Breaking the Governess's Rules. Michelle Styles
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one must be so careful.’ She gave Nella Blandish a ferocious look. ‘Particularly when one’s sister is given to exaggeration. My sister’s tongue nearly did for dear Miss Milton’s prospects and I must not have the same happen to me.’
‘I was a governess to Lord Chesterholm’s sister,’ Louisa replied with a clenched-jaw smile.
‘And you have given up being a governess?’ Mrs Blandish asked, leaning forwards, her eyes suddenly alight. ‘We are currently between—’
An involuntary shudder went through Louisa. Mrs Blandish with her purple turban and self-righteous airs represented all that was wrong with being a governess. She pitied anyone who had the misfortune to work for the woman. ‘I found it more pleasant to be a companion.’
‘But now, Louisa is a dear, dear friend.’ Miss Daphne gave a broad smile. ‘Louisa is far too modest about her prospects. My sister left her the bulk of her considerable fortune. She has no need to work. I daily expect a good match for her. My nephew …’
‘I am sure you choose your friends well, Miss Elliot.’ Miss Blandish began to wave her fan about and her eyes took on a hunted expression. ‘No harm was intended. Mama is desperate to replace Miss Milton.’
‘Miss Daphne and her late sister have never had problems distinguishing between true friends and hangerson.’ Louisa kept her head up. The Blandishes and their kind were the sort of creatures that Louisa despised—only concerned about appearances and quick to judge. Exactly like Clarissa Newton and her parents.
Before Miss Blandish had a chance to reply, Jenkins brought in a silver tray with two cream-coloured calling cards.
Miss Daphne took the cards and her face lit up, becoming twenty years younger. ‘Mrs Blandish, my nephew, Viscount Furniss, and Lord Chesterholm have both come to pay their regards as well. What a shame you cannot extend your call.’
‘Mama,’ Miss Nella Blandish said, ‘we ought to depart. Miss Milton always used to say—fifteen minutes and no longer.’
Mrs Blandish made a face like she had swallowed a particularly sour plum. ‘Come along, girls. We have other business to attend to. The day is wasting.’
‘But, Mama …’ Miss Blandish wailed. ‘Surely we can stay a moment longer. They are both … eligible.’
Louisa stared at the woman in astonishment.
‘Has Susan become utterly devoid of sensibility?’ Miss Nella Blandish asked in a stage whisper. ‘The Viscountess Ravensworth would be horrified!’
‘You will consider staying, Mrs Blandish,’ Miss Daphne said, patting the sofa with a conspiratorial expression. ‘Some rules were meant to be broken. particularly when faced with an unmarried daughter and two highly eligible titled men.’
Mrs Blandish hesitated, obviously debating the demands of propriety and the demands of matrimony. Matrimony won out and she settled herself back down on the sofa. ‘I suppose we can impose on Miss Elliot and Miss Sibson for a few moments longer.’
Miss Daphne gave a beatific smile. Louisa narrowed her gaze. Miss Daphne had some scheme in mind and wanted the Blandish tribe to stay.
‘I had hoped you would see reason,’ Miss Daphne said. ‘Miss Nella tells such interesting stories. My nephew loves a good tale.’
Louisa stood up and reached for her beaded reticule. She would find a way to speak to Jonathon in private. The letter was far too damning to be waved under his nose in public, particularly with the Blandishes hanging on every word. But she had cried her last tear over him four years ago.
Jonathon strode in, his frock coat flaring to emphasise the length of his legs. He surveyed the gathered throng, every inch the proud aristocrat from his immaculately tied stock to his butter-yellow gloves and silver-topped cane. Despite all the promises she had given throughout the years, her pulse beat faster as his eyes appeared to linger on her. Louisa turned her gaze to the reticule, going over each damning line of the letter in her mind, reminding her errant heart. He had ruined her life once. Only a fool would allow that to happen a second time and she was no fool.
‘Lord Chesterholm, Rupert, what a delightful surprise,’ Miss Daphne said, fluttering her fan. ‘You must have guessed that Cook baked iced buns today.’
‘I tempted him with a promise of your iced buns, Aunt,’ Lord Furniss said with smug superiority in his voice. ‘You always have iced buns at your At Homes. A shameful extravagance, but a welcome one. My mother would never approve.’
‘Just like burning more than one candle?’ Louisa asked.
‘Precisely, Miss Sibson. You remember my mother’s odd quirks.’ Furniss flushed slightly and gave a decided nod. ‘What my mother remains in ignorance of, she cannot condemn.’
‘Dear Rupert,’ Miss Daphne said, holding out her hand. ‘You must meet the Blandishes. They were involved in the doings at Gilsland Spa. You know … when poor Edward Heritage died.’
‘Charmed, I am sure.’ Lord Furniss gave the briefest of nods towards the Blandishes, before capturing Louisa’s hand and pressing it tightly. Spying Jonathon’s glower, she resisted the temptation to pull away and allowed Lord Furniss to hold it for a half-minute more than was strictly proper. ‘Now, my dear Miss Sibson, have you missed my company? Did you count the minutes?’
‘Rupert!’ Miss Daphne exclaimed and Lord Furniss dropped Louisa’s hand.
‘What is the temptation of the iced buns?’ Miss Blandish asked, wrinkling her nose. ‘I must confess to never having tried one.’
‘You have never tried one! You have not lived until you have eaten iced buns,’ Lord Furniss exclaimed. ‘Is that not right, Miss Sibson? My aunt’s iced buns are known far and wide. The mere memory of them from our days at Eton is why Chesterholm accompanied me here today.’
‘And the pleasure of Miss Sibson’s company. I found last night’s exchange to be most enlightening.’ Jonathon’s blue-green gaze caught Louisa and held her. Everything else seemed to fade into insignificance.
A small tingle coursed through her. She forced her breath in and out of her lungs. Her reaction was a ghost from ages past. It had nothing to do with the infuriating man standing in front of her and everything to do with her younger, impossibly naïve self. ‘Do you not agree, Miss Sibson?’
‘Do we agree on anything?’ Louisa pasted a smile on her face. ‘We spoke of long-ago trifles that had no meaning then and even less now.’
‘The value of intriguing conversation is immeasurable,’ Jonathon returned smoothly as his eyes taunted her. ‘One can learn such fascinating facts through a few moments of idle talk.’
‘I think you are correct, Lord Chesterholm,’ Mrs Blandish called out from where she sat, making it clear that she for one was following the entire exchange with interest. ‘The pursuit of knowledge is always enlightening.’
Jonathon’s lips turned upwards and his eyes took on a mischievous expression. ‘Particularly when one chances upon old friends one had considered long departed from this world.’
‘The way you talk, Lord Chesterholm—’ Mrs Blandish’s turban quivered with disapproval ‘—one might think Miss Sibson was dead when she stands before us, breathing and in good health. It would be monstrous to spread a tale like that about anyone.’
Jonathon’s gaze travelled slowly down Louisa’s form, his eyes lingering on her curves. His smile increased, becoming that special smile, the one which he had always given her just before kissing her. ‘No, I agree she is very much alive. I had been wrongly informed.’
‘And you are pleased with that,’ Miss Daphne said.
‘Did I ever say I wasn’t?’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Simply surprised to discover the fact. It would appear I put my trust in the wrong people.’
‘The notions some