Miss Primmer allowed herself to be put in an armchair, a glass of sherry pressed into her hand even while she demurred faintly.
"His lordship told me he was considering employing a tutor for Jake," Gabrielle said directly, sitting on the broad window seat.
"Yes… and, of course, I know it has to happen… but I did think it wouldn't be so sudden. Jake is such a shy little boy… it would be so much better if Icould stay with him for a little while until he becomes accustomed to someone else."
"You mean Lord Praed is turning you out as soon as the tutor arrives?" Gabrielle couldn't keep the shocked disapproval from her voice even though she'd told herself it was none of her business.
Miss Primmer nodded, sniffed, dabbed at her nose with her handkerchief, and took a rather large gulp of sherry. "His lordship is all generosity, I mustn't complain, countess, but I do think Jake needs some time."
"Yes." Gabrielle leaned back against the wall of the window embrasure, turning her head slightly to look out over the river. Miss Primmer might not dwell upon her own misfortunes, but it was no pleasant matter to be turned out in middle years after long service, an excellent reference and a month's wages notwithstanding. A governess's life was not to be envied.
"I have a married sister," Miss Primmer was continuing, as if divining her companion's thoughts. "I'll be able to stay with her for a little while until I find another situation. I can be useful around the house and with the children. It gives Nurse a rest, you understand."
"Perfectly," Gabrielle said. An indigent relative offered house room could certainly be put to good use.
"But it's Jake I worry about," Miss Primmer reiterated. "I don't know how to tell him."
"I think that task should be left to Lord Praed," Gabrielle stated firmly.
"Oh, but I'm sure he expects me to break it… oh, dear, that's not what I mean… to prepare the child."
"Nevertheless, I don't think you should say anything-if you would take my advice, of course." She reached for the decanter, offering to refill her visitor's glass.
"Oh, too kind… no… no, thank you, it makes me quite giddy… not used to it, you understand."
Indeed the lady's cheek was somewhat flushed, her eyes rather bright.
"I must go back to the schoolroom. Jake will have finished his nuncheon now." Miss Primmer rose slightly unsteadily to her feet. "Oh, dear," she murmured, taking hold of the back of the chair. "You've been very kind, countess."
Gabrielle shook her head. "Not at all." She escorted her visitor to the door. "Don't say anything to Jake just yet."
Miss Primmer looked at her with a gleam of hope in her eye. "Do you think it's possible his lordship might change his mind?"
"I don't know," Gabrielle said with perfect truth. "But perhaps he might reconsider the timing of your departure."
The governess bustled off looking a little less forlorn, and Gabrielle returned to the window seat. There was something about little Jake that tugged at her. Maybe it was the memory of herself as a child, so alone and frightened and confused. Jake was no orphan, but he was motherless and his relationship with his father was fractured, to say the least. And one of the loving and reliable pillars of his short existence was about to be snatched from him. And there'd be no chaotic and loving De Vanes to take her place, only a tutor and the harsh realities of school.
Gabrielle had heard enough about these realities from the DeVane boys to know the child Jake was now would barely survive physically, let alone emotionally. Why didn't Nathaniel realize it? But of course that was what lay behind this banishment of the governess. It was preparation. It would certainly prepare Jake for random severity…
"I hope your imagination's been working overtime this morning."
It was Nathaniel's voice, his other voice, the one that accompanied the lingering hand of arousal. Gabrielle turned her head to the connecting door, where he lounged against the doorjamb in his shirtsleeves, deliberately unbuttoning the cuffs.
"Comfits," she said, suddenly breathless, all thoughts of troubled children flown from her mind.
"Comfits?" His eyebrows rose. He rolled back the cuffs of his shirt.
"Sugar plums and sugared almonds," she explained. "A perfect accompaniment to champagne."
He nodded slowly. "Yes, I believe that will do nicely." He gestured past him to his own room. "Will you walk into my parlor, madame?" The brown eyes were aglow, his mouth curved with promise.
"With pleasure, sir." Gabrielle walked past him, and he closed the door.
"My, you have been busy," she observed, taking in the table set for nuncheon in the window. "Two bottles of champagne, no less!"
"I'm planning a long afternoon."
"But we have no comfits," she pointed out. "Ham and cold chicken, but no sugar plums."
"Hothouse grapes, however," he said, plucking a succulent black grape from the bunch sitting on a chased silver salver.
"It seems you had no need of my imagination, Lord Praed," she murmured, watching fascinated as he peeled the grape with his teeth.
"Two imaginations are twice as good as one," he said. "I shall ring for sugar plums in a minute." He placed the grape against her lips. "Open."
His fingertips inserted the peeled grape between her lips and he smiled as she curled her tongue around the fruit, savoring its coolness and the texture of the flesh before biting into it.
"A promise," he said softly.
******************************************************************
"I think sugared almonds are the best," Gabrielle declared, dipping one of the comfits in her personal champagne thimble. "There's something about the crunchiness of the nut with the silkiness of the champagne. What's your opinion?"
"I don't think I'm capable of one," Nathaniel murmured, stretching his body beneath the butterfly flickers of her tongue sipping nectar from his navel. He drew a sharp breath as cold drops trickled over his skin when she carefully refilled the thimble.
"Keep still," she commanded. "You'll spill it."
A quiver of laughter ran through him as he struggled to hold himself immobile.
"I'll try a grape this time," Gabrielle said consideringly, reaching sideways to select one from the depleted bunch. "Just to refresh my memory." She popped the grape between her lips, and her laughing eyes held his for a moment before she bent her head.
He could feel her weight resting lightly across his thighs, her breath on his skin, the tickling brush of the dark red ringlets across his belly as she dipped the grape into the champagne well. Holding the succulent dripping fruit between her lips, she moved up his body until her face hung over his.
Nathaniel opened his mouth, closing his eyes, and she lowered her mouth to his, delicately pushing the grape between his lips with her tongue.
"Sugar plum now?" She ran her flat thumb over his mouth, the lingering embers of satisfied desire glowing in her eyes.
"If you're trying to rekindle my flagging energies, ma'am, I'm very much afraid it's not going to work," he said, smiling as he ran his hands through the cascading ringlets, lifting them away from her face. "You have unmanned me, love."
Gabrielle chuckled and pushed herself upright so that she was sitting astride his thighs again. "I don't think I'm prepared to admit defeat quite so soon."
"Mercy!" he cried, reaching down to seize her hands as they set to work with wicked, dexterous skill. "Come cuddle for a minute."
"If you'd prefer," Gabrielle acquiesced equably, lying down beside him. "Just remember I wasn't the first to cry quits."
"You don't have to work as hard," Nathaniel pointed out, running a lazy hand down her spine as she curled against his side.