Temptation Of A Governess. Sarah Mallory
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body cried out in agony at the distance between them. They were leaning against opposite sides of the window frame, only inches apart, but it was too much. She dug her fingers into the wood at her back to stop herself from cupping her breasts, which felt so full and hard they ached. She shook her head.
‘I do not—’ she began, when she could command her voice. ‘That is, I have never—’
‘No, you haven’t, have you?’
A wry smile curved his mouth and Diana felt embarrassment replace the heat of passion. She should move away but her legs would not support her. There was a throbbing ache between her thighs, so intense that she wanted to throw herself at Alex, instinct telling her that only he could assuage it.
He stepped sideways, away from her and into the room.
‘Let us blame it on the wine and think no more about it,’ he said, walking to the door. ‘I must go now.’
Diana did not want him to leave. She tried to drag her reeling thoughts into some kind of order.
‘What—what about the children?’
He stopped at the door and bent another frowning look at her.
‘I do not think either of us is in the mood for more discussion, Miss Grensham. I bid you goodnight.’
* * *
He was gone. Diana closed her eyes, breathing deeply and leaning heavily against the window frame at her back. She was not sure if she was most in danger of fainting or bursting into tears. Perhaps the earl was right, it was the wine. She had certainly taken more than usual, and she had felt very relaxed by the time dinner was over. Relaxed enough to tell Alex that she thought him a rich, spoiled nobleman for whom money could buy everything.
Her hands crept up to her cheeks. She had told him he could not buy her and he had punished her by showing that he did not need riches to reduce her to a trembling, incoherent wreck. He had done that with nothing more than a kiss.
She heard a soft scratching at the door and Fingle came in. Diana turned away quickly, pretending to look out at the gardens, deep in shadow now and with the moon rising in the distance.
‘I beg your pardon, Miss Grensham. I heard his lordship leave and thought—but you haven’t touched the tea. Would you like me to ask Mrs Wallace to put the kettle on again?’
‘No, thank you, Fingle. I, um, I am going up to say goodnight to the children and then I think I shall retire.’
‘Very well then, miss, shall I take the tray away?’
‘Yes, please do.’ She remained in the shadows and watched him depart with the untouched tray. No, she thought wretchedly, it was not tea that her body craved this evening.
* * *
‘What in the name of all that’s wonderful were you about?’ Alex demanded of himself as he drove through the darkened lanes.
The cool night air had cleared his brain sufficiently for him to think straight again. The brandy had momentarily clouded his judgement. Thin redheads had never appealed to him and neither did headstrong, opinionated women. Diana was a lady, and his sister-in-law, to boot. It had been reprehensible of him to ply her with drink. True, she had annoyed him when she had called him irresponsible. Who was she to criticise him, to accuse him of trying to buy her? He had merely offered her the pick of any of his houses. By heaven, many a man would not even have given her a choice in the matter.
His mouth tightened. If he hadn’t written her that letter assuring her she could stay at Chantreys, then perhaps he might now have ordered her and the children to leave, but he could not in honour do so. And he was not without honour, however dissolute she might think him. He gave a little grunt of frustration, knowing he had not acted honourably this evening. Her responses had been passionate but inexpert. Why, he would wager on it that she had never been kissed before. He recalled her look when he had put her away from him, her eyes huge and dark, regarding him with a mixture of wonder and apprehension.
It was not his habit to pursue innocent virgins and she was most surely an innocent. A veritable Sleeping Beauty, whose passion he had awakened with a kiss. His mouth twisted. But he was no Prince Charming. He had been on the town long enough to know what happened to men of experience who married innocent young women. They were bored within a month and within two they had set up a mistress, leaving a wife distraught at the desertion.
His hands jerked on the reins at the thought and he was obliged to give his attention to the greys, who objected strongly to his unaccustomed treatment. No, he thought, when the team was once more running smoothly, he had no intention of entering into such a marriage. He had determined to marry for convenience, a woman who understood what was required, who would make no demands upon him emotionally.
His mind wandered back to the memory of Diana, chin up, eyes challenging. He recalled the sudden stirring of interest, a flicker that had become irresistible when he had caught her fingers. He had only meant to prevent her from committing an indiscretion, but with her tiny hand clasped against his heart he had felt an irresistible urge to pull her into his arms. She had felt it, too, that connection between them. He had read it in her eyes, along with an invitation that he had accepted far too readily.
So there was another reason to remove Diana Grensham from Chantreys. She was governess to his wards and could not risk the loss of reputation that would result from an affair. And for himself, he would not want that on his conscience. Diana Grensham was no drab from the stews, willing to indulge in a quick tumble. When he had kissed her he had recognised her passionate nature and it had drawn a response from him. He knew that these attractions were never long lasting, but Diana was not experienced in flirtations—what if she were to develop a tendre for him?
He reached the outskirts of London and bowled through the town, his mind made up. Whichever way one looked at it, the best thing would be for Diana and the children to remove from Chantreys and preferably a good distance from London, well out of harm’s way. The problem was how to achieve it? The devil of it was that so far Diana had proved surprisingly stubborn. She was determined not to capitulate. His jaw tightened. Well, he could be stubborn, too. This was no longer about the children, it was a battle of wills, and he was not about to lose.
The following day brought word from Chantreys, the letter arriving at Alex’s lodgings just as he was about to set off for Jackson’s Boxing Academy. With a faint sense of satisfaction he broke the seal. Perhaps his lapse yesterday had not been such a bad thing. Diana was probably so mortified that she wanted nothing more than to remove as far away from him as possible.
His hopes were short lived. The missive was brief and to the point. Miss Grensham sent her compliments—hah!—and wrote to inform him that she had decided the children should remain at Chantreys for the next year at least.
‘She has decided!’ he exclaimed, resisting with an effort the temptation to crush the paper between his hands. He forced himself to continue reading to the end.
Miss Grensham therefore considers further discussion of the children’s future would be of little benefit. However, if Lord Davenport wishes to call upon the children a message to Chantreys ahead of his visit would be appreciated, in order that Lady Margret and Miss Florence might be ready to receive him.
Alex swore explosively. Nothing would persuade him to make an appointment to visit his own property! He threw the letter on the table, snatched up his hat and gloves and set off for Bond Street.
Striding through the crowds brought some relief and after an hour in Jackson’s Boxing Academy, sparring with the great man himself, he was able to view Diana’s letter more dispassionately.
She had made it clear that she did not wish to move from Chantreys, but it was equally obvious that she was reluctant to meet with him again after their last encounter. That was the reason she wished for prior warning of his visits to the house, so that when he called