Regency Surrender: Defiant Lords. Anne Herries

happen again.’

      ‘I suppose I cannot prevail on you to call me Rupert in private?’

      Sarah hesitated, then, ‘I hardly think it wise, sir. If I could add uncle I would do so, as the others do, but I cannot—and so I feel that it would not be right.’

      ‘Make it sir, then. I cannot stand to be my lorded all the time. I would even prefer Captain Myers, as I was known in my army days.’

      ‘Yes, sir. You were in the army?’ Sarah asked politely, as she set out the beautiful ivory-and-ebony chessboard with delicate carved figures. ‘I thought perhaps you might have been. My father always said it was easy to tell a military man by his bearing.’

      ‘Indeed? I think I should have liked to know your father, Sarah.’

      ‘Yes, you might. I think he might have liked you—he was very direct and to the point and honest.’

      ‘Like you, I imagine?’

      ‘I resemble my father in some ways. I cannot say all.’

      Sarah was acutely aware of her lies. She was beginning to hate them and wished that she dare tell him the truth—explain why it had seemed such a good idea and why she wanted to stay here as Francesca’s governess. Yet he would not understand. He would revile her for lying and worst of all he would dismiss her and install a new governess in her place.

      Even though she had made mistakes on her first day, Sarah felt that she was helping Francesca. She had gained the girl’s confidence and affection, too. It would hurt her if Sarah left—and she might become sullen, taking against Lord Myers and the new governess.

      Sarah was doing no harm. She would be careful in future to temper every opinion she gave with the counter-argument and explain why Francesca must conform to what society expected even though she might disagree privately, but she could not desert her.

      She dismissed her qualms and brought her mind to the game. Lord Myers showed his mettle by his first few moves, but she was with him.

      * * *

      Sarah had learned from a chess master and she was well able to keep up her end. By the end of an hour she had beaten him twice and been beaten herself once when an early move on his part had sealed her fate almost from the beginning.

      At the end of the third game, she stood up.

      ‘I believe I should leave you now, sir. Goodnight.’

      ‘Goodnight, Sarah,’ he replied. He was on his feet, standing so close to her that she could scarcely breathe. Her heart was beating fast and she felt the heat start low in her abdomen and sweep through her. She was being drawn to him like a moth to a flame. In another moment she would be in his arms. He would kiss her and then...

      She stepped back, breaking the fine thread that had bound them.

      ‘I should go.’

      ‘Perhaps you will let me try for revenge another evening.’

      ‘Yes, of course, if you wish.’

      With that she walked to the door and went out. He made no move to stop her or call her back, though she thought she heard a muffled groan as she closed the door behind her.

      * * *

      Alone in her room, Sarah closed the door, locked it and then stood with her back against it. She felt weak and knew that she had escaped by a hairsbreadth from a fate that was described as worse than death—another few seconds and he would have seduced her. She would have allowed it. She had wanted it, longed for his kiss—and what came after.

      It was those feelings she’d warned Francesca of—feelings that would lead to her downfall. Even as Miss Sarah Hardcastle she would not have expected a marriage proposal from Lord Myers, unless he needed a fortune, of course. Somehow she did not see him as lacking wealth or the determination to make it if he had none. He was not the kind of man to need a Cit’s daughter as a wife.

      Sarah was well aware that as the daughter of a mill owner she would not be thought suitable to marry into the best families—unless of course they happened to be desperate.

      Sarah was trembling as she undressed and dived beneath the sheets. The awful thing was that she suspected she would enjoy being seduced by Lord Myers—and that would be stupid.

      ‘Foolish, foolish, foolish!’

      Yet the temptation to remain, to let him kiss her and do what he would on the rug before the fire had been strong. Why did he have this effect on her, something that no other man had before now?

      She pounded her pillow. Before this, Sarah had resisted every advance, deflected every unwanted offer with ease—but something told her that if she stayed here she was in danger of succumbing to her wretched feelings. Even worse than being seduced was the fear that she might learn to care for him—and that must lead to terrible unhappiness.

      ‘No, I shall not. I refuse to care about him,’ she whispered and closed her eyes on the tears as they insisted on falling. ‘I am not so silly as to care for a man who merely wants to seduce me.’

      In future she would have to be constantly on her guard. Friendly but cool, even aloof.

      She would be the perfect governess. In private, she would be open and friendly with Francesca, but whenever Lord Myers was around she would keep her distance.

      * * *

      God damn it! Rupert groaned as the door shut behind her, leaving him with the scent of her perfume in his nostrils and the want of her surging through his blood. What was it about Miss Hester Goodrum that had sent his senses haywire? He could hardly remember feeling such urgent lust before in his life. For a moment it had taken every last ounce of his strength to keep from dragging her into his arms, kissing her to within an inch of her life and carrying her to his bed.

      His thoughts were outrageous and he knew it. If she was the governess she claimed to be, he would be doing her an extreme disservice and she did not deserve such treatment from him. Yet what if she were indeed an adventuress? There were things that did not sit well with her claim to be merely a governess—and why had she told Francesca to call her Sarah? Surely if her name was Hester a pet name would be Hetty or some such diminutive?

      If she had been another man’s mistress, then she was fair game and he would be justified in hunting her down until she agreed to be his. It was odd, but he did not wish that to be the case. Indeed, he feared that her appeal would be tarnished if he discovered that she was a schemer and a liar.

      Why would she come here if she were not what she professed to be? The question bothered him, chasing round in his mind like a puppy after its tail. He could see no advantage to it—unless she hoped to seduce her employer, but she could have hardly hoped for that since the marquess was nearly three times her age and seldom visited his country house.

      Was she hiding from someone or something? Had she been accused of theft or worse? Lurid thoughts chased through his mind—had she murdered her protector, stolen her employer’s heirlooms or been snubbed by society?

      A smile touched his mouth for he did not see Sarah as a fugitive from the law. Yet he would swear her name was not Hester Goodrum, nor had she been a governess until recently. So where was the real Hester and why had they changed places?

      Yes, of course, it was what must have happened! Rupert felt certain of it, though he could see no reason for the masquerade. Sarah did not strike him as a

      society miss who would do something like this for a jest or a wager. No, she had a perfectly good reason for what she was doing.

      If that turned out to be the case, she was a consummate liar and Rupert hated liars. His mouth thinned. In his experience women lied without thought for the harm they caused or the pain they inflicted.

      He determined that he would discover the truth and unmask her and then—then he would show her no mercy. He would offer her an ultimatum: become his mistress or risk exposure and the scorn it would bring.

      For