Lois Menzel (12 page)

Anne had not encountered Tenbury since he had interrupted her kiss with Jack. She hoped Jack had somehow managed to explain. If not, it was more than likely that Tenbury was still displeased with her.

It was unfortunate he had walked in when he had, for she had been enjoying her first kiss. She tried to remember it now and found that recalling the moment was difficult. Her gaze returned to Tenbury and focused on his lips. They were smiling again—barely separated, showing a narrow line of fine, straight teeth.

Were all kisses the same, she wondered? Would kissing Tenbury be much the same as kissing Jack? A moment later she raised her eyes to find the earl returning her regard. She flushed and turned aside to Lady Tenbury, forcing herself to make a response to something the countess said.

The next time she glanced up she groaned inwardly, for Lady Mason was making her way toward the countess. Anne considered the woman both rude and insensitive, but knowing there was no escape, she simply looked down at her folded hands and hoped the lady would ignore her. She did not see the earl excuse himself to Miss Redditch and cross the room toward his mother.

“Ah, Lady Tenbury,” Lady Mason gushed, “You are wise to sit near the fire, for the evening has grown chill.”

“The Castle has ever been a drafty place,” the countess replied. “I always keep a shawl near me, even during pleasant weather.”

“I wonder, Miss ... I am sorry, I cannot recall your name.”

Anne looked up in dismay as she realized Lady Mason was addressing her. “Waverly, my lady,” she supplied.

“Yes, of course, Miss Waverly. Would you mind fetching a shawl for me? I left one on the bed in my room.”

Anne stood. “Certainly, my lady. Which room is yours?”

“The queen’s room, I believe it’s called. Two doors past Lady Tenbury’s apartments, on the opposite side of the hall.”

As Anne would have walked away, she found that Tenbury was standing behind Lady Mason.

“Please sit down, Miss Waverly,” he said quietly.

“I was just leaving, my lord. Lady Mason—”

“I heard her ladyship’s request.” Turning toward the door Tenbury caught the eye of a footman standing there. In a moment the man was at his side. “You may give your instructions to this man, Lady Mason,” he said politely. “He will be more than happy to fetch whatever it is you need.”

As Lady Mason stood in rigid silence, Anne thought she would do as Tenbury suggested and give her instructions to the footman. But suddenly, without a word, she turned and walked away.

With a nod Tenbury dismissed the footman. When Lady Mason was out of hearing Anne said quietly, “I will fetch the shawl. She told me where it is.”

“That will not be necessary, Miss Waverly,” Tenbury replied.

“But I think she is offended, sir.”

“If she is, it is her own concern. You are not a servant; I will not allow my guests to treat you as one.”

“Tenbury is right, my dear,” the countess added. “We have footmen three deep to do such tasks.”

Tenbury spoke again. “You are still standing, Miss Waverly.”

“Yes, sir. I must go. Belinda has stayed long enough; it is well past her bedtime.”

“Take her, then,” the countess remarked, “but when you have seen her upstairs, you must return. You have already enlivened my evening, as I knew you would.”

“I don’t think ... Perhaps we could meet tomorrow, Lady Tenbury,” Anne said.

“If my mother desires your company tonight, Miss Waverly,” Tenbury remarked, “I don’t see any reason for you to deny her.”

“No, sir,” she conceded. “I will be back, ma’am, as soon as may be.”

When Lady Mason had walked away, undisguised anger on her face, the Earl of Haverham moved to her side.

“You are unhappy with our host, my lady?”

“Tenbury has the oddest notions,” she offered. “He treats that mousey woman more like his light o’ love than a governess. I merely asked her to fetch a shawl for me. To hear Tenbury, one would think I had asked her to walk to China for it.”

As Lady Mason continued in the same vein, Haverham found it curious that someone besides himself had noticed the unusual solicitude Tenbury showed his niece’s governess. Haverham himself had seen them driving together; then there was the rumor flying about that Tenbury had deserted a riding party to rescue the governess from an overturned boat on the lake. Probably nothing to it ... yet ... if Tenbury left a mistress behind in London, perhaps he discovered that Miss Waverly had talents beyond those necessary in the schoolroom. Such an unobtrusive, quiet woman was not Haverham’s usual style, yet one woman was much like another in the dark, he reasoned.

After the governess had taken the child away and then returned to sit with the countess, Haverham made his way to Tenbury’s side. A few carefully worded questions should yield him the information he sought.

Tenbury was watching Anne, thinking of her kiss with Jack and what it could have meant, when Haverham approached him. He listened with only half an ear to the man’s comment and answered without thinking.

“I say, Tenbury, I believe your niece’s governess is not all she seems.”

“You are absolutely correct, Haverham. There is a great deal more to Miss Waverly than meets the eye.”

* * * *

Anne retired late that night and was wakened from a sound sleep when someone pulled back the coverlet and began climbing into the bed with her. Half asleep she asked, “Belinda? Could you not sleep?”

“Not Belinda, my dear, but Haverham, at your service.”

He chuckled at his own joke, but Anne had not heard the words. At the first sound of his voice she scrambled for the far side of the bed. Thinking he must be drunk or sleepwalking, or at the very least in the wrong room by mistake, she said, “My lord, I am Miss Waverly; you are in the wrong room!”

“Not at all. I am exactly where I wish to be.”

As he crossed the bed and exited on the same side she had, she moved around the end to the opposite side again, keeping the bed between them. Since she preferred to leave both her bed curtain and window hangings open at night, his shadowy form was revealed in the dim light passing through the windows.

“You will leave my room instantly, sir,” she demanded.

When he chuckled, her belief that he had made a mistake was replaced by fear. She realized she had erred in coming around the bed, for now he stood between her and the door.

“Must we play at cat and mouse?” he asked. “Your employer told me plainly that there is a great deal more to you than meets the eye. I am anxious to find out what that is.”

“My employer?” she asked, aghast at his suggestion.

“Yes. Tenbury himself. I’m not certain he actually offered you to me, but we need not tell him. This can be our little secret.”

He made his move then, quickly around the foot of the bed. Anne attempted her only route of escape, over the high side of the bed itself. He caught her easily, and they landed together on the soft ticking. She considered screaming but feared frightening Belinda, who slept in the next room. Haverham was not a large man; perhaps she could still get away. As she struggled with him she soon realized that regardless of his size he was much stronger than she.

Kicking her legs frantically, she managed to contact some delicate spot, for he swore and momentarily slackened his hold. She rolled away, but as her feet touched the floor he reached out and grabbed at her shoulders. As his pull swung her toward him, the sleeve of her fragile gown tore away in his hand. His face was immediately before hers now, and she sensed rather than saw the lasciviousness there. He pulled her against him, trapping one arm between them. Her right arm, however, remained free, and she raised it until her fingernails contacted the warm skin of his cheek. Arching her fingers with a will, she pulled with all her strength.

Haverham uttered a cry of pain and simultaneously released her. She sped for the door, through it, and down the corridor to Arelia’s room. When she found Arelia’s door locked, she hurried down the hall toward the countess’s apartments. Before she got that far, she saw a soft glow beneath Tenbury’s door and without hesitation opened it and slipped inside.

Tenbury was sitting in his shirt-sleeves, writing, at a desk; a branched candelabra stood at his elbow.

He rose in amazement as a breathless Anne closed his door and leaned against it. “Miss Waverly! What is the meaning of this?”

It seemed for a moment as if she would not answer him. She wore only a simple white nightgown and even the dark waves of hair, which fell in disarray over her shoulders, could not hide the fact that the garment had been torn away from her left shoulder. Her feet were bare, her face so pale she appeared ghostly.

“L-Lord H-Haverham. He implied that you offered me to him.”

“
What
?” he thundered. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He pulled a quilt from the bed as he advanced on her. “Here, cover yourself.”

Looking down at her torn gown, she gasped, then leaned away from the door as he reached the covering behind her and pulled the ends together across her chest. He continued to hold the ends in closed fists as he demanded. “What happened?”

“I woke to find him crawling into my bed.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No. I scratched his face and got away.”

“Good,” he nodded approvingly. “Come along. You cannot stay here. I must take you back to your room.” When he reached to open the door, she held back. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “We will be certain the room is empty, and you will lock the door behind me. He would need an axe to get through it. How did he get in, in the first place?”

“It was not locked. I never lock it. I did not realize there was a need to.”

With the quilt clutched about her shoulders and dragging on the carpet behind her, Anne followed Tenbury silently through the dark halls back to her room.

As he had expected, the room was empty. He lit a number of candles to assure her all was safe. The bed was destroyed, with blankets and sheets dragged about in all directions. “Fix your bed and go to sleep. Meet me in the library tomorrow morning promptly at nine.”

“But I have lessons with B—”

“At nine, Miss Waverly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You should wash the blood from your hand,” he added.

She followed the direction of his gaze to where the bloodied fingers of her right hand clutched the quilt.

“Come bolt the door behind me and say nothing of this to anyone,” he said.

She did as he bade her, while he waited outside until he heard the bolt slide home. He then walked silently down the corridor to the head of the stairs. He was angry enough to throw Haverham out of the house, bag and baggage, along with his daughter and her silver spur. But prudence prevailed. Rousing the Castle in the middle of the night would only spawn the type of scandal he most deplored.

When he finally went to bed, he did not sleep well. Once when he awoke, he brought to mind an image of Miss Waverly leaning against the inside of his door. She had appeared so vulnerable with her feet bare and her hair loose and disheveled. Yet she had acquitted herself well. She had put the lecher to rout. He was proud of her.

Chapter 10

The following morning, Tenbury learned from his butler that the Earl of Haverham had left the Castle at dawn, professing some urgent business in town. Tenbury thought it more likely he was on his way to his country estates, there to hide his face until the wounds inflicted by Miss Waverly had time to heal.

She appeared promptly at nine in a wheat-colored gown of sprigged muslin, with a spring-green ribbon adorning the high waistline. She closed the door and stood just inside it. Her dark hair was dressed carefully. Her wide green eyes regarded him steadily.

“You look tired,” he said. “Please sit down.”

She took the chair he indicated, sitting very straight on its edge, her hands folded in her lap.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” he asked.

“A little. Despite knowing the door was bolted, I kept imagining I heard it opening. It’s silly, I know.”

He walked a few steps away then turned to face her. “You said something last night that I should like you to explain—something about my offering you to Haverham. What did you mean?”

“I knew you would ask me, so I have been trying to remember exactly what it was he said. I believe he said you told him there was a great deal more to me than meets the eye.”

“I may have said some such thing. I cannot remember. It is true enough in any case, but clearly he chose to misconstrue my meaning.”

“But it is
not
true,” she objected. “I am exactly what I seem—a governess—plain and simple. Why would you wish him to believe I was anything more ... or less?”

“I had no wish to discuss you with him,” Tenbury replied. “He raised the subject, and I answered him. I don’t remember clearly what was said, but nothing inappropriate, I assure you. Are you certain
you
said or did nothing that might have led him to believe—?”

“Certainly not! How could you think such a thing?”

“I think it because I saw you with Jack. Remember?”

“Jack explained, did he not?”

“No. I told him no explanation was necessary.”

“Well, it is necessary! We were not kissing for the reason you think we were kissing.”

“Really? And what reason is that?”

“You know. Because we wanted to.”

“You were kissing, then, because you did
not
want to?”

“No, of course not. We were kissing ... as an experiment.”

“I see.”

“Do you? Truly?”

“No. But somehow I feel any further explanation would only confuse me more.”

“Lord Tenbury, I believe you are being deliberately obtuse in this matter.”

“Very well, ma’am, I will come to the point. Are you in love with my brother?”

“Certainly not!”

“Then you should not have been kissing him.”

“I have already explained—we were not kissing for that reason!”

“I think this the most ridiculous conversation I have ever taken part in,” Tenbury said. “Perhaps it
would
be best if you simply explained why you were kissing my brother.”