Born to Scandal. Diane GastonЧитать онлайн книгу.
for the right words ‘… unusual.’
He folded his arms across his chest. ‘Explain it to me.’
Her eyes sparked with annoyance, but she also looked on her guard. ‘I was raised with Lady Charlotte. She was an only child and extremely timid. She needed a companion. To take the place of an older sister, so to speak.’ She locked her gaze with his. ‘I also must tell you that I was—am—the daughter of Lord Lawton’s servants. My mother is a laundress and my father a groom.’
Brent shrugged. His lineage was nearly as undesirable. His mother had been as poor as an Irish woman could be. Brent had spent his early years on his Irish grandfather’s tenant farm in Culleen.
Until his English grandfather took him away. An uncle he’d not known existed died and suddenly Brent was heir to a title he’d known nothing of and sent to a land he’d considered the enemy’s.
‘I was raised as a lady,’ Miss Hill went on. ‘I studied the same lessons as Lady Charlotte. Learned everything she learned.’ She reached in the pocket of her pelisse and withdrew a paper. She handed it to him. ‘I have written it out.’
His fingers grazed hers as he took the paper. He noticed that her glove was carefully mended.
He pretended to read, then glanced back at her. His bare fingers still registered the soft texture of her glove. ‘My apologies, Miss Hill.’
She straightened her spine, as imperious as a lady patroness of Almack’s.
Her neck, so erect and slim, begged for his fingers to measure its length. In fact, his fingers wished to continue lower to the swell of her breasts—
‘Why do you regard me so?’ Her voice quivered slightly.
Good God, he’d been contemplating seduction.
Why did this beauty wish to bury herself in the thankless job of governess? Surely she knew the perils that befell a young woman in the employ of the wealthy and privileged. A governess had neither the protection of the other servants, nor that of society. She would be prey for any man who wished to seduce her.
He shut his eyes and turned to the bookshelves, fingering the bindings. ‘My apologies once more, Miss Hill. I fail to understand how a young woman of your—’ he turned back to her, involuntarily flicking another full-length gaze ‘—particular disposition would seek the position of governess.’
Her eyebrows rose in a look of superiority. ‘Do you doubt my ability to perform the task?’
He admired her bravery much more than was prudent. ‘You are very young.’
Seating himself on a chair by the library window, he stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankle.
Her chin lifted again. ‘My youth is an asset, Lord Brentmore.’
He frowned. ‘Precisely how old are you?’
She pursed her lips. ‘I am twenty.’
‘So old as that.’ He spoke with sarcasm.
She took a step towards him. ‘My youth shall lend energy to the education of my charges.’
He tapped on the arm of the chair. The previous governess had been ancient. Retaining her had been a terrible error. Would hiring one so young also be a mistake?
‘I shall understand the children better,’ she went on. ‘I well recall the mischief of young children.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘I do not need a governess who would join them in mischief.’
‘I would not!’ His insinuation obviously irritated her. ‘I am a most sober young lady.’
He stood and moved close to her again, close enough for his skin to warm from the proximity.
‘Tell me more, Miss Hill.’ His voice turned low.
She backed away, her hand fluttering to her hair, trying to brush a tendril off her cheek. ‘I know I am not a lady, precisely, but I was trained in the same way. I received every advantage….’ Her voice trailed off.
Curse him. He needed to keep his distance.
She took another breath. ‘There is another reason to engage me, sir.’
‘Pray tell,’ he said.
She looked him in the eye. ‘I have an acute appreciation of learning, my lord. My unique situation—that of one who would never otherwise be so educated—makes me appreciate the advantage. It has opened the world to me.’ She swept her arm towards the walls covered with leather-bound books. ‘I would show your children the world.’
For the first time, her face filled with sincere pleasure. It touched something deep within him, something he needed to keep buried. ‘You would create a bluestocking.’
‘Indeed not,’ she snapped. ‘I would create a lady.’ She pointed to the paper she’d handed him. ‘I learned all the feminine arts. Stitchery, water-colours, the pianoforte. Manners and comportment and dancing, as well.’ She jabbed her finger at her list. ‘I also have skills in mathematics and Latin, so I am well able to help prepare a boy for Eton …’ Her voice trailed off as if she feared she’d said too much. Her eyes pleaded. ‘I would please you, my lord. I am certain I would.’
He forced his gaze downwards, as hungry as a starving man for some of that youthful passion. Lawd. He was only thirty-three, but, at this moment, he felt like Methuselah.
The children deserved a proper education. A proper upbringing. He tapped a finger against his leg.
More than that, his children deserved some joy. The children were innocents, even if they embodied all his failures and mistakes. Let this governess—this breath of spring air—be a gift to them.
What’s more, she would be in a household where no man would take advantage of her. It was not as if he would be tempted. He hated Brentmore Hall and spent as little time there as possible.
He allowed his gaze to wander along the bookshelves, less dangerous than looking again into those hopeful eyes.
‘You need not attire yourself in drab greys,’ he finally said. It would be a shame to conceal all that loveliness under high necklines and long sleeves. ‘Your present wardrobe should suffice.’
‘I do not understand.’ Her voice turned breathy. ‘Do you mean—I have the position?’
He swallowed. ‘Yes, Miss Hill. You have the position.’
She gasped. ‘My lord! You will not regret this, I assure you.’
Her relief was palpable and the smile that broke out on her face made his insides clench.
He cleared his throat. ‘You will make yourself ready to assume your duties within the week.’
Her eyes glittered with sudden tears, and his arms flinched with an impulse to hold her and reassure her that all would be well, that she had nothing to worry about.
‘I will be ready, sir.’ Even her voice rasped with emotion.
He had to glance away. ‘I will send word to Lord Lawton that I have hired you.’
Anna blinked away relieved tears furious at herself for allowing her emotions to overrun her at this important moment. She wanted—needed—to remain strong or risk the chance that this marquess would again change his mind.
She’d not imagined him to be so formidable, nor so tall. And young. She’d thought he’d be like the gentlemen who called upon Lord and Lady Lawton, shorter than herself, with rounded bellies, and at least ten years older than the marquess. His eyes, as dark as the hair that curled at the nape of his neck and framed his face, unnerved her. Her legs trembled each time he looked at her with those disquieting eyes. Especially when he dismissed her without even allowing her to speak. At that moment she’d been sure all was lost.
What would she