Breaking the Governess's Rules. Michelle Styles

breathing and in good health. It would be monstrous to spread a tale like that about anyone.’

      Jonathon’s gaze travelled slowly down Louisa’s form, his eyes lingering on her curves. His smile increased, becoming that special smile, the one which he had always given her just before kissing her. ‘No, I agree she is very much alive. I had been wrongly informed.’

      ‘And you are pleased with that,’ Miss Daphne said.

      ‘Did I ever say I wasn’t?’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Simply surprised to discover the fact. It would appear I put my trust in the wrong people.’

      ‘The notions some people entertain without bothering to check the facts.’ Louisa clenched her reticule. She looked forward to seeing Jonathon’s arrogant expression replaced with abject begging. And for each barb he sent her way, she’d make him beg a little longer.

      ‘Are we going to discuss cooking utensils now, Miss Sibson?’ He gave a slight flourish with his hand, daring her.

      ‘Is that a pile of stones I see beside you, Lord Chesterholm? What is the state of your soul?’

      ‘Utensils, stones and souls? I fear I cannot follow this conversation,’ Miss Blandish declared with a slight pout and shake of her golden curls.

      ‘Honestly, Susan.’ Miss Nella rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘A pot calling a kettle black. And from the Bible about someone without sin casting the first stone. Miss Sibson and Lord Chesterholm are having the most interesting quarrel. Now do be quiet and you might learn things.’

      ‘It is a long-standing argument,’ Louisa said quickly.

      ‘Miss Sibson and I used to enjoy such arguments,’ Jonathon said with a teasing glint in his eye. ‘She was quite notorious for her skill with … words.’

      ‘Miss Sibson was renowned for her wit in Sorrento as well,’ Lord Furniss said, hooking his thumbs into his waistcoat. ‘For my part, I always think of the right words precisely five minutes after I have left a gathering.’

      ‘My poor tongue is feeble compared to the late Matilda Elliot’s.’ Louisa ducked her head as her insides churned. She had been wrong to give in to that impulse.

      ‘Come, come, Miss Sibson, false modesty does you few favours,’ Jonathon said. ‘Your remarks were often repeated when you were in my stepmother’s employ.’

      Louisa fought against a tide of red heat that threatened to engulf her face and banished it. It was up to her whether or not Jonathon discomforted her. Her choice, not his. She gulped a breath of air and met his gaze full on. ‘I rarely think about that time. It was far from the happiest period in my life.’

      ‘Indeed.’ His eyes became glacial ice. ‘It is always pleasant to discover the truth of the situation. I regret that you spent one moment of unhappiness.’

      Quietly Louisa consigned Jonathon Fanshaw to the hottest room in Hell. He regretted nothing. He had come here to torment her. He probably intended to make it his mission in life. Well, he’d learn that the new Louisa played by a different set of rules. ‘It was a long time ago. I have put it from my mind.’

      Jonathon lifted an eyebrow, as if he were inviting the next round. Louisa gave a slight shake of her head and turned her body towards Lord Furniss.

      ‘What do you think of Newcastle, Lord Furniss? Does it meet with your expectations?’

      ‘Very much so.’ Lord Furniss made a low bow towards her. ‘The day is brighter for having seen you and my aunt.’

      Jonathon began to rapidly speak of the latest John Martin exhibition in London to Mrs Blandish, asking Lord Furniss to comment as he had seen it.

      ‘The discussion about John Martin should divert their attention,’ Jonathon’s low voice rumbled in her ear. ‘It is a topic of conversation to keep everyone entertained, but not you, I think. You never did care for painting.’

      ‘You know nothing about me.’ Louisa took a sip of her lukewarm coffee. ‘I happen to enjoy John Martin’s paintings.’

      Jonathon pressed his lips together. ‘You do?’

      ‘I have changed, Jonathon.’

      His eyes searched her face. ‘Not that much. You only think you have. And I have only done what your eyes implored me to do—rescue you from Furniss and divert the conversation.’

      ‘I happen to like Lord Furniss’s company. Why should I want attention diverted?’ Louisa asked between gritted teeth.

      ‘Our conversation last evening is far from finished,’ Jonathan said, looking down at her with hard eyes. ‘I wait with baited breath, Louisa. Where is your infamous proof? I had fully expected it to land on my breakfast table while you took the first boat out of Newcastle back into the arms of your aged baronet.’

      The words stung far more than they should.

      ‘All things come to those who wait.’

      His voice lowered to a seductive and intimate growl, which made her insides curl with warmth. ‘I devotedly hope so.’

      ‘You are attempting to disconcert me.’

      ‘Perish the thought.’ His eyes deepened. ‘My only desire at the moment is for a cup of tea.’

      ‘It is good that your desires are easily satisfied’ Louisa said before wincing. Open mouth, insert kid slipper.

      ‘As long as you satisfy them.’ The banter was gone from his voice.

      Louisa hurriedly looked away and concentrated on pouring the tea. In her haste, she knocked a spoon to the ground and then sent the sugar bowl flying—the actions of a flustered débutante rather than a companion of several years’ standing. Miss Daphne gave a mildly disapproving stare from where she sat, but made no move to intervene.

      ‘Are you disturbed about something, Miss Sibson?’ Jonathon asked, taking the cup and then placing the sugar bowl back on the little table. ‘You appear flustered. But everything is quickly put to rights once one sets one’s mind to it.’

      ‘Should anything disturb me, Lord Chesterholm?’ Louisa poured another cup of tea. This time, she managed to keep her hand steady.

      ‘Such action could be construed as a guilty conscience.’

      ‘I do have proof, Lord Chesterholm.’ Louisa reached for the reticule. ‘My conscience is clear.’

      ‘Why didn’t you wave the proof under my nose when I walked in the room? The Louisa I knew would have done. Wasn’t that what you did with my sister’s poem? But then the action was to pique my interest. And this one is …’

      The old Louisa. Louisa gritted her teeth. She too remembered that day and what had happened after-wards—their first kiss, a stolen kiss. It was low of Jonathon to bring it up, particularly now. And she had not been flirting with him. He had simply assumed that she did not have anything else to do except answer his impertinent questions about how pretty girls could ever have serious thoughts in their brains. And she had shown him the papers. She had mistaken flirtation for kindness, a silly naïve mistake, and had paid a heavy price.

      ‘I would, but Mrs Blandish is addicted to gossip and her hearing is very acute.’ Louisa nodded towards where Lord Furniss was rather grandly informing Miss Blandish that she was completely wrong to consider Turner a better painter than John Martin. ‘I would hardly wish to involve you in scandal.’

      ‘It makes a first. As far as I recall you courted it. You were an active participant in our little games.’

      ‘Any scandal that happened was down to your actions and not mine,’ Louisa whispered in a furious undertone. ‘I behaved impeccably.’

      He leant forwards. ‘Or are you merely mouthing words without understanding the implications, Louisa? You played your part as much as I did.’

      ‘I grew up.’