"Isuppose it isn't that important," Nathaniel, to his astonishment, heard himself saying. "You won't be seeing much of him in any case."
"Why not?"
"Because his place is in the schoolroom and the nursery. And as soon as I've found him a suitable tutor, then he'll be too occupied to hang around outside, playing silly games with sticks. Come inside now."
He cupped her elbow and ushered her up the steps to the open front door, where the housekeeper stood waiting to greet them.
Gabrielle kept her own counsel on this flat, uncompromising statement. It really wasn't her business, but Miles had not been exaggerating. Matters certainly seemed awry between Nathaniel and his small son.
Mrs. Bailey did her best to hide her shock and amazement when Lord Praed introduced his guest and announced that the countess would be paying an extended visit and should be accommodated in the Queen's Suite adjacent to his own.
Covertly, the housekeeper examined the French countess and, apart from the fact that she was hatless. could find nothing at fault in either appearance or demeanor. Lord Praed's guest was affable but composed, showing no sign of embarrassment and no lack of familiarity with a gentleman's establishment. She responded to the staff's greetings with a quiet ease. And for all the French name, she spoke the King's English without any trace of accent.
The presence of a lone female in a bachelor household could only have one construction, but Mrs. Bailey decided that any presumption of familiarity on the part of Lord Praed's staff would receive a more than frosty reception from the countess, who was undoubtedly a lady. His lordship, of course, would have the offender's guts for garters, she thought with private vulgarity.
"If your ladyship would follow me, I'll show you to your apartments." She offered a friendly but deferential smile. "Bartram will bring up your luggage."
"Thank you, Mrs. Bailey."
Gabrielle followed the housekeeper upstairs, reflecting with inner amusement that the meager belongings contained in the cloakbag would add fuel to the inevitable fire of speculation in the servants' hall. But Georgie would send on the rest of her belongings as soon as she received a message.
Nathaniel went into the library intending to look over the correspondence that had accumulated in his absence. He'd have to send for his bailiff shortly, also, and pick up the threads of the estate management again. And he'd need a report on Jake's progress from his governess. He'd have to tell Miss Primmer he wouldn't be needing her services once he'd employed a tutor. Was the boy doing any better with his riding lessons? He'd go down to the stables and talk with Milner about that as soon as he'd seen the bailiff.
"Mrs. Bailey said I'd find you here." Gabrielle's cheerful tones interrupted this reverie, and Nathaniel turned to the door, frowning.
"I beg your pardon," Gabrielle said, taken aback by the ferocity of his expression. "Should I not have come in without knocking? I didn't think it was a private room."
His whole house was private, Nathaniel thought with an irritation that he couldn't master. At least, since Helen's death it was. He wasn't used to people barging in on him unexpectedly, disturbing his thoughts. What on earth had possessed him to yield to Gabrielle de Beaucaire's outrageous impulses? He had a host of matters to deal with and couldn't possibly dance attendance on some woman who'd thrust herself unasked into his life.
"Oh, dear," Gabrielle said with instant comprehension. "You're regretting inviting me."
"I didn't invite you," he snapped. "You invited yourself."
"But you agreed." She closed the door softly behind her and came toward him. "Perhaps I should remind you why you agreed. We were rather rushed this morning. That inn was not exactly conducive to a leisurely waking, was it?"
Smiling, she touched his mouth with a fingertip. "I wish I knew what it was about you I find irresistible, Lord Praed, because you really are the most ill-tempered man. And when you frown like this, you're not even attractive. You just look hard and surly."
Nathaniel caught her wrist, his fingers circling the fragile bones, feeling the steady throb of her pulse. "You're a believer in home truths, I take it, madame."
"On occasion a person needs to hear the plain unvarnished truth," she said, only half teasing.
"Mmm. Well, I can administer it too. You're a shamelessly manipulative baggage, Gabrielle de Beaucaire, and I don't know what devil has possessed me since I met you."
She put her head on one side, observing with due consideration, "Lust, I think it's called."
Nathaniel gave in. His mouth curved beneath her caressing finger. Somehow, Gabrielle managed to circumvent his usual responses. She seemed to have no fear of his limits… indeed, seemed to want to find them. For both of them, he thought reading the message in the charcoal eyes. She was not a woman who would be satisfied with ordinary experiences. She always wanting to climb the next peak, test the waters of the next river, jump the highest fence.
A dangerous woman-trouble ran in her veins. But she was the most exciting woman he'd ever met, and he could no more resist her than he could have held back an avalanche with his fingertip.
Catching both her wrists in one hand, he clipped her hands behind her back as he jerked her hard against his body. She laughed beneath his mouth, her breath mingling with his, her teeth nipping his lower lip. The sensual sting sent the blood racing through his veins, pounding in his head, filling him with lascivious greed. Releasing her wrists, he gripped her buttocks, pressing her against his rising flesh, pushing one knee between her legs in a rough gesture of intemperate hunger.
"Dear God," he whispered, drawing a ragged breath as he raised his head but kept his hard grip on her lower body. "You make me feel like a sailor who's not seen a woman in a twelve-month!"
"And you make me feel like a whore on the waterfront," she responded with her exultant little chuckle. "All body and no mind… all desire and no thought."
There was a knock at the door. His hands fell from her as he spun away. Gabrielle turned to the bookshelves as Nathaniel bade the knocker enter.
"Oh, Lord Praed, I was wondering if you'd wish Jake to join you in the library this evening after his supper?"
Nathaniel cleared his throat and surveyed Miss Primmer with what he hoped was his customary impassive expression. "I usually do, ma'am, when I'm at home," he said indifferently.
"I beg your pardon. I wasn't sure whether… as you had a visitor…" The governess stammered to a halt, her face fiery as she struggled to avoid looking at Gabrielle, who remained with her back to the room, studiously examining the books in the shelves.
"The Comtesse de Beaucaire will not object to Jake's presence for half an hour before dinner," Nathaniel said.
"No, indeed not." Gabrielle judged it time to turn to acknowledge the arrival. "I wouldn't dream of interfering in his usual routine. Children rely on them so, don't they?" She smiled at the governess, who immediately forgot the scandalous implications of the countess's presence as retailed by the housekeeper.
"Well, yes, they do, countess," she agreed with a tentative answering smile. "And Jake finds change very unsettling."
"I think, Miss Primmer, in that case, that he should be exposed to more variety in his life," Nathaniel observed. "He needs to learn to adapt more readily. When he goes to school-"
"Yes, of course, my lord. But he is still very young." Miss Primmer glanced at Gabrielle as if hoping for an ally. She was a woman of middle years, thin and faded with timid pale eyes and the demeanor of one who has long been accustomed to snubs and for whom tiny mortifications were a way of life.