Chapter 18

Chapter 18

“My dress itches,” complained Lady Lenore, frowning, wriggling as she walked beside Selene down the hallway. “And I do not like the color of the ribbons in my hair!”

Selene glanced at the little girl. Lenore was trussed up like a roasted goose, in a starched, frilly pink gown, with matching ribbons in her hair. They had received summons half an hour ago to go to the drawing room to greet the houseguests who had arrived that afternoon, and Mrs. Kittles had been in a tizzy to get Lenore properly dressed in time.

“You look very pretty,” said Selene, in a low voice, trying to calm her pupil. “Lord Mastiff and Lady Gwen will be entranced by you, my lady.”

Lenore pouted, sticking out her bottom lip. She didn’t look particularly impressed to greet the houseguests, and Selene didn’t blame her. She didn’t want to greet them either, even if she was just on hand to control Lenore, and nothing else. No one would take notice of the governess, after all.

She could barely breathe thinking about the duke. She hadn’t seen him at all today. Her heart had leapt every time she heard footsteps along the hallway, when she had been teaching Lenore, but it was never him.

Perhaps last night in the library never happened. Perhaps I dreamt it…perhaps it was a continuation of my first dream…

But she knew that wasn’t true. The tenderness between her legs today testified to that—as did her skin, which was still tingling from his touch.

She still couldn’t believe it had happened. She simply had no idea how she felt about it yet. A part of her was still glorying in the wonder of the most incredible experience of her life—while another part was filled with angst and regret.

They reached the drawing room, which looked quite wonderful and festive with the decorations they had hung yesterday. Her heart trembled when she saw the duke, leaning against the mantelpiece, looking devilishly handsome in a smart green jacket, his dark hair still as tousled as the night before.

An older gentleman with steel gray hair and a bushy gray twirling moustache stood next to him. A young lady, probably around her own age, was seated in an armchair, sipping a cup of tea.

Selene studied her quickly. Lady Gwen was beautiful, just as Mrs. Kittles had said, and very elegant. She had golden hair, with tight curls framing her face, and was wearing a fashionable blue checkered silk gown, with a very high waistline, and cream-colored lace along the bodice. When she turned to look at them, Selene saw that her eyes were cornflower blue, but very cold.

“Ah, here she is,” said the older gentleman, beaming at Lenore. “My, you have grown, my lady!”

Lenore executed a clumsy curtsy, looking embarrassed. “My lord,” she said. “My lady.”

“Oh, what a doll,” cried Lady Gwen, smiling at her. “Come here and talk to me, Miss Lenore.”

Lenore hesitated, gazing up at Selene, who nodded, gently pushing her toward the lady. As Lenore slowly walked toward Lady Gwen, Selene started walking toward a chair in the corner, to wait for Lenore, as was the proper thing to do in this situation. The governess was never expected to socialize with the guests. Mrs. Kittles had been very strict about that when they had been getting ready to greet them.

If only Mrs. Kittles knew that I am unredeemable and have broken with propriety entirely… by making passionate love with the master on a desk in the library.

Her cheeks started to burn thinking about it. She turned, unable to resist glancing at the duke again, but he was focused on Lenore, and not looking at her at all. Her heart hit the ground with a crash. Was he going to ignore her entirely now that he had his wicked way with her? Was that how things worked with these kinds of affairs?

“And who are you?” asked Lady Gwen abruptly, her voice ringing out in the air. “Are you the new governess?”

Selene froze, feeling rather like a deer catching a whiff of a wolf’s scent, turning around slowly to face the lady, who was frowning slightly as she gazed at her, her beautiful face set in a grim line.

“How astute of you, my lady,” said the duke, in a dry voice. “This is Miss Bomind, and yes, she is Lenore’s new governess.”

Selene curtsied quickly. “My lady. My lord.” She turned to the duke, staring him straight in the eye, her heart racing. “Your Grace.”

“You have managed to find a very pretty governess, Your Grace,” remarked Lady Gwen, still staring at Selene, with a hard look on her face. “Did you decide to choose appearance over aptitude and intelligence this time?”

Shocked, Selene turned to the lady, blinking rapidly. The duke laughed, in an awkward way.

The lady stood up, slowly approaching her. Selene raised her chin, gazing at the lady. If this woman thought she was going to intimidate her, she had better think again. Lady Gwen Pretner seemed to have taken an instant dislike toward her, and she had no idea why. She hadn’t even opened her mouth.

“Where did you train, Miss Bomind?” asked the lady, with a dazzling smile. “Were you convent educated?”

“Alas, I was not, my lady,” replied Selene. She paused. “I was educated at the local school in Trenton, and my father schooled me at home when I left, in the classics, mathematics, and history.”

There was a sudden silence. The lady arched her eyebrows, looking amazed.

“What?” she cried, shaking her head incredulously. “You are a local? Are you not even an impoverished genteel lady down on her luck like the rest of them?”

Selene flushed. The lady was clearly making fun of her, and the duke was just standing there, letting her do it.

“I am well educated, my lady,” said Selene, in a sharp voice. “I do assure you that I have all the necessary skills to teach Lady Lenore properly.” She paused. “And as for aptitude and intelligence… well, I possess both, in equal measure. I find my appearance has nothing to do with fulfilling my duties at all.”

She glanced at the duke, who was shaking his head at her, in an imperceptible way, clearly not wanting her to speak her mind. But that was nothing new, was it?

“That will do, Miss Bomind,” he said, with a tight smile. “You do not need to stay and wait for Lady Lenore. I will ring for you when it is time to collect her.”

Selene nodded stiffly, sweeping into a curtsy, before turning and marching out of the room, without another word. Her throat was thick with tears at the way he had so casually dismissed her, as if their night of passion together had never happened at all.

What did you expect from him, Selene? Did you think he would fall at your feet clutching a dozen red roses, begging you to marry him? It means nothing to him. You are just the governess. If you left Trenton House tomorrow, he would barely notice.

Desperately, she held the tears at bay, refusing to cry. Lady Gwen might be beautiful and elegant, a true lady, but she was just as odious as Mrs. Kittles had told her she was. Why would a high-born lady, with all the wealth and privilege in the world, want to humiliate a humble governess?

***

Ian stepped out into the gardens, taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with fresh air. He had been entertaining Lord Mastiff and Lady Gwen for the entire day without a break and already he was sick of socializing and playing the host… and they were staying here for another week, at the very least.

Suddenly, he froze. Lenore and Miss Bomind were taking a stroll in the distance. His daughter was skipping, looking as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Miss Bomind, however, looked pre-occupied with her own thoughts, as if she were miles away in her mind.

His heart clenched and his blood started to pound. He hadn’t spoken with her privately since their passionate love making the previous night. He had briefly fallen asleep in the library, completely spent, and when he had awoken, she was gone.

He had been heading to speak with her today, but then, his houseguests had suddenly arrived, a day earlier than expected. Apparently, they had made better time than they had anticipated in their journey from the north. Their abrupt arrival had filled him with frustration, but there was nothing he could do about it.

He kept watching her, filled with longing. He felt guilty about what had happened between them, but amazingly he did not regret it, even though he had fought it.

Making love to her was so amazing, so fulfilling, that he could barely comprehend it. He felt like he had shed an old, tired skin, like a snake, and had emerged revitalized and transformed.

It is only because you have not made love to a woman in such a long time. That is all.

“Papa!” Lenore had spotted him, and was skipping toward him, her face bright.

Miss Bomind turned at his daughter’s voice, seeing him. Her face tightened. She didn’t look happy. Ian ran a hand through his hair, gritting his teeth. She thought of him as a rake now, of course. A man who had taken his pleasure with her and was discarding her. He didn’t blame her—he had barely spoken to her since.

He greeted his daughter, taking her hand, walking toward Miss Bomind. As he grew closer to her, visions of their lovemaking flashed through his mind, burning his flesh, stirring his loins to life anew.

The feel of her skin, so soft, like a velvety peach. The smell of her. The taste of her. The moment of ecstasy when I sank into her warm, silky depths…

“Your Grace.” She bobbed a quick curtsy. Her face was still grim, and she wasn’t smiling as she gazed at him. “Where are your guests?”

“They are resting after their long journey,” he replied, his hands balling into fists at his side. “We will reunite at dinner.” He paused, staring at her, his heart pounding hard. “I wanted to say…”

“Will you practice my dance steps with me, Papa?” asked Lenore suddenly, rushing to his side. “Miss Bomind was showing me the steps to the waltz today for the party in the conservatory.”

Ian shook himself, gazing at his daughter. “The waltz?” He frowned. “It is a rather scandalous dance, Lenore, and I am not certain if it is entirely appropriate.” He sighed. “But… of course I will, if you desire it.”

“Thank you, Papa!” Lenore clapped her hands together in glee.

He twirled his daughter around, advising her where to place her hands and feet for a few minutes, feeling awkward. Miss Bomind stood on the sidelines, watching them, her eyes flickering toward the house.

“Now dance with Miss Bomind,” commanded Lenore breathlessly. “If I see the dance, it will make better sense to me.” She gazed at him. “Please.”

Ian hesitated, his heart racing, turning to Miss Bomind. She looked stunned by what Lenore had just said.

“Oh no, my lady,” she said quickly. “His Grace does not wish to dance with me.” She looked straight at him, her eyes burning. “I am only a governess, after all. Masters do not dance with their governesses. It is not the done thing at all!”

Ian stiffened. Her anger was so palpable it was like an energy field surrounding her. He took a deep breath, holding out his hand to her.

“On the contrary, Miss Bomind,” he said, in a clipped voice. “I think that my daughter is right. Seeing the dance will help her to perfect it. We should oblige her.”

Miss Bomind stared at his outstretched hand. For a split second, he was sure she was going to refuse, and march back to the house in high dudgeon.

“If you insist, Your Grace,” she said eventually, in a tight voice.

The air seemed to spark around them when she took his hand. He placed one hand on her waist and raised her other hand in his. They faced each other. And then, he started twirling her around, in the classic one, two, and three step of the waltz.

Tiny snowflakes started to fall around them, landing in her hair. The familiar, evocative scent of her perfume wafted toward him. He breathed it in as if it were nectar. His hand tightened on her waist as desire flooded his bloodstream again.

He wanted her as badly as ever. He had possessed her and thought it would slake his inexplicable lust for her, but he realized, with a shock, that it hadn’t. In fact, his hunger for her had grown exponentially.

He was drowning in her eyes. It was as if time had stopped. And there was no one on this earth but the two of them, twirling around the garden, with snowflakes falling around them.