His mouth tightened. ‘Do you decline it still?’
She gave a gracious inclination of her head. ‘As I must.’
‘Why must you?’
Elena was unsure of how he came to be standing only inches away from her. She had not seen or heard him move, yet here he was, so close to her that she could see that black circle about the deep-grey iris as she looked up into his eyes and smell the sandalwood cologne he wore. The darkness of his hair looked slightly damp, seeming to imply he had bathed and changed before coming to the schoolroom.
She lowered her lashes to hide the expression in her eyes. ‘It is not fitting for me to address you so informally.’
‘Elena—’
‘Do not!’ She stepped back in alarm as he would have reached out and taken hold of her arms.
He released a heavy sigh even as his hands fell back to his side. ‘Will you at least allow me to explain—to try to explain—why I was so ill-humoured on the last occasion we spoke together?’
She clasped her hands tightly together. ‘I am sure there is no reason for you to either apologise or explain your moods to me, my lord.’
‘In this instance I should like to do so,’ he insisted huskily.
Elena continued to avoid meeting that soft grey gaze, so unlike that chilling coldness of five days ago. ‘I am fully aware that Amanda’s loss of temper had angered you—’
‘Would you not like to know the reason why it did so…?’
Would she? Did Elena want to know anything more about the dynamics of this small family than she already did? To have Adam’s emotions explained to her?
Elena had believed, when she fled Sheffield Park as if the hounds of hell were at her heels, that her future was bleak, her only course of action to cease being the fugitive Miss Magdelena Matthews and instead become a woman whom no one noticed, a servant in the household of one of the very people who believed her guilty of murder and theft.
And for a short while she had succeeded in doing exactly that, quietly going about her business as Amanda Hawthorne’s governess and seemingly invisible to Lord Adam Hawthorne. Quite when, or why, that had changed, she was not quite sure—she only knew that for some inexplicable reason he had indeed noticed her, that he had actually sought out her company on several occasions. To the point that he had kissed her the previous week! A kiss, which although surprising, she had been unable to forget. Or her unexpected response to it.
Making her position here untenable?
She was very much afraid that was exactly what was happening…
If it had not already done so!
The fact that she knew her cousin would never give up his search for her meant she could not allow Adam to see her as anything more than his daughter’s governess, that to do so would place her in a position of danger and vulnerability.
To her loss of freedom.
As well as her heart…
Because she was becoming attached to this family in spite of herself. Amanda, although given to those occasional tempers, was on the whole adorable, and as for Lord Adam Hawthorne—Elena found herself thinking about that gentleman far more often than was wise. Admittedly it had been mainly in annoyance most recently, and a certain sense of injustice at becoming the focus of his displeasure following Amanda’s outburst, but even so she had still found herself thinking of him often. Of how much she admired his handsome looks. Of how charming he could be when he relaxed his guard and appeared to forget to be coldly reserved. She also found herself thinking of that kiss far more often than she ought…
Everything came back to that kiss. The surprise of it, the unsuitability of it, and the unexpected pleasure of it, when Neville’s brutality to her two months ago should have caused her to feel only nausea.
The same pleasure still caused Elena to tremble every time she thought of those chiselled and yet softly questing, lips pressed so intimately against her own…
She straightened her spine. ‘As I have said, it is not necessary, my lord.’
‘Damn whether or not you think it necessary—!’ Adam broke off his angry retort, fully aware that it was caused by the tension of awaiting her reply rather than any real anger he felt towards her. A tense wait that had been rewarded by another of her cool setdowns. ‘Look at me, Elena.’ He raised his hand beneath her chin and lifted her face up towards his when she did not obey him. ‘I reacted in the way that I did because—’
‘Adam, I—am I interrupting something…?’
Adam stiffened with shock, his hand dropping back to his side as he turned sharply at the sound of that familiar voice. A familiar voice, which by rights, should have been many miles away from here. ‘Grandmama…?’
Chapter Eight
Lady Cicely stepped into the schoolroom, grey brows raised in query. ‘You look surprised to see me, Adam.’
That surely had to be the understatement of the Season! Adam was not only surprised to see his grandmother here, but he was less than happy about it too, bearing in mind his recent suspicions concerning her matrimonial machinations in regard to himself.
Adam turned briefly to give Elena a censorious frown. ‘Why did you not inform me immediately of my grandmother’s arrival here?’ If he had known his grandmother was in the house, he would most certainly have delayed his conversation with her. Delayed, but not dismissed it completely…
How could he dismiss it, when just to look at her again, to briefly touch her, had caused a bulge in his pantaloons he was forced to cover with the fall of his jacket!
Her eyes widened. ‘It was my assumption that Jeffries would have informed you on your arrival of Lady Cicely’s presence, your lordship.’
A perfectly logical assumption to have made—except that Adam, having made up his mind as to his future relations with this woman, had been more intent on bathing and going to the schoolroom rather than listening to anything Jeffries might wish to impart to him. ‘Obviously not,’ Adam muttered.
‘I fail to see what all the fuss is about concerning who did or did not tell you of my arrival?’ his grandmother said querulously. ‘I am here, as you can clearly see.’
And Adam’s instant reaction to that was ‘and for how long do you intend staying?’ Which was not only rude of him, but also less than familial, considering he and Amanda were Lady Cicely’s closest relatives.
His mouth quirked and he forced the tension to ease from his shoulders. ‘I am merely surprised at seeing you so far from London, and your dear friends there, in the middle of the Season, Grandmama.’
‘I missed you and Amanda so.’
His brows rose. ‘We have only been gone a few days…’
‘If you will excuse me, my lord, Lady Cicely, I believe I must go and check on Amanda and the kitten.’ Elena gave a brief curtsy, her head remaining bowed as she crossed and then departed from the room.
Adam’s mood was one of pure frustration as he watched her leave. Not only had he been unable to talk privately to Elena, but he also apparently now had to deal with having his grandmother visit for goodness knew how long.
‘There is…something about that young lady, which does not quite…sit right, with the role of a governess, my dear…’
Adam scowled darkly as he turned to look at his grandmother, a scowl completely lost on her as she continued to look in the direction of the doorway through which Elena had just passed. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that his grandmother echoed some of his own doubts about Elena Leighton’s suitability as a governess; she was very ladylike and elegant in her manner, and she often, but not always, appeared to forget to treat him with the deference of his other servants. Of course, a governess was an occupation slightly above that of the maids or footmen, but surely no more so than Jeffries or the housekeeper, neither of which ever forgot either that Adam was Lord Hawthorne, or that he was their employer.
Nevertheless, they were doubts which Adam had no intention of sharing with his grandmother. ‘I believe it is time we both had tea and then you can explain to me exac
tly why it is you have chosen to leave London in order to visit me here.’ He offered her his arm.
Lady Cicely gave him a sideways glance as she placed her gloved hand on that arm. ‘Is that your polite way of saying that the subject of Mrs Leighton is at an end?’
Adam could not prevent a burst of laughter escaping him. ‘I do believe you have been spending far too much time in the company of the forceful and forthright Dowager Duchess of Royston, my dear!’
She gave him a coquettish smile as she preceded him through the doorway, waiting outside for him to join her before they strolled down the hallway together towards the wide staircase. ‘In that case, you will not be at all surprised if I also comment on your reluctance to discuss your newest, rather beautiful employee?’
Adam’s mouth tightened. ‘Because there is nothing to discuss. Mrs Leighton was employed as governess to Amanda, and I can find no fault with her in that regard.’
‘But what do you know of her background? her family? Her connections?’
He controlled his impatience. ‘Not a thing above her widowhood—nor is it necessary for me to know anything else about her, Grandmama,’ he added firmly as he saw how the curiosity had deepened in his grandmother’s expression.
Lady Cicely frowned slightly. ‘She has a look about her, seems to remind me of someone that I know, or have known, in the past…’
Adam glanced at her sharply. ‘Do you have any idea who that someone might be?’
‘It escapes me for the moment.’ His grandmother gave a vague shake of her head. ‘Perhaps she is some gentleman of the ton’s illegitimate daughter—’
‘Grandmother!’
She raised a grey brow. ‘I am not too old to be unaware of these things, Adam.’
‘I was not for a moment suggesting that you were, but still—’
‘It is the elegant tilt of her head, and possibly that abundance of silky dark hair, which seem so familiar.’ Lady Cicely continued to muse softly. ‘And, of course, her eyes are quite magnificent.’
Considering that Adam inwardly echoed that sentiment he wisely kept silent, knowing that to comment at all on the fineness of Elena’s eyes would only result in deepening his grandmother’s curiosity, if that were even possible. Much better if he were to appear uninterested in the whole subject.
‘I am certain I have seen eyes of that unusual colour before.’ Lady Cicely gave a pained moue as she searched for the memory that continued to elude her. ‘Never mind.’ She shook her head as she straightened. ‘I am sure it will come back to me at some later date…’
Adam was unsure as to whether or not he wished his grandmother to recall that knowledge, his curiosity to know more of Elena Leighton warring with the possibility of his learning that she was not who she claimed at all, but some other man’s runaway wife.
Elena, having gone briefly to her bedchamber, in order to collect her bonnet and gloves before going outside in search of her small charge, had emerged out into the hallway behind her employer and his grandmother, just in time to hear their conversation.
And now trembled at the significance of it.
For she knew who it was that Lady Cicely had previously met with these same unusual blue-green eyes: Elena’s father, the late Lord David Matthews, youngest son of the previous Duke of Sheffield. He had caused many a female heart to swoon over the years with eyes of such an unusual blue-green. He would have been at least twenty or so years younger than Lady Cicely, of course, but her parents had been much a part of society before her father’s death, an occurrence that would have ensured Lady Cicely saw them both even if she did not know them intimately. And Elena’s mother, Lady Maria Matthews, had been the lady with an ‘abundance of silky dark hair’ so similar to Elena’s own.
‘It really is too bad of my grandson to have dragged you away from London in the middle of the Season.’ Lady Cicely smiled at Elena sympathetically as the two of them sat in the green salon together, where they had retired to drink tea following a sumptuous dinner, after leaving Adam alone in the dining room to enjoy his brandy and cigars.
Adam had kept to his invitation for Amanda and Elena to join him for dinner, an invitation which also included his grandmother. And if Lady Cicely found it strange to find herself sitting down to dine with her great-granddaughter and her governess, then she did not show it by word or deed, her conversation pleasant and kept to subjects that both Amanda and Elena could contribute to, if they wished.
On several occasions Elena had felt she had no choice but to do so, when Adam, magnificent in his black evening clothes and snowy white linen, remained broodingly silent at the head of the table for the most part, eating little but enjoying several glasses of ruby-red wine.
Elena had left the room for a short time following dessert, when it was decided that Amanda had stayed up quite long enough for one evening, and Elena had gratefully risen to her feet in order to take the little girl to her bedchamber. Only to feel her heart sink again when Lady Cicely had expressed a wish for Elena to return downstairs and join her for tea once she had seen that Amanda was safely abed.
‘As I am not part of society it is of little significance to me whether I am here or in London, Lady Cicely,’ she answered smoothly now.
‘But it is always so much more…lively, in London, during the Season. And I see you are no longer in mourning…’ The older woman smiled approval of Elena’s cream gown, delivered yesterday by Mrs Hepworth, in plenty of time for attending church tomorrow, and the only gown Elena had which was suitable for wearing to a formal dinner such as this evening’s had been.
Elena sat stiffly in the armchair facing Lady Cicely as she sat on the green-velvet sofa. ‘Lord Hawthorne did not think my black gowns suitable attire for when I am in Amanda’s company.’
‘No?’
‘He feared it was too much of a reminder to Amanda of her deceased mother.’
The older woman’s smile faded as she nodded slowly. ‘And I am sure none of us needs to be reminded of the absence of Amanda’s mother from this household.’
It was, Elena decided, a strange way to refer to the death of Adam’s wife. ‘No,’ she answered slowly; she knew from Adam that he had been a widower for some years, but she had no idea of the happiness or otherwise of that marriage before Fanny Hawthorne’s death.
Strangely, there had been no talk below stairs in regard to Adam’s brief marriage, at Hawthorne House in London or since their arrival in Cambridgeshire. Which was unusual in itself; most household servants took delight in discussing the private lives of the family for whom they worked. But perhaps in this case the marriage had been of such short duration that no lasting impression had been made in regard to her ladyship?
Whatever the reason for that silence, Elena found that she was becoming increasingly more curious about Fanny Hawthorne. To wonder what manner of woman she had been that she had managed to ensnare the heart of a man as cold and arrogant as Adam could be. Or perhaps he had not been quite so cold and arrogant all those years ago? He could only have been in his early twenties when he married, hardly old enough for his true nature to have emerged and become quite so set in stone. Literally. For there was no doubt that, apart from his obvious affection for his daughter and grandmother, Adam Hawthorne now possessed a heart as cold as ice.
‘Do you have any children of your own, Mrs Leighton…?’
Elena’s attention sharpened as she realised she had allowed her thoughts to wander into conjecture regarding her employer’s marriage. A serious lapse in attention, when, despite all outward appearances to the contrary, Lady Cicely was far more sharply astute than she gave the impression of being. ‘Sadly, no.’ Elena smiled briefly.
‘I should have loved to have been blessed with a daughter, but unfortunately it was not to be. Nor a granddaughter, either.’ The older woman sighed wistfully.
‘But you have a great-granddaughter now,’ she consoled the elderly lady.
‘So I do.’ Lady Cicely brightened briefly before that smile faded
once again. ‘Which is all well and good, of course, but it is a male heir that is needed if we are to keep the title within the family—’
‘The last I heard, Cousin Wilfred was still a member of this family?’ came a cool voice Elena knew only too well.
She gave a guilty start as she turned in the armchair to face Adam, knowing that guilt was reflected in the flush that also warmed her cheeks as those cold grey eyes raked over both women. Rightly so, perhaps, when it was obvious they had been gossiping about his succession.
‘Being your third cousin, he is not a Hawthorne by name and is currently employed as a lawyer.’ Lady Cicely showed no outward sign of apology at being caught discussing her grandson in his absence, or to hide her distaste for her distant relative’s occupation. ‘Furthermore, he has a shrew for a wife and at least half-a-dozen unruly children.’ She wrinkled her nose delicately. ‘I cannot even bear to think of him and his family being invited here on a visit, let alone imagine them all residing here!’
Adam had delayed joining the ladies for as long as he had felt able, not wishing to appear too eager, but at the same time only too well aware of how artfully his innocuous-looking grandmother could draw information from people when she chose to do so. And despite having claimed earlier that she had decided to come to Cambridgeshire on a whim, that she had missed the company of both himself and Amanda, she had also made her interest in learning more about Elena Leighton only too obvious during their earlier conversation.
He entered the salon and quietly closed the door behind him before answering his grandmother. ‘If it is any consolation, I very much doubt that you will still be alive when the time comes for Cousin Wilfred and his family to reside here!’
Lady Cicely gave a grimace. ‘No, Adam, I do not believe that to be of any consolation to me whatsoever!’
Adam lowered hooded lids as he saw that Elena was doing her best to hold back a smile at their conversation. ‘I thought only to cheer you.’
Not Just a Governess Page 9
