Rules of Surrender (24 page)

Her mouth moved beneath his.

Response. Sweet response. His blood leaped in his veins. He moved to deepen the kiss… and bumped her hat.

It slid off the back of her head. She gasped. They both grabbed. He caught it by the ribbons. And, as the romantic moment vanished, they laughed.

Together, Wynter noted with satisfaction. They laughed together.

Handing her the hat, he said, ”Come. We will return and see if the man you did not wish to marry has departed.“

”Yes, you should return to spend time with your friend, my lord.“ She tied the bow beneath her chin. ”But I am the governess. My place is in the schoolroom.“

As Wynter helped her back into the saddle, he thought,
Not for long, Charlotte. Soon your place will‘ be in my bedchamber.

CHAPTER 21

”
My
mother has returned.“

Wynter’s observation transported Charlotte back to real life. It was true. Adorna stood on the terrace surrounded by bandboxes and scurrying servants.

”Darlings,“ Adorna called as they rode near. ”What a lovely day to be out!“

Charlotte had been in service long enough to recognize a note of doubt in her employer’s voice. Adorna was not particularly pleased to see her son with the governess, and from the way she observed them, it was obvious she noted a shift in their relationship. Charlotte glanced toward Wynter to see if he had taken note of his mother’s disapproval.

He displayed only pleasure at seeing his mother again.

Perhaps he hadn’t heard her questioning tone. Men were notorious for failing to observe the most obvious of evidence. Or perhaps he didn’t care.

Charlotte glanced at him again. He caught her eye this time and smiled back warmly.

No, this man didn’t care what his mother thought. He didn’t care what anyone thought. He’d already proposed to her, Lady Charlotte Dalrumple, despite the fact he was breaking every rule, and that he should— and could—wed a wealthy and suitable debutante.

Footmen rushed to the mounting blocks to hold the horses’ heads.

”Yes, Lady Ruskin, a beautiful day for a ride,“ Charlotte said. ”Lord Ruskin wished to check out my skill before I assisted Leila in learning the sidesaddle.“ She managed to get down off the gelding before Wynter could come to help her. She climbed the stairs to the terrace. ”I believe he is satisfied that I can instruct that precious child.“

Apparently offended by her independence, he stalked after her.

Ignoring him, she stopped close beside Adorna. ”My lord, will I be allowed to start those lessons tomorrow?“

He glared at her from the other side of his mother. ”Of course. I will accompany you.“

”Dear boy, how could you be free? People have been asking for you ever since you left the city.“ Adorna laid a hand on Charlotte’s arm. ”Your lessons are working, Charlotte. He was so charming, all of London wishes to meet him, especially the ladies. My card salver is overflowing with invitations.“

Without being told, Charlotte knew Adorna schemed to find him that perfect wife. If only Adorna realized how wholeheartedly Charlotte approved of that plan. ”Then he should certainly go to London tomorrow.“

”Those people and what they want do not matter, Mother.“ Wynter had an edge to his voice. ”But I will go for the business.“

Charlotte deemed it a good time to slip away, murmuring, ”If you would excuse me, I must go to the children.“

Inside the manor, she was walking slowly, allowing her eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight, when from the gallery she heard her name called.

”Charlotte!“ Lord Howard hurried to stop her.

In the peaceful ride back from the hill, she’d forgotten he might be there. Now she wished she had bumbled along quickly to avoid what would surely be an uncomfortable encounter. ”My lord, you found your way here. I hope you were given refreshments?“

”Yes, thank you, but I would like to—“

Courtesy be damned. She interrupted. ”Your children were fed, too? And taken to the schoolroom?“

”Yes, thank you, they’re upstairs playing, and I’ve been waiting to—“

”Then I should go to them at once. Children require constant supervision, my lord, and I treasure my position as governess here.“ She curtsied.

”You could take a position with me.“ He looked at her from great, sorrowful eyes, and his tone was that of a beggar. ”I could make you happy.“

She backed away from him, backed away from the insinuation that he wished to make her his mistress. He used to be comely and so overbearing about his background, title and eligibility, he had annoyed her without even speaking. Now drink had corrupted the handsomeness, some great misery had crushed the arrogance and she could feel nothing but pity for him. ”Thank you, but I am quite satisfied with my current employment.“

He followed. ”I mean it. I’d hire you. As a governess, I mean. To my children.“

She almost wished he still posed and strutted. It would be better than this dejection. How hideous was his marriage that he make such an offer, when nine years ago he had sworn, in an ugly scene, never to speak to her again?

”I will keep your offer in mind should my situation change.“ She sped up the stairs, knowing he watched her and wanting nothing more than to get away from the man whom she’d blamed for her tribulations. It had taken facing him to acknowledge that wasn’t true; her uncle’s determination to get her married without a season or a dowry and her stubborn resistance had combined to bring the disaster to pass.

Once out of sight she relaxed, and realized even that disquieting scene couldn’t shake her. Funny, but the last few days had been so wretched with havoc, all caused by Wynter, and now Wynter’s gentlemanly regard had soothed her. And how had Wynter soothed her? By simply holding her, not with rapacious intent, but by just… holding her. For one moment he had allowed himself to forget all his arrogance and intractable determination and just be… nice. Very nice. Even the kiss was nice, and if her hat hadn’t fallen off…

Well, that didn’t matter, she chided herself briskly. She hadn’t really responded, so she was still innocent of enticement.

Opening the door to the schoolroom, she was greeted by a shout of joy from Leila and by Robbie begging her to rescue him from this invasion of girls.

She relaxed. Her life had returned to normal.

Lord Howard didn’t immediately summon his daughters, so after Charlotte spoke to the drawing mistress, she organized a reading activity for the children. She hoped the presence of Lady Mary and Lady Emily would incite Leila to show off, but although Charlotte could have sworn Leila understood the letters and the words, the child sat mute.

Charlotte resolved to write Pamela for suggestions; Pamela regularly taught younger children, and she might know what would spur Leila to learn.

Then Charlotte looked for her copy of
The Arabian Nights’ Entertainments.
Much to her surprise, the book wasn’t in her bag, but on the floor beside it. ”I have been careless,“ she said as she dusted off the leather binding. ”Books shouldn’t be left on the floor. You all know that, don’t you?“

”Yes, Lady Miss Charlotte,“ Leila said. ”Are you going to read to us?“

Charlotte brushed at strands that straggled from Leila’s braid. ”Would you like that?“

”I like that more than anything.“

”Will I like the book?“ young, sallow-skinned Lady Mary asked.

”You’ll like it,“ Leila said.

Leila would make a good governess, Charlotte thought, amused. She told one what she expected in a clear and matter-of-fact manner. Opening the book, Charlotte allowed the children to settle around her. Robbie remained aloof, close enough to hear the tale but far enough back to avoid contamination from the girls. Leila pressed close, of course, but so did Lady Mary and Lady Emily. Charlotte watched them as she read; although Lady Mary was a child given to childish whining, and Lady Emily to world-weariness, at heart they were good children, eager to please. Charlotte’s heart ached for them, but she couldn’t give them what they needed—a mother who cared. Yes, she preferred her current position to any Lord Howard could offer.

The door to the schoolroom opened, and Miss Symes poked her head in. Charlotte expected a summons from Lord Howard for his children, but the house-keeper clearly had other matters on her mind. She glared from beneath a prominent brow, and her mouth puckered so tightly her thin mustache bristled. ”Miss Dalrumple!“ she snapped. ”Lady Ruskin requires your presence in the gallery. At once!“

Startled by the housekeeper’s tone, Charlotte rose. ”Is there some difficulty involving the children?“

Miss Symes sniffed. ”That’s not for me to say.“

”I can’t leave the children without supervision,“ Charlotte said.

”The new nursemaid is on her way, and Lady Ruskin will allow no delay.“

Something had happened. Charlotte’s heart sank— had Wynter told Adorna of his proposal? That had to be it.

Charlotte could certainly reassure Adorna about that. She wouldn’t marry an arrogant man like Wynter, no matter how much he stroked her back. But to be dismissed… to ruin the fragile reputation of their tiny business venture.

”Here she is,“ Miss Symes said, and ushered the nursemaid in. ”Come along, Miss Dalrumple.“

Charlotte marched along the corridor and down the stairs, Miss Symes on her heels like a goaler. Charlotte hesitated at the bottom. ”Where… ?“

”In the long salon,“ Miss Symes said.

The private tete-a-tete Charlotte imagined could not take place there, especially not when, as they approached, she heard the hum of a dozen voices.

”Go in.“ Miss Symes sounded cold as ice. ”They’re waiting for you.“

”Who?“ Charlotte asked.

Miss Symes snorted. ”You’ll see.“

The first person Charlotte saw as she stepped into the room was her uncle the Earl of Porterbridge, seated and swollen with glee. Her aunt sat there, too, as did the vicar and the vicar’s wife, a half dozen of her uncle’s sycophants, and Cousin Orford. In the middle of the group sat Adorna, biting her lip and staring about her with manifest repugnance.

At once, Charlotte became the cynosure of all eyes.

The look Adorna cast at her was compounded of equal parts of guilt and relief.

What had happened?

”Charlotte, dear.“ Adorna’s usual allure seemed badly diminished.

”I always knew you’d come to a bad end, Charlotte,“ Aunt Piper announced.

Adorna turned on her and snapped, ”Piper, silence! I will not allow mob rule.“

Aunt Piper turned an ugly color of purple and subsided.

Satisfied that she’d brought the crowd under control, Adorna continued. ”Charlotte, dear, these good people have come to me with a report that very much concerns me.“

A report. Well, there was a list of indiscretions. So much
had
happened, all of it with Wynter. His scandalous conversation in the picture gallery. Their kiss in the old nursery. His scandalous almost-touch in his bedchamber…

”You were seen atop the hill kissing Wynter.“

Charlotte stared blankly. ”When?“

”Has it happened more than once?“ Orford crowed.

Uncle’s hand swung out and knuckled him beside the ear.

Adorna briefly touched her fingers to her temple. ”Today, Charlotte, dear.“

Today
? With all the passionate moments that had existed between her and Wynter, and a public outcry exploded over that chaste kiss?

”Is it true?“ Adorna asked.

Still dumbfounded, Charlotte didn’t answer.

”The vicar and his wife saw the whole sordid affair.“ Porterbridge sounded jovial. ”Do you doubt their word?“

In that moment, Charlotte realized how thoroughly uncivilized contact with Wynter had made her. Any intimacy between a governess and a gentleman was unacceptable.
Any
intimacy, no matter how guileless. She would have been the first to say so… two months ago. Now she could only recall the more ardent moments she and Wynter had shared, and thank God no one had seen any of those.

For if they had, she wouldn’t be able to stand, clear-eyed and unblushing, and admit, ”Yes, it’s true. Wynter kissed me this morning.“

The uproar that followed reminded Charlotte of the fracas that had occurred when she refused to marry Lord Howard, only worse, for Wynter’s reputation as a barbarian gave the affair a greater relish. Aunt Piper’s shrill voice beat against Charlotte’s ears like the shriek of a bird of prey. The vicar was pontificating on something. Adorna tried to make herself heard above the babble.

Charlotte met Uncle’s gaze out of pure defiance, for this time there was no escape. No one would ever hire her again. She would have to find another vocation, or change her name, or leave the country.

The clamor had risen to a crescendo when a roar from the outer door brought it to an abrupt halt. In unison, everyone turned.

Wynter stood on the threshold. Howard stood in his shadow.

”Someone will tell me what is happening. You!“ Wynter pointed at Aunt Piper. ”You will tell me why you visit my house and why you speak so discordantly.“

Aunt Piper loved to be the center of attention, but not necessarily from a man bristling with ill humor and tainted by foreign influences. ”It’s… ah… about your governess.“

”Lady Miss Charlotte.“

”Ah… yes. Ah… Lady Charlotte. Miss Dalrumple.“

Charlotte was human, after all; she enjoyed watching Aunt Piper flounder beneath Wynter’s focused attention.

”She… ah… was seen… ah…“

Orford couldn’t bear his mother’s dithering any longer. ”Oh, for God’s sake, Mum, he’s almost a damned foreigner. She“—he pointed at Charlotte— ”has again proved herself a wanton when she kissed you this morning and everyone saw it.“

Lord Howard gasped and looked at Charlotte, his eyes as wide and accusing as a cuckolded husband’s.

Wynter advanced into the long gallery and came to a halt before Charlotte’s cousin. ”I remember
you. You’re
the boy who told me at my father’s funeral that my father was a peasant and I was a bastard.“ Wynter’s fist shot out and smashed into Orford’s face. The women screamed. Wynter grabbed Orford by the collar before Orford fell. ”That was for my father.“ He hit him again. ”And that was for Lady Charlotte.“ He released him and Orford hit the floor, moaning, then tried to stagger to his feet. ”If you get up, I will just have to knock you down again,“ Wynter warned.