Chapter Thirteen

August 3, 1817

T hough today was Sunday, Gigi didn't feel that she could sit through Thomas's sermon this morning without wanting to burst into tears. It was silly and stupid to feel as if she were in mourning, for it was just a governess position, and one she hadn't wished to take anyway.

But the gist of it was she would miss him as well as his nieces. Those little girls had managed to worm their way beneath her skin in such a short period of time that she could almost imagine them belonging to her, that she would see them grow into young ladies and help get them launched into society.

Except, that wasn't to be.

When she'd told Thomas last night she'd been suffering from a megrim, that wasn't a lie. Perhaps it had been the sun from swimming yesterday with Penny and Lily or perhaps it was the fact she hadn't much of an appetite since that coupling with the vicar in the barn, but more likely it was the sick feeling that had accompanied the ache in her head knowing she would soon lose the paying position she'd had for little over two weeks.

I'm a failure.

What would Mia say? What would Cora? No doubt one of them would lecture her while the other would tell her she had an obligation to the family to find a new position.

Instead of going downstairs to breakfast, she made certain the girls were outfitted for church, then she told them of her headache and that they would need to attend with their uncle. Protests abounded, but eventually they understood she wasn't playing and bowed to authority. Which made Gigi feel even worse, for she didn't enjoy taking orders in her life either.

Once Thomas left for the church with his nieces, she dressed herself, drank a cup of strongly brewed tea, told the housekeeper she would be back in the afternoon, then departed on the walk toward her family's manor house. The one saving grace? It was once more overcast with the fat, gray clouds portending rain at some point in the day.

In that, the weather perfectly suited her mood, and she mentally berated herself for acting the ninny over a man. An unavailable man at that. But the confusion persisted as well as her megrim. Surely, she shouldn't feel so emotional over the vicar after such a short period of time. Yes, they'd fallen into scandal, and yes, she had probably pulled him into it when she shouldn't have, but it was only a physical relationship. There weren't any feelings involved. They'd given each other pleasure and that was all.

Wasn't it?

Shortly after gaining Andover Hall, Gigi found her mother in the morning room.

"Good morning, Mama."

Surprise lined the other woman's face as she set down the book she'd been reading. "Genevieve! How lovely to see you." Then concern swept in. "Is all well with you? It is half-past nine. You should be attending services."

"Don't lecture me about that, Mama. I am simply not in the correct mindset." Without being invited, Gigi took a seat at the table where her mother was enjoying a breakfast of tea and toast. "Besides, I needed some time away from the vicarage and thought perhaps visiting you and Papa might be just the thing to sweep away my doldrums."

"What of your charges?"

"They are with their uncle, and he is perfectly capable of looking after them, even while he's in the pulpit. I'm certain they will behave." Though, whether the girls would actually follow through with that was another matter entirely. "Besides, Sundays are my days to attend to my personal life."

"I see." Her mother took a sip from her teacup. "How are you finding your position otherwise?" She glanced at Gigi. "I had one of my friends in for tea the other day. She told me there are some scandalous rumors circulating about you."

When are there not?

She blew out a breath. "People tend to glean much entertainment tearing down others." That was all she would say.

One of her mother's blonde-gray eyebrows rose. "Are they not true? Have you curbed the tendency to act without thought?"

Heat slapped at her cheeks. "I don't know about that, but whatever you have heard through the gossip mill, I'll wager it's wrong."

"Good." Her mother nodded. "I was afraid when you took the governess position that you would find Mr. Alderman far too handsome and a temptation."

Well, that fear certainly came to pass.

"He is easy on the eyes." There were simply some secrets a woman needed to keep and hoard them to herself. "His nieces are lovely, if a bit wild around the edges."

"Just as you were at their ages," her mother said with a laugh. "And continue to be."

"I cannot help who I am."

"Oh, don't I know it? I long ago stopped hoping you would grow into a proper lady, but I can still dream." Then her expression hardened a bit. "Though if you are chasing scandal, you could possibly be destroying the vicar's plans for the future." Even though Gigi made a sound of protest, her mother continued. "There's talk he wishes to marry, and soon, and will choose an eligible party from his congregation. I should hope you don't get in the way of that."

"Of course I won't, for I'm only a mere governess, correct? I shouldn't use my position to try and find a match for myself, hmm?" Where the devil did that come from? She hadn't changed her mind about marrying titled man with a fat bank account, and certainly there weren't any of those men about in a country village or church.

"You have said yourself many times over there aren't any interesting men outside of London." Speculation jumped into her mother's eyes. "Has someone caught your fancy?"

"No, of course not." An image of Thomas danced across her mind's eye, of him smiling so that the delicate skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. When the image shifted into one of him naked with concentration on his face as he thrust into her body, a wave of heat washed over her. "Most of my time is spent with the girls."

"As it should be. You are at the vicarage for one specific purpose. I hope you won't let anything distract you, but once the vicar finds himself engaged, I'll wager he'll ask you to leave, for having a youngish, pretty woman underfoot might cause difficult feelings."

Gigi waved a hand, for it wasn't anything she'd hadn't already discussed with Thomas. Without going back to London, her own chances of finding a match were slim. "Do you think I should apply to a position in Town? Perhaps that would broaden my opportunities of finding a husband." It had certainly worked for her sisters, yet the men they'd wed were far from being rich. "Or should I remain close to home due to Papa's health?"

"Only you can say that for yourself, but it is nice that you're close."

"Except Papa doesn't know who I am most days." The thought of that made her stomach drop every time.

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't visit. I fear he won't have much more time on this mortal coil." Sadness pooled in her mother's eyes.

It was another sure sign that things were changing, and it left a raw ache in her chest. She needed a distraction, and soon. "Is he up and around this morning?"

"Not that I'm aware. He is sleeping still, and I didn't wish to disturb him." Her mother frowned. "Perhaps you should lower your standards regarding men, Geneieve. Titled and well off is a tall order, but there are many lovely men who possess decent enough incomes you can set your sights on, especially if you wish to have babies of your own. You aren't growing younger."

"I haven't decided if I wish to have children; I'd rather have the man for a few years before that closeness is taken away by the responsibilities of being a mother." None of this talk helped her sort out her confusion. "Are you pleased that Mia and Cora married poor men?"

"It is not for me to puzzle out the mysteries of the heart. I just hope your sisters get by in life without struggling and with plenty of happiness and love. At the end of the day, that is what everyone is searching for—love."

Which brought her thoughts back 'round to Thomas. How did she feel about him? Physical attraction and the carnal pleasures to be found in his arms were one thing, but had her fondness for him stemmed from merely that? And she absolutely couldn't contemplate a lifetime with him, for he was a vicar and that would mean she would be forced to be someone else entirely.

I just cannot do that… even for love.

And she simply wasn't in love with him, so at least that was one saving grace.

"Where are my sisters?" Perhaps they would provide the distraction she needed at present.

"Emmaline and Anne are puttering in the garden. I believe Nora is in the drawing room with her handiwork."

Gigi nodded. "I'll just pop in on them for a few moments before walking back to the vicarage."

"At least stay the day and have luncheon with us. It is much quieter around here without you to maintain the chatter." Only then did she see how frail and tired her mother truly was. "I miss the spirited conversations you and sisters used to have."

Her heart trembled. "I promise more frequent visits." And if Thomas were serious about choosing a bride, she would have nothing but time on her hands.

A few minutes later, she found Nora in the drawing room, not working on embroidery but utilizing her sketch pad and her charcoals.

Gigi made certain her sister could see her before she spoke. "Hullo, Nora. How are you?"

Since Nora couldn't—or wouldn't—speak verbally, they had all been working with a tutor that came in once a week to teach the language of the signs that had been invented by Benedictine monks. Mia had made good on the promise and engaged the tutor soon after she'd married her viscount.

She followed the verbal inquiry with the appropriate signs made with her fingers.

Her sister's eyes lit with happiness. "Gigi!" The verbal utterance sounded more like a labored grunt, and the sign for her name always made Gigi smile. What are you doing here? Though the signing took a bit for not only Nora to get out but also for Gigi to interpret, she felt nothing but relief for the gift of communication.

"I didn't wish to attend church services. Instead, I thought to spend time with you and the family." She sat on an ottoman in front of her sister, so Nora could see her lips and fingers as she signed. "How are you?"

Well enough.

"That's good." Gigi gave her a smile.

Are you enjoying being a governess?

"It is certainly more work than I first thought, but there are moments of fun, and I truly adore the vicar's nieces." If she were asked to leave her post due to his engagement, the absence of the girls would leave a void in her life. "The position doesn't leave much time for a personal life or men, even if Mr. Alderman is quite lovely." Though she'd managed to slip away with Thomas well enough. Another round of heat went through her cheeks, for she would do it again in a heartbeat.

Then Nora frowned and peered closer into Gigi's face. You should pursue that man.

"What man?"

The vicar. I can feel you like him more than you ought, so chase him, if he makes you happy, especially if you find fulfillment in his arms, in his bed… and even more so if you love him.

For a few seconds, Gigi stared at her sister. "I don't love him."

Nora became agitated. Poppycock! Your whole face lights up when you speak of him and your eyes twinkle. That only happens when you feel truly connected to a man.

"What? That doesn't mean I love the vicar." When Nora didn't seem convinced, Gigi gasped. " Do I love him? Surely not." Was that the reason for her confusion and overly emotional responses? "He isn't the sort of man I want for myself, for my future. It won't help Mama or Papa—"

Nora huffed. Her fingers flew as she talked. It isn't your responsibility to save the manor. Nothing matters except being happy and proud of who you are. She again peered into Gigi's face. Something is different about you.

"I don't think so." Could a person perish from burning heat in the cheeks?

There is. I can tell. I know the secrets my sisters keep. Nora nodded. Cora had a secret too, once, and only I knew.

"What was it?" She had no idea her sisters kept secrets from each other.

I cannot tell.

Gigi frowned. Could she share something as private as what she and Thomas did together?

Be honest. Do you love him?

"I…" That wasn't an easy question to answer.

The truth. Life is too short to lie to yourself. Nora flashed a smile that completely transformed her features. Set everything else aside. Dig down into your heart of hearts, your very soul. If you were not with the vicar, if you never saw him again, how would you feel?

"I don't know." How would she feel? "He's as handsome as sin and we have…" She dropped her voice. "We have gotten into scandal a couple of times; though it was glorious and everything I ever dreamed of, he has already said I am not the type of woman he can marry." Yet he'd been willing to put his position into jeopardy by keeping her on as his governess.

Did that mean something?

It's there in your eyes, Gigi. You love him. Almost desperately.

"But it's been only two weeks. How could anyone fall so fast? I don't believe it." Yet even though she denied it, she felt something there, something that went beyond the carnal.

Love doesn't need a timeline or rules. It just… is.

"But I'm too… bad. I cannot be the kind of woman he needs in a wife." The knowledge sent pain stabbing into her chest.

Nonsense. If he loves you, if he truly believes in what he preaches, your past—and his—won't matter. Nora's fingers fairly flew. Obviously, she'd studied the hand gestures, and Gigi had trouble catching up. And you are a lovely person, Gigi. You just refuse to see it for fear that being good won't be fun. She gestured her closer. Enjoying intercourse and appreciating a man's body doesn't make you bad. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.

"Oh, Nora, I want so much to believe you." For years, she'd thought there had been something inherently wrong with her because she adored chasing scandal over propriety. "In some ways, I wish I was a proper lady like you and our sisters. Then he might see me not as a sin but as… a treasure." Though her finger signing was slower than Nora's, it got the job done. Why did the views of the Church make her feel less than?

"No!" The word was spoken audibly and with definitive power. Nora shook her head. God made man. God made woman. God created physical love. The end. Anyone who says otherwise can go hang.

Despite her scattered thoughts, Gigi snorted with laughter. "Oh, I love you so much, Nora." She came off the ottoman to embrace her sister. "I hope you're right about me being a treasure, but I rather think I'm a hopeless cause."

Nora huffed. Talk to him. Make him see reason.

"I will certainly try." Though he was stubborn and would err on the side of deflecting the most gossip.

*

Later that afternoon, Gigi returned to the vicarage with her stomach growling for tea, and her heart dancing with anticipation to see Thomas.

Except the vicar wasn't in residence. Instead, his friend Lord Grantford was waiting in the parlor, and according to Mrs. Traverse, he'd been there already thirty minutes. The vicar had sent word he'd taken his nieces visiting a few people in the area and to not except him until dinner.

"Then why is the viscount cooling his heels here?"

"Who can say? But he's requested tea. You might as well share it with him." Then she continued along the corridor toward the kitchen.

Moments after stepping into the parlor, Gigi greeted him. "Hello, Lord Grantford."

He scrambled to his feet. "I'm afraid you have the advantage over me." His voice was a low baritone, not like the addictive tenor of Thomas's.

"I'm Miss Hasting."

"Ah, yes. The governess." He gestured to a low sofa. "Please, join me. I've been waiting for Thomas, but he has been out for a while. I don't wish to return to my lodging house just yet."

"I see." She settled onto the sofa, and when he sat in a matching chair nearby, the scent of sandalwood wafted to her nose. Much different and not as intoxicating as what the vicar smelled like. "It's always lovely to have company."

He nodded as he roved his gaze over her person. "You are just as Thomas described."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" How interesting he'd talked about her to a friend. Was it merely in passing or did it mean something more?

"That is, perhaps, not for me to say, for I tend to err on the scandalous side, and I chase women who also have that in common." His grin was this side of cheeky, "But he also said you have been instrumental in bringing his nieces to heel."

Gigi snorted. "I don't know about that. The girls merely need a trace of discipline instead of having the spirit taught out of them."

"I enjoy how outspoken you are, Miss Hasting. Too many women repress their own spirits in order to fit in with society. After a few years of that, they become copies of each other, and who wants a woman who is the same as every other?"

His line of thinking surprised her, and she smiled. "Thank you. It is rather how I've seen life as well." Suddenly, emotions beset her she hadn't counted upon. "Not many men can appreciate that."

"Then they are blind as well as nodcocks."

"Thank you." She lowered her gaze to her hands in her lap.

"Thomas told me about the fete. He has expressed an interest in perhaps doing a few events with Miss Patridge and then dancing a set with her that evening."

Another jab of hurt went through Gigi's chest. "Good for him." Then she frowned. "I suppose for all his talk, he's taken the hints and veiled threats to heart."

"So it would seem." Lord Grantford's gaze was on her when she looked up, but he didn't have the power to stoke her awareness like Thomas did. "I suspect he does wish to marry, and soon. It will go a long way in halting the rumors and speculation."

"Speculation about what?"

"You, Miss Hasting."

"What?" Flutters went through her lower belly. "Why me?"

"According to the men in one of the taverns, they have two-to-one odds that our good vicar will succumb to the temptation you represent soon, if he hasn't already."

"Ah." She hoped her expression gave nothing away. "First, I find it rather disconcerting and slightly rage-inducing that the general populace thinks that a woman with any sort of pleasing looks is naught but a siren. And secondly, what sort of Church people are these who perpetuate such rumors that can damage both parties?"

Even if they were true.

"I like the fact that you aren't afraid to defend yourself, Miss Hasting."

"Someone needs to. There is a definite lack of honor and gentlemanly manners around here." Crossing her arms at her chest, she huffed and glared at the viscount. "He is quite welcome to the incomparable baker, Miss Partridge." Was that too snippy? Too revealing?

Lord Grantford's lips twitched. "They do make a handsome couple."

"Perhaps, though I'm not convinced they will suit." And if the subject matter didn't change soon, she would become a watering pot in front of this man. When had she ever let emotions rule her being so much?

"Why not?" Had Thomas not told this man everything? "They seemed quite cordial the other day."

"Oh, I don't know. Just a feeling." His grin continued while he shrugged, and it was far too charming. "By the by, I am attending the village fete in four days. I'm coming as Thomas's guest, but will you come as well?"

"I haven't decided yet. Why do you wish to know?"

There was a gleam in his eyes she didn't quite trust. "I would like it very much if you did, for I have enjoyed talking with you, and in the event you haven't noticed, I am also unattached." When he winked, a faint tremble moved through her chest.

"Oh." Ordinarily, it would have thrilled her to have another man interested in her, but now? It was still pleasing, but it made her nervous. She didn't want that life any longer. The thought of perpetually flirting, teasing, leading a man on with kisses or promises had grown stale. In fact, she only wanted Thomas.

Yet it was too late for that. Not that they ever had a chance beyond what they'd physically shared. What did that mean for her future?

There was no way to know, and she needed to perhaps have a different plan. Slowly, she nodded. "Perhaps I will, and I would like to further our connection, Lord Grantford." Offering him a smile, she rose to her feet. "We can wish Thomas, er, rather Mr. Alderman, well if he announces his impending engagement at the fete."

Surely such a relationship wouldn't go so quickly? Her heart squeezed with hurt.

"Excellent!" The viscount stood as well. "After the week concludes, I would like to host a trip to London for you, if that's not too bold. I'd like it very much if we could attend a few society events together, for there are many possibilities opening up before us, don't you think?"

"Perhaps." Though she smiled, it felt wobbly at best.

He nodded. "Thomas has hinted to me you wish to align yourself with a wealthy, titled man. I am that, and I am captivated by a woman who isn't guided by rules."

"So you are." Could she settle for this man since she couldn't have her first choice?

"And handsome enough." He scooped up her hand and brought it to his lips where he kissed the back.

An unexpected chuckle left her throat, and a hint of heat infused her cheeks. "I won't stroke your ego and agree." If she couldn't have the vicar, why not let the viscount court her? She would have everything she'd ever wanted in a man, in a life, and there was nothing wrong with that.

Right?

Except… Her chin trembled as Lord Grantford released her hand. Perhaps she'd been a fool, for she was a ninny after all. She couldn't be certain, of course, but she might be falling in love with Thomas, or at least the idea of him. Never had she expected falling in love to hurt so wretchedly, and the near constant ache in her heart was not pleasant. He'd made his position clear, so she shouldn't waste those emotions on him. Was taking the next best thing the clear choice? It might be her only choice now, and the last chance she would have of making a decent match.

Was coming here to be a governess so that she would meet the viscount part of God's plan? And if so, what of the connection between her and Thomas?

Why the devil is life so confusing? And why had her sisters not told her of this part of romance?

"Well then, who needs tea when a man has secured the promise of a lady?"

Oh, he was charming enough and handsome. There would be no end of fun and excitement with him, but he wasn't Thomas. He didn't wear somber clothing or have a dimple in his left cheek when he grinned a certain way, nor did he set her aflame with a mere look or inflection of his tone.

At the last second, Gigi stifled a sob. "Then I should retire to my room. The megrim I've been suffering from demands rest. Please either wait for Thomas to return, or show yourself out." Then she fled upstairs, and barely reached the refuge of her room before the tears began to fall.

The question that remained now was would she give up gracefully or fight for him?