Dangerous Lord, Innocent Governess

by Christine Merrill

  At the sound of their entry, he looked up from his work with a quiet curiosity, and said, ‘To what do I owe the honour of this visit?’

  ‘The children are bored with regular classes, and I felt that they might learn much more readily while in communion with nature as they did yesterday, even if it is held captive in a glasshouse.’

  He grinned. ‘Capital idea. I know I often gain knowledge by keeping a healthy sense of exploration.’

  The children blinked at him in surprise, as though it had never occurred to them to visit their father before.

  Colton ducked his head slightly, embarrassed by his enthusiasm. Then he muttered, ‘If you wish, you may help me with my planting. There are aprons enough, hanging by the basin.’

  Lily started forwards, and passed too close to a pot, sending it teetering on edge and dumping the plant on to the marble table. When she rushed to set it up again, a flower broke off in her hand. The expression on her face was near tears, and Sophie took a hurried step behind Daphne, clinging to her skirts.

  Daphne waited for the explosion she was sure must come. There had to be something to justify the children’s fear. But instead, their father gave a small sigh, righted the pot and scooped the dirt back in, bedding the plant again and pressing the soil down upon its roots. Then he smiled, picked up the flower, and tucked it behind his daughter’s ear. ‘You needn’t look so worried, Lily. It is a living thing. It can make a new blossom, just as easily as you can grow a fingernail. Come, let me show you its sisters.’ And he took her gently by the hand and led her to a rack of similar plants in various stages of bloom.

  Sophie peeked out from behind her skirt, watching the progress of the other children through the conservatory.

  ‘Would you like to follow too?’ Daphne asked helpfully.

  Sophie gave a small shake of her head.

  ‘Very well, then.’ She picked the girl up in her arms, and deposited her on a bench near the windows. ‘Why don’t you draw some of the plants? Choose whatever subject you like. But be sure to take note of the direction of the light. Later, after you have drawn the shape, perhaps I will let you experiment with water colours.’

  Sophie gave her a delighted smile and opened her sketchbook.

  Daphne resisted the urge to settle herself beside the girl and enjoy the warmth of the room and the steamy smell of earth mixed with green things. It was very different here than the rest of the house, which seemed to hold itself in cold formality, aloof from the cosy work space that had been fashioned here. She wandered through the rows of plants. There were flowers, both plain and exotic. She found common greenery more appropriate in a field and vegetable plants labelled with their planting and sprouting dates. At the end of each table was a log book, kept in a neat hand, that explained the purpose of the planting, the expected results and the progress of any experiments.

  It was all as orderly as the bedroom had been and quite harmless. There was nothing that might further her investigations, no concealed mystery, no sign that the owner wished them gone. She wondered what the children had been so afraid of. The only secret was that it was by far the most welcoming room in the house. It must be a blessed relief to them after the weeks they’d spent in mourning above stairs.

  The older children were working close beside their father, red heads bent over the table. He spoke of the various parts of a seed, then took a pocket knife, and carefully dissected the specimen they had been admiring, handing the children a magnifying lens so that they might see. They crowded him on either side and appeared to hang on every word. But Daphne wondered if it was not more than that. They were leaning close enough to touch him. In response, he laid his hands upon their shoulders, drawing them into a semblance of a hug. He seemed more relaxed than she had seen him and it surprised her. Here, he was an eager young scientist and not the brooding lord of the manor who was so critical of her teaching.

  She watched him. Being close to him here did not threaten her peace, as he did in the rest of the house. Or, at least, he disturbed her in a different way. Outside the glass doors, she had found him handsome, the frown on his face accentuating the fine structure, calling attention to the brows, the chin and the width of his shoulders. When he’d accosted her in the hall she’d felt a dark frightening pull, as though she was not sure what he meant for her should she get too close.

  But here he was gentleness itself. As he worked, she could admire his smile and the light of discovery in his eyes. The strength was still there. But she could see the careful, tender way he held the plants, and her gaze was drawn to his hands, long-fingered, supple and none too fastidious. She saw dirt under his nails and the stain of plants. It surprised her that she was imagining the touch of those hands, all languid relaxation and the heat of sunshine. And how easy it would be to give in to him here.

  She shook her head in disgust. Her parents would be frustrated to know that this trip had done nothing to teach her temperance and moderation. In fact, she had grown even less resolute. While she should not imagine herself yielding to anyone, Timothy Colton should be the last man on earth to occupy a place in such fantasies.

  Sophie tugged on her hand and held up a pencil sketch of a nearby fern, and she smiled in response. ‘Oh, my. That is very good work, Sophie. Let us show your father.’

  The girl looked alarmed and gave a small shake of her head.

  She smiled in comfort. ‘It is all right. He will like it, I am sure. Come. See.’ She walked to the planting bench and said quietly, ‘Lord Colton?’

  He started, as though unused to his own name, and then smiled up at her, brushing the hair out of his eyes in a gesture that was very similar to his son’s. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Sophie has drawn you a picture.’ It was a slight exaggeration, but she doubted it mattered. She held the paper out to him.

  ‘Equisetum telmateia, from the Latin for horse.’ He reached out to an odd-looking plant and plucked one of the long, fernlike leaves. ‘It looks very like a horse’s tail. You have captured it well, my darling Sophie.’ Then he turned the leaf to her, tickling her nose with the frond until she giggled. He handed her the leaf. ‘May I trade you a horse’s tail for a horse’s tail? For I would very much like to keep your fine drawing here, to inspire me in my work.’

  The little girl’s eyes widened in surprise and her smile lit up her face. And then she reached up, very cautiously, and gave her father a hug.

  He was completely unmanned. His eyes opened wide as well, and then he closed them tightly. And, for a moment, Daphne was convinced that she could see tears on his lashes as he reached out to wrap his arms around his daughter. ‘You must come to visit me here often. If you have enjoyed yourself,’ he added hurriedly. He opened his eyes. ‘All of you. Come whenever you like. I would not interrupt your studies, of course. But there is much that can be learned from nature, if you are interested.’

  ‘You want us here?’ Lily sounded more sceptical than surprised, as though there was some kind of trap involved in the simple offer.

  ‘I always have.’

  ‘But Mother said…’ and then the girl stopped.

  Colton’s face darkened for a moment, and then smoothed to glasslike serenity, and he spoke to her as though she were an adult. ‘Perhaps your mother was mistaken in my wishes. You have always been welcome to enter my work area. I assumed your lack of visits was due to a lack of interest on your part. Now we know better.’

  Lily gave a hesitant nod.

  ‘And now you must go and wash your hands before your dinner. Hurry along. I understand that Cook has something exceptional planned.’ He hesitated for a moment, and then said, in an offhanded way, ‘You could eat with me in the dining room if you wish. It would save Cook a trip to the nursery. And Miss Collins should dine with us as well. She might enjoy dressing for dinner on occasion.’

  The girls’ eyes lit up, and they murmured that they would find it most interesting to dine formally, as long as Miss Collins did not object.

  She assured
them that she did not. ‘But it will require that you wash especially well. Let us go upstairs, and I will call a maid to help you.’ But as Daphne went to shepherd the children out of the conservatory, Lord Colton called her back.

  ‘Miss Collins, if I might speak with you for a moment.’

  ‘Of course, my lord.’

  ‘Shut the door behind you, please.’

  She nodded. He was still using the mild voice, the one he had used with the children. It would be most ineffectual, if he meant to reprimand her using such a tone.

  But the door had barely latched before he’d swooped down on her, scooped her up in his arms and carried her away from it, pulling her back into the conservatory until they were shielded from the glass doors to the hallway. And then, his hands were on her face, and his lips upon hers, in a sweet, laughing, relieved kiss. ‘Thank you,’ he breathed.

  ‘What?’ She could barely catch her breath for the contact was there and gone so quickly that she had hardly realised what was happening. But surely, it had not been her imagination? He had kissed her, for his arms were still about her body, holding her tenderly to him.

  ‘Thank you for bringing them to me. For bringing them back to me. Thank you.’ He smoothed her hair and kissed her again, this time upon the forehead.

  ‘Bringing them back? But they were here all along.’

  ‘You have seen how they behave with me, when we are in the schoolroom?’ He pressed his face to hers, and kissed her cheek. ‘It was not always thus. Since Clarissa…’ a shudder ran through him ‘…they fear me.’

  ‘I know.’ It did no good to lie about it.

  ‘I would do anything, if I could take it back. If there were a way to be close to them, as I once was. But I had given up hope ofit.’ He smiled down at her. ‘And then you came, and brought them here. They would not have come for me.’

  ‘You are being foolish. Surely…’

  He placed a finger over her lips. ‘I have tried. Everything I can think of. They are as secure in the nursery room as if they are in a fortress. Just as I feel safest when I am here. It upsets them when I come to visit them there, but it upset them even more when I insisted they dine with me, or spend time with me in the evenings, in the library or sitting room. We have grown so distant that we might as well be living in different houses. And yet they seem just as resistant to the idea of leaving for boarding school.’ He frowned. ‘Whether they love me or hate me, they cannot live for ever in that little room.’

  ‘It will be all right,’ she said, wondering if that were true. She doubted they could forgive the murder of their mother after just a few trips to the conservatory.

  Murder, she reminded herself. That was why she was here, and this was a murderer, holding her close and pressing his lips to her skin. She should be repulsed by him, not attracted. She should be shuddering in revulsion at the touch of him. But instead she was trembling with emotions that she had not experienced before.

  He was so gentle, with the plants, with the children, and sometimes even with her, that it was hard to keep a hold on the truth. For Timothy Colton was not what she had expected when she had come to this house. Perhaps she had been wrong all along, and the death truly had been an accidental fall.

  ‘It will be all right.’ He murmured her words back to her, as though to reassure her. ‘When you say the words, Miss Collins, I almost believe it.’ And then he laughed. ‘Miss Collins, though you have been here for nearly a week, I do not even know your given name.’

  ‘Daphne,’ she whispered.

  ‘Daphne,’ he whispered back. ‘A nymph fair enough to tempt Apollo. You are well named, then.’

  ‘She became a laurel tree to escape him.’ Daphne whispered the only piece of the legend she could remember.

  He smiled. ‘Then it is only natural that I should find you in my glasshouse.’ And he kissed her again. He was exquisitely gentle, as though giving her credit for more innocence than she felt. He used the barest touches to part her lips, the lightest stroke of his tongue against hers and a featherlight touch of his hands on her waist.

  She felt a stirring inside her. Perhaps it was passion. Or perhaps only a desire that he hold her this way for ever, kissing her with that same reverent intensity. Then she would not have to think about the past or the future. Only the moment. And the moment was incredibly sweet.

  When he pulled away, he smiled. ‘Did you appreciate the flowers?’

  ‘Flowers?’ Appreciate. And his choice of words triggered a blush.

  He dropped his hands to his sides. ‘Oh, dear. I thought, when you came here, that you had understood my message. And that the visit was related…’ And now, he looked quite thoroughly embarrassed. ‘Please forgive me, for my actions were incredibly forward, if you did not mean… And even if you did, I should not have…’ His words trailed away, and he put his hand to his temple and closed his eyes as though he would wish himself out of the room.

  She stared in amazement. The man in the study who threatened her honour had been naught but a paper tiger. The man before her now had given a few gentle kisses, and was embarrassed at his own forwardness.

  She touched her fingers to her lips. Perhaps he was not all paper. For there was resolve behind the gentleness. When he chose to, he had proved himself to be quite commanding. ‘I liked your flowers very much. But I had forgotten how a visit to the conservatory might appear to you.’

  And now he looked horrified that he had kissed her and was preparing another apology. Was this the man she was convinced was a killer?

  She gave him her best society smile, that had captured the attention of half the men in London, and got her into so much trouble that she was sent off to rusticate. She hoped, if used judiciously on a single gentleman, that it would not do any harm. ‘But I am not overly bothered by your misunderstanding me.’

  ‘That is good.’ His smile was more of a grin and really quite charming. ‘A great relief, actually. I was momentarily overcome with the progress you had made with the children. And your presence as well—’ He stopped. ‘And you do not mind if we all dine together, this evening?’

  ‘I should think it the most natural thing in the world.’

  ‘Very well, then. Until this evening.’ He bowed to her with none of the stiffness he had shown on her arrival. She curtsied in response, and it came off as a rather playful bob, and nothing like what was appropriate for one’s employer.

  But she doubted that it would matter much longer.

  Tim watched, through the glass doors, as she went down the hall and up the main stairs towards the nursery suite. The turn of events had been surprising, but most welcome. Clearly, the woman was an experienced governess in many things that mattered more than giving lessons and maintaining order. He had never been so glad to be mistaken in his life. He owed her more apologies than his simple bouquet had offered. There were not enough flowers in the house to convey his shame at the way he had treated her. And, in retrospect, the scene in the study had been beyond mortifying.

  And a dark voice within him whispered, ‘You no longer want her?’

  Of course he did. For she was most beautiful. He had not forgotten the lure of her flesh, nor ceased to imagine their joining. But there were other methods to achieve the ultimate goal than brute force. He could court her in a normal way, slowly and gently. She got on well with the children, which was very important. He could behave as a gentleman and make her a proper offer. If she found him worthy, then she might accept. And there would be no impediment to making the kind of marriage he had always wanted.

  ‘No impediment, now you have got rid of Clarissa.’

  He pushed his knuckles against his temples, as though the pressure could silence the words ringing in his head.

  ‘Are you going to tell her what kind of man you are, before the wedding? Or do you mean to surprise her some night when she has angered you?’

  He could feel the cold sweat upon his forehead as he struggled with the memories of his first wife. He would n
ever hurt Daphne. She was nothing like Clare.

  ‘The woman is different, but you have not changed. If it could happen once…’

  He shook his head, because he did not want to believe. He had always been so sure of his temper. Positive that intellect conquered impulse, and moderation was more powerful than violence. And then, everything had changed.

  And now, he could not be sure of anything, ever again.

  Chapter Nine

  Dinner was a strained affair, and not at all what she had been expecting after the time in the conservatory. Daphne took care with her appearance, not wishing to seem too eager to please her employer. There was always a chance that she had misunderstood the depth of his interest, for he had the most mercurial nature of any man she had met.

  But he had kissed her.

  She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of his lips. They had not been the most passionate kisses she had received. But then, most girls her age had not been kissed at all. She should have no cause for comparison. After the sudden salute upon the lips, he had got control of himself and tried very hard to give her a near-perfect first kiss. He was hardly to blame if someone else had got there before him.

  She put on a gown of sea-green silk that was beautiful but demure, and prepared herself for an evening of shy looks down the table. And remembering that she was still the governess, she made sure the children were scrubbed and ready before leading them in procession down the stairs and into the dining room.

  The room was beautiful. The food was perfect. And the children excited, but polite and on their best behaviour.

  It was only the host who was wrong. He had taken the time to dress to perfection in a coat of black superfine, a waistcoat of deep blue brocade and a shirt so white as to be blinding in comparison. Although she was no expert, she could see that his cravat was a masterpiece. His valet must have left the floor strewn with spoiled linen before getting it right.