To Tempt A Rogue (9 page)

Harriet was vastly relieved to see that his hands and fingernails were clean. Given the overall condition of the castle she hardly expected liveried servants, but this roughly dressed individual was a surprise.

“If yer wantin' more, just holler fer Mrs. Mullins. She's in the kitchen.”

Harriet nodded her thanks, while Mr. Wainwright ignored both the man and his comments, turning his attention to his tankard of ale. Harriet reached for the cover on her dish, then hesitated. Since she had gone to bed without any supper, she was especially hungry, but she was also very cautious. There were no aromas wafting up to give her a hint of what lay beneath the silver dome. Who knew what sort of bizarre and exotic items a household this unusual might serve for a meal?

Copying her employer, Harriet lifted the tankard of ale and took a long swallow. The potent brew sent a rush of heat through her veins—hardly what she needed at the moment. Not daring to consume any more liquid on an empty stomach, Harriet hastily set the ale down, then lifted the cover from her dish and gazed mutely at the unappetizing mixture of food, cold and congealed on the plate.

Some of the items were burnt, others appeared under-cooked, many had an off-putting odor and nearly all were unrecognizable. But in one corner of the dish there was a gray, fluid mound of cooked grains that bore a small resemblance to oatmeal. Perhaps.

Harriet took a tentative taste and then another. It was sticky, nearly flavorless and sank to her empty stomach like a stone. After three bites Harriet gently set her spoon on the edge of the dish and folded her hands in her lap. She noticed Mr. Wainwright had ignored the gruel and was making short work of the stack of oatcakes.

“You have a rather puzzled expression on your face, Miss Sainthill. Is there something about me you find confusing?”

Where do I begin?
she thought wryly, wishing she had the freedom to be completely honest. “I was wondering about my charges, Mr. Wainwright. I assume they take their meals in the nursery?”

Mr. Wainwright shrugged his shoulders, but Harriet could tell that for some unknown reason the question had set his back up.

“What time do the children usually begin their daily activities?” Harriet continued. “I realize since they are being cared for by nursemaids they are on a far more relaxed schedule. While I would like to establish a routine as soon as possible, I do not want to implement anything that will be too drastic a change.

“Oh, and I need to know if there are any areas of the castle where we should not venture. I am of the strong opinion that children grow and flourish much faster when they are not always confined to the nursery, yet in a dwelling of this age I would not be surprised to find structurally unsound sections.”

Mr. Wainwright's brows lowered and his eyes hardened. “Have you had a great deal of experience as a governess, Miss Sainthill?”

Harriet's mouth quivered. What sort of ridiculous question was that to ask? She had never misrepresented her qualifications. “As I stated in my letter, this is my first position, although I have considerable experience with children of various ages.”

“You sound very sure of yourself, yet I feel compelled to remind you that I shall be the one who judges your competence.”

He was insufferable! If she had a fan in her hand she would have shut it tight and rapped his knuckles with the edge of it. Hard. Harriet raised her chin and prepared to blister his ears with a set down, but the devilish look in his eyes stopped her.

He was gazing at her smugly, knowingly, as if he were very aware of her anger. And highly amused by it.

“I look forward to the challenge of proving my worth, sir, and improving the minds and well-being of my charges.”

Mr. Wainwright's eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Miss Sainthill, what exact course of study do you propose for the children, given the differences in their ages, abilities, and interests?”

Mr. Wainwright fired off a rapid series of questions. He seemed determined to rattle her and she was equally determined to remain calm. After a few minutes, Harriet could tell he was becoming annoyed at her curt answers, yet if he persisted in being so boorish she was not about to alter her attitude.

They might have continued this sharp volley of words interminably, with neither giving ground, but Mr. Wainwright broke the stalemate with one wholly inappropriate question.

“ 'Tis surprising that a woman of your strong convictions is not happily married and rearing a dozen children of her own.” He regarded her solemnly for a long moment. “Why have you not married?”

Harriet opened her mouth to reply, but no sound emerged.

“ 'Tis obvious you are a gently reared lady, endowed with charm and grace, possessing a handsome face and figure. I would think a woman like you would be fairly drowning in marriage proposals. Are all the men in England blind? Or merely witless?”

“Pardon?”

He dipped his head closer. She could feel the warmth of his breath brush her cheek, could smell the ale and oatcakes he had just consumed. Surprisingly it was not an unpleasant odor, but rather an earthy, vibrant reminder that he was a flesh and blood male. An extremely attractive flesh and blood male.

“To leave a woman of your spirit, your vitality unattached,” he whispered. “Why, it borders on criminal.”

Harriet could hardly contain her shocked amazement. It was not just his words, but the sultry way they were spoken. The man could tread the boards of Drury Lane with those glib lines! She had cursed herself silently earlier for letting him get the better of her, but this was simply too much to let slip by.

Paying particular attention to her posture and facial expression, Harriet turned to Mr. Wainwright and asked in a cold voice, “Are you flirting with me?”

The edges of Nathaniel's mouth curved into a wicked grin. At last! It had taken the better part of an hour and a good deal of cunning, but he had finally broken through Miss Sainthill's composure. It had been more difficult than he expected and her reaction was not precisely what he had hoped. Given his knowledge of her background, Nathaniel assumed once she realized what he was doing she would blister his ears with a scathing set down and storm from the room.

Her belongings would be quickly gathered and packed and she would be gone from the castle within the hour. Exactly as he intended. Yet here she still sat, with nary a hint of emotion in her hazel eyes as they stared unwaveringly into his own. Apparently there was far more depth to Miss Sainthill than he had realized. How intriguing.

“Are you flirting with me?” she repeated.

“Am I?” he asked, deliberately lowering his voice to a husky whisper.

Nathaniel angled a penetrating look at her and bestowed his most heart-wrenching smile. Now that he knew she would not turn tail and run so quickly, he allowed himself to speak freely. Lord Avery had never in his life met a woman who was immune to charm and flirtation; he waited for her eyes to lower in a coy gesture of understanding. Instead they remained focused on his.

“I believe you are flirting with me, sir.” Miss Sainthill drew herself away from him. “Why?”

“I would think the answer is obvious,” he said, moving his head closer to hers. “You are a thoroughly charming woman.”

Even as he spoke the words, Nathaniel knew there was more than a grain of truth in them. Beneath the severe hairstyle and the dull, serviceable gown she was a charming woman. Not pretty in the conventional sense, but vibrant and attractive in her own unique way. Her face had character as well as a hint of beauty and her figure was endowed with generous breasts and rounded hips.

Lord Avery decided she was the type of woman whose looks would be enhanced with age and maturity. As he gazed at her strong features, his eyes kept drifting to her mouth, where her slightly parted lips revealed even white teeth. Nathaniel felt a most unexpected stirring of sexual desire.

“Charming? You think that I am charming?” Miss Sainthill cast him a dubious look and then she snorted, making the most unladylike noise he had ever heard.

Oddly, he found the gesture endearing.

“I do not like females who simper and giggle, who smile and fawn over my every word,” Nathaniel said. “I like maturity and intelligence in a woman.”

“Now, I find that rather difficult to believe.” Her lips compressed in an almost imperceptible expression of annoyance. “I am very much aware of the feminine charms men truly do admire and my lack of them. Perhaps there are situations when a governess is easy prey to a handsome, glib employer, but I can assure you I am not, nor have I ever been, such a foolishly gullible woman.”

“Pity.” Nathaniel let out an exaggerated sigh. He was enjoying himself immensely, he realized, yet he had quite lost sight of his original goal. In order to ensure the safety of the children Miss Sainthill must leave the castle. At once.

He wondered what she would do if he leaned forward and kissed her? Slap his face? Or relax her lips and participate? The temptation to find out was nearly too much to control, yet some small vestige of honor held him back. No matter how dire the circumstances, Lord Avery did not press his attentions on an unwilling female.

But would she really be unwilling?

“Mr. Wainwright, I think it is imperative that we establish an understanding of the boundaries of my position.” Miss Sainthill's eyes narrowed dangerously. “I am in your home as a paid employee, charged with the responsibility of caring for your three wards. I am not here for your amusement or your mockery or your sport. Is that clear?”

Nathaniel was surprised to feel a sharp pang of disappointment at her words. This had all started as a harmless little game, an attempt to remove her from the household quickly and with a minimal amount of fuss. He had not really expected, nor sought, a brief dalliance with this woman. Had he?

Lord Avery rubbed his chin and stared with unseeing eyes at the mullioned windows on the far side of the room. Though he had enjoyed this brief, one-sided flirtation, he did feel some guilt. Along with the obvious disbelief, there had been an edge of vulnerability in her voice, reminding him of her past.

She had been jilted by her fiancé, suffering the ultimate humiliation in front of a society that was seldom forgiving or understanding. It must have been extremely difficult to endure, especially for a woman who possessed so much pride.

He wanted to tell her that her fiancé had been a fool, had not deserved her regard or affection, if she had in truth bestowed those gifts upon him. But Nathaniel was not supposed to know anything of her past, so he could offer no opinion.

“You do not approve of any form of light flirtation, Miss Sainthill? I have found it to be an effective way of discovering what truly lies beneath a cool façade.”

She looked at him warily.

“However, in deference to your wishes I shall attempt to restrain my impudence,” he said. “Though it will be difficult.”

There was a long silence. She seemed unconvinced and Nathaniel accepted that it was probably for the best. Perhaps she would regain some confidence in her feminine appeal if she was forced to leave her position due to the lecherous intentions of her employer. It was as good a reason as any to get her to depart.

She lifted her chin and he braced himself. “Then we are agreed that our relationship will never be more than strictly business?”

“Not unless you have a change of heart,” Nathaniel could not resist adding, surprised by her acquiescence. He must seem to her either more sincere in his conversation than he thought or she was more desperate to keep this job than he had considered.

“I shall do the job I was hired for, Mr. Wainwright, and I fully expect you to behave as a proper, respectful employer.” A smile quivered at her lips. “Since it is my first day, I believe it would benefit the children if we spent some time together. It might make the transition smoother if you introduced me, but if you prefer I can accomplish the task on my own. I merely require someone to escort me to the nursery.”

This was the opening that Nathaniel knew he needed to put the final seal on her leaving. Yet he waited until she lifted the tankard of ale to her lips before speaking. “Well, therein lies the rub, Miss Sainthill. The children are not currently in residence at Hillsdale Castle. And to be perfectly honest, I am unsure precisely when they will arrive.”

 

 

Harriet's first inclination was to explode with anger. Thankfully, her mouth was full of sour tasting ale, making it impossible to yell, and swallow, at the same time. But that moment's hesitation gave her the split second of time she needed to harness her reaction.

He had been playing games with her all morning. First attempting to frighten her in the hallway, then taking on a tyrannical demeanor, and finally trying to act the role of seducer. As if she would ever succumb to such blatantly false flattery!

She was not the sort of woman that men found beautiful or desirable. Her younger sister had always attracted a large number of male admirers. Elizabeth was sweet and innocent and lovely—the direct opposite of Harriet.

She thought her firm and frosty reaction to his ridiculous flattery had settled things between them, but apparently Mr. Wainwright still had a few more tricks to play. The smug expression on his handsome face told her he was waiting for her reaction to this latest bit of news. Well, he was going to be rather disappointed.

“Actually, you failed to mention that the children are not here, Mr. Wainwright. A most interesting omission.”

Calling forth her inner strength and all the training she had ever had in her lifetime, Harriet settled back in her chair. She lifted her napkin to her mouth and daintily wiped the corners.

Then she pushed back the chair, scraping it loudly on the stone floor, and stood. With great effort she managed a frigid smile.

“Since I have no charges to look after, I presume the rest of my day is free to enjoy as I wish?”

She stared hard at him until he nodded ever-so-slightly.

“Excellent. Then I believe I shall retire to my chamber. I would like luncheon served in my room at two o'clock. Will you be so kind as to make the arrangements for me?”

Again a slight nod of that dark head.

“You are too kind, sir. I will see you at dinner, Mr. Wainwright. Is it served at eight o'clock?” “Six-thirty.”

“Ah, yes, you keep true country hours here at Hillsdale Castle. How quaint. I shall see you at six-thirty. Sharp.”

Then she sailed from the room with unhurried dignity. Though the temptation was great, Harriet did not glance back as she turned down the hall and away from the dining room.

Her anger and indignation propelled her feet forward and her excellent innate sense of direction brought her to the correct bedchamber. Harriet entered her room and was relieved to find it empty.

Kate must have risen and gone in search of some breakfast. A lopsided smile twisted Harriet's lips. Lord only knew what the maid would find to eat in the kitchen of this odd household if the best of the food was reserved for the master.

Harriet let out a long sigh and leaned against one of the wooden posts on her massive bed for support. It took her several minutes to realize how badly she was shaking from her encounter with her mysterious employer. She was unsure if she wanted to laugh or cry or start smashing items on the floor. Probably some of all three.

What a coil! This experience had turned out to be something beyond her wildest imaginings. She had come to what she perceived as a crossroad in her life and had boldly taken a risk.

She had foolishly convinced herself that somehow she would find what she sought if she struck out on her own. She had deliberately ignored the advice of her family, had clung stubbornly to asserting her independence. She had taken this job in good faith, intending to work hard and to the best of her abilities.

Harriet believed it would give her a purpose, a sense of self-worth that had been missing ever since Julian had abandoned her. Instead she had found herself in an untamed, disordered place awash in layers of mysteries that made little sense.

Harriet expelled another breath of frustration and silently cursed her own stupidity. It would be difficult to return to her brother's home so soon after leaving. Cowed, defeated, a failure. Yet she had no choice. She could hardly remain in this strange place when there were no children for her to instruct.

It was too late to strike out today. Besides, the horses and servants required at least one complete day of rest before undertaking the arduous journey back to England. Yet when the sky began to lighten tomorrow, Harriet and her entourage would be packed and ready to go.

Spinning about, Harriet stalked to her portmanteau and searched for her reticule. She rummaged through the small bag and pulled out her letter of employment, along with the letter of reference the vicar had written on her behalf. Though addressed to Mr. Wainwright, Harriet felt nary a twinge of guilt as she broke the seal and read the contents.

The vicar had given a glowing recommendation of her character, her sense of duty and responsibility and her knowledge of propriety and proper behavior. Harriet privately thought it made her sound rather dull and rigid, but she supposed those would be considered keen assets for a governess. Mr. Wainwright would have most likely been impressed, if he had bothered to ask for her references.

Next she read the letter of employment. It was all there, spelled out most clearly. A governess was required by Mr. Wainwright of Hillsdale Castle to care for his three orphaned wards, two girls and one boy. In addition to the basic course of study which included reading, arithmetic and penmanship, lessons in drawing, embroidery, and deportment were to be provided.

Since no governess was currently installed, it was necessary that she start her duties immediately. Terms of employment included a generous weekly salary of two pounds plus a half day off each month.

Harriet replaced the letters and stared out the window in brooding silence. She was suddenly exhausted, feeling drained of emotion and energy. The long days of her weary journey combined with the sleepless night hit her full force. Though unmade and messy, the large bed looked very inviting.

She made her way to the other side of the room and crawled beneath the linens. The room was gray and dreary, but the steady pelting of raindrops against the window provided a rhythmic lullaby. Within minutes, Harriet fell fast asleep.

The sound of chewing woke her. Jolted awake, her heart thudded and she sat up quickly, clutching the counterpane to her chest. She half expected to see the beastly hound Brutus prowling about the chamber gnawing on some of her belongings, but instead found Kate reclining in a stuffed chair consuming what Harriet assumed was the luncheon she had requested Mr. Wainwright have sent to the chamber.

“Good afternoon, Kate.”

The maid paled and guiltily dropped the piece of cheese she held. “Hello, Miss Harriet. Did you have a good nap?”

“Yes. My head at last feels clear.” Harriet rubbed her eyes and climbed out of the bed. “What time is it?”

“Half past the hour of two. I started unpacking your garments, but I didn't know where you wanted to put them. And I didn't want to awaken you. I had a feeling you badly needed this rest.”

“I did. Thank you for your consideration,” Harriet said dryly as she inspected the remaining contents of the luncheon tray.

At least this meal was recognizable. She cut a generous wedge of cheese and took a small bite. The sharp tang that burst upon her tongue as she chewed tasted marvelous. Harriet eagerly reached for a second piece, along with a thick slice of dark bread. There were some dried apples, a dish of stewed cucumbers, and a gooseberry tart resting on a chipped plate.