Rules of Surrender (7 page)

When Leila had finished, Charlotte held out a hand to each of them. ”After we’ve eaten, we shall go for our constitutional while you tell me about El Bahar.“

That had become a routine. Everyday they walked. Robbie practiced with his knife. Leila chased butterflies and tumbled in the grass. And the children shared tales of their desert home. They enjoyed reminiscing about the place they had left almost as much as they enjoyed teaching their teacher. Charlotte found herself fascinated by the visions of undulating sand, of camels that spit and smelled of dung, of bones bleached by the sun, by the sudden vision of an oasis and the realization it was only a mirage.

”The outdoor meal can be part of celebrations in midsummer,“ she instructed as they walked down the stairs and traversed the corridor. ”When dining outdoors, one must be aware that the rules of civility remain the same.“

Leila heaved a sigh. ”I don’t want to talk about manners. They’re stupid.“

”Manners are what separate the cultured from the provincial,“ Charlotte chided.

”I thought culture was,“ Robbie said.

A deep chuckle sounded behind them. ”He has you there, Lady Miss Charlotte.“ Wynter stood in the doorway of the long gallery.

”Papa!“ Leila launched herself at him.

He caught her in his arms and kissed the top of her head, then swept an arm around Robbie and drew him into his embrace. He smiled broadly, but Charlotte saw previously unnoticed frown lines between his brows. His feet were bare, his shirt was open and, without collar or waistcoat, his hair looked as if he’d been using his fingers to comb it, his scar sliced his cheek, and that earring…

Exotic. He looked exotic. That was the real reason why she avoided taking breakfast with Wynter and the children in the mornings. For her, he embodied all that was exotic, unattainable and desirable.

Hastily she averted her gaze. ”My lord, how good to see you.“

”You’re not lookin’ at him,“ Leila observed from her perch in his arms.

”That saying is just a courtesy.“ Charlotte thought that a reasonable explanation, but by now she should have known better. The children were literal—at least in the English language.

”Why would you say something that is not true?“ Robbie asked.

”Yes, Lady Miss Charlotte, why would you?“ Wynter echoed.

She knew he was laughing at her. At her, and at everything noble and honorable and British. Swiveling, she looked him right in the eyes and said, ”Courtesy eases situations that might otherwise end in misunderstanding, hurt feelings and even bloodshed. I cannot believe that even in the far reaches of El Bahar courtesy is not observed.“

”As usual, Lady Miss Charlotte, you are correct. The courtesies are very important in El Bahar, especially that courtesy which I find so lacking in England.“

”What might that be?“ she asked.

”Tolerance.“ Before she could think of a retort, he smiled on his children. ”Fruit of my loins, what treat has your teacher planned for you?“

”Supper on the terrace.“ Leila took his head in her hands and turned it so he looked at her. ”Papa, please say you’ll eat with us.“

Wynter cupped Robbie’s cheek in his palm. ”I prayed you would ask. Does your governess acquiesce?“

As if she could reject her employer.

But that wasn’t fair. He had done the polite thing. He had requested the lady’s permission to join in their meal, and few employers considered the governess enough of a lady to consult her wishes. So Wynter had shown more courtesy than most men of his station. Despite his strange appearance.

It was just that… the thought of eating with him set her teeth on edge.

Wynter seemed to have too much. Too much self-assurance, too much comeliness, too much of that air that staked a claim on any available woman should he desire. Not that he had indicated any interest in her since that first day, and that had clearly been a test. But just as her vexation in finding herself in Surrey was always there on the periphery of her awareness, so was her irritation with him.

Like now, when he smiled at her quizzically. ”Lady Miss Charlotte?“

”I’ll go instruct the servants to set another place.“ She went at once toward the kitchen, setting her feet down firmly on the floor, a calm, professional, unshakable woman.

As she passed the library, she heard Adorna call her. ”Lady Ruskin… Adorna… how good to see you back from London.“

Adorna was shedding her traveling garments, her smile as fresh as ever. ”It’s a pleasure to be back. London is nothing but stews, gossip and parties.“ She hooked her arm through Charlotte’s and strolled with her toward the kitchen. ”A dreadful place. Do you miss it?“

”Not at all,“ Charlotte said.

”Because if you need more time to yourself, you need only ask. I understand you haven’t even taken your half day off.“

A faint groundswell of panic swept Charlotte. ”These first months are vital to the children’s sense of security and will build their trust in me. I cannot indulge myself in frivolous pursuits.“

”I hardly think a half day every other week—“

”I have nowhere I wish to go,“ Charlotte said with finality.

Adorna nodded slowly. ”I understand.“

Worse luck, she probably did.

”I appreciate your care of Robbie and Leila,“ Adorna continued. ”I find them a trial, I admit, yet I see only too clearly how difficult this transition must be to them. Their father and I must spend time in London until we have the business settled, and I… I am considering a licentious affair with Lord Bucknell.“

Charlotte blinked, wondering if her ears had deceived her. ”An… affair?“

”With Lord Bucknell.“ Adorna’s husky voice still sounded as placid as if she discussed the weather. ”I haven’t ever had an affair, so it is a course to be wisely considered.“

She seemed to be waiting for a reply, so Charlotte stammered, ”I… yes, I imagine an affair should not be rashly entered into.“

They entered the corridor that led to the kitchen, and one of the footmen came barreling through the door holding a silver tray stacked with napkins. Tall, young and gangly, he came to a halt at the sight of them and bowed.

Charlotte had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

”Harris!“ Adorna poked at the tray. ”Where are you going with all those napkins?“

”The children are eating out on th‘ terrace, my lady, an’ if I know me children, an‘ I do, one of them’ll spill th’ milk.“

”No doubt you are right,“ Charlotte said. ”It’s kind of you to think of them.“

”My son is going to take supper with the children and Miss Dalrumple, so another place must be set,“ Adorna said.

Harris bowed and backed toward the kitchen. ”I’ll take care o‘ it, m’lady.“

And some imp Charlotte didn’t know she contained made her say, ”It would be no work for him to set two extra places.“

Harris paused.

Adorna immediately laid the flat of her hand against her forehead. ”I would love that, but my son and I just arrived from London, and I’m fatigued.“

Charlotte relented at once. ”A tray in your chamber, then.“

”That would be lovely,“ Adorna said.

Harris nodded and backed toward the kitchen.

In a thoughtful tone, Adorna said, ”Charlotte, you are not as guileless as you would have me think.“

Charlotte didn’t pretend not to know what she meant. ”Forgive me, Adorna. I cannot imagine what spirit got into me.“

”The spirit of mischief, of course. It is to be expected when one spends time with children.“

As they walked back toward the terrace, a maid paused in her rush to pass them while balancing another place setting on a tray. She curtsied toward Adorna, then turned toward the terrace. Another came past at a more dignified pace, holding her tray high and taking care not to tilt the meal that resided beneath the covers. She, too, curtsied, then turned toward the stairway and Adorna’s bedchamber.

Adorna nodded at the girls, but continued her discourse in a matter-of-fact tone. ”This affair I’m considering is a very adult activity.“

The perambulations of her conversation left Charlotte blinking.

”Have you ever indulged in one?“ Adorna asked.

”One… ?“

”Affair,“ Adorna said patiently.

Uneasily Charlotte wondered if Adorna was testing her or if, perhaps, she had fallen into some strange, weird dream. ”No, ma’am.“

As they came to the corridor that ran between the terrace and the stairs, Adorna frowned at her. ”You don’t approve.“

”Lady Ruskin, it is not for me to approve or disapprove your actions.“

”You’re calling me by my title again. You
don’t
approve.“

”My lady. Adorna. Really, I would not presume—“

Adorna held up her hand. ”That’s fine. I will go to my lonely bedchamber and there eat my solitary meal.“ She turned and walked away.

And Charlotte, with no understanding how she had offended, hurried after her. ”Please, ma’am, I didn’t mean—“

Halting, Adorna took Charlotte’s hand. ”Dear, I’m storming off in a huff. It rather loses its impact if you go with me.“

”I… yes, of course it would.“

”Besides, you know that business about eating a solitary meal is bosh.“ She patted Charlotte’s hand. ”I really am weary. You go ahead to the terrace, and I’ll see you tonight.“

”Tonight?“

She fluttered her fingers and as she moved away, she uttered words that made Charlotte’s blood run cold. ”I think it’s time you knew the real reason I brought you here, don’t you?“

CHAPTER 7

As Charlotte stepped onto the terrace, a solitary Wynter leaned against the balustrade and watched her. ”You must have been talking to my mother.“

Still dazed by her encounter with Adorna, she stared at the man caressed by golden sunlight and wondered if he could read her thoughts. ”How did you know?“

He smiled, and good heavens, what a smile it was. His chin came up, his lips swept wide, the angles of his face became curves, leaving Charlotte in no doubt of his amusement and enjoyment. The children frolicked on the lawn. She should reprimand them for their shouts and their wildness, but Wynter’s smile distracted her.

Pushing himself away from the railing, he went to the small, square, white iron table, set with four places, and pulled back the chair for her. ”Mother tends to engender a sense of wonder.“ As she seated herself, he spoke close to her ear. ”And you look wonderful.“

His breath whispered across the nape of her neck, and he sounded so sincere that for a moment Charlotte struggled with her composure.

Dear heavens, returning to Surrey was proving more of a trial than she had anticipated. But she was a strong and scrupulous woman, and higher morals must prevail.

Someone should tell Wynter that. He still leaned forward, his hands resting one on each side of the back of her chair close against her shoulders, his clean scent surrounding her, and he was watching her profile. True, she couldn’t see him as she stared straight ahead, but she felt that gaze on her skin and she knew, she just knew, he was still smiling. Laughing. At her.

Confident, handsome, odious man.

Yes, higher morals must prevail, and she was just the woman to tell him. In truth, she would even enjoy delivering the set-down. Turning toward him, she wasn’t at all surprised to find his face far too close to her own. Yet she didn’t back up, or in any way indicate how impressive—that is to say,
offensive
—she found his nearness. ”My lord, I am the governess. I am here for your children’s well-being. I hope you understand me when I say I have no interest in you or your smiles or your earring or your endless flirtatiousness.“ Having said more than she meant to, she snapped her mouth shut.

Had she just said that to her employer? Dear heavens. That was unacceptable.

His smile grew even broader. ”The thing I like about you, Lady Miss Charlotte, is that you tell truth. That is a very rare quality among the English.“

Automatically she said, ”Englishmen always tell the truth.“

He chuckled, a rumble of contagious mirth that deepened his dimples and crinkled the corners of his eyes. ”You are as fresh as the morning dew on spring grass, as delightful as a shower after a long drought. But you are not so great a fool as to believe that.“

She stared at him, caught by the faint accent that might be growing on her. ”No. I am not.“

He pressed his palm against her spine right between her shoulder blades. ”Can you tell when a man speaks truth?“

”I pride myself on the ability to weigh the likelihood that a man—or a woman, or a child—is lying to me.“ She wanted, needed, to inhale deeply… but he touched her, he looked right in her face, and she didn’t want him to see her indulging a physical need. Any physical need. Slowly, cautiously, she calmly finished, ”The possibilities, when taken with a thorough knowledge of certain involuntary actions performed by a perjurer, discern their falsehoods.“ The last three words came out in a rush.

He watched her carefully. ”So you can tell if a man speaks truth,“ he prodded.

She allowed herself to sigh, hoping he would think her exasperated. ”Yes. Yes, I can.“

”Then you will know that I not lying when I say you are wonderful.“

Not only did the breath freeze in her lungs, but every other vital body function ceased. It was an amazingly complete shutdown brought on by a warm, insistent hand, two brown, insistent eyes, and a coaxing, blinding, insistent smile. He was just so close and so… close.

”Lady Miss Charlotte?“

”Yes. Oh. Yes, my lord, if you believe that I…“ She cleared her throat. ”That is, if you think that I am… er…“

”Wonderful,“ he said peremptorily.

”Yes. Wonderful.“ She leaned forward, trying to escape his touch. Useless. His hand followed her, a warm entity against her rigid spine. She groped on the tablecloth. Her fingers encountered the folded linen napkin; something to do with her hands. With elaborate care, she pulled it from beneath the silverware and into her lap. ”Yes, if that’s what you think, I would not dream of calling you a… of saying you were anything less than truthful.“

”Ah.“ Slowly his hand slid up to her shoulder. He cupped it and squeezed, a gentle pressure that surely seemed more like friendship than caprice, and again she experienced that dreadful, betraying breathlessness. ”You are most gracious.“