Forever Yours (The Forever Series #1)

by Cheryl Holt

  The experience was too exhilarating, and as she whipped around to chastise him, he said, “I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry.”

  “We can’t carry on like this. You can’t sneak over here late at night and loaf with me in this dark parlor. You’re pressuring me horridly.”

  He frowned. “How am I pressuring you?”

  “You’re my employer, and I am your governess!”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  “I do.”

  He reached for her again, and she pushed out a palm to ward him off which was a mistake. Her hand landed on the center of his chest over his beating heart. She whisked the appendage away and tucked it into the folds of her skirt.

  “There’s something happening between us,” he said.

  “No, there’s not, and I have no idea why you’d voice such a bizarre comment.”

  “Sparks fly when we’re together. Don’t deny it.”

  “I’m your governess, Mr. Wallace. Am I safe with you? I thought I was, but I have to remind you that the men in your family have a history of misbehaving with their servants.”

  “That was my father, and if you knew how beautiful Faith’s mother was, you’d realize why he couldn’t control himself.”

  “What about you? Do you interfere with your housemaids? Should I be afraid of you? I didn’t think I needed to be, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “”I don’t chase after my servants,” he insisted. “I never have.”

  “Are you claiming I’m the one female in the world who could drive you to such outrageous conduct?”

  “Yes. This is all your fault.”

  “My fault?”

  “Yes,” he replied without hesitation.

  “Explain yourself. We’re barely acquainted. I’ve been in residence for all of two days, yet you were compelled to leave your party and visit me instead. What am I to make of it?”

  “You intrigue me.”

  “Well, if you pester me again, I won’t stay. It doesn’t matter what I promised. If you bother me, I’ll depart.”

  “Interfere? Bother?” He snorted. “You talk as if I’ve insulted or harmed you.”

  “You have. I was hired to tend Mary and Millie. I wasn’t hired to entertain you—despite what you imagine.”

  If the moment hadn’t been so awkward and disturbing, she might have laughed. He looked exceedingly perturbed, like a toddler who’d been refused a piece of candy.

  “Am I supposed to ignore you?” he asked. “When you walk by, am I to pretend you’re invisible?”

  “Yes, you must. You constantly forget my role in your household. I am an invisible person.”

  “No, no,” he mumbled. “This is marvelous. It’s meant to be.”

  “You’re mad,” she scoffed.

  He drew her close, and she braced, assuming he’d kiss her again, but he merely studied her with his usual intensity. Ultimately, he released her and said, “Don’t lie to me. You feel it too, and it’s alarming you.”

  “Fine. I sense it too, but I’m your employee, you’re my employer, and we’re both adults. Just because we note an attraction, we don’t have to act on it.”

  “Yes, we do,” he vehemently stated.

  “You’re used to having your way. I’ve enticed you—when I shouldn’t have—and you believe it would be appropriate to forge ahead.”

  “I absolutely believe that.”

  “You also believe that you can have whatever you desire. But not from me. Not while I’m working for you.”

  “Should I fire you so you’re not working for me?”

  “No! If you terminate me, I can’t remain.”

  “So you’re content to toil away? Must it be all tedium and drudgery? Is that it? You could have so much more fun than that.”

  “Mr. Wallace, there could be nothing fun about the two of us engaging in a flirtation. It would be destructive for you and ruinous for me.”

  “No, you’re wrong. It would be grand. Every minute of it would be grand.”

  To prevent further protest, he placed a finger on her lips for a few seconds, then he murmured, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He spun and hurried out, and her initial reaction was one of dejection over his departure. She couldn’t bear that he’d left. He simply took up all the space in any room he occupied, and the air and energy appeared to have fled with him. Her next reaction was one of relief.

  There were always stories circulating about governesses getting themselves into trouble. If the man of the house pressed his attentions—no matter how avidly the governess resisted—it was deemed to be her fault.

  Abigail had never suffered through a wicked situation like that and had considered herself fortunate. Would it finally happen at Wallace Downs?

  Her fascination with Mr. Wallace had played a huge part in his convincing her to stay, but he’d vividly reminded her of why such a scenario was impossible to navigate.

  Should she leave? Even though she’d sworn she wouldn’t, should she go?

  He had her so discombobulated that she couldn’t think straight, and she had no idea what her decision should be. On shaky legs, she stumbled over to the sofa, sat down, and gulped down the rest of her wine.

  If she’d been hoping it would calm her, that the alcohol might slow her frantic thoughts so she could more clearly assess her dilemma, she’d been mistaken. It had no beneficial effect at all.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “How was my party last night?”

  “The same as all the others I’ve attended.”

  Alex glared at Price and snorted with disgust. “Should I take that as a compliment or a complaint?”

  “Camilla is a competent hostess, but she’s not very creative. Every event she organizes is exactly like the previous one.”

  “This is a country house and a country party,” Alex said. “That indicates there will be picnics, card playing, reading in the library, and plenty of afternoon napping. What else would you expect her to arrange?”

  “Considering your reputation, I believe visitors anticipate a bacchanal of decadent orgies. Imagine their disappointment when they discover you’re as stodgy and dull as every other gentleman of their acquaintance.”

  “Matters become a bit wilder after the sun goes down.”

  “Oh, yes, dancing is too, too risqué.”

  Alex scowled. “If you’re so bored, you don’t have to stay.”

  “I wasn’t bored. I’m used to your tepid diversions. I was simply mentioning other people’s opinions. They leave here whispering that they feel cheated, and you and Camilla are positively tedious.”

  “If that’s an insult, you missed your mark. I had all the excitement I could stand a decade ago. I don’t plan to engage in an incident ever again that raises my pulse at all.”

  They were having breakfast. Even though it was approaching the noon hour, the other guests hadn’t crawled out of bed yet so they were by themselves.

  Despite Price’s criticism, liquor flowed at Alex’s galas, and Price drank more than his share. There was a decanter of brandy on the sideboard, discreetly hidden behind the plates. He went over to fill his cup half full with tea, then he splashed brandy to the rim.

  “Hair of the dog,” he muttered as he sat back down. “Would you like some?”

  “No, I’m actually quite clear-headed this morning.”

  “Why would you be? Don’t pretend you remained sober last night. Where were you anyway? Camilla was looking for you every second. She was in a terrible snit.”

  “I was up in my room,” he lied, “which she knew so it was ridiculous for her to have been searching.”

  “In your room?”

  “Yes.”

  Price studied him, then scoffed. “You were somewhere, but it wasn’t your room. Have you grown weary of Camilla? Have you found a tasty little dish on the side? I’ve seen the females who are available in this neighborhood, and none of them would ti
ckle your fancy. And don’t you dare tell me you’re following in your father’s footsteps and tumbling one of the servants.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I thought you might have a go at the new governess.”

  Alex frowned, working hard to feign some disgust. “Why would you think that?”

  “She’s pretty, and you’ve always been a sap for blond hair and big blue eyes.”

  “If that’s true, why did I hook up with Camilla?”

  “Isn’t it because she behaves like a whore in the bedchamber?”

  “Yes. That’s precisely why. What other reason could there have been?”

  “I have no idea, and why you let her run you and this house is beyond me.”

  “Leave it alone, Price.”

  When they were boys, he and Price had been closer than brothers, but they’d lost touch during Alex’s trials and tribulations.

  Alex had been randy and wild with a keen passion for the ladies. His mother had been frantic with worry that he’d turn out just like his father, and she’d hoped matrimony would curb some of his licentious impulses. She’d nagged and pressured him into marrying Eugenia. She’d been friends with Eugenia’s mother, and the two women had plotted to orchestrate a match between their children.

  Eugenia hadn’t had much of a dowry, but she’d been incredibly fetching, feisty and spirited and much more thrilling and unusual than a typical debutante.

  He’d been young and foolish and fascinated by her extravagant nature so he’d listened to his mother and had wed many years before he was mature enough to be a husband. It was a bone of contention they’d never been able to move beyond. It definitely precluded any family dinners or other get-togethers which was fine by him. He’d had all the mothering he could abide, and they rarely spoke.

  Price had been livid over Alex’s engagement. He’d begged Alex not to wed, then they’d drifted apart after the ceremony. Even so, when Alex had prepared to fight his duel, he’d asked Price to act as his second.

  Price had declined to accept the dubious honor, insisting Eugenia wasn’t worth so much animosity and that Alex should simply divorce her and forget what had happened. But Alex’s greatest failing had always been his pride. He’d been too incensed by Eugenia’s adultery, and of course Price had been correct that he shouldn’t have dueled over her.

  Who could fault a friend when he’d wisely counseled restraint? His suggestion was the only valid one Alex had received. Every other male acquaintance had egged him on.

  After Alex had wounded his wife’s lover, he’d been arrested and prosecuted, and Price had been gracious enough not to chastise. He hadn’t mentioned his opinion as to Alex’s temper and misplaced arrogance. He hadn’t said, I told you so.

  When Alex had returned from exile, he and Price had immediately fallen into their old ways. They were close again, but now Alex was the responsible, cautious one, and Price was the reckless, unruly one. It was odd to have their roles reversed, and he wouldn’t tolerate moralizing from a man whose personal life was a complete disaster.

  “So…the governess is off the table?” Price asked. “You’re not interested in her?”

  “No, I’m not interested in her.”

  “Then would you mind if I trifle with her?”

  “Yes, I would bloody well mind. Why would you even contemplate her ruination?”

  “She’s gorgeous, and she’d be a challenge. I love a female who’s a challenge. The ending is so satisfying.”

  “Stay away from her,” Alex snapped with more venom than was necessary. “I have a difficult time finding competent teachers. If you bother her, she’ll quit and I’ll have to kick your ass.”

  “All right,” Price groused, then he smirked. “If you’re going to be a prick about it, I’ll seduce Faith instead.”

  “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”

  “She’s crazy about me,” Price boasted.

  “She’s too smart to be crazy about you.”

  “Don’t you wish that were true?”

  Price downed his liquor-laced tea, then pushed back his chair and stood.

  “What are your plans for the day?” Alex inquired.

  “I haven’t decided. How about you?”

  “I haven’t decided either.”

  “Why do I suppose you’ll schedule a daily meeting with your governess?”

  Price was needling him, but he ignored the taunt. “I can’t imagine why you’d suppose that.”

  “You are not a mystery to me, Alex. I know you want her. Just don’t behave stupidly.”

  “I never do,” he actually said before he could bite down the words.

  In light of his history, it was a hilarious comment, and they both laughed.

  Price started out, and Alex asked, “Where are you off to? If it’s somewhere exciting, I’ll go too.”

  “Faith has agreed to show me her new paintings which I consider to be an enormous honor.”

  “Faith doesn’t…paint,” Alex scoffed.

  “What would you call it then?”

  “It’s a hobby. She dabbles.”

  “Have you ever seen her paintings?”

  “No. She would never let me see them.”

  “Then how do you know she’s dabbling?”

  “How do you know she’s not?”

  “You are such an idiot.”

  Price stomped out in a huff, and Alex remained in his chair. But he was wondering if he shouldn’t follow Price, if he shouldn’t warn him away from Faith.

  Price and his sister had always been acquainted, but in the past year or two they’d seemed much more cordial than they’d been when they were children. Surely, it was just amicable, but if it was so innocent why would Faith show Price her paintings but not Alex?

  The notion disturbed him. Price would tumble anything in a skirt. Would he focus his attention on Faith? She claimed she loathed men and thought they were fools, but she was twenty-five and a spinster, and it was generally recognized as an abnormal condition for a female that ought to be rectified.

  Would she succumb to an advance?

  He pondered the possibility, then shook his head. Faith was too astute, and Price was Alex’s best friend. Despite his licentious tendencies, Price would never seduce Alex’s sister. And though Price constantly insisted he wouldn’t obey his father and enter into the betrothal he was demanding, Alex had a niggling suspicion that a rich Russian princess would eventually sound like a brilliant idea.

  Price was about to be a husband, and he wouldn’t insult Faith by toying with her affections when he was about to wed.

  Yet Miss Barrington was another story. As a servant and an employee, she possessed none of the automatic protections Faith had as Alex’s sister. Price would view Abigail Barrington as easy prey. What if she was alone when he arrived? Alex didn’t like the prospect one bit, and he was aware of how vulnerable she was. Hadn’t he pressed that very issue the prior evening?

  He threw down his napkin and jumped up, eager to march over to the cottage to be certain Price wasn’t pestering her. But before he could move, the butler poked his nose in.

  “Master Alex, you have a caller. Miss Barrington is here.”

  Delighted by the news, he grinned like a halfwit. “I hope you dragged her inside this time and didn’t let her trot off to the garden. It’s too early for me to have to chase after her.”

  “I took the liberty of escorting her to your library. She’s waiting for you there.”

  “Marvelous.”

  The day was just beginning and already it was turning out to be splendid.

  What could she want? He didn’t imagine she’d trekked so far merely to chat. She had to be irked about some topic or other. Had Faith been horrid to her? Were the twins misbehaving? Had someone been rude? No one better have.

  As he hurried to the library, he was breathless and overwhelmed as a besotted boy. When he entered, she was over by the window and gazi
ng out at the park. She glanced at him over her shoulder.

  “Hello,” he said, feeling tongue-tied and absurdly shy.

  “Hello.” He closed the door, and she frowned. “Would you please leave it open?”

  “No.”

  She bristled with aggravation, but he ignored her pique and walked over. Outside, Price was disappearing into the woods and headed for the cottage.

  “Is Lord Pendergast sweet on your sister?” she inquired.

  “Gad, no. Why would you ask that?”

  “He stops by quite often.”

  “They’re friends. I think he encourages her with her painting.”

  “She paints?”

  “Yes.”

  “She never told me.”

  “She doesn’t like to talk about it.”

  “Is she any good?”

  His cheeks flushed. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen any of her work.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well…ah…”

  He didn’t have an answer.

  He tried to be kind to Faith and her brother, Trevor. He’d pretty much given them the cottage for their own use, and he was trustee of the money their father had bequeathed. He was generous in dispensing it, and if they overspent on their quarterly allowances—Trevor was particularly bad about it—Alex chipped in his own funds to square their debts.

  Their plight was unfair and awful, and he eased their way whenever he could. But Faith was a hard woman, and she never liked him to help her. She’d never offered him so much as a glimpse at her art so he hadn’t harried her over it.

  Suddenly, he felt like the biggest boor in the world.

  “I’ve never asked her to show me any of her paintings,” he confessed.

  “You should.”

  “Yes, you’re correct. I should.”

  A silence festered, with both of them staring. He was so thrilled by her arrival. Waves of joy were pelting him. What was wrong with him? What was causing such a stunning effect?

  He was anxious to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless, but she was in an odd mood.

  “What did you need?” he said. “What brought you by?”

  She hesitated for an eternity, then she sighed. “I was going to resign.”