Читать книгу Temptation Of A Governess - Sarah Mallory - Страница 9

Chapter Two

Alex was still mulling over his defeat as he drove into town and his mood was not improved by the knowledge that he had promised to attend Almack’s that night. The Dowager Marchioness of Hune had written to tell him she was helping to launch a young friend into the ton and asked for his support. Lady Hune was his great-aunt and one of the few Arrandale relatives who was not pressing him to marry. Also, he was fond of her in a careless sort of way and he had agreed to look in. Well, he would not go back on his word, even if it meant entering the notorious Marriage Mart.

* * *

After a solitary dinner he walked the short distance to King Street, where his mission was soon accomplished. Miss Ellen Tatham was a lively beauty so it was no hardship to stand up with her and once he had done his duty he made his escape and rewarded himself with a visit to a discreet little house off Piccadilly, where he could be sure of more congenial company.

The house was owned by Lady Frances Betsford, a widow and the youngest daughter of an impoverished peer. Despite being an accredited beauty, she had been unable to do better than a mere baronet for a husband. However he had died within twelve months of the ceremony and left his widow with a comfortable competence. She had lived in some style in town for the past five years, moving in all but the highest circles, tolerated by the ladies and sought out by their husbands. Her name had been linked with several prominent society figures in the past and most recently it had been coupled with the new Earl of Davenport.

Alex had known Frances for years. There had been a brief liaison, when he had first arrived in town, and she was keen now to get him back in her bed. Alex was well aware that her renewed interest in him stemmed from his accession to the peerage. That did not overly concern him, he knew his world and viewed it with a cynical eye. Lady Frances wanted to be a countess and she was not ineligible. Her birth was good, she was beautiful, intelligent and no ingénue who would bore him within weeks. That was a definite advantage, he thought as he walked into her crowded drawing room. He watched her as she leaned over Sir Sydney Dunford’s shoulder to advise him on his discard and realised just how little he cared if she shared her favours with other gentlemen. That, too, he thought, was in her favour. Theirs would be a civilised arrangement with no messy emotions to get in the way.

A tall, elegant figure clad in Bath coating and stockinette pantaloons broke away from the crowd and greeted Alex with a languid wave.

‘Well, Alex, have you fixed the summer party for Chantreys?’

‘I’m afraid not, Gervase.’

‘Pity,’ replied Mr Wollerton, shaking his head. ‘Lady Frances will be disappointed.’

‘That can’t be helped—’ Alex broke off as the lady in question approached, hands held out and a smile on her carmined lips.

‘My lord, I had quite given you up.’

He saluted her fingers.

‘I told you I should be late, Frances.’

She gave a soft laugh and slipped her hand through his arm.

‘So you did. Come along and join us. What will you play, Loo? Ombre? Commerce? Or shall we play at piquet, just you and I?’

He looked down into her beautiful smiling face. After Diana Grensham’s obstinate refusal to agree to his plans, the warm invitation in those cerulean eyes was balm to his battered spirits. What could be better than an hour or two spent in such agreeable company? It would help put the unsatisfactory visit to Chantreys from his mind.

‘Piquet,’ he decided.

Her smile grew. She moved closer and murmured for his ears only, ‘And afterwards?’

Her full breasts were almost brushing his waistcoat and he could smell her sweet, heady perfume enveloping him. She was voluptuous, desirable and knew how to please a man. The invitation was very tempting, but there was a restlessness in his spirits tonight and he was reluctant to commit himself. He gave an inward shrug. It was very likely that in an hour or so he might feel differently.

He smiled. ‘Let us begin with piquet and see what happens.’

* * *

Alex’s restless mood did not abate and even Lady Frances’s charms could not detain him. Soon after midnight he made his way back to his rented house in Half Moon Street. Piccadilly was busy, as always. Carriages rumbled past him and the flagway was bustling, mostly with gentlemen going to or from some evening entertainment. One or two females were on the streets, gaudily dressed and clearly offering their services to any man with a few coins in his pocket and time to spare. One of the women approached Alex but he waved her away. As she turned and flounced off the flaring light from a flambeau picked out the red glow in her hair. It was garishly unnatural, nothing like Diana Grensham’s glorious autumn tints, that thick auburn hair and her eyes the colour of fresh hazelnuts. A man might gaze upon her for ever without growing tired of the view.

A frisson of alarm ran through Alex and he gave himself a shake. By heaven, what was wrong with him tonight? Diana Grensham was not his type at all, she was stubborn, opinionated and what had James been thinking of, to give her sole charge of the children’s education?

The answer of course was that she was not an Arrandale, a family renowned for loose living. James had been the exception, a steady, sober young man who took his responsibilities seriously.

‘Confound it, so, too, do I!’ declared Alex furiously as he turned into Half Moon Street. No sooner had he uttered the words aloud than Diana’s reprimand came to mind and he stopped, a wry smile tugging at his mouth. How could he say that when he planned to set the ton by the ears with an extravagant ball to which he would invite all the very worst rakes and reprobates of society?

Yes, it would be selfish but the spirit of devilry appealed to him and it would show all those top-lofty dowds that he would not be bullied into settling down. He would take a wife when he was ready and not before. He reached his door and trod up the steps, the smile fading as quickly as it had come. That did not solve the problem of the girls, though. He could not hold such a party at Chantreys while they were in residence.

‘It would do the children no harm to live elsewhere,’ he muttered, handing his hat and gloves to a sleepy servant and taking the stairs two at a time. ‘In fact, it would be good for them and she should be made to see that.’

His man jumped up in surprise as Alex burst into the bedchamber.

‘My lord, I wasn’t expecting you so early—’

‘Never mind that, Lincoln. Do I have any engagements on the morrow?’

‘Why, no, my lord, nothing apart from your tailor.’

‘Well, he can wait.’ Alex shrugged off his coat and handed it over. ‘As soon as it is light send a message to the stables. I want my curricle at the door by nine tomorrow morning.’

* * *

Alex once again felt his spirits lifting as he drove his team towards Chantreys. The house had always been the favourite of his childhood and now, as he regarded the east front, bathed in the bright spring sunshine, he was struck anew by its beauty. Completed soon after the Restoration, the walls were of dressed chalk enhanced with decorative Bath stone at the corners and around the windows. It was small but perfectly proportioned, topped with a steep-pitched roof surmounted by a balustraded platform above which rose the elegant tall chimneys. It was a work of art in its own right and would make an excellent setting for the paintings and sculptures he had acquired over the past few years. It was also perfect for the kind of intimate parties he intended to hold here for his close friends.

* * *

It was nearing midday by the time Alex pulled up at the door. He left his groom to take the equipage to the stables and walked to the open door, where the butler was waiting to greet him.

‘Miss Grensham and the children are on the west lawn.’ Fingle took Alex’s hat and gloves and carefully placed them upon a side table. ‘Would you like me to announce you, my lord?’

‘No, no, I will find them.’

Alex strode across the entrance hall and made his way through the drawing room from where the long windows gave direct access to the gardens. There was no sign of anyone on the terrace or parterre, but the sound of childish voices and laughter led him through a gate in the high hedge between the formal gardens and the extensive lawns that led down to a large ornamental lake with the park and woods beyond.

A lively game of battledore and shuttlecock was in progress with Meggie and Florence ranged against Diana. They were all so engrossed in their game that at first they did not see him and he was able to watch them at their sport. The little girls dashed back and forth, laughing and shouting with delight as they patted the shuttlecock back to Diana, who rarely missed a shot. Alex kept his eyes fixed on Diana and it took him a moment to realise what was different about her. As she ran and turned, covering the ground, there was no sign of that ugly dragging step he had noted the previous day. Meggie sent the shuttlecock sailing high into the air and Diana leapt up to reach it.

‘Bravo, Miss Grensham!’ he called out appreciatively. ‘A fine return.’

‘Uncle Alex!’

The girls raced towards him. Diana, he noted, lowered her racquet and watched him, her manner reserved. Unsurprising, he thought, considering their encounter yesterday, but there was nothing to be gained by recalling that, so he greeted her cheerfully.

‘Taking advantage of the good weather, Miss Grensham?’

She relaxed slightly and warily returned his smile.

‘It is a reward to Meggie and Florence for their hard work in the schoolroom this morning.’

‘Must we go in now?’ asked Florence, clearly reluctant.

Alex shook his head.

‘You need stand on no ceremony with me. I have interrupted your game.’

‘We are not doing very well,’ Meggie confided. ‘Diana is so much better than us.’

‘Well, let us see if we can even things up a little,’ said Alex, spying a fourth racquet lying on a nearby rug. ‘What do you say, Miss Grensham, you and Florence against Meggie and myself?’

The girls squealed with delight but Diana shook her head at him. ‘You did not come here today to play games with us, my lord.’

A few unruly red locks had escaped from their pins and he wanted to reach out and tuck a stray curl behind her ear. He would very much like to play games with her, if they were alone... The thought seared him, sending the hot blood pulsing through his body and he had to struggle to concentrate. They had been talking of battledore, not flirtation.

‘The honour of the Arrandales is at stake,’ he declared, fighting down his baser instincts.

He stripped off his coat, revealing an exquisitely embroidered waistcoat, more suited to Bond Street than a country garden, but he did not care for that. ‘Fetch me a racquet, Meggie!’

A fast and furious thirty minutes ensued. Diana, Alex noted, was at first a little shy of having a gentleman present. She was favouring her left leg and limping badly but Alex ignored it, giving no quarter in his returns. To his satisfaction her competitive spirit soon won through and as she lost herself in the game, running and straining to reach every shot he sent her way he saw no signs of the ungainly limp that affected her walk. The game only ended when Fingle appeared with a tray of refreshments for them all and a gentle reminder that Cook was even now preparing nuncheon for the schoolroom party.

‘Then tell Cook to set another place for me,’ declared Alex. ‘That is, if Miss Grensham has no objections?’

The girls immediately voiced their approval of the idea and Diana spread her hands.

‘It will be nursery fare,’ she warned him.

‘Then Fingle shall look out a decent claret to sustain me,’ declared Alex, nodding at the butler.

Fingle bowed and went off to inform Cook of the change. Alex took the tankard of ale from the tray and sat down upon the blanket while Diana poured lemonade for Meggie and Florence. He watched the rise and fall of her breast beneath the low-cut neckline of her gown and again felt that stir of attraction. He dragged his eyes away. This was no part of his plan.

‘Is this how you spend every day?’ he asked her.

‘Whenever the weather permits. Fresh air and exercise are very beneficial to growing bodies.’

* * *

And those already full grown.

Diana was unable to stop her eyes travelling over the earl’s muscular form as he lounged on the rug, his long legs, encased in their pantaloons and Hessians, stretched out before him. She knew he was considered a Corinthian, a man of fashion but also a sportsman, and it was not difficult to believe it when one observed those powerful thighs, or the broad shoulders, deep chest and flat stomach, accentuated by his close-fitting waistcoat.

Having served the girls, she picked up her own glass of lemonade and made her way to the only free space upon the rug, acutely aware of the awkward, dragging step caused by her shortened left leg. It was not very pronounced and had never prevented her from excelling at the more energetic games she had played as a child with her sister and cousins, but she could never forget it when she was in company. She could never walk with that smooth gliding elegance that was required of young ladies. Her mother had developed a habit of averting her eyes whenever Diana limped into a room.

When her sister had suggested that Diana should become governess to little Lady Margaret and Miss Florence, Diana had accepted readily. All talk of a court presentation and a London Season ended and Diana saw the relief in her mother’s face when she knew she would be spared the embarrassment of introducing her crippled daughter to society.

‘You look very serious, Miss Grensham.’ The earl’s voice jerked her out of her reverie. ‘Have I said anything amiss?’

‘No, not at all.’ She pushed away the unwelcome memories. ‘You asked how we spend our days here. We are always up by seven-thirty and after breakfast we work at our lessons. Then, in the afternoon, there are more lessons or if the weather is fine we might walk, or play games out of doors. Our days are very full, the girls are learning to play the harpsichord, plus all the accomplishments necessary for young ladies, such as sewing, singing and dancing, but at eight years old I think there is time enough for that.’

‘I am not questioning your skill as a governess, Miss Grensham.’

Diana noted that Meggie and Florence had grown tired of sitting down and were playing battledore again, there was no one to overhear them.

‘No?’ she challenged him. ‘Yesterday you suggested I might have been given the post because I was a poor relation.’

And a cripple.

Diana did not voice the words but they were there, all the same.

‘I beg your pardon for that.’ He sat up. ‘Why did you take the post?’

‘I have always been interested in book learning,’ she replied, avoiding his eyes. ‘As Meggie’s aunt, I was able to be so much more than a mere governess.’ She explained, to fill the silence. ‘You know how James and Margaret liked to travel, and then there were the house parties to attend and visits they were obliged to make. The children could spend most of their time here, in familiar surroundings, and when their parents were away I was always here with them.’ She plucked at her skirts. ‘In the event, it was fortunate. When the news came, that Margaret and James were drowned, I could comfort the girls.’

Alex recognised the pain shadowing her eyes. He was not the only one to have lost a sibling when that ship was smashed against the rocks off the Spanish coast.

‘And who comforted you, Diana?’

He was not sure if she shuddered or if it was merely a shake of the head, but she did not answer him.

‘We had best go in now.’ She scrambled to her feet and shook out her skirts. ‘Meggie, Florence, bring the racquets, if you please, we must put them away safely. Fingle will send someone to bring in the rug and the tray, my lord, so do, pray, go on ahead with the girls, I will follow in a moment.’

Alex said nothing, but as he accompanied the children into the house he suspected that she did not wish him to see her walking with that dragging step.

The schoolroom was on the top floor, as it had been during his own childhood, but it was barely recognisable. It was no longer dark and austere. The walls were painted white and covered with prints and drawings, many of them clearly the work of childish hands. The girls carried the racquets to the corner cupboard and he strode ahead to open it for them. As he did so his eyes fell upon an object in one corner and with a laugh he pulled out a small cricket bat.

‘I remember this,’ he declared. ‘Old Wilshire, the estate carpenter, made it.’ He grinned down at Meggie. ‘Your father and I used it when we were here.’

‘We still use it, Uncle Alex,’ said Florence, coming up. ‘Diana taught us how to play.’

‘Well, well,’ he said, grinning. ‘Then you must show me just how good you are.’

‘Perhaps another day,’ put in Diana, following them into the room. ‘This afternoon we have work to do.’

‘Then I shall join you, if I may!’

* * *

If anyone had told Alex that he would enjoy spending the day with two eight-year-old girls, eating bread and butter in the schoolroom, listening to them reading their books and joining them for games of dominoes and spillikins he would have laughed at the idea, but when Nurse came in to take Meggie and Florence off for their dinner he was surprised to see that it was nearly five o’clock. The day had the charm of novelty, of course, and it was undoubtedly helped by Diana’s presence. She was a lively companion and clearly very proud of her charges. Alex took his leave of the girls, almost as sorry as they were that there had been no time to try out the old cricket bat and promising that they should do so on his next visit.

‘Thank you,’ said Diana as she accompanied him down the stairs. ‘It was very kind of you to give up your day for Meggie and Florence.’

‘Kind?’ he repeated, surprised. ‘I am not renowned for being kind, Miss Grensham! No, I enjoyed myself, else I should not have stayed so long. They are delightful children, although I should not want charge of them every day, as you do. Do you ever have time to yourself?’

‘Why, yes. Nurse takes care of the children now, leaving me free until about eight, when I go up to wish them goodnight.’ She paused as they reached the entrance hall. ‘Would you care to step into the drawing room, my lord, while you wait for your carriage?’

‘Oh, I am not going yet.’

‘But you will wish to be back in town in time for dinner.’

‘I thought I might dine here. If you have no objection?’

He watched her dark lashes sweep down, shielding her thoughts as she said politely, ‘It is your house, my lord.’

His lips twitched.

‘Be honest, you are wishing me in Hades.’

She flushed at that, but shook her head.

‘I apprehend that you wish to discuss the children’s future.’

‘Pray do not show hackle, Miss Grensham. We have had a pleasant day and I thought it would be useful for us to become better acquainted. As you reminded me, we are both guardians of Meggie and Florence.’

‘Yes, of course. Then if you will excuse me, I will go and find Fingle and tell him to lay another place...’

She hurried away upon the words and Alex went into the drawing room. So far so good. Diana had thawed a little and he had no doubt now that he could achieve his object in coming to Chantreys: they could have a reasoned and logical discussion about moving the girls to one or other of his properties. Upon reflection he did not think Davenport House would be suitable, it was in the far north and the climate was rather harsh, but there was the estate in Lincolnshire, or the manor house north of Oxford. They both had large grounds where Miss Grensham could exercise her charges to her heart’s content.

Chantreys was too perfect to be wasted upon children. Its light rooms would show off his growing art collection to advantage. It was the smallest of the properties he had inherited and it had plenty of snug little bedrooms well suited to late-night assignations, yet it was also close enough to London to invite parties down for an evening.

A shade of unease possessed him. Was he being selfish, to move the children out of Chantreys? He could hardly continue his bachelor lifestyle here with the children in residence. His father would not have worried about such things, but then his parents had rarely considered their children, leaving them to be brought up by a small army of nannies, nurses and tutors in some distant wing of whatever house they were occupying at the time. Chantreys was different, there was no convenient wing in which to shut the children away, but even so the earl and his countess had contrived to avoid too much contact, spending most of their time in London and driving down to Chantreys only occasionally to visit their offspring. Alex had quickly learned not to reach out for Mama, lest he make her gown grubby, or to speak unless Papa addressed him. He had learned to keep his emotions in check, to keep everyone at bay except James. And now even James was gone.

Alex paced the floor, disturbed by his memories. The drawing room suddenly felt close and confined and he walked to the French windows and threw them open. He stood there, breathing in the fresh air. To one side he could see the empty lawns, stretching beyond the formal gardens. He had enjoyed playing outside today. It reminded him of those far-off days when he and James had been left to amuse themselves, playing cricket on that very same grass. Only there had been no warm and loving governess like Diana Grensham to look after them, to join in with their games so energetically that her hair escaped from its pins and bounced around her shoulders like a fiery cloud. His eyes narrowed, as if he might better recall the image she had presented, her hair curling wildly about her head, breast heaving from the exertion, eyes bright and sparkling. It was clear the children adored her and she was devoted to them. Well, let her argue her case again over dinner. Perhaps this time he would listen.

The door opened and he turned, expecting to see Diana there, but instead it was Fingle.

‘Miss Grensham sent me to tell you that dinner would be served in an hour, my lord, and to see if you required anything in the meantime.’

‘Yes, I require her company.’

The butler was an old and trusted retainer and at these words he bent a fatherly smile upon his master in a way that made Alex feel about ten years old.

‘Miss Grensham has gone to her room to change for dinner, my lord. I am sure she will be downstairs again just as soon as she is ready.’

Alex kept his lips firmly closed, fighting against the impulse to demand that she hurry up. That would sound petulant in the extreme. He had set out that morning with the intention of holding a reasoned discussion with Diana. To order her to attend him would immediately put up her back. She was not a servant to be commanded. He curbed his impatience to see her again and asked Fingle to bring him some brandy.

* * *

Diana made her way to the drawing room shortly before the dinner hour. As she walked in the earl gave her a frowning look.

‘Are you still in mourning?’

She glanced down at her lavender silk.

‘No, my lord. This is my best evening gown.’

She could have added that it was the only evening gown. She had never needed more. When she had first joined the late earl’s household she had always been invited to join the family for dinner, whenever they were in residence at Chantreys, but one never knew how many guests would be present, and Diana preferred not to be subjected to the stares and pitying looks of strangers. After a while the invitations had stopped.

‘It looks very much like mourning,’ he told her.

‘One might say the same of your cravat, my lord.’

For a long moment they regarded one another, before the earl looked away and walked to the sideboard.

‘Sit down, Miss Grensham. Can I get you a glass of claret, perhaps. Or Madeira?’

‘A little wine, thank you.’ She moved to a chair opposite the one he had been occupying, glad that he was pouring the claret and not watching her limp across the room. ‘What is it you wish to discuss with me, sir?’

‘You are very direct.’ He handed her a glass and returned to his chair. ‘I have already told you, I thought we should become better acquainted. You were always absent whenever I visited the house in the past.’

‘Then the earl and countess would be present. I was not required.’

He stared at her over the rim of his glass.

‘Were you avoiding me?’

She was surprised that his question did not offend. She replied, equally blunt, ‘I was avoiding everyone.’

‘Because you limp,’ he said. ‘What happened?’

‘A broken thigh bone, when I was very young.’ She paused to taste her wine. ‘The doctor set it badly, and although others were brought in they could not undo his incompetence. I was left with my left leg shorter than the right. It does not prevent me from doing anything I wish, but it looks ungainly and makes people uncomfortable. They do not wish to see deformity in the drawing room.’

‘Have you ever considered that if you were to be in society more, people would become accustomed to your...’ he paused ‘...your deformity?’

‘Perhaps, but I go on very well as I am. The children no longer regard it.’

He held her eyes.

‘But you must take them out and about. Does that not make people uncomfortable?’

‘Oh, no,’ she said quietly. ‘I attract no attention at all in the street. Governesses are of no consequence, you see.’

Fingle came in to announce dinner and Lord Davenport rose.

‘Shall we go in?’

He was holding out his arm to her. Diana hesitated, tempted to tell him such courtesy was unnecessary, but he would know that. Silently she slipped her fingers on to his sleeve. It was impossible not to feel the hard muscle beneath the soft wool of his coat. He exuded strength and power, and she felt a tiny tremor of excitement at his proximity.

‘Oh.’

Diana stopped as they entered the dining room. Two places were set at the table, facing each other across the width rather than at either end.

‘I told Fingle to set it thus,’ remarked her companion. ‘I thought it would be an advantage not to be peering the length of the table and shouting at one another.’

He guided Diana to her seat and held her chair. She sank down, suddenly nervous. She had never dined alone with a man before. We are here on business, she told herself sternly. But when the earl took his seat opposite and smiled at her it felt strangely intimate, even though the daylight was still streaming into the room.

The earl’s unexpected presence at dinner had certainly put Cook on her mettle and Diana decided there could be no complaint on the number and variety of dishes that appeared on the table. If the earl was not satisfied with the ragout of lamb and tender young carrots and turnips then there was a cheese pie or a fricassee of eggs and a dessert made with some of Cook’s preciously hoarded quince jelly.

For many months Diana’s meals had been taken alone or with the children and at first she was a little nervous to be in company, but the earl was determined to please and be pleased. He was an excellent host, ensuring that she had her choice of every dish on the table and keeping her wine glass filled. He was at pains to draw her out and she was surprised how easy it was to converse with him. By the time the meal was over she was quite relaxed in his company.

‘I had best leave you to your brandy,’ she said, when the clock chimed the hour.

‘No, please. Stay and talk to me.’

She chuckled. ‘We have talked throughout dinner.’

‘But not about the children.’

She was disappointed. They had been getting on famously, and now they would argue again. She knew it. He signalled to Fingle to refill her wine glass and she did not object. She would not, of course, drink brandy, or port, or even Madeira after dinner. That would be foolish and could lead to her becoming inebriated, but a little more wine might stiffen her resolve when dealing with the earl.

* * *

Alex signalled to the servants to leave the room. He had enjoyed dinner, surprisingly so. He had decided at the outset that he would spare no efforts to charm Diana, but in fact it had been no effort at all. Her education had been thorough and she was an avid reader. Although she lived confined he learned that she corresponded with several long-standing friends and no one had ever cancelled the late earl’s subscription to the London newspapers, so she was well informed and eager to learn. Their discussions ranged from politics to art and philosophy, and if he introduced a subject of which she knew little, her questions and comments were intelligent and interesting. He made sure the wine flowed freely, and as he encouraged her to talk and express her opinions she began to relax, to blossom. Whenever some particular subject caught her interest she would become animated, waving her hands, challenging his views and not afraid to put her own. The one topic they had not touched upon was the children and their removal to another property, but it would soon be time for him to leave, and since that was the reason for his being here, he must make the attempt.

As Fingle shepherded the footmen from the room Alex refilled his glass and sat back, regarding the petite figure sitting opposite him. She would never be a beauty. No coiffeuse would tame that red hair without resorting heavily to the use of pomade, her mouth was too wide and as for those freckles sprinkled liberally across her pert little nose and cheeks, any female with pretensions to fashion would have concealed them with a little powder. Having decided the freckles were a blemish, Alex found himself looking at them again. They did have a certain charm, he conceded. In fact, some men might find them quite attractive...

Diana’s voice cut into his thoughts.

‘No doubt you wish we still lived in your great-grandfather’s time.’

With an effort he forced his mind back to the discussion.

‘The fourth earl?’ His brows rose. ‘What has he to do with anything?’

‘By all accounts he was a tyrant,’ she told him cheerfully. ‘He cleared whole villages to create the park and the views we now enjoy from the house.’ She shook her head, saying disapprovingly, ‘Positively feudal.’

‘He provided a whole new village for his people.’

‘Yes, because he needed to keep them close to work on his estate.’

‘You are deliberately seeing the worst of my family.’

She laughed at that. ‘The worst? Moving a few dozen villagers is nothing to the debauched and dissolute manner with which the Arrandales have conducted themselves over the years.’

Alex reined in his temper. Who was she to criticise his kin?

‘The Arrandales are no worse than many other families,’ he snapped. ‘I would not contemplate displacing a whole village, but I would move two little girls! It is not as though I am throwing you on the streets. You may have the pick of my properties, if you wish I will even buy you a new house.’

‘I do not want a new house,’ she retorted. ‘My sister thought it best for the children to be settled in one place and I agree with her.’

‘I am not advocating that they should be constantly moving from house to house, Miss Grensham, merely asking that you settle them somewhere else.’

Alex reached across to refill her glass. By heaven, but she was stubborn! He noticed that his own glass was empty. He might as well refill that, too. He had forgotten that the brandy in the cellars here was very fine indeed.

She sipped her wine before replying.

‘No, my lord. Chantreys is an eminently suitable house for the children. Its proximity to London means that when they need dancing and singing masters we will be able to command the very best.’

There was the faintest suggestion of unsteadiness in her voice. His glance flickered over the half-empty wine glass. Was she intoxicated? He had intended that she should be at ease with him, but perhaps in the enjoyment of the dinner he had allowed her too much wine. After all, she was not used to society and possibly might not be used to wine-drinking either. He pushed his chair back.

‘It is time I left,’ he said abruptly.

She blinked at him, her eyes wide. ‘But we have not finished our discussion, nor have I finished my wine.’

‘I think you have had quite enough,’ he muttered, walking round and putting his hand on her chair. ‘Come along.’

With a tiny shrug of her shoulders she rose. She looked perfectly steady but he was taking no chances. He pulled her hand on to his sleeve and walked her out of the dining room. As they crossed the hall he barked out an order to a hovering footman.

‘Ask Mrs Wallace to make tea and bring it into the drawing room, immediately.’

‘Oh, are you staying for tea?’ said Diana. ‘That will be de—delightful.’

He felt the weight of her as she leaned into him. He had intended to leave her, but perhaps he should stay and make sure she drank something other than wine. She continued to chatter as he guided her into the drawing room and eased her off his arm and on to a sofa.

‘Chantreys is most, most excellently situated,’ she told him. ‘We are close enough to London to visit the art galleries, and the famous Shakespeare Gallery in Pall Mall. Do you know it, my lord?’

‘It is not somewhere I have visited as yet,’ he replied, moving away.

‘Then you should do so,’ she said seriously. ‘It has illustrations of Shakespeare’s plays, commissioned from the finest artists.’

He watched her as she rose and began to walk about the room, idly running her hand along the chair backs.

‘There is nothing to say you could not live further from town,’ he said, ‘You could bring the children to stay in London from time to time. Money is no object—’

‘This is not about money, my lord.’ She stopped and turned, fixing him with those large, hazel eyes. ‘Chantreys has always been their home, they know it and love it. It would be cruel to uproot them now.’

The entrance of Fingle with the tea tray gave Alex time to consider her words and to admit to himself, grudgingly, that she was right. How could he even think of moving the girls at such a time? He could buy a house, or rent one. It might not be as perfect as Chantreys but there must be something suitable for entertaining. For some reason he found it difficult to concentrate on the matter. Or on anything very much. Perhaps it was not only Diana who had been drinking a little too freely.

When they were alone again he said, ‘Come, take a cup of tea.’

‘I do not think I want anything just yet.’ She wandered over to the open window and gave a loud sigh. ‘Is it not the most beautiful view from here?’

He crossed the room to stand behind her, but it was not the rolling acres of parkland that he was thinking about, it was the way the westering sun set her red hair aflame. Without thinking he reached out to touch it, but quickly snatched his hand back when she turned suddenly to face him. She was glaring at him, the light of battle in her eyes.

‘Do you know what the problem is, my lord Davenport? You are spoiled. You have never had to struggle, to fight for anything. Is it any wonder if you are dissolute and irresponsible? Whatever you desire you only have to click your fingers.’ She held up her hand, frowning in concentration as she tried to fit the action to the words. After a moment she gave up and turned her rather misty gaze upon him once more. ‘You only have to click your fingers and your wish is granted, your wealth has always bought everything you want.’ She stabbed at his chest with her fingers. ‘Well, you shall not buy me.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t do that.’

‘Why not?’ She looked up, a challenging gleam in her eyes. ‘Are you afraid I might sully your exquisite tailoring? Or do you fear I shall disturb the perfection of your cravat?’

Her fingers began to slide up over the embroidered waistcoat, but before she had reached the black linen neckcloth he clamped his hand over hers.

The effect was shocking.

A bolt of desire shot through Alex. It was no longer an annoying little governess standing before him, rather a creature of fire, a flame-haired siren who tantalised his senses. Her eyes widened, as if she was aware of the effect she was having. Hardly surprising since he was still holding her fingers against his chest, where she must feel the drumming of his heart. His free hand slid around her neck and cupped the back of her head. He almost expected those flaming locks to burn him but her hair was cool as silk against his palm. She made no move to resist and gently he drew her closer. As he lowered his head to kiss her he saw her eyelids flutter. Soaring elation overwhelmed him. His mouth came down upon hers in a bruising kiss.

* * *

Diana’s senses swooped and spun. He teased her lips apart, his tongue flickering, demanding access and she could not deny him. She knew she should be outraged but instead she was exultant, revelling in the taste and smell of him, an exciting mixture of wine and spices plus something unfamiliar but very male. Her bones turned to water but it did not matter, because he was holding her so close, his arms strong as iron bands. Her hand was still trapped against his chest and she struggled to move and slip it around his neck, to push her fingers through the thick dark hair that curled over his collar.

She had never been in a man’s arms before, no man had ever so much as kissed her cheek, but she felt no fear, only a fierce, primal pleasure when Alex’s teeth grazed her lip before his tongue was once more dipping and diving into her. She gave a small moan of pleasure before returning his kiss and when she felt him withdrawing she clung tighter, instinctively pressing her body against his, wanting to prolong the hot, intimate embrace.

The blood was pounding through her veins, her senses were swimming, but she was aware that his arms were no longer around her, he was easing himself away, gently but inexorably. The frantic, heated kisses came to an end.

Dragging in a breath, Diana put her hands behind her, thankful to find the window frame was within reach. She leaned against it, trying to work out just what had happened. Alex was staring at her, frowning from beneath those heavy brows, his deep chest rising and falling with every ragged breath.

‘I beg your pardon,’ he muttered, his voice unsteady.

Her body cried out in agony at the distance between them. They were leaning against opposite sides of the window frame, only inches apart, but it was too much. She dug her fingers into the wood at her back to stop herself from cupping her breasts, which felt so full and hard they ached. She shook her head.

‘I do not—’ she began, when she could command her voice. ‘That is, I have never—’

‘No, you haven’t, have you?’

A wry smile curved his mouth and Diana felt embarrassment replace the heat of passion. She should move away but her legs would not support her. There was a throbbing ache between her thighs, so intense that she wanted to throw herself at Alex, instinct telling her that only he could assuage it.

He stepped sideways, away from her and into the room.

‘Let us blame it on the wine and think no more about it,’ he said, walking to the door. ‘I must go now.’

Diana did not want him to leave. She tried to drag her reeling thoughts into some kind of order.

‘What—what about the children?’

He stopped at the door and bent another frowning look at her.

‘I do not think either of us is in the mood for more discussion, Miss Grensham. I bid you goodnight.’

* * *

He was gone. Diana closed her eyes, breathing deeply and leaning heavily against the window frame at her back. She was not sure if she was most in danger of fainting or bursting into tears. Perhaps the earl was right, it was the wine. She had certainly taken more than usual, and she had felt very relaxed by the time dinner was over. Relaxed enough to tell Alex that she thought him a rich, spoiled nobleman for whom money could buy everything.

Her hands crept up to her cheeks. She had told him he could not buy her and he had punished her by showing that he did not need riches to reduce her to a trembling, incoherent wreck. He had done that with nothing more than a kiss.

She heard a soft scratching at the door and Fingle came in. Diana turned away quickly, pretending to look out at the gardens, deep in shadow now and with the moon rising in the distance.

‘I beg your pardon, Miss Grensham. I heard his lordship leave and thought—but you haven’t touched the tea. Would you like me to ask Mrs Wallace to put the kettle on again?’

‘No, thank you, Fingle. I, um, I am going up to say goodnight to the children and then I think I shall retire.’

‘Very well then, miss, shall I take the tray away?’

‘Yes, please do.’ She remained in the shadows and watched him depart with the untouched tray. No, she thought wretchedly, it was not tea that her body craved this evening.

* * *

‘What in the name of all that’s wonderful were you about?’ Alex demanded of himself as he drove through the darkened lanes.

The cool night air had cleared his brain sufficiently for him to think straight again. The brandy had momentarily clouded his judgement. Thin redheads had never appealed to him and neither did headstrong, opinionated women. Diana was a lady, and his sister-in-law, to boot. It had been reprehensible of him to ply her with drink. True, she had annoyed him when she had called him irresponsible. Who was she to criticise him, to accuse him of trying to buy her? He had merely offered her the pick of any of his houses. By heaven, many a man would not even have given her a choice in the matter.

His mouth tightened. If he hadn’t written her that letter assuring her she could stay at Chantreys, then perhaps he might now have ordered her and the children to leave, but he could not in honour do so. And he was not without honour, however dissolute she might think him. He gave a little grunt of frustration, knowing he had not acted honourably this evening. Her responses had been passionate but inexpert. Why, he would wager on it that she had never been kissed before. He recalled her look when he had put her away from him, her eyes huge and dark, regarding him with a mixture of wonder and apprehension.

It was not his habit to pursue innocent virgins and she was most surely an innocent. A veritable Sleeping Beauty, whose passion he had awakened with a kiss. His mouth twisted. But he was no Prince Charming. He had been on the town long enough to know what happened to men of experience who married innocent young women. They were bored within a month and within two they had set up a mistress, leaving a wife distraught at the desertion.

His hands jerked on the reins at the thought and he was obliged to give his attention to the greys, who objected strongly to his unaccustomed treatment. No, he thought, when the team was once more running smoothly, he had no intention of entering into such a marriage. He had determined to marry for convenience, a woman who understood what was required, who would make no demands upon him emotionally.

His mind wandered back to the memory of Diana, chin up, eyes challenging. He recalled the sudden stirring of interest, a flicker that had become irresistible when he had caught her fingers. He had only meant to prevent her from committing an indiscretion, but with her tiny hand clasped against his heart he had felt an irresistible urge to pull her into his arms. She had felt it, too, that connection between them. He had read it in her eyes, along with an invitation that he had accepted far too readily.

So there was another reason to remove Diana Grensham from Chantreys. She was governess to his wards and could not risk the loss of reputation that would result from an affair. And for himself, he would not want that on his conscience. Diana Grensham was no drab from the stews, willing to indulge in a quick tumble. When he had kissed her he had recognised her passionate nature and it had drawn a response from him. He knew that these attractions were never long lasting, but Diana was not experienced in flirtations—what if she were to develop a tendre for him?

He reached the outskirts of London and bowled through the town, his mind made up. Whichever way one looked at it, the best thing would be for Diana and the children to remove from Chantreys and preferably a good distance from London, well out of harm’s way. The problem was how to achieve it? The devil of it was that so far Diana had proved surprisingly stubborn. She was determined not to capitulate. His jaw tightened. Well, he could be stubborn, too. This was no longer about the children, it was a battle of wills, and he was not about to lose.