‘You know I didn’t mean that.’

  ‘Have you ever been told you’re exceedingly persistent, Miss Salinger?’

  The governess grimaced and nodded. ‘My father’s favourite adjective for me was tenacious.’

  ‘Your father was right.’

  ‘In many things,’ she said and he thought he heard a hint of sadness in her voice.

  Matthew shifted. They were sitting on armchairs positioned half-facing one another and over the course of the afternoon Miss Salinger had lost some of her upright bearing and now looked comfortable propped up by cushions. To anyone looking in it would appear to be a happily domestic scene, with the two little girls asleep on the sofa and he and a pretty young woman relaxing in front of the fire.

  It was a disturbing thought and quickly Matthew stood, poking at the fire to cover his sudden restlessness.

  Part of him wanted to flee, to make his excuses and stride back to his study. It would be perfectly acceptable for him to do so. He’d spent more time than he’d planned with Miss Salinger and his nieces already, but something made him sit back down.

  ‘Tell me about your family,’ he said, watching as the governess’s eyes widened just a little at his request. Whenever she mentioned her father there was something in her manner that made him want to find out more.

  ‘I come from Cambridge,’ she said slowly. ‘My father met my mother later in life, after his first wife died in childbirth. I have an older half-brother, much older, who I barely know. My mother passed away four years ago, my father a couple of years later.’ Her words were mea
sured and careful and not for the first time Matthew wondered what secrets she was hiding. ‘I had a very happy life in Cambridge when my father was alive. He was kind, doting...’ she paused, smiling to herself as if remembering ‘...indulgent, perhaps.’

  ‘He clearly placed a great importance on your education,’ Matthew prompted.

  ‘Yes. I had a governess when I was young, but he enjoyed sharing his knowledge, too.’

  Matthew frowned, his eyes narrowing. Only the wealthiest families could afford to educate their children in their own homes with tutors and governesses. Those even of the gentry class would often send their children to school, but would never be able to employ a governess.

  ‘A governess?’

  Miss Salinger’s eyes widened as she realised what she had let slip. Slowly she nodded. ‘My father was quite wealthy,’ she said quietly.

  It wasn’t unheard of for the daughter of a wealthy man to need to seek employment. Fortunes were built and lost every week, families were divided, wealth was locked in entailed property.

  ‘How did you end up here, Miss Salinger?’ he asked bluntly. He wanted to ask her who her family was, who her father had been. Although he’d been out of the country for many years he’d grown up in the world of the rich and powerful. He knew most of the wealthy families, but he didn’t recall any Salingers among them.

  She swallowed, staring into the fire for a moment and he knew she was considering whether to lie to him.

  ‘First let me get you a drink, then you can tell me.’ He stood, crossing to the side of the room and opening a small cupboard hidden in the panelling of the wood to reveal a decanter of brandy and a couple of glasses. He poured two generous measures and passed one to Miss Salinger. She took a sip, grimaced, but soon followed it up with another.

  ‘My father and my half-brother were estranged,’ Miss Salinger said as she took another mouthful of the brandy. ‘I’ve only met William half a dozen times over the course of my life. He objected to my mother, to my father marrying beneath him. So he objected to me.’

  Matthew knew only too well the rifts that could arise in a family and tear them apart.

  ‘When he was alive my father always told me I was well provided for, that I would never have to worry about my future.’

  She paused and Matthew saw the tears brimming in her eyes. Although he had split away from the rest of his family many years ago he’d done so on his own terms. He couldn’t imagine being forced out.

  ‘That wasn’t the case?’

  She shook her head, causing a tear to spill on to her cheek. He had the urge to reach across and wipe it away with his thumb, but thankfully she quickly raised a delicate hand and stopped him from doing something foolish.

  ‘Everything went to my brother,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Everything?’

  ‘Yes. And he was never going to provide for me.’ There was an edge to her voice that told Matthew there was more to this story.

  ‘You saw your father’s will?’

  Miss Salinger shook her head, biting her lip. ‘But the solicitors confirmed everything.’

  ‘Your brother put you out on the street?’

  ‘He paid my coach fare to London and escorted me to the stop himself.’

  ‘He gave you no money? Nothing?’

  ‘Nothing. I had a little saved, enough for a few weeks’ food and rent in London before I found a position as a governess.’ She said the words nonchalantly, but Matthew could see there was a world of pain in her eyes. He doubted things had been that straightforward, that her path from her father’s home to her new situation as a governess had been that smooth. ‘I suppose I should be grateful, I had my education, enough to get me a job. Many don’t have even that.’

  ‘While your brother sits in your house and spends your father’s money.’

  ‘His money now.’

  Matthew felt the first stirrings of anger. There was much injustice in the world, but for a man to turn away his own sister, to put her on the street, was disgusting. Miss Salinger had been lucky, finding a position. If she hadn’t, her money would have soon run out and who knew where she would have ended up then.

  ‘Your brother’s behaviour was unacceptable.’

  Miss Salinger nodded, turning her face away. He could see further tears spilling on to her cheeks. Without thinking through the consequences he moved from his chair, kneeling down in front of her, and took her hand.

  ‘Your position here is secure,’ he said softly, ‘You don’t need to worry about being turned out again. I know it’s not the same as having your own home, but you will have a place here for as long as you desire.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He saw something soften in her eyes, saw her cheeks flush, felt the minuscule movements of the muscles as she squeezed his hand. They stayed locked in that position for another second, their eyes searching the other’s.

  Slowly he backed away. Thinking of anything but Miss Salinger’s safety was inappropriate right now. He should ignore the hint of desire in her eyes, the way her lips had parted ever so slightly. He should ignore the voice in his head that was urging him to reach out and kiss her.

  ‘I should take the girls up to bed,’ he said.

  ‘Yes. That would be kind.’ She stood, wiping the last traces of tears from her cheeks, and busied herself gently pulling the blankets from Priscilla and Theodosia.

  He carried Priscilla up first to the nursery, lingering as she burrowed her head into his shoulder, murmuring in her sleep. Theodosia stirred as he lifted her from the sofa, but when he placed her in her bed upstairs she was back asleep. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, smoothing down the young girl’s hair, thinking of how different his life had become in just a few weeks.

  Steady, he told himself. One afternoon of happy domesticity and he was forgetting his life, the life he’d worked so hard to build. And forgetting the reasons he’d turned his back on a conventional life a decade ago. He wouldn’t be pushed into anything for the sake of family ever again. The girls would be perfectly content with Miss Salinger—him staying would just add a layer of complication. A layer no one needed.

  He resisted a look back over his shoulder as he turned the light out in the girls’ bedroom. It would just make it harder to step away.

  Matthew turned, barrelling in to Miss Salinger. She bounced off him and quickly he reached out to steady her before she could stumble.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘I just came to check the girls were settled.’

  ‘Both asleep.’

  ‘Good. They were tired. It was a lovely afternoon for them.’

  He still had hold of her upper arms even though she was now in no danger of stumbling. Something was stopping him from letting go, an invisible pull that he couldn’t quite explain.

  ‘And for you, Miss Salinger?’ he asked, his voice low.

  ‘For me?’

  ‘Are you settling in? Do you like it here at Manresa House?’

  He watched her lips as they parted, seeing the words form even before he heard them. She had beautiful lips, lips that begged to be kissed.

  Quickly he drew back. Kissing the governess was the quickest way to send her running, even if he did detect a spark of something that looked like desire in her eyes when she glanced at him. By her account Miss Salinger had been raised to follow the rules of society and those rules were very clear about not succumbing to the attentions of your employer in a dark corridor.

  ‘Yes, Lord Westcroft, I enjoy my work very much.’ It was a measured answer, crafted not to give too much away.

  ‘You can see yourself staying here?’

  ‘I can.’

  ‘Good.’

  Silence fell between them. Matthew knew he should excuse himself, return to his neglected accounts and maps, but he wanted to stretch this moment just a little lon
ger.

  ‘Join me for a drink,’ he said, midway between a request and an order.

  ‘I’m not sure...’

  ‘One drink, Miss Salinger. What could be the harm in that?’

  She swallowed, her eyes darting up to meet his, and he knew in that moment she could read his darkest thoughts. Slowly she nodded and Matthew knew if he was a gentleman he would withdraw the offer, make it easier for them both to walk away.

  Instead he offered her his arm, waiting as she hesitated for only a second before slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow and moving to his side.

  * * *

  Foolish, foolish, foolish! the little voice in her head was screaming. There had been so many opportunities for Selina to take her leave, to make her excuses and escape, but each and every one she’d allowed to pass her by and now she was sitting in the library with her knees almost touching Lord Westcroft’s and a heavy glass of brandy in her hand.

  ‘Would you tell me about your life in India?’ She was hoping to steer the conversation on to a safe topic.

  ‘What would you like to know?’

  ‘Anything. Everything. It is a life so far removed from what I have experienced, I can’t even begin to imagine it.’

  For a moment Lord Westcroft was silent, looking into the distance, his eyes clouded. Then he smiled, a devastating smile that made her heart pound in her chest and her whole body scream to inch a little closer.

  ‘To be able to imagine India it is first important to picture the voyage that takes you there,’ he said. ‘Close your eyes.’

  ‘I don’t think...’ Selina started to protest.

  ‘Close your eyes.’ The command was gentle but firm and she found herself sitting up straighter in the chair, clutching the arms and closing her eyes.

  ‘Imagine the soft sway of the ship beneath your feet, the warm salty air on your lips, the rustle of the wind in the sails. You’ve been sailing for months, through stormy seas, rough passages, past pirate-laden coasts. Now things are calmer, warmer, the air is tropical, your movements are slower, your energy sapped quicker, your skin always damp. Even the slightest breeze is a welcome relief.’