Forever Yours (The Forever Series #1)

by Cheryl Holt

She smiled at the butler again, and he went out and down the hall to summon the footmen who would cart in the food.

  Alex wondered how they were viewing his behavior. Normally, he wouldn’t fret over it, but if they were disturbed by his flirting with the governess—which he was certain they all were—the brunt of any disregard would fall on her.

  He couldn’t guess how the affair would end with them. He had numerous plans about how he would like them to play out, but with a woman a man could never guarantee the resolution he craved.

  “I ordered buffet style,” he said. “We’ll have to serve ourselves, but it will ensure we won’t have the staff hovering and spying.”

  “That’s perfect.”

  “I didn’t know what you like to eat so I requested a bit of everything.”

  “Well, I like everything so you made a good choice.”

  “You’re easy to please.”

  He was babbling like a fool, and his cheeks flushed with chagrin. He understood he was pressuring her unmercifully. Through his father’s liaison with Faith’s mother, he’d had an up-close lesson on how the master of the house could coerce a female. Alex was trying not to compel her, but there was no way to describe his conduct as decent or ethical.

  Yet he didn’t care. He simply wanted to be with her for as long as he could manage it, and the rest of the world—with their straitlaced morals—could go hang.

  She slipped her hand into his and gave it a supportive squeeze.

  “Don’t be so nervous,” she murmured.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “It is to me. We’ll be fine. I will be fine. If I hadn’t thought so I wouldn’t have come.”

  “I had the worst day, and I’m so glad you’re here. If you’d refused to join me, I would have marched over to the cottage and forcibly absconded with you.”

  “I figured you might, and it’s why I obeyed without a quarrel. I’m saving us an enormous amount of aggravation.”

  “I absolutely hate to bicker so I appreciate it.”

  Footsteps sounded in the hall, and a bevy of footmen hauled in various pans and trays. The butler supervised them as they arranged the items on the sideboard, then he shooed them out.

  “Would you like me to serve you?” the butler asked.

  “No,” Alex said. “We’ll serve ourselves, and I’ll ring for you if we need you. I don’t wish to be disturbed for any reason.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  He bowed out, and while he was usually stoic and unflappable, Alex noticed him taking a furtive, but meticulous glance at Abigail. No doubt the servants would be agog down in the kitchen once they were assembled. They’d want it confirmed that Alex had bought Abigail clothes. They’d speculate over whether Camilla was out and Abigail was in.

  They were probably even betting as to which woman would come out on top, and he suspected they hoped it would be Abigail. They didn’t know her yet, but they all knew Camilla. They didn’t like her, and they’d be thrilled to see her gone. Then again, servants were a jealous bunch. They never liked to have one of their own raised up too high. It upset the natural order.

  He led her over to the sideboard. They snooped under lids and oohed and aahed over the choices his cook had sent. There was an assortment of beef and fish, different vegetables and potatoes. For dessert, there were two pies and a bowl of pudding.

  “Will this fill you up?” he asked.

  “If it doesn’t, perhaps I should realize I’m guilty of the sin of gluttony. There’s enough to feed an army.”

  He laughed. “I was eager to impress you.”

  “You didn’t have to try this hard. I’ve always been impressed by you.”

  “I’m delighted to hear it.”

  They each grabbed a plate, and they took samples from each dish, then they sat at the table. He moved his chair right next to her so their thighs were touching, and he watched her like a hawk, how she sipped her wine, how she laid her napkin on her lap, how she picked up her fork.

  She wasn’t some public school miss with average manners. No, she’d been educated in all the social graces and was so polished he wouldn’t be surprised to learn she’d been reared in the palace as a ward of the Queen.

  Who was she? Who had her father been? What tragedy had befallen her? If someone like her who was sophisticated and smart and elegant could tumble so far down the ladder, the world was a very unfair place indeed.

  She noted how avidly he was staring, and she asked, “What is it?”

  “You fascinate me.”

  “I have no idea why.”

  “Neither do I, but I’m completely enthralled.”

  “You shouldn’t be.”

  “I can’t help myself.”

  “I should pretend to be offended by your forward conduct, but I believe I mentioned my vanity. You’re stroking it outrageously.”

  “Good.”

  “I don’t receive many compliments.”

  “Really? I would think you’d be overwhelmed with them.”

  “I should clarify my comment and say I don’t receive many personal compliments. My employment performance is always stellar, but typically—outside of that—I’m invisible.”

  “Every man you’ve worked for in the past must have been blind.”

  “Or they had more scruples than you with regard to their servants. I was perfectly safe until I came here.”

  “And you’re definitely not safe now.”

  “No, I’m not safe.” She was holding her fork in mid-air, and he waved to the food. “Eat up, would you? You’re so thin a stiff wind could blow you over.”

  “I’ll start if you will. This entire encounter is incredibly awkward.”

  He scoffed. “It is not. We get along like old chums. We’re used to each other already.”

  She smiled a smile he felt clear down to his toes. “Yes, we’re used to each other which I deem to be extremely dangerous. It makes it seem as if any familiarity should be allowed.”

  “I’m so glad you’ve admitted it,” he said. “I won’t have to waste any effort explaining how intimate our friendship has grown.”

  “I won’t respond to that ridiculous statement or I’ll have to inform you of how insane you’re being.”

  “I am mad. Everyone has always thought so.”

  “That’s a point where we’re in total agreement.”

  She dug in, and he joined her. They ate and drank wine and chatted about nothing. Finally, she shoved her plate away and declared herself too stuffed to swallow another bite.

  He stood and pulled her to her feet, and he escorted her out a door that led to a small parlor. The French windows opened onto the verandah and looked out over the park. The sun had set, the colors particularly brilliant. A cool breeze wafted in.

  “Would you like to sit on the verandah?” he asked. “Or would you be too chilly?”

  “I’d be chilly. Is it all right if we stay in here?”

  “Yes, that’s fine.”

  There was a sofa facing the windows, and they nestled together and watched the sky darken.

  “I received a letter from Mrs. Ford today,” he said.

  She rolled her eyes. “So did I.”

  “Someone tattled about us.” He knew it was Camilla, but he didn’t mention her. “It appears I’ve gotten you into trouble—and so quickly too.”

  “It’s a huge change for me. I’m usually so pragmatic and sensible. I’m sure she’s stunned to learn I’m misbehaving.”

  “How long have you worked through her agency?”

  “I began the year I finished school.” She sighed. “I was sixteen.”

  “You’re very loyal,” he said. “Will you scurry back to London as she’s commanding?”

  “I should.”

  “But you won’t?”

  “This is such a dilemma. I need to find a woman who’s older and wiser to advise me as to the correct path.”

  “I can ad
vise you.”

  “No, you can’t. It has to be a person who has my best interests at heart.”

  “I have your best interests at heart.”

  She laughed miserably. “I rarely grasp what’s true and what’s not anymore, but that’s definitely not true.”

  “I won’t let you resign,” he said.

  “It’s not up to you.”

  He shifted so he could look at her. “Could you really go? Could you leave me? Could you leave the twins?”

  “Don’t bring the twins into it. It’s not playing fair.”

  “Why should I play fair?”

  “You have no idea what it’s like to be me,” she said.

  “Then tell me. Help me to understand.”

  “If I remain, there can’t be a good ending. Eventually, you’ll grow weary of me or your mistress will convince you to fire me.”

  “Don’t worry about Camilla. She doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “Don’t be absurd. She has everything to do with it. She doesn’t want me here, and I realize that. She’s been with you forever.”

  “We’re not married, Abigail.”

  “Don’t announce it as if you’re bragging.”

  He shrugged. “I’m merely stating the facts.”

  “If I refuse Mrs. Ford’s order that I return to London, she will wash her hands of me. When the day comes that you terminate me from my post, I can’t imagine what would happen. I doubt I’d be able to find a job without Mrs. Ford’s assistance.”

  “You have no relatives to take you in?”

  “No. There’s no one.”

  He bit down a grin of satisfaction. She had few options, and her isolated situation meant he could coerce her. He probably ought to feel guilty, but he didn’t. He always got his way, and he would get his way in this too.

  “How can I persuade you to stay?” he inquired. “What would it be? If it’s within my power to grant it, I will.”

  She studied him for an eternity then, without replying, she went over to the French windows and walked out onto the verandah. She gazed up at the stars as if she was offering up a prayer. He followed her, and he balanced his hips on the balustrade, a palm on her waist.

  “I was wishing on a star,” she said.

  “What did you wish for?”

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t come true.” She stared him down, her pretty blue eyes digging deep. “If I asked you to part with Miss Robertson and send her away from Wallace Downs, would you?”

  “Why would you assume you have the right to demand that of me?”

  “You wanted to know how to induce me to stay. I guess that’s it. You’d have to send her away.”

  “So you can take her spot?”

  She blanched with horror. “Gad, no. I’m afraid of her, and I can’t abide the notion that I’ll run into her constantly. I’d also like you to repair some of the moral damage you’ve perpetrated. You could start by separating from her.”

  “It’s a big request.”

  “You had some difficult years, and you’ve been lashing out because of it, but I’d like you to set aside the wicked habits you’ve adopted. I’d like you to become the man you were destined to be.”

  “That man is dead and buried.”

  “No, he’s not. He’s standing in front of me.”

  “Are you supposing if I carry on in a different manner, I’ll suddenly be respectable?”

  “I can’t predict if others will ever deem you to be respectable, but you have to begin somewhere. You’d have to split with your mistress and prove to the world that you remember how to be decent and honorable.”

  “Maybe I was always disgraceful.”

  She shook her head. “You weren’t. If you would just embrace your stellar traits, you’d be happier and your home would be a better place—a place where I wouldn’t mind living.”

  “I must ask you a question, and you have to promise you’ll hear me out. You can’t fly off the handle or leave in a huff.”

  She snorted with amusement. “It depends on what you’re about to say.”

  He widened his thighs and pulled her to him so she was leaned against his chest.

  “I won’t cuddle with you on the verandah,” she scolded. “A servant could stroll by and see us. It’s shameful enough that we misbehave when we’re inside and alone, but we needn’t put on a show for the entire neighborhood.”

  “I don’t care if the servants see us.”

  “Well, I do.”

  “Stop complaining and listen, would you?”

  “Yes, get on with it. Let’s discover if you push me into a rage. You seem to believe you will.”

  He took a deep breath to calm himself. People accused him of being insane, and he often wondered if he was. Could madness be driving him? He didn’t think so. Ever since his mother had visited, he’d viewed the situation from every angle, and he was positive he’d devised the perfect solution.

  Still though, he felt as if he was running toward a high cliff and about to leap over. Where would he be when he landed at the bottom?

  “I have a proposition for you,” he said.

  She stiffened, certain she was about to be offended. “What sort of proposition? And it better be completely aboveboard, or yes, I will stomp off in a huff.”

  “I want you to marry me.”

  He was surprised that he’d blurted it out. He’d spent hours debating how he would raise the subject. He’d planned to ease her into the idea, and obviously he’d immediately mucked it up.

  She scoffed with derision. “Marry you? Be serious.”

  “I am being serious. Will you marry me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, and don’t tease me. It’s cruel.”

  “I’m not teasing.”

  “I’m your governess, and we’ve been acquainted for precisely two weeks. There is no reason for you to propose, and if I had to speculate as to why you would, I’m suspecting you intend to trick me into a false wedding. Is that it? When I was in school, there were stories from the other girls about libertines who engaged in that kind of nonsense.”

  “It’s not a trick, Abigail.”

  “Then what is it? Please explain—in the clearest of terms. I will give you five minutes, then I’m leaving. I’m already in so much trouble because of you. I won’t let you make it worse.”

  “I need a wife.”

  “No, you don’t. If you needed a wife, you would have wed Miss Robertson years ago.”

  “I would never marry her, and she knows that.”

  “Does she? I wish she were here so we could ask her opinion.”

  He wasn’t about to debate Camilla with her, wasn’t about to discuss their relationship or the conditions they’d set out when they’d started their dissolute liaison.

  “My mother stopped by this morning,” he said.

  “Having met your mother, I can’t decide if that’s good news or bad.”

  He chuckled. “She informs me that I have to wed before I turn thirty-one.”

  “Why?”

  “Apparently, my father left me some money, and I can only have it if I’m a husband when I’m thirty. It sounds as if he worried I’d never proceed, and it was insurance to coerce me into it.”

  “How much money?” Her query proved she was as shrewd as he was hoping.

  “A lot of money.”

  “When is your birthday?”

  “In four months.”

  “It’s plenty of time to propose to Miss Robertson and have a very nice ceremony. You could even have a honeymoon accomplished by then.”

  He clasped her by the arms and shook her. “Get it through your thick head. Camilla and I will never marry.”

  “Fine, then you can gallop to town and find a pretty debutante.”

  “Can you imagine any sane father permitting his daughter to be my bride?”

  “No.”

  “Can you imagine me sitting in pa
rlors, sipping tea, and begging insipid girls to ride in the park with me?”

  She actually laughed. “No, I can’t imagine it.”

  “Last week, when I traveled to London with Lord Pendergast, I attended a ball with him. Once the hostess realized who he’d brought as a guest, we were tossed out. I was too disreputable to linger quietly in the crowd and drink a whiskey.”

  “I’m sorry that happened to you,” she murmured.

  “After all I’ve endured, it’s beyond me to picture myself courting and wooing and struggling to persuade various parents that I’m not a monster. I can’t do it and I won’t do it.”

  “So…you think I should sacrifice myself so you don’t have to court a debutante?”

  He nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what I think.”

  “You, Alexander Wallace, are deranged.”

  “Yes, I am, Abigail. I keep admitting it so let’s not hash it out again.”

  She scrutinized him, looking for explanations he couldn’t supply. He could barely figure out his motives. How could he clarify them to her? He was simply suffering from a tremendous urge to bind her to him so she could never escape. The trust fund had provided the perfect excuse to shackle her to his side.

  “I don’t understand any of this,” she said.

  “It’s mad, I agree.”

  “We hardly know each other.”

  “True, but at the same juncture, I know you better than I’ve ever known anyone. Don’t you feel how close we are?”

  “Sometimes, yes. But other times—like now—you’re a complete stranger to me. You could be an alien being speaking in a foreign language.”

  “Or perhaps I’m telling you what you’ve been dying to hear. I’m rich, Abigail.” He gestured to the manor. “You’d never have to work again. You’d be safe, and I’d take care of you. Your life would be comfortable—as it was in your past.”

  She didn’t reply to that piece of bait, and he wondered—if he journeyed to London and inquired at the men’s clubs—if he could learn about her. Who might be aware of her plight?

  “You’re tempting me with talk of money and security,” she said, “but I don’t believe you’d furnish me with either of them. I’m still convinced you’re scheming on me, and I can’t fathom why you would.”

  “I’m not scheming. I swear.”

  “Don’t swear.” She clucked her tongue. “If you’re lying, you might be struck by lightning. I’m right next to you so I’d be struck too.”