Breaking the Governess's Rules

Why had his stepmother allowed him to think Louisa was dead? That he had accidentally killed her? Even with his stepmother’s legendary efficiency she could not have achieved the deception without Louisa’s active co-operation. Louisa had to have participated in the deception.

For months he had lain, staring at the white walls of the Newtons’ sickroom, waiting to heal, willing his body to prove the doctors wrong and to walk again. And the first thing he had done was to walk to Louisa’s supposed grave. He had taken such pride in standing in that windswept graveyard, solemnly vowing to live his life as she would have wanted him to. But the entire thing had been a monstrous lie.

Now, he wanted answers, answers from the one person who could give them—Louisa. She was not going to find it that easy to dismiss him. With a few quick strides, he reached Louisa and caught her by the elbow. ‘Oh, no, no more disappearing tricks. You are staying.’

‘What do you think you are doing, Lord Chesterholm? Unhand me!’ Louisa pulled away from his grip, but Jonathon tightened his hold. ‘Jonathon, please, people are beginning to stare! For propriety’s sake!’

‘We are going to have a conversation, Louisa,’ he said through gritted teeth as white-hot anger seethed through him. ‘One we should have had four years ago. We can have it here in this public space or we go into one of the private card rooms, but we will speak. You may begin by explaining why you faked your death.’

‘I have nothing to say to you!’

‘But I have things to say to you.’ Jonathon kept a leash on his temper. For years he had thought about what he would have said to her if he had had one more chance.

The woman had never been dead. She had left, leaving others to heal him and his broken heart. And now she had returned, more desirable than ever. The innocent promise of four years ago had blossomed into a sensuous combination of rich, autumn-red hair, amber eyes and dusty-rose lips—all staring provocatively up at him. ‘And you will listen.’

Without giving her a chance to protest further, he led her to a small room that was often used for card games when balls were given and shut the door with a distinct click, then turned to face his adversary.

She crossed her arms and her amber eyes blazed with fury. ‘You have precisely two minutes before I scream, Lord Chesterholm. We finished a long time ago.’

‘You may have finished, but you neglected to inform me personally.’

Her mouth opened and shut several times. ‘Your stepmother served as your emissary. The Kingdom of Two Sicilies was her suggestion. She paid for my passage. It was a chance for me to start again.’

A red mist settled on Jonathon. ‘You asked my stepmother to help you rebuild your life?’

‘She was my employer. What reason did she have to lie? There was nothing for me here, as she so helpfully pointed out. You were engaged. I was an unwanted reminder.’ Her crown of auburn hair quivered with indignation. ‘I shall leave now. Miss Daphne will worry.’

‘Furniss can guard his aunt.’ Jonathon held up his hand, stopping her. Louisa was going to stay and they would speak under his terms, not hers. ‘Why did you return to England?’

‘To allow Miss Daphne to visit the places of her youth. She wants to see them one last time.’ Her lips turned up in a false smile. ‘You need not worry. I intend to depart from these shores as quickly as possible. England is anathema to me.’

‘A pity. And what charms does Italy hold?’ He looked her up and down, noting how she no longer tried to hide behind demure high-necked gowns but chose instead to wear a décolleté gown that barely skimmed her breasts, proclaiming she was a woman of the world instead of the naïve and somewhat gauche governess who blushed so charmingly. ‘For a woman like you.’

The beauty-spot mole in the corner of her mouth flashed. ‘A marriage proposal. To a baronet. Think of that. Sir Francis Walsham wishes to marry me, honourably, with a large church wedding.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘I have rebuilt my life, Jonathon. Give my regards to your stepmother. Her instincts were correct. Italy has been far better to me than England ever was.’

‘When rebuilding anything, Louisa, you should have a care that the foundations are not made on sand.’

A crease appeared between her perfectly arched brows and for the first time, she appeared less certain. ‘You have lost me, Jonathon.’

‘You admire plain speaking.’

‘Wherever possible.’ A smug smile crossed her lips. She tilted her head upwards. She believed she’d won.

Jonathon waited, savouring the moment.

‘Unlike some I could mention, I am an admirer of the unvarnished truth,’ she said with absolute assurance.

‘Your besotted beau’s proposal might prove difficult to accept.’

Her eyes narrowed and her smile trembled. ‘Why?’

Jonathon leant forwards, his breath brushing her cheek. ‘I have a prior claim.’

Chapter Two

A prior claim. Claim to what? To her? To her hand, or her body? Louisa stared openmouthed at Jonathon as the words echoed around her brain. His hooded eyes held a sensuous promise and his lips were a mere turn of her head away.

She stumbled backwards, away from him, away from his body, narrowly missing a gilt-edged chair.

Louisa put out a steadying hand and grasped its back, shifting the chair so it was between her and Jonathon. She attempted to get her emotions under control. Emotions and dreams were the enemy. They had destroyed her before. They could again. Once she had longed to be married to him and to belong body and soul to him. She had considered them already married, soul mates, and had disregarded all the warnings and well-meant advice to wait until the wedding night. She had mistaken a young man’s lust for all-conquering love and had paid a heavy price. But she had finished paying, years ago.

‘Do you agree I have a prior claim, Louisa?’ His hands closed over hers, pressing them against the giltedged wood.

‘Words said in jest can destroy a person’s reputation, Lord Chesterholm.’ Louisa gave a light laugh to show that his betrayal no longer had the power to hurt. It was in the past and she no longer pined for him or her girlish fantasies. She had rebuilt her life on rock-solid foundations. She had learnt from her mistakes. Her heart might bear scars, but it was whole and safe.

‘I am deadly serious.’ He released her hands and moved the chair so it sat squarely between them. ‘Perhaps you chose to disregard such things. But will your intended? Does he know that you bolt? Does he know you are promised to another?’

‘Hardly promised. What was between us ended years ago.’

‘We were engaged, Louisa,’ his voice purred. ‘We were as close as a man and woman could be, but forgive me—when did you sever our relationship?’

Just after your stepmother informed me you were engaged to another woman, and had been promised to her for months before. You seduced me when you were not free. Louisa kept her breathing steady and wished she had not done her laces up so tightly. ‘Your memory is indeed failing. You never returned.’

‘I was in an accident. It was nine months before I could walk any distance, before I was released from my sickroom.’ An ironic smile played on his full lips. ‘Forgive me for being remiss, but then I was otherwise occupied—attempting to survive.’

‘Nobody told me,’ Louisa whispered.

‘Did you ever ask?’ His words were intended to cut, but instead they gave her strength.

She pushed away from the chair and drew herself up to her full height, regretting that she only reached his chin. ‘I am a respectable person. I always have been, despite what passed between us. Despite your stepmother’s dismissal for loose morals.’

The covered tables and gilt-edged chairs with their air of north-east respectability seemed to leer at her and mock her—as if they too knew about her lapse and how, in her headlong rush towards matrimony, she had ruined her prospects for ever. And no matter what happened in this room, society would deem it all her fault and turn its collective back, just as it had done the last time.

‘You had a choice, Louisa. You knew my habits, my friends, yet you contacted not a single one.’

‘And risk further humiliation?’ Louisa gave a strangled laugh. Even the innocent girl she had been knew the sort of company he kept and how women were passed around like gaily wrapped parcels. She had had their child to think of. No child of hers was going to be abandoned in a foundling home while she warmed another man’s bed. ‘I think not, sir.’

‘And do your swains know about your past? Did Miss Elliot?’

‘Do not threaten me, Lord Chesterholm. I have paid for my sins.’

‘Surely you know me better than that.’ He brushed an imaginary piece of dust from his cuff. ‘I never threaten. I make promises and I always keep my promises.’

‘And that is supposed to make me quake in my evening slippers?’ she asked scornfully.

‘You may do as you like—go dance around St Nicholas’s church in your petticoat if it pleases you, but answer my question. Why did you conspire to fake your death?’

‘You should be careful of your accusations. I have never abandoned anyone, nor have I ever pretended to be anything but alive.’ Louisa gripped her reticule tighter. Dance about St Nicholas’s church dressed only in her petticoats? The man was insupportable. ‘Simply repeating lies over and over does not make them suddenly become the truth.’