The Governess Was Wicked (14 page)

“I have no intention of marrying Lady Laughlin,” said the earl. “I have a cousin who’s eager to inherit my title and the lands that go with it. My favored estate, Rose Hollow, isn’t entailed, and neither is the bulk of my fortune. I plan to settle both on Eleanora, which makes her an heiress of considerable means. Naturally, I’m very protective of her. I want to ensure that she marries a good man, and I can only keep the fortune chasers away if she talks to me. How can I tell if she really wants to encourage a young man to court her if she hardly speaks to him or to me?”

It was the most reasonable, rational, affectionate approach to a daughter’s marriage she’d ever heard. Lady Eleanora, just like every young lady she’d taught, deserved as much happiness as she could grasp in this life. If they were also able to make their choice of husband, even better.

“I will do my best to help Lady Eleanora along in whichever way I can,” she said, “if the offer of a position is still available.”

He sighed. “My entire plan is you, Miss Woodward. I have no secondary scheme to make a success of Eleanora’s season.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“Generosity has nothing to do with it. I’m desperate to see my daughter happy.”

“Then I will make every effort to earn your confidence.”

“Do that, Miss Woodward.” He cocked his head and swept his eyes over her face. “Why do I feel as though everything’s about to change now that you’ve walked into our lives?”

Because I want you.

Desire shot straight to her core, making her wet between her legs. She wanted this man.

It wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t going to
let
it. The stakes were simply too high.

She would help Lady Eleanora just as she’d helped seven other girls before her, and then she’d pack her bags and move on just as she always did.

“I couldn’t say,” she said, dipping her head just a fraction to show her deference to him. “I only hope Lady Eleanora and I get along well. Now, perhaps we should discuss the terms of my employment.”

Asten sat across from the tall, statuesque Miss Woodward, a little stunned. He wasn’t entirely sure what he expected when he wrote to the woman some ladies called “The Fairy Godmother of Belgravia” with whispered reverence, but it wasn’t Miss Woodward.

His daughter had had two governesses to date. They were respectable, quiet women who would deliver Eleanora to his study for her additional afternoon lessons with him. One of them made a few objections about his insistence on teaching his daughter Greek, Latin, and biology, but the most recent governess—a Miss Fairhart—had simply accepted his eccentric views on a lady’s education with silent passivity.

Nothing about Miss Woodward struck him as demure or passive.

He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d engaged her. Her reputation was legendary enough that he’d assumed she must’ve spent decades as a governess, but she could hardly be a day over thirty. She had high cheekbones and deep brown almond eyes fringed with thick, black lashes. Her cherry-red lips looked good enough to taste, but what distracted him most was her chestnut hair. It twisted away from her face and gathered at the back of her head in smooth coils that reminded him of silken ropes. He wanted to see that curtain of russet spill down her back, shimmering in the light. He nearly sat on his hands, so powerful was his desire to reach over and pluck out one, two, three pins until he found the anchor that kept her hair all piled up.

Except he couldn’t. Asten knew that there were men all over London who took advantage of their elevated rank to exploit situations just like this. His father had been one of them. From a young age he’d watched the glacial ice grow between his father and his mother as housemaid after housemaid was dismissed without a reference. But while his mother’s jewelry box had grown fuller, her disapproval of her husband had as well. Then, just before he’d been sent off to Eton, he’d found his mother crying in her sitting room. It had shocked him to his core. She was such a strong, stiff-lipped woman he’d never even thought that she might be affected by her husband’s infidelity. Instead, she’d just become skilled at hiding her distress.

When Asten became the fourth Earl of Asten just months after his unhappy mother’s death, he vowed he’d never touch a woman in his employ no matter if she were a scullery maid or a governess. It meant that Miss Woodward was absolutely, unconditionally
not
for him.

He tried to keep that at the front of his mind as he forced himself to focus on the matter at hand. “I’ve asked Warthing to prepare a room for you. Perhaps you’d like to see the schoolroom before you fetch your things?”

“Very much,” said Miss Woodward.

“If you’ll follow me.”

She didn’t move when he stood. “You’re going to show me?”

It pleased him more than it should that he’d surprised her. “I’m as able as Warthing, although if you’d prefer he do it I can certainly arrange that.”

This time she rose, smoothing out the creases in her unadorned blue skirts. “Not at all.”

“You’ll find this a rather informal house when only my daughter and I are at home,” he said as he led her out into the corridor. “I spend much of my time at Westminster when Parliament is in session. That’s quite enough pomp for me.”

He probably should also mention that he spent much of his time at home in just his shirt and waistcoat, but there was no need to unduly shock Miss Woodward this early.

She followed him silently as they climbed the stairs to the third floor and he showed her through to the schoolroom. He’d ordered it redone when Eleanora was born and now it was bright and cheery—a complete change from the dark, dreary nursery he’d been raised in.

“A very pleasant space,” she said, admiring neat rows of books stacked on their shelves.

“These were the books Miss Fairhart felt were appropriate for Eleanora’s education. Of course, my library is open to both you and my daughter if you find the collection lacking.”

Miss Woodward reached out and ran her fingers over the spines of volumes by Bewick and Ruskin. “Is Lady Eleanora a great reader?”

“She enjoys a good book, but her real passion is the harp.”

Miss Woodward’s eyes twinkled a little bit and he felt an irrational amount of pleasure that he’d pleased her. “Is that right?”

“I think you’ll find that she’d rather play for you than conjugate French verbs.”

She laughed. “Even so, I’ll find a way to make sure that her French sparkles.”

“I’m sure she’s in very capable hands, although when I’m home I do ask that after luncheon you bring Eleanora to my study. I’ve taken it upon myself to educate her in certain subjects,” he said.

“And those would be?”

“Latin, Greek, mathematics, and botany,” he said. “The latter is of particular interest to me, and I’m lucky she indulges me.”

He watched her pull a volume of Dickens off the shelf and leaf through it. “Most fathers don’t encourage a girl’s education, especially not in the subjects traditionally taught to boys.”

“Eleanora has more than enough aptitude to handle a classical education,” he said with pride.

“That’s most encouraging.” Miss Woodward snapped a book shut. “And my own room is through here?”

He nodded and tried his best to keep his eyes off the sway of her hips as she stepped through to her room, but her full skirt drew his attention. A powerful urge to see her spread out over the clean, crisp sheets he’d ordered be put on her bed gripped him. His fingers twitched to trace over the smooth swell of her breasts and down the softness of her stomach to where her hips flared out. He ached to taste her, feel her, be inside her. She would be magnificent, he had no doubt.

It was only when he realized he was playing with the chain of his pocket watch—an annoying habit he’d been trying to break for years—that he snapped back to reality. Miss Woodward was in his employ. He wouldn’t touch her. He couldn’t.

“Please excuse me,” he said, clearing his throat. “I have an appointment. I’ll send Warthing to make arrangements to retrieve your things.”

And without waiting for a response, he strode out of the room before he did any of the things he’d promised himself he never would.

Don't miss the rest of the Governesses series by Julia Kelly, coming Fall 2016 from Pocket Star Books!

In her fourteen years as a governess for London's most elite, Mary Woodward has been known to work magic with her difficult charges. And never before has she been tempted to break the strict rules she sets for herself, but oh, never before has she been governess to the daughter of the very handsome and very single Lord Eric Asten . . .

The Governess Was Wanton

Jane Ephram has always been the epitome of a prim and proper governess. So when her latest charge runs away to elope with an unsuitable boy, and Jane is dispatched to bring the girl home, she must ready herself for an adventure of her own.

The Governess Was Wild

About the Author

Julia Kelly is the award-winning author of sexy historical and contemporary romances about smart women and the men who love them. She picked up her first romance novel and the bad habit of reading well past her bedtime when she was thirteen. Years later, she decided to try writing romances of her own and never looked back. Julia is the author of
Seduction in the Snow
and
The Wedding Week,
both of which appear as part of the One Week in Love series. She is also a founding member of
First Draught
, a monthly YouTube show and podcast exploring writing and romance. By day, Julia is an Emmy-nominated journalist in New York City, where she chases breaking news and bosses reporters around. She never met a pair of stilettos she didn’t love and still stays up too late reading.

FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR:
Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Julia-Kelly

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