Читать книгу A Lady Becomes A Governess - Diane Gaston, Diane Gaston - Страница 13
ОглавлениеWhat had she done?
Had she risen on her toes or had he leaned down?
She’d wanted to kiss him, of that she was certain. Once his lips touched hers, she had not wanted him to stop.
She’d enticed him. How could she think otherwise? And he recoiled from her. She’d acted the hoyden and had created a disgust in him.
What her schoolteachers warned had been true—she was too forward. Too impulsive. She must take care lest she unleash the carnal impulses of a man. The man who once forced his kiss upon her blamed her for it. She had been too alluring, he’d said. But she’d been reasonably certain she’d not been too forward then and her impulse had definitely not been to kiss him.
But with Lord Brookmore? She might have enticed that kiss from Lord Brookmore. How foolish she’d been to want that kiss.
There was a knock on the door and Rebecca jumped up and rushed to the door. She hesitated. Had he returned?
She cleared her throat. ‘Who is it?’
‘The maid, miss.’ Not Lord Brookmore.
Rebecca opened the door, unsure if she were relieved or disappointed.
The young woman helped her take off her dress and assisted her with donning her new nightdress. When the maid left, Rebecca crawled into bed and buried herself under the covers.
She had very likely ruined her respite as a governess. Brookmore would discharge her; his nieces would endure another loss and she would be forced to tell him who she really was and beg for enough money to travel to London.
Worst of all, she would have to find another way to avoid marrying Lord Stonecroft and enduring his wet, disgusting kisses.
But how could she ever kiss another man after being kissed by Lord Brookmore?
* * *
The next morning Lord Brookmore had sent her breakfast to her room to avoid her, no doubt.
After she dressed again in her riding habit, she dismissed the maid and tried to eat the cooked egg, bread and cheese Lord Brookmore provided for her. Giving up on finishing the food, she picked up her new bag packed with the new dresses and fabrics with which he’d surprised and delighted her. She left the room, fearful he might have already abandoned her.
When she entered the yard, though, he stood by his horse. An ostler held the reins of another horse wearing her side saddle. As she approached Lord Brookmore mounted his horse and avoided looking at her.
The ostler helped her into her saddle and fixed her bag behind her. Lord Brookmore handed the man a coin and started for the gate. Rebecca called a quick thank you to the ostler and hurried to catch up.
She could tell already that the horse she rode was more spirited than the horses provided for her the day before, but the enjoyment of riding such a horse was dampened by the fact that Lord Brookmore acted as if he were riding alone. He said not one word to her.
Rebecca, too, stayed silent, concentrating on keeping her horse steady and keeping up with him on the busy streets of Preston. They rode past Horrock’s Mill and eventually reached the countryside.
Rebecca began this journey feeling shame about her behaviour and fear that she had lost any good opinion Lord Brookmore might have had of her. By the time the roads cleared, she felt angry. How dare he not even address what happened between them, not even acknowledge her presence? That kiss had not solely been her fault. She might have acted like a hoyden, but Lord Brookmore had not behaved as a gentleman, had he?
In any event, this silence was intolerable.
Her father might have blocked her out of his life and treated her as if she did not exist, but Rebecca would not take such treatment from anyone else.
She quickened her horse’s pace until she reached his side. ‘You must speak to me some time, sir.’
He darted a glance at her, but said nothing.
‘I did not know you would kiss me,’ she snapped.
His gaze was again fixed on the road. ‘It will not happen again.’
He spoke this like an order, in a tone he might have used with his soldiers. He did not have to order her not to kiss him again. As if she would! Her anger was escalating and she was not sure if its source was his icy treatment of her or if it was her disappointment that he’d turned out to be just as thoughtless and cruel as other men in her life.
‘It is unfair to blame me for it,’ she retorted. ‘You kissed me, after all.’
He actually looked at her. ‘Blame you?’
She lifted her chin. ‘I fear you are trying to discharge me. Or perhaps you have already discharged me by giving me the cut direct.’
A day ago she would not have believed him capable of such thoughtlessness.
He gaped at her. ‘I am not discharging you.’
Her voice rose again. ‘Then why pretend I do not exist? Why refuse to speak to me? I am left to guess you wish me gone.’ As her father had done.
He stopped his horse. His jaw flexed. ‘Is that what you think?’
‘What else am I to think?’
He turned his horse and came directly next to her, leaning towards her. The space between them was only a few inches more than when they’d kissed. ‘Think that I behaved abominably towards you. Think that I do not know what to say to you.’
He thought he’d behaved abominably? She almost softened towards him. ‘Did you also think boorishness was preferable to a simple apology?’
‘A simple apology seemed inadequate.’ He frowned.
He turned his horse and rode on. This time she held back a little.
He had not discharged her! She could still pretend to be Claire.
Her cheeks burned with shame. She had called him a boor and here she was, nothing but an imposter.
* * *
Garret had even more reason to chastise himself. He’d assumed she would know he regretted what he’d done to her—and what he’d almost done. He’d simply made matters worse by not speaking of it.
They stopped at an inn to change horses.
He dismounted and turned to assist her. ‘Let us get some refreshment.’
She looked down at him with a haughty expression. ‘As you wish.’
She slid off the saddle, landing nearly as close as when he’d kissed her the night before. He must keep more distance.
The ostlers took charge of the horses and Garret escorted Miss Tilson into the tavern. At this morning hour, the public room was nearly empty and Garret thought better of a private room. Best not to be private with her.
He chose a table some distance away from the other diners, helped her sit and chose the chair across from hers. He ordered tea and biscuits for them which came quickly, accommodating those patrons who needed to be quickly on their way.
She poured the tea for him.
He knew they must discuss what had transpired between them. He searched for a way to begin.
She spoke first. ‘I want you to know that I did not intentionally entice you, sir. I have been accused of such wiles before, but, I assure you, I do not know precisely what one does to entice.’
Who was it who’d accused her? he wondered in a surge of jealousy.
Jealousy? He had not the right.
He leaned towards her and spoke quietly. ‘What transpired last night was entirely my fault.’
She raised her eyes to his. ‘I must have seemed too willing. That is what disgusted you, I am sure.’
She had been willing, he remembered. She’d kissed him back and resisted nothing. She’d kissed him back with a fervour matching his own.
‘You did not disgust me,’ he told her.
She persisted. ‘But you left so angrily.’
‘Anger at me, not you.’ Let her be clear about that. ‘It was wrong of me to kiss you.’
Her gaze did not waver. ‘Then why did you?’
Why? Because she was a fascinating combination of vulnerability and strength. Because her animated features fascinated him. Because she’d been game enough to ride a whole day and never complained. He admired courage, even in small matters. She’d even been courageous enough to talk to him about the kiss when he could not think of a word to say. Because she was the first woman he’d truly wanted to kiss in a long, long time.
‘You were enticing,’ he admitted.
‘I did not mean to be!’ she cried.
He placed his hands on the table. ‘I know, Miss Tilson. I placed you in an intolerable position.’
She straightened in her chair. ‘I refuse to allow you to take all the blame.’ She touched his hand.
It made him remember her eager response to him. The attraction was strong between them, which only made it more difficult for him.
He withdrew his hand. ‘You are in my employ. A governess is at the mercy of her employer. I will not take advantage of you again.’
Something akin to self-reproach crossed her face. ‘Then how are we to go along?’ she asked, her voice nearly a whisper.
‘I will behave correctly from now on.’ He took a sip of his tea, lukewarm now. ‘And I will not stay at Brookmore for very long.’
She looked more disappointed than relieved. Even more reason why he should only stay long enough to be certain his nieces accepted this enticing governess.
* * *
They finished their tea and walked out to mount fresh horses. This steed was not as spirited as Rebecca’s previous one, but her mind was too preoccupied by her conversation with Lord Brookmore to care. The joy of the day before had disappeared and she was left with regret and disappointment. Regret that she’d not shown more restraint when he’d kissed her and disappointment that he did not intend to do so again. Instead he planned to leave.
They passed a house with a model of a ship above the door, reminding her that things could be so much worse for her—had been so much worse for Claire.
