“I’ll explain later when you don’t have company, darling.” Having freed herself from her young charge’s grasp, Caroline had begun to back away. “Go and drink your chocolate now. You know how you like chocolate with whipped cream clouds in it.”
Joanna cast a quick glance at the tea table, making certain the whipped cream clouds were there. “Promise, you’ll tell him later?”
“I promise.”
Another swift glance and chocolate won over. Joanna skipped away.
Caroline ran from the room, and raced down the hall as though all the fiends of hell were in pursuit. She didn’t care that her exit might have been precipitous; she didn’t care that her new employers might wonder at her discourtesy. She couldn’t possibly stay and face Simon.
She didn’t dare.
“Did you bring Black Templar with you? Did you, did you?” Hugh was hopping from foot to foot before Simon, his excitement visible. “If you did, may I ride him? May I, may I?”
“He’s here and you may ride him if your parents allow.” Simon kept his voice calm with effort. His heart was beating like a drum; only sheer will kept him seated. Caroline was here in this very house- not in London… here!
“Me too, me too! I want to ride Black Temper too!” Joanna screamed, always wanting what her brother wanted like little sisters everywhere.
Reaching out, Simon lifted her into his lap, looked at Ian for approval and at his nod, said, “You may both ride him tomorrow.”
The children’s squeals of delight were only equaled by Simon’s delight at having found the object of his pursuit.
And so conveniently near.
He was hard-pressed to restrain his smile.
He’d never slept with someone else’s governess before.
The children immediately claimed their mother’s attention and for the next few moments she was busy helping them with their chocolates.
“What the hell was that all about?” Ian said under his breath.
Taking his cue from Caroline who apparently didn’t want to acknowledge their acquaintance, Simon offered his friend a casual shrug. “She reminded me of someone for a second. My mistake.”
“Whatever you say.” But the earl had known Simon long enough not to be deceived.
“Is your governess new?” Simon asked, his tone deliberately mild.
“She arrived two days ago.”
“From?”
“London, I believe. You’d have to ask Jane the particulars. She’s rather stunning, isn’t she?”
“Definitely stunning.” Simon held his glass out for a refill. “A beauty of the first water.”
“And you should know.”
Simon’s gaze snapped up, but Ian’s wink was only cheeky, not knowing. “Don’t you hold all the boudoir records?”
“Not really,” Simon lied.
A few moments later, once the children were thoroughly engrossed in dunking their scones in their hot chocolate, Jane glanced at Simon with warning in her eyes. “Stay away from her, Simon.
It’s difficult finding a governess who’s willing to live so far from London. I don’t want you seducing her. And don’t look at me with such innocence. I saw your response when she walked in.“
“I promise not to seduce her.” It wasn’t an intentional lie. He didn’t expect any seduction would be necessary after their passionate reunion at Ship-ton.
“I’m not sure I like that tone of voice.”
“What tone?”
“That casual libertine’s tone you’ve employed far too many years for any proper lady’s peace of mind.”
“Is she proper?”
That’s not for you to question or even speculate on,“ Jane firmly noted. ”But yes, she is. She’s a widow.“
“Ah, a widow…” Low, silken words, insinuation in every syllable.
“That’s quite enough, Simon,” Jane said, sharply. “I had a very hard time finding a qualified governess and I won’t have you jeopardizing Miss Morrow or whomever she is-” Her brows quirked in uncertainty. “Caroline speaks six languages. Do you know how impossible it is to discover a woman with those credentials willing to live so far from London? I mean it, Simon. Stay away from her.”
“Relax, Jane. The last thing I intend to do is seduce your governess. How did you find her?”
And while Jane explained the manner in which she’d acquired her new governess, he politely nodded his head at what he hoped was appropriate intervals. But he wasn’t entirely sure because he wasn’t really listening, his thoughts consumed with desire. All he could think of was seeing Caroline again.
Alone. In bed.
Although, in his current mood, a bed wasn’t a requirement.
Chapter 8
“Have to get away, have to, have to, have to get away.... Panic-stricken, her thoughts in chaos, Caroline rushed up the stairs, needing to put distance between herself and Simon, needing time to think. Dashing into her room, she slammed the door behind her and for the first time since her arrival looked to see if there was a key in the lock. She grimaced. None.
HOW COULD THIS BE HAPPENING?
In all of England-how could it be that Simon was not only in this backwater area of the country, but downstairs! In this very house! It wasn’t just bad luck, it was incredibly bad luck-of which she’d had more than her share of late. Even a rank amateur wouldn’t have bet on them meeting in this remote castle in the middle of nowhere! “Damn,” and “double damn,” and any number of other pithy observations on her misfortune escaped her lips as she slumped against the door in frustration.
Simon was sure to be trouble… enormous, persistent, unrelenting trouble-with everyone watching. She groaned, her position untenable with Simon in the house. He wasn’t one to take his conge with good grace-or at all, which seriously impacted her options.
Much as she’d like to pretend some reasonable solution was available to her, it was impossible to even transiently delude herself that she had anything but limited choices. She could go or stay. That was it. No third or fifth or twentieth alternative existed. Biting on her bottom lip, she tried to assess the advantages and liabilities in going or staying without undue emotion, but she found herself trembling despite her best intentions. “Stop it,” she said aloud, consciously stilling her fears and drawing herself up to her full height, she took a deep breath. Calmly now. Option one, first. Flight.
It was the dead of winter and already dark outside which seriously curtailed immediate flight. But even should she wait until daylight, she still had limited funds, no other employment, and the nearest coaching inn was miles away.
Well…that was easy.
Now how exactly would she manage the staying part? Presumably, she would have to keep Simon at bay. Impossible, of course. He wasn’t a man of temperate impulses. On the other hand, she could simply capitulate, and if she knew him as well as she thought she did, she would be well taken care of. He was more than willing. Their time at Shipton had made that plain.
But if she allowed that, what would she have become?
Pushing away from the door, she walked to the window and pressed her forehead against the cool pane, as though the chill glass would soothe her confusion. There were women at all levels of society who were paramours. Women of rank, women of substance, intelligent women. And if she put herself under Simon’s protection, she’d no longer have to deal with the precariousness of her life. She wouldn’t have to worry about the price of a pair of stockings, or mend her outdated cloak for the tenth time, or wonder if she might offend her employer and be cast out into the cold.
It was tempting. She’d been struggling for so long.
But stark reality couldn’t be so easily ignored and she better than most understood Simon’s record on constancy… and faithfulness.
He was incapable of both.
She’d known that five years ago and knew it still and if she was looking for either quality in him, she was a fool.