Nina Coombs Pykare (24 page)

He smiled strangely. “I know you care about the girls. It’s for that reason, and that reason alone, that I permit you to stay on here. But I warn you.” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her as though she were a recalcitrant child. “You must stay away from Crawford. He is dangerous to you.”

“Tell him to stay away from me,” she flared. How dare he shake her like that! Like—like some kind of rag doll! “I haven’t hung out lures for the viscount. Tell him to leave me alone. And you—you leave me alone, too!”

His grip on her shoulders tightened until she cried out with the pain of it. But he didn’t heed her cries, just stood glaring down at her. Until suddenly he released his grip on her shoulders and crushed her against him again, to cover her mouth with his. This time, too, she was unable to resist him, and went soft and pliable in his arms. Never had she experienced such a rioting of her senses. She gave herself up to it, letting it carry her away into a wonder of sensations. She didn’t think about protest, about trying to stop him. She had no choice. She didn’t want a choice. She wanted to stay forever in his arms.

He released her so suddenly that she swayed with weakness. As she looked up into the dark face so near her own, a wave of feeling rushed over her, a wave so strong that it quite overpowered her. The viscount’s kisses meant nothing to her. She had been right about that. But the earl’s-

She took a step backward and swayed, the room tilting dangerously. That was it. She saw it now—the real reason she had refused to leave the castle when he gave her the chance. The reason she had tried so hard to involve him again in his daughters’ lives.

She had never in her life swooned. She’d scoffed at women who affected the vapors. Now she knew that she had been wrong to scoff. The knowledge that had just come to her assailed her senses so strongly that she could scarcely stand. It was possible to be carried away by deep feelings, so carried away that-

Then the floor came up to meet her and she let herself sink gratefully into the comforting darkness. But it didn’t come in time to conceal from her the knowledge that she had just so painfully acquired. She had lied to the earl. Lied to his face. She did want to be the mistress of Holmden Hill. She wanted it very much. Because she was in love with its master!

Chapter Twenty-four

When Edwina opened her eyes again, she was cradled in the earl’s arms, supported against his warm chest. He must have caught her as she fell. How stupid to faint like that. She’d never ever swooned. But now her senses were all caught up in her physical proximity to him. She could feel the brocade of his waistcoat beneath her cheek, the warmth of his arms around her. Her heart wanted to pound its way out of her chest and her breath came in shallow spurts. And yet—somehow, some way—she felt safe.

He carried her to a nearby divan, settled her there with great care, and looked at her with concern in his dark eyes. “Miss Pierce, have you taken ill?”

“No, milord. It was—just a sudden weakness”. She tried to think, to calm her racing thoughts so she could at least sound rational. “It’s nothing. Perhaps I was too long in the sun this afternoon.”

How anxious he looked, she thought, her heart

overflowing with love for him. How could she have been so blind? How could she have missed what was happening to her these past weeks? The concern which she had thought originated in her regard for the girls was really for him. The joy she’d felt during their breakfasts together had been because of her feelings for him, not because he was doing as she’d asked and paying attention to his daughters.

The heat spread over her face. She’d lied to him. Unwittingly, of course, but still lied. There was nothing in the world that she would like better than to be his wife. Not because he was an earl, but because she loved him.

She raised her gaze to his face and quickly lowered it. There was no telling what he might read in her eyes now. It would take her some time to be able to regard him with composure again. For what he had said was true. With this terrible trouble hanging over him, he would never think of marriage. And she, of course, could consider nothing else. Much as she loved him, she could not possibly-

Who said he would ask her to anyway? His kiss had been just what she’d told him the viscount’s was—the meaningless kiss of a rake—and though earls might relish an occasional stolen kiss as much as any viscount, they were even less likely to consider offering marriage to poor governesses.

She found that she was twisting her hands nervously in her lap and clasped them together to still them. Yes, that’s what the kiss had been to him—a momentary thing, of little importance. But for her it had marked the discovery of love, a love that she feared might in the end prove her undoing.

Perhaps she should accept his offer of the ticket to London. In the city she might build a new life, a life without him. A great pain surged deep within her, like something vital was being cut away. She didn’t want a life without him. She saw that clearly now.

Besides, she’d never been one to run from danger. And as for pain, pain had been her constant companion while Papa lived. She was used to dealing with pain. No, she wouldn’t run. She would stay at the castle—and the love that the earl did not wish from her she would give to his daughters. At least in that way she could be of help to him.

Charles looked down at the pale young woman and cursed himself silently. What was wrong with him? Letting loose his temper, yelling at the girl yet. When she’d dropped like that, right into his arms, his heart had almost popped out of his mouth. With her dark lashes against her pale cheeks, all limp in his arms, she’d looked so young, so innocent. He wanted nothing more than to protect her from all harm. Even now she looked pale, almost forlorn.

This was the young woman who was usually so bright and chipper, ready to take on anything in this world—or the next. Even when she’d told him about her dire circumstances, that it was work at the castle or starvation, she hadn’t looked this poorly.

Why had he let himself get carried away like that? Bad enough to have railed at her as though the whole situation were her fault, but then to compound his error by grabbing her like some rough stable boy and . . . What on earth had gotten into him? How could he have behaved in such an ungentlemanly fashion?

Miss Pierce was a woman grown. If she wanted to spend the night with Crawford . . . But he’d better not think of that now. Think of her. Think of her well being.

“Miss Pierce?”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, and shook her head a little as though to clear it. “Yes, milord. I’m sorry. I’m still a little lightheaded.”

“I’m the one to be sorry,” he said contritely. “I don’t believe it was the sun that overset you. Far more likely it was my vile temper.” How could he apologize properly? “I assure you,” he went on, “that I’m not in the habit of behaving in such an unmannerly fashion. I do know better.”

She smiled faintly. “Please, milord, say no more. I was to blame also. I can’t believe I was screaming at you like that—like a fishwife.” She frowned and looked down, smoothing her rumpled skirt in obvious embarrassment.

He smiled ruefully. “Perhaps we were both wrong. I hope that no harm has come to you. Fortunately I was able to catch you as you fell.”

“Thank you, milord.” Her face screwed up in puzzlement. “I don’t usually do such things. I don’t believe I’ve ever fainted before in my life.”

“I thought not,” he agreed. relieved she’d accepted his apology. Shocking to see her drop like that. Somehow in the past days he’d grown accustomed to thinking of her as a tower of strength. To see her crumple had made his heart falter.

“Catherine used to swoon on me quite often. Not that I ever yelled at her, God forbid.” No, he’d loved her too much for that. Loved her more than life itself. Still loved her. Even if he had just kissed— “She was just such a delicate thing. But you, you, Miss Pierce, are made of sturdier stuff.”

Edwina forced herself to smile. He would never love anyone but his dead Catherine. It was foolish of her to hope otherwise. And even more foolish was her tendency to feel wounded because the earl believed she was made of sturdier stuff. Certainly she could be of more use to him sturdy than if she were always swooning away in his arms. Though being in his arms- But she couldn’t think about that now.

“I believe I am quite recovered,” she said stoutly. “And I really must be about my duties. The girls still have lessons to do.”

The earl eyed her apprehensively. “Please, be sure that you’re completely recovered. Perhaps you should lie upon your bed for a while first. That used to help Catherine.”

“I assure you I am quite well!” Oh dear! She hadn’t succeeded in keeping the cutting edge of annoyance entirely out of her voice. But this business of being constantly compared to Catherine was getting on her nerves. Obviously she couldn’t complete with a frail beauty with pansy eyes, and the fact that Lady Catherine was dead only made the whole thing more impossible. How could anyone compete against a dead woman?

By loving. Hadn’t she read the earl a lecture about that very thing earlier? Well, it was still good advice and she’d follow it. She softened her tone. “Really, milord, I assure you, I am quite recovered. The girls must have some more lessons today.”

His lordship smiled and she felt her heart lurch. How handsome he looked. How she loved him. “Very well,” he said, “if you insist.”

“I do.” She rose and found herself steady enough on her feet. She had her bearings again now that she had had a moment to think. There was no need to upset herself because she loved the earl. It wouldn’t be the first time—nor the last—that a governess had loved above her station.

She made her way to the door. “Milord, about the matter we were discussing before—”

“Please.” His lordship winced. “Let us forget that matter. I don’t know what came over me. Rest assured that I have faith in you and please accept my apologies for any—”

“Please, milord. No apologies are necessary. The matter is forgotten.”

The earl nodded and she made her way from the room. But she knew the matter was not forgotten. She would never forget, she told herself with a mixture of pleasure and pain, the kiss that had revealed to her that she loved the master of Holmden Hill.

* * * *

The rest of the day went quickly. Long before Edwina was ready for it, the dinner hour arrived. Tucking her loose hair back in its chignon, she wished that she didn’t have to face the earl so soon again. She was afraid she might inadvertently reveal her feelings for him in front of the viscount and Lady Leonore. That fear would keep her constantly on edge. She didn’t want anyone to suspect this love of hers.

Such suspicions could prove more than troublesome for her. The viscount obviously wouldn’t be pleased to have his amusing toy enamored of someone else. And Lady Leonore- Edwina made a face in the cheval glass. Lady Leonore would be absolutely enraged if she learned that the new governess had tender feelings for the earl, a man the lady clearly regarded as already her own.

So, Edwina thought, that meant she must school herself, watch every look and move so that she wouldn’t give herself away. Because if Leonore knew, she would do her best to have the governess turned off. After what had happened today she might even succeed.

With a deep sigh, Edwina left the cheval glass and made her way down the stairs. There was nothing more to do about her looks. Hours of effort and the best dresser in London would be of little use against a memory. And as for the brilliant blonde beauty of Lady Leonore . . . Edwina sighed even more deeply. There was no use trying to out-beauty that witch.

On her way down the great stairs, Edwina examined her feelings about Lady Leonore. Maybe her intense dislike of the lady was grounded in her feelings for the earl. Edwina had no idea how long her love for him had been growing—quite probably since the first day she’d seen him. No wonder she felt such antagonism toward the woman who considered the earl her private property.

And yet, Edwina thought, with a grim smile, her bad feelings weren’t entirely her fault. Lady Leonore hadn’t been exactly cordial either. In fact, for several evenings now she hadn’t spoken one word to her, treating her as though she wasn’t even there.

At the door to the dining hall, Edwina took a deep breath. The earl stood gazing out the window, the viscount by his side. She wanted to turn and run, but she knew she couldn’t. Her lips tingled. Was her guilt written on her face? Now she was being ridiculous. She’d just look normal and step into the room.

The viscount turned. “Ah, Miss Pierce. Good evening. Did you accomplish your intent and get the little ones settled to their lessons after our invigorating walk?”

Chapter Twenty-five

Edwina stiffened. Must the viscount keep referring to that stupid walk as though it had been something special? Her gaze flew to the earl, but he hadn’t turned—his back was still to her. Was that a slight stiffening of his shoulders, a rigidity to his back? Did it mean anger? But he still didn’t turn and she couldn’t tell.

“Yes, milord. The girls have done their lessons.” She kept her tone neutral. After all, she did have to speak when spoken to. She couldn’t just ignore the viscount.

Still, though the earl might have said to forget their discussion, she couldn’t forget that he’d been very angry. She didn’t want him to be angry with her. A sickening sensation in the pit of her stomach told her that to have him angry with her was almost more than she could bear.

She turned away from the viscount before he could offer her his arm, but not before she caught the puzzled expression on his face. She’d have to tread carefully here, for the viscount was no fool. If she cut him dead, he would snoop about looking for an explanation for her behavior. Knowing him, he would probably find it.

Both men turned toward the door. Lady Leonore entered the dining room, dressed as for a night at the London theater. “Good evening, Leonore,” the viscount said.

“Good evening,” Lady Leonore said brusquely, her gaze sliding over Edwina as though she weren’t in the room and going immediately to the earl.