Governesses Under The Mistletoe. Liz Tyner

‘You’re not unpleasant to look at,’ she said. ‘I could recommend several young women who are now at Madame Dubois’s School for Young Ladies who would be quite good wives.’ She appraised him and fought to keep speaking. William had helped her most efficiently and she should do the same in return. ‘What colour hair do you prefer?’

      He appraised her, eyes lingering at her head. ‘A copper colour. Like sunlight has softened it.’

      ‘Um...’ She looked at him. ‘I admit, my hair is a good shade. I have heard that all my life. And I can understand you might think to have children with this colour of hair, but it is indeed a bit rare and one cannot count on such a thing.’

      ‘Probably a bit much to expect the sky-blue eyes to go with it.’

      Her stomach curled, making it hard to maintain her composure.

      ‘Yes, I’m a bit of an aberration.’

      ‘A lovely aberration.’ He paused. He looked at her without flirtation. ‘And your voice. I like your speaking voice. It doesn’t grate on my ears.’

      ‘Oh, my...’ She put her hand to her bodice and ducked her head in the way she did when someone praised her singing. ‘You are quite efficient with the compliments. I hope that is one of your own and not from the list.’

      He nodded and his lips turned up at one side before speaking. ‘You would be surprised how many times a woman’s voice has grated on my ears. I have three sisters, remember. So when I called you Songbird, it was not idle. But it would be best for us to wed.’

      She put her palm out, touching his coat just above his elbow, giving a brief pat, trying to ease the rejection. Oh, candlesticks, no one would ever believe she had refused a viscount’s son. ‘You do not have to concern yourself with my honour. Your sister has agreed to help me get to Sussex. If that does not work out, I can return to my parents’.’ She could not go home in disgrace though. She would have to find a post.

      ‘I am not concerned only about your honour.’ His eyes sparkled and his lips, still firm, returned to their rueful smile.

      ‘I know a quite lovely girl of near marriage age,’ she said. ‘I could see that you have an introduction. Blonde hair. Eyes the same colour as mine.’

      ‘Do they sparkle quite as well as yours do?’

      ‘I’m sure when she looks at you they will quite outshine...’ She paused. Cecilia was so sweet and kind and rather younger. An older rake would not do at all. ‘She may not quite suit you, though. I think perhaps all my friends remaining at the governess school might be young for you and the ones who graduated with me are quite busy. Perhaps, um...’ she stumbled ‘...a nice widow. A woman with some—knowledge. More your age.’

      ‘I’m twenty-four. Not quite ancient.’

      ‘Oh,’ she muttered, ‘I thought you older. At least thirty. Closer to thirty-five.’ Particularly if he seemed desperate to find a wife.

      One brow rose.

      ‘I suspect you have rather included many adventures in those years. I do seem to remember asking if it was your first time at that horrible place and I think you answered that you were long past first times at anything.’

      ‘Except marriage. It would be my first time at marriage.’

      ‘I fear you do not understand the concept.’

      ‘I disagree.’ He took a step away. ‘I have seen it quite close. Love and all that...conflagration of mindless emotion.’ He stopped. ‘Isabel. I am quite slogging in the wrong direction. I hate to tell you what has transpired, but I feel I must...’

      ‘The talk is out about my misfortune.’ She met his eyes. They confirmed her words. She continued, ‘You are asking for my hand in marriage to save my honour.’

      He was valiant. No knight could surpass him.

      His eyes shut. ‘Not entirely.’ He stepped forward.

      Again, when he stood so close, something about him distracted her thoughts and took them as directly as one might take the bridle of a horse and turn its face in a desired direction.

      ‘I would hope that I would be so noble as to marry to save you, but I am not sure.’ He took her fingertips. She could not move.

      Now he spoke softly, conveying the importance of his words with his gaze.

      ‘It is said that I ravished you in Wren’s. I spirited you out by force. The dishevelment. The torn dress.’

      ‘You didn’t ravish me. You rescued me.’

      ‘Yes. But to have that untrue story—no matter how it is said—your presence in such a place will cast aspersions on you. I would prefer us both to get out of this as best as possible. I would not wish to spend the rest of my life with the lingering question in the minds of others as to whether I truly attacked you or not.’

      She balled her fists within his hands. ‘I will tell them. I will tell them all.’

      ‘You may,’ he said. ‘Other questions will arise that neither of us particularly care to be subjected to. You will be seen as a woman afraid to tell the truth about a wayward viscount’s son for fear of repercussions. I do not have a...’ He searched for a word. ‘A sombre past.’

      Her stomach bunched into a gulp and then bounced from one side of itself to the other. ‘William, I fear you would not make a good husband.’

      ‘I know I would not. That is one of the reasons I have not considered marriage in the past. I think it a suffocating, strangling gaol. It is not a leg shackle. It is a throat shackle. I have said it is likened to having leeches attached to bleed the body dry and leave it a desiccated shell. Much like the body left behind centuries after death.’

      She pulled her hands away. ‘You have worked long on this proposal?’

      ‘Twenty-four years.’

      ‘Am I the first to hear it?’

      ‘Yes. This is a first.’

      ‘I dare not ask...’

      ‘I don’t think I should talk of my life if we are to be married. Last night I thought never to see you again so I didn’t care overmuch. If we might be seeing each other at a marriage ceremony, then I don’t care to discuss how I spend my nights.’

      ‘The socks and night caps would probably not make a good gift for you.’

      ‘No.’ He gave the saddest smile she’d ever seen. ‘All that I ask is that you stand at my side and answer a few words.’

      ‘Those vows and nonsense?’ She might end up the desiccated shell, but she was not quite doing as well on her own as she’d hoped. And she had no desire at all to be a governess. None.

      ‘Yes.’ He stood. ‘I see a bit of concern on your face. But you do not have to worry I will be a brute like Wren. I will not...be unkind.’

      She didn’t speak.

      ‘Ours would be the most perfect of marriages.’

      She lifted her brows.

      ‘Yes. If you have need of me once we are married, you will only have to give a note to my butler and he will see that it is delivered and I will read it immediately. We won’t see a great deal of each other. I truly do not like to be home.’

      ‘You did rather help me,’ she said. When she looked into his eyes, it was as if they begged her to say no. Forces behind him pushed him her way, much like a pirate would shove a person into the deep. ‘Do you not think you are making a terrible mistake?’

      He shook his head. ‘All my sisters’ lives I have been there for them. Perhaps even when they had no one else. I have had one unselfish task, only one, and that has been to see that they are safe and have a home. When that is provided, they content themselves. I cannot bring disgrace upon them.