My Fair Temptress
Authors: Christina Dodd
HRISTINA
D
ODD
My Fair Temptress
Adorna, Lady Bucknell, sole proprietress of
the Distinguished Academy of Governesses,
as part of the continuing series called
The Governess Brides
Presents
RULES OF SURRENDER
RULES OF ENGAGEMENT
RULES OF ATTRACTION
IN MY WILDEST DREAMS
LOST IN YOUR ARMS
MY FAVORITE BRIDE
And now
MY FAIR TEMPTRESS,
the story of Miss Caroline Ritter,
accomplished flirt and disgraced debutante,
who, destitute and desperate,
takes a position teaching Jude Durant,
the earl of Huntington,
how to catch a wife, and discovers that
sometimes the teacher becomes the pupil
in a most improbable seduction…
Miss Caroline Ritter squeezed a handful of her damp, shabby…
“My lord, how good to see you.” With a dour…
In high dudgeon, Lord Huntington removed himself from Nevett’s study…
Jude straightened his cuffs as he entered the party that…
“A lovely afternoon after so many days of rain, Lord…
Miss Ritter rode off in a cab.
Caroline picked her way through the refuse in the narrow…
As Jude paid the driver of the cabriolet, he heard…
Caroline’s early training had covered many things. It covered how…
Nicolette’s fingers smashed the chords to bits.
“Miss Ritter, yesterday proved to you I can dance.” Huntington…
“Don’t look so worried.” Huntington took her arm and sat…
“Caroline, you have to come at once.” Nicolette wrung her…
“Dear, you should have seen it.” Nicolette swept into the…
Jude dawdled in the foyer, listening as Nevett’s voice rose…
None of the guests circulating in the huge ballroom turned…
Before Caroline could subdue her blushes and remind herself she…
Murder.
The streets were silent, waiting the first calls of the…
“We’re going to walk into this tea, smile graciously, and…
“If you see me nodding off, dear, please give me…
Jude saw the moment Caroline realized what he’d done.
“Miss Ritter, ye’re home!” Daisy rose from her chair before…
Jude nodded a greeting to the two burly men who…
“What’s happening?” As they climbed the stairs, Caroline glanced back…
Harry had watched as that fine young lord left his…
Caroline covered her eyes. She’d never seen death before, never…
Seldom in a woman’s life did reality match her dreams.
The Distinguished Academy of Governesses London, 1849
M
iss Caroline Ritter squeezed a handful of her damp, shabby skirt. “I need to procure some method of providing sustenance for myself.”
Adorna, Lady Bucknell, the proprietress of the Distinguished Academy of Governesses, folded her hands on her desk and gazed at the young lady seated before her. Outside, the March rains lashed at the windows, the occasional splatter of sleet a reminder that winter hadn’t yet loosened its hold on London.
Rather more forcefully, Miss Ritter said, “In other words, I need a job.”
Pinning her with a direct gaze, Adorna asked, “What are your accomplishments?”
Miss Ritter hesitated a telling moment.
Adorna tried to make it easier for her. “What do you do best?”
“Flirt,” she said promptly.
Adorna believed her. She had seen many a young lady come through her study at the Distinguished Academy of Governesses, all of them in need of assistance, but she had never felt such a kinship as she felt now for Miss Caroline Ritter.
This young lady was beautiful. Her smooth, tan complexion reminded Adorna of the tale repeated about the Ritters—that four hundred years ago Mr. Ritter brought home a bride from some exotic locale, and since then the women of the family had been temptresses who led all men astray. Miss Ritter certainly fit the role.
She was tall, almost gangly, with long arms and slender fingers, yet she moved with a grace that pleasured the eye. Her high bosom and narrow waist would naturally rivet any man’s attention, and her voice, low and warm, gave the impression of interest and kindness. She had gathered her straight brown hair into a severe chignon at the base of her neck, yet fine strands had escaped their confinement, and the auburn highlights encased her striking face like a summer sunset. Her wide chin gave the inference of defiance, and the dark lashes and brows that decorated her slumberous aquamarine eyes strengthened the impression of unusual and delicate beauty.
Never had Adorna seen so exquisite a visage since the day, thirty years ago, when she had gazed into a mirror and realized that she herself was a diamond of the first water.
Yet time had wrought changes on her own face, so that now Miss Caroline Ritter could accurately be described as the loveliest woman in England.
Leaning back in her chair, Adorna said aloud what she had been thinking. “I remember you. Three years ago you were all the rage.”
“And I’ve heard of you.” Caroline met Adorna’s gaze directly. “You were the most famous debutante of your time.”
At the tribute, Adorna allowed a small smile to cross her lips. “I was.”
“Some say you were the most famous debutante of all time.”
“So my husband says, but I tell him that is simply flattery. It works, of course. He is very good at getting his way.” Adorna allowed her mind to drift back thirty years to her debut. “Do you know, I had fourteen offers of marriage in my first Season?”
“That is extraordinary.” Miss Ritter modestly lowered her eyes. “I had fifteen.”
Ah. A rivalry. How delicious. “Four abduction attempts, two by the same man.”
“Only three abduction attempts, but all by different men.”
“And fifty-three stolen kisses.” This game amused Adorna. “I kept a tally.”
“I kept a tally, too, and I assure you, you’re far ahead of me in that contest.” Miss Ritter’s mouth drooped in disappointment. “My chaperone was far too watchful until…until she wasn’t.”
“Mine was having her own scandalous evening.” Adorna chuckled warmly. “She is my aunt, Jane Higgenbothem, now Lady Blackburn. Perhaps you know of her?”
“The famous sculptress? Indeed, I do! Her work is magnificent. My father…my father invested in some of her works…” Miss Ritter eyed the crackling fire with some longing. “I imagine her dedication to her sculpting distracted from her duty to keep you untouched.”
“Something like that.” Lifting the bell at her elbow, Adorna rang, and when the maid appeared, she requested a generous tea be served. Returning to the matter at hand, Adorna said, “Unfortunately, Miss Ritter, there is very little call for such a talent as flirting.”
The girl half rose from her chair and leaned across the desk to seize Adorna’s hands. She fixed her with her amazingly bright aquamarine gaze. “Please. Lady Bucknell, I truly have need of employment. You have a reputation of finding a position to fit every young woman. You must have
something
I can do.”
“Your circumstances are difficult.” Adorna’s sympathy was unfeigned. “I understand you were compromised during your debut Season?”
Miss Ritter kept her chin up and a brave smile on her lips. “Not just compromised. Ruined.”
Adorna hated to press her, but if she was responsible for placing the young lady into a household, she had to know the circumstances. “By a married man.”
“By Lord Freshfield.”
“He is very handsome.” The viscount had followed his family tradition and ruthlessly used his face and figure to marry an older woman—a woman with money.
“Very handsome, indeed. He could turn a girl’s head.” Miss Ritter’s eyes froze to the color of the winter sea. “But not to that extent, my dear Lady Bucknell. I was a foolish girl, but not a wanton.”
That was the damning part of the tale Adorna had heard. That Miss Ritter had been infatuated with Lord Freshfield. That she had encouraged him to behave badly. But Adorna well knew how gossip twisted the truth. “I’ve met Lord Freshfield, and he’s not an admirable character, scarcely fit for society, much less the company of a young lady.” Shrewdly, she added, “I hope he hasn’t bothered you since.”
“We no longer move in the same circles.” Miss Ritter sank back down into the chair. “We never shall again.”
Miss Ritter hadn’t really answered the question, Adorna noted. So Lord Freshfield had not only destroyed her life, but now sought to destroy her innocence. That man was nothing but blond hair and smiling teeth held together by his own imagined allure.
“He hurt my reputation, he hurt it badly,” Miss Ritter said, in a voice she kept under rigid control, “but my father is the one who ruined me.”
“Your father believed you had done wrong.”
“My father’s dearest wish is for a title. He said my stupidity, as he called it, ruined those chances.” Miss Ritter’s mouth was the kind of mouth men convinced themselves signaled the soul of a seductress. Yet if those same men saw its intelligent, humorous quirk right now, they might be cautious, even frightened, for she appeared both savagely amused and furious.
“You are without resources,” Adorna said delicately.
Miss Ritter gazed into Adorna’s eyes. Adorna gazed back, trusting that Miss Ritter would recognize the common bond between them.
And it seemed she did, for with a dip of the head, she said, “My mother…my mother was from the Aquitaine in the south of France. Her family has written repeatedly asking that I come to them. But I can’t. My younger sister…she needs me. We visit every chance we get, when my father goes out, the servants let me in and she…he doesn’t see in Genevieve the potential he saw in me, so he doesn’t have time for her. She’s lonely. She’s a child, only fourteen years old. If I could make enough money to support us both, I would take her to the Aquitaine…”
Adorna gestured in the maid who carried the tea tray, and listened.
“Which is silly. I can’t make enough to support myself. But I must stay here in London, for although she has enough to eat and shelter over her head, doesn’t a girl need kindness and encouragement and, most important, love, to develop?” Miss Ritter seemed to be repeating a conversation she had often had with herself. “Yes, I know this is true. Mama died when I was that age, and I miss her dreadfully. How much more terrible for Genevieve that she lost her mama, then five years later, she lost me. I can’t leave, no matter how much sense it makes or how rapidly I might return for her.”
Adorna stood and she led the way to the chairs by the fire. “You’re right, of course.” She glimpsed the warm gratitude in Miss Ritter’s gaze as she followed, and resolved to fix this situation. “Do you have a place to stay?”
“Yes, thank you, my lady.”
Adorna waved her to the settee close to the fire, then seated herself opposite. She examined the platter of foodstuffs and, satisfied with the selection, dismissed the maid. Taking one of the plates, she asked, “Lemon cakes, Miss Ritter?”
Miss Ritter’s eyes glowed. “Yes, thank you, I
love
lemon cakes.”
Adorna placed a lemon cake on a plate. “Cinnamon biscuits?”
Stripping off her gloves, Miss Ritter said, “Yes, thank you, I
love
cinnamon biscuits.”
“Clotted cream?”
“Yes, thank you, I
love
—”
Removing a few items off the heaped platter for herself, Adorna placed the platter close to Miss Ritter. It was easier that way.
She poured tea, added milk and sugar, and extended the cup.
Accepting it, Miss Ritter took a sip, her eyes closing as if tasting the finest ambrosia.
She might have somewhere to stay, but she had gone hungry more than one night. Smoothly, Adorn asked, “What have you done to support yourself?”
Miss Ritter put down the cup. “I have sewn.” Leaning down, she rummaged in the large valise she carried with her and produced a sealed paper. “Here’s an affidavit from Madam Marnham, the noted seamstress, confirming the dates of my employment. I have worked in the kitchens of Lord Barnett.” She produced another letter. “Here’s an affidavit from the chef also confirming the dates of my employment. I have taught singing and pianoforte, and for that I have a very sweet recommendation”—she handed it across—“from Mrs. Charlton Cabot explaining why she had to let me go. Poor woman. She felt so guilty, but I quite understood.”
Adorna waved Miss Ritter to silence and broke the seals. As she examined the letters, a pattern became clear. Miss Ritter had tried to find employment on her own, but she was nothing less than dreadful at sewing and cooking and teaching. Yet her employers had loved her, had hated to let her go, and gave lengthy explanations about their reasons for releasing her from their employ. Miss Ritter’s efforts had endeared her to her employers, and they wished her only the best, but in truth, she was only good for one thing—flirting.
Now she sat and stared at Adorna. Her bonnet was frayed, her hem was frayed, her composure was frayed. The finger of one glove had a hole, badly mended, her lips were chapped from the cold, and her dress had been turned too many times. She had hit bottom, and something had to be done.
“Very well.” Standing, Adorna went to her desk. Digging down to the bottom of the employer requests stacked on her desk, she found the one she wanted and pulled it out. She reread it, and nodded. “Miss Ritter, I have the perfect position for you.”