Temptation Of A Governess

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.

Chapter Three

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 she could arrange for Nurse to bring the children downstairs. For a moment he recalled that impromptu game of battledore upon the lawn and felt a tinge of regret that they would not do it again. But that could not be helped. She must be persuaded that it would be better for her and the girls if they moved out of Chantreys altogether. If only he could think of a way to do it.

* * *

A week later Alex was still no nearer solving the dilemma and such was his distraction that he almost walked past Gervase Wollerton in Jermyn Street without a word.

‘By Jove, Alex, I don’t know when I last saw you looking so blue-devilled,’ observed his friend, when Alex had stopped and begged his pardon. ‘Something amiss? I was going to look in at White’s, but if you want to talk...’

‘No, I don’t,’ said Alex. ‘I am on my way to see Lady Frances, if you want to give me your arm.’

Mr Wollerton lifted his eyeglass and surveyed Alex.

‘Thing is,’ he said slowly, ‘not sure I can do that, my friend. Not with you in that coat. In fact, if it wasn’t growing dark, I would hesitate to acknowledge you.’

Alex’s lips twitched.

‘Gammon,’ he said rudely. ‘Have you been listening to Brummell again, Gervase? What is it this time, are the buttons too large, is my coat not plain enough for the Beau’s taste?’

‘No, no,’ Mr Wollerton assured him. ‘It ain’t the buttons and the coat’s plain enough. It’s the cut. Shouldn’t be surprised if you can shrug yourself into it.’

‘Of course I can shrug myself into it.’ Impatiently Alex took his arm and urged him on. ‘I am happy to follow Brummell’s lead when it comes to clean linen and simple, dark coats, but I’m damned if I’ll spend hours each morning letting my man dress me.’

‘Which is why the Beau will never be seen in the street with you, dear boy.’

Alex gave a bark of laughter. ‘I shall live without that privilege.’

‘I think you will have to,’ murmured his friend. ‘But at least you have come out of the sullens.’

‘I was not in the sullens,’ Alex objected, preparing to cross Piccadilly. ‘Are you coming with me to see Frances, or would you rather retrace your steps and go to White’s?’

‘Happy to call upon Lady Frances.’ Mr Wollerton coughed delicately. ‘If I won’t be de trop?’

‘Good God, no. What makes you think that?’

Wollerton gave a slight shrug.

‘You seem to be getting mighty close, taking her out to Chantreys and all that.’

Alex frowned.

‘I haven’t taken her to Chantreys.’

‘Well, she has seen it at all events.’

‘What? How can she have done so?’

‘She drove out to view the place recently, heard her telling Anglesey about it at the assembly last night.’

‘The devil she did.’

Gervase brushed a speck of fluff from his sleeve as he said, ‘I think she aspires to be your countess, old friend.’

Alex scowled. ‘I thought I had made it very plain I am not yet in the market for a wife.’

‘So you are not meeting her tête-à-tête tonight?’ asked Wollerton, looking relieved.

‘Great heavens, no. She has invited all the world and his wife.’

Mr Wollerton protested mildly, ‘The world might turn up, but not so sure about the wives. Not the high sticklers, at any rate.’

‘Thank God for that,’ muttered Alex. ‘That’s one of the main reasons I go there, to get away from the single females and their mamas on the hunt for every eligible bachelor. This Season has been particularly grim, having been obliged to escort Lady Hune and her protégée to just the sort of parties that I most abhor.’ He quickened his pace. ‘Come along, it’s starting to rain.’

* * *

Lady Frances’s soirées were comfortable affairs where one could expect good conversation and excellent refreshments. The company was predominantly male but at least a man could relax and enjoy himself without falling prey to a matchmaker. Alex and Gervase stepped indoors before the rain had sullied their coats and since they were familiar with the house they went directly to the card room set up in one of the spacious salons. Their hostess appeared in the doorway as they approached and held out her hands to Alex, smiling.

‘Welcome, my lord, and to you, Mr Wollerton. You are set upon cards, I see. What will it be for you this evening?’

‘Whist,’ said Alex. ‘If you and Wollerton will join me.’

He noted the little flicker of surprise and wondered if Frances wanted to keep him to herself. If Gervase’s observations were correct, Frances had aspirations Alex had no intention of fulfilling for a long time yet. It was reassuring to see her smile without any hint of disappointment.

‘Of course,’ she said smoothly. She looked about her. ‘We will need a fourth... Sir Charles, you are free? Do join us for a rubber of whist.’

Alex had no great opinion of Sir Charles Urmston and when they moved to an empty table he chose to sit opposite Gervase, leaving Lady Frances to partner Urmston. As they made themselves comfortable Alex glanced up and surprised a look pass between Urmston and the lady. It was fleeting, but there was an intimacy that made him wonder if they were more than friends.

The first rubber went to Frances and Urmston. Alex threw down his cards.

‘I beg your pardon, Gervase. I was not concentrating.’ He glanced at Lady Frances. ‘You did not tell me you had seen Chantreys. When was this, ma’am? When did you go there?’

Her eyes widened but her smile did not falter.

‘I did not exactly go there, my lord. I was on my way to Upminster to visit friends and I glimpsed it from the road.’

‘You must have driven a long way around the perimeter,’ he said sardonically. ‘As far as I am aware there is only one spot where you have a clear view of the house.’

‘I was curious to see the place that holds such happy memories for you, Alexander.’ Her fingers touched his arm. ‘I am now in a rage to visit Chantreys in the summer.’

‘That will not be possible. My wards will be in residence.’

She looked up at him, her finely arched brows rising.

‘But you were looking forward to holding a party there for all your friends.’

‘You were looking forward to it, Frances.’ His glance was mocking. ‘As I recall the idea of a ball to shock the ton was yours.’

The lady brushed this aside with a smile.

‘Nevertheless, my lord, I thought you had decided to send the children to school.’

‘The decision is not solely mine to make.’ The admission rubbed at his pride. ‘Miss Grensham is also their guardian and she is against the idea.’ He continued, deciding it would be best to get the whole thing over with. ‘She is also against moving from Chantreys for the next twelve months at least.’

‘And have you no say in the matter?’ murmured Urmston, unwrapping a new pack of cards.

‘We discussed it,’ said Alex shortly.

Lady Frances put her hand on his arm. ‘My dear Alexander, you should have left her in no doubt of your wishes in this matter. I thought we were agreed that the girls would be better off at school.’

‘Unfortunately when it comes to the girls’ education, my brother decreed that the final decision should belong to Miss Grensham, as the...er...“most fit and proper person to attend to it”.’

Gervase laughed. ‘James certainly had your measure, then, my friend!’

‘It seems odd that she will not give up the place,’ murmured Sir Charles. ‘I believe the ladies generally find your charms persuasive.’

Alex felt his lip curling in derision. ‘It is my money and my title that they find persuasive.’

Lady Frances tensed and Alex wondered if she thought the barb was directed at her.

‘You are probably right, old boy.’ Wollerton nodded, enjoying his wine and oblivious to the tension around the table. ‘Not that you ain’t charming when you want to be,’ he added hastily. ‘It’s just that most likely you didn’t think it necessary to charm a servant.’

‘Miss Grensham is not a servant,’ retorted Alex, unaccountably annoyed. ‘She is the children’s guardian.’

‘But that does not give her the right to monopolise your property,’ objected Lady Frances.

Alex might agree, but something compelled him to put Diana’s point of view. ‘She considers Chantreys the most suitable place for the children at the present time.’

Sir Charles was about to deal, but he hesitated as if a thought had struck him.

‘Perhaps, my lord, you should demonstrate that the lady is not a...er...fit and proper person to have responsibility for your wards.’ He sat back, smiling in a way that made Alex dislike him even more. ‘How difficult can it be?’ he drawled. ‘Wollerton here says you have charm, when you wish to use it. Seduce the wench and send her packing.’

‘Miss Grensham is no wench, Urmston,’ Alex retorted coldly. ‘She is a lady.’

‘But Sir Charles has a point,’ remarked Lady Frances, her tone smooth and reasonable. ‘Perhaps not seduction,’ she said quickly, observing Alex’s frown. ‘But if some gentleman were to take her fancy, if she wanted to marry, she might be more willing to compromise over the little girls’ education. And consider the advantage to the lady; she could exchange the drudgery of being a governess for a much more respectable station. She would be a married woman and have a man to protect her.’

Alex watched Urmston deal out the cards, but his mind was on Frances’s words.

‘That might be possible,’ he said slowly. ‘If she were to marry she could no longer look after the girls. And why not school rather than another governess? My brother’s will provided Miss Grensham with a handsome sum, so she would not be a penniless bride.’

And she was not unattractive, if one liked dainty, red-headed women, he thought, regarding Lady Frances’s voluptuous form.

‘Yes,’ he mused. ‘It might just work. I know several fellows in want of a wife.’

‘Well, there you are then,’ murmured Sir Charles. He finished giving out the cards and turned over the last one. ‘Hearts,’ he declared. ‘Hearts are trumps.’

* * *

The second meeting with Lord Davenport had left Diana angry and unsettled. She was appalled at her own behaviour in encouraging the earl to kiss her; just the thought of it sent a shiver running through her. She was even more appalled to realise how much she wanted him to do it again. Quite reprehensible! Clearly in future he must not call unannounced. She decided, therefore, that she would write to him, telling him as much. The letter was written and despatched before she broke her fast the following morning, but even before it could have reached its destination she was regretting the rash impulse. Her tone had not been at all conciliatory and she was sure the earl would take offence. However, when the timorous side of her nature suggested that she should write again and apologise her spirit rebelled strongly. Lord Davenport must acknowledge that he was as much to blame for the lapse in decorum.

Why should he? He is an Arrandale, after all.

The thought came unbidden and Diana was obliged to acknowledge the truth of it. Even the late earl, for all his staid and respectable nature, had possessed the famed Arrandale arrogance. They went their own way, convinced of their superiority, and she had no reason to think Alex Arrandale was any different from the rest of his family.

The thought remained with her for the next few days, contributing to her mood of restless anxiety. It became so bad that one evening, after saying goodnight to the children she did not go immediately downstairs but instead went to the schoolroom, walking around and idly touching the familiar objects.

Was she being unreasonable to keep the children at Chantreys? It was perfectly understandable that the new earl would wish to make use of his properties and since he was an Arrandale, she was in no doubt that any party he brought to Chantreys would be far from respectable. The society pages of the newspapers she read often mentioned his name in connection with the more notorious of society’s hostesses. She had a shrewd idea that he considered Chantreys would be the perfect place to bring his latest flirt.

That he refused to do so with the children in residence showed he had some sense of honour, but Meggie and Florence were not his children and it was clear he saw them as an inconvenience. She had learned a great deal about the family since becoming governess to the late earl’s children. James and Alex had been brought up to want for nothing, an army of servants to obey their every whim, but their parents had been shadowy figures with little time to spare for their offspring. Margaret had always said it was a blessing James had turned out as respectable as he had done, but was it any wonder if his younger brother had grown up to consider nothing but his own pleasure? No, Diana was sure he would not give up the fight to remove her and the girls from Chantreys.

Well, perhaps she would write to him again and suggest a compromise. She would offer to take Meggie and Florence away for a few months. The earl had offered her the use of any of his other properties, or perhaps they might remove to the coast. A spell of sea bathing might prove beneficial, as long as Meggie and Florence knew they could return to their home afterwards.

‘It is certainly worth pursuing,’ she murmured as she blew out her candle that night. But her encounter with the new earl of Davenport had roused her spirit and she was reluctant to capitulate too easily. No, she thought as she settled down to sleep. She would not write immediately. It would do the new earl no harm to savour his defeat for a little longer. However, a little over a week after the earl’s visit, a letter arrived from him that sent all thoughts of compromise from her head.

Chapter Four

‘How dare he?’

Diana screwed the paper into a ball and threw it into the corner. She paced about the morning room, hands clenched and muttering angrily, thankful that she was alone and could allow her temper full rein. The letter had been waiting for her when she returned from a walk with the girls and, recognising the seal, she had sent the children off with Nurse as soon as they had all removed their muddy boots and outdoor clothes.

She had braced herself for the earl’s response to her letter, expecting at best a suggestion for another house where they might reside, or at worst an angry condemnation of her presumption in opposing his will, even an ultimatum, but not this missive couched in the politest terms, telling her that he intended to bring a party of friends to the house and was giving her a month’s notice of the visit, that she and the children might be prepared.

‘How very considerate of you, my lord!’

Her words echoed around the morning room, but although her indignation remained, her anger was cooling. She picked up the paper and smoothed it out, then she sat down on a chair to read it again.

Perhaps he expected her to panic at the thought of his visit, to demand that he find another home for his wards immediately, but what if she did not do so? She nibbled her finger. He might be selfish and hedonistic but she did not believe he would hold a truly outrageous party while Meggie and Florence were living in the house. Diana made a quick mental survey of the building. The nursery and schoolroom were on the top floor, there would be no reason for visitors to venture so far. The children would not be able to have the run of the house, as they did now, but it would be May, so they would be able to spend much more time out of doors. She glanced at the clock. There was no time now to reply, but once she had concluded the children’s lessons she would compose a letter to the earl. A polite note that would leave him in no doubt that she would not allow the children to be chased out of their home.

* * *

The cavalcade of carriages rattled through the park and swept around the curling drive that snaked towards the front door of Chantreys. Alex was leading the way in his curricle, with Lady Frances beside him. As he drew his team to a halt she placed her hand upon his leg, saying with a laugh,

‘My dear Alexander, it is quite, quite charming!’

He had to admit it was looking particularly well in the late-spring sunshine, a perfectly proportioned little confection of a building. Rather than ruin the aesthetics by extending the house itself, successive generations had added two pavilions to flank the house and provide extra accommodation.

Alex glanced upwards. The rooms under the eaves had once been the servants’ quarters but his parents had moved the staff outside into one of the pavilions and converted the whole top floor into a nursery. He wondered if Diana and the children were looking out for their arrival. Or perhaps they were waiting just inside the wide door, which was now thrown open as the servants came spilling out to welcome Lord Davenport and his guests.

Alex jumped down and walked around to help Lady Frances alight. He led her past the row of wooden-faced servants and into the hall, cool and light with its pale marble floor and white-painted walls. He paused there, waiting for the rest of the guests to follow them inside. It was a small party, only six guests, as many as the house could hold without opening up the south pavilion to accommodate them. Gervase Wollerton was the last to come in, looking about him in appreciation.

‘You are right, Alex,’ he declared, ‘it is a very pretty place. Is this where you plan to put the Canova, opposite the stairs? The plainness of that wall would be the perfect foil for it.’

‘Yes, but not while the children are in residence,’ murmured Lady Frances. ‘One dreads to think of what might happen to such a precious statue with little ones running riot through the house.’

‘Quite,’ replied Alex. He beckoned to a hovering servant. ‘And talking of children, where are the girls, Christopher?’

The footman gave a little bow. ‘Miss Grensham begs that you will advise her what time you would like your wards sent to the drawing room.’

Alex felt a hand on his arm and heard Lady Frances softly laughing beside him.

‘Dear me, I hope you will allow us time to change out of our travelling clothes and rest awhile, my lord.’

‘If you wish it,’ he replied, ‘although I had thought this an easy distance from town.’

‘It is, of course,’ she returned smoothly. ‘But I should like to refresh myself and look my best when I meet your wards.’

‘Then I shall hand you over to Mrs Wallace.’ He beckoned to the housekeeper, who was hovering expectantly. His glance swept over the guests now assembled in the hall. ‘She will show you to your rooms while Fingle and Christopher deal with your baggage. If you will excuse me.’

With a brief smile he left them and ran up the stairs two at a time, a pleasurable anticipation speeding his steps as he made his way to the schoolroom. He opened the door on a particularly domestic scene. A sofa had been placed beneath one of the windows and Diana was sitting there with Meggie and Florence on each side of her while she read to them from a large, leather-bound book.

At his entrance all three rose, the young girls’ faces breaking into smiles of delight, while Diana’s conscious look and sudden blush told him she had not forgotten their last meeting. Neither had he, Alex thought ruefully as he stifled a sudden rush of desire at the memory of that one, sizzling kiss.

‘Uncle Alex!’ Margaret ran forward and he scooped her up in his arms, laughing.

‘Yes, I am here, Meggie.’ He hugged his niece, then set her down and turned to greet Florence, who had followed more slowly. That gave him a few moments to compose himself before he looked up and acknowledged Diana with a friendly nod. ‘Miss Grensham.’

She dropped a slight curtsy to him.