Temptation Of A Governess. Sarah Mallory

drive curved between trees that were not yet in full leaf and sunlight dappled the track. Alex slowed, conscious that there might be holes and ruts after the winter. He was just emerging from the woods when he spotted a figure sitting on a fallen tree, not far from the side of the road. It was a young woman with a sketchbook. She had cast aside her bonnet and her red hair glinted with gold in the sunlight. He knew her immediately. He had not seen her for years but the red hair was unmistakable. It was Diana Grensham, sister of the drowned countess and governess to her only child and the other Arrandale waif who had been taken into the late earl’s household. She was so engrossed in her work that she did not even notice his arrival. Alex drew his team to a halt and regarded her for a long moment, taking in the dainty figure clad in a serviceable gown of green and yellow and with her wild red hair gleaming about her head like a halo.

      ‘Good afternoon, Miss Grensham.’

      She looked up, regarding him with a clear, steady gaze. Her eyes, he noted, were unusual, nut brown but flecked with green and while she was no beauty her countenance was lively and her full mouth had an upward tilt, as if a smile was never far away.

      ‘Afternoon?’ Her voice was soft, musical and held a hint of laughter. ‘Heavens, is it so late already?’

      ‘You are not surprised to see me?’

      She closed her sketchbook and rose to her feet.

      ‘I knew you would come at some point, my lord,’ she told him. ‘It would have been better if you had given us notice, but I am sure Mrs Wallace will be able to find some refreshment suitable for you. If you would care to drive round to the stables I will go and tell her.’

      She took a few halting, uneven steps and he called out to her.

      ‘Let me take you to the house. Stark, get down and hand the lady into the curricle.’

      She stopped and turned, saying with a challenge in her voice, ‘Because I am a cripple?’

      ‘No,’ he replied mildly. ‘Because I want to talk to you.’

      She handed her sketch book and pencils to the groom and climbed easily into the seat unaided, affording Alex a glimpse of embroidered white stockings beneath her skirts. He could not recall ever being told why she limped, but there was clearly no deformity in those shapely ankles, or in the dainty feet encased in the neat but serviceable boots.

      When she would have taken her sketching things back Alex stopped her.

      ‘Stark can carry them to the house. It is a fine day, let us drive around the park before we go in. I want to talk to you about the children.’ Without waiting for her assent he set the greys in motion. ‘I hope you do not mind?’

      ‘Do I have any choice?’

      ‘I thought it might be easier to talk out here than in the house.’

      ‘You are probably right,’ she told him. ‘You are a favourite with the girls and they will want you to themselves as soon as they know you are arrived.’ She added thoughtfully, ‘Although Meggie might demand to know why you have not been to see them before this.’

      ‘I have been very busy.’

      ‘Too busy to comfort your niece?’ When he did not reply she continued. ‘She and Florence were left to our joint care, my lord.’

      ‘You do not need to remind me.’ He flicked his whip over the greys’ heads. What could he say? He knew it was contemptible, but looking back and considering his brother’s death, he knew that he had been unable to face anyone’s grief save his own. He was a renowned sportsman, a hard rider, deadly with sword and pistol and a pugilist of no mean order, yet he had shied away from visiting James’s young daughter and witnessing her distress. He had told himself that her aunt was the best person to comfort little Meggie. Diana had been governess for four years to both James’s daughter and little Florence Arrandale, a cousin whose own mother had died in childbirth and whose father had left the country under suspicious circumstances. James had taken the child in as a companion for Meggie and the two girls had been brought up almost as sisters. It was assumed that Florence’s father was no longer alive and James had provided for her in his will, including consigning her to his brother’s care. At eight years old, both girls would be missing James and his wife, the only parents they had ever known. Alex featured in their lives as a favourite uncle, visiting occasionally to bring treats and play with them for an hour or two before returning to his own hedonistic life. He might be their guardian now, but what did he know about bringing up children, or comforting them? It was no defence and deep inside he knew it, but it was easy to push aside such tiny pinpricks to his conscience.

      ‘At least you corresponded with me,’ Diana went on. ‘I should be grateful you did not leave that to your man of business.’

      ‘James’s wife was your sister, your sorrow was equal to my own and I wanted to send my condolences.’

      A black-bordered letter with a few trite sentences. How cold and hard that must have appeared to her.

      Her hand came up, as if to ward off a blow. ‘Yes, thank you.’

      It occurred to Alex that she shared his dislike of overt emotion, so he did not pursue the matter, merely asked after the girls.

      ‘They seem happy enough, but they miss their mama and papa. I know Florence is only a cousin, but her grief is equal to Meggie’s, I assure you.’

      He said with real regret, ‘I am very sorry that I did not come to visit them sooner.’

      ‘Well, you are here now, and they will be very glad to see you. What is it you wanted to discuss with me?’

      ‘I was thinking that the girls might like to go to school.’

      She paused, then said slowly, ‘You are aware that the girls’ education is my responsibility? Your brother was very clear about that.’

      ‘Of course, but that does not mean I cannot take an interest.’

      ‘No, indeed. But I do not think school would be right for them. Especially not at present, so soon after their loss.’

      ‘Very well, but they might prefer another house, where there are less painful memories.’

      ‘They are very happy here, my lord. It has always been their home.’

      He felt the first stirrings of irritation. He would have to admit why he wanted them to move out.

      ‘But it is now my house, Miss Grensham, and I wish to use it.’

      ‘Well, there is nothing stopping you,’ she replied. ‘In fact, the girls would be delighted to see more of you.’

      ‘That is not the point. I wish to bring friends here, and it would not be...appropriate for there to be children in the house.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      He gave an impatient sigh. ‘Do I need to spell it out to you? I am a bachelor.’

      He kept his eyes on the road ahead but he was very aware of her enquiring scrutiny and found it disconcerting.

      She said slowly, ‘Am I to understand that you and your guests might act in an, an unseemly way?’

      ‘It is a possibility.’ His mind ranged quickly over his friends. ‘More than a possibility.’

      ‘It is certainly to your credit that you wish to protect the children from such scenes,’ she told him, ‘but I think in that case it would be better for you to hold your parties elsewhere. The Davenport estates comprise several excellent properties.’

      ‘I am well aware of that,’ he ground out. ‘But I want Chantreys.’

      He kept his eyes on the road but felt her clear, enquiring gaze upon his face.

      ‘And why is it so important to have this house?’

      Because it is where he and James had spent most of their childhood.