Melting Miss Wynter (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 17) Page 9

  Selina pulled a face. “Perhaps not a wildebeest,” she conceded. “I’ll be a pony instead.” She neighed and pawed at the ground with her foot and Gwenn couldn’t help but laugh.

  “And a very fine pony you would be too, but do you think you might return to being a young lady long enough to eat breakfast? After all, ponies only get hay and an occasional carrot, not sausages.”

  “Sausages!” the girls exclaimed in unison. “Why ever didn’t you say so?”

  They turned to run for the breakfast parlour and barrelled straight into Lord Cheam.

  “Morning, Sunny,” they said, pushing past him. “There are sausages for breakfast!”

  “Girls!” Gwenn called after them in dismay. “Not ponies, wildebeest nor elephants. Young ladies.”

  The girls slowed enough to grin, and then gave quite creditable curtsies before walking away in a more civilised manner.

  Gwenn sighed.

  “You’re doing a marvellous job with them,” Lord Cheam said, surprising her with the compliment.

  “Oh, well, they’re lovely girls,” Gwenn said, trying to ignore the way his words made her feel as if she’d done something worthwhile, and the way the sunlight slanting through the open window gleamed on his red hair. “They’re full of life and imagination. They just need to be kept busy and reminded how good they are.”

  Lord Cheam frowned at that, his blue eyes crinkling with concern. “Reminded how good they are?” he repeated.

  Gwenn nodded. “Yes, I….” She hesitated as a maid bustled down the corridor and bobbed a curtsey before carrying on up the stairs. “Perhaps we ought not talk here?”

  Lord Cheam understood her at once. “Would you care for a stroll before breakfast? It’s cold, but the sun is shining this morning.”

  “Certainly, if it won’t delay our departure? I know how keen you are to get to Scotland before the weather worsens.”

  He returned a smile that had the strangest effect on her knees, which seemed all at once a little wobbly.

  “A few minutes ought not make the difference between safe arrival and catastrophe. Fetch your cloak. I will wait for you.”

  Gwenn complied at once, scolding herself for being so eager to be alone in his company when she’d promised herself to stay away from him. I only want to speak to him about the girls, that’s all, she told herself.

  That was a big fat lie.

  She knew it would upset them when she left, though, and it was important that Lord Cheam understand what to expect and how to deal with them.

  That was true, at least.

  From what the twins had told her of their previous governesses, they’d been strict and humourless women who used discipline as a weapon and fear of punishment to enforce good behaviour. The girls were too clever and far too stubborn to bend to such tactics. The stricter the governess and the harder the punishment, the more they rebelled against it. Perhaps they felt they deserved the punishments and so pushed for more. Either way, the worse they behaved the more they feared they were wicked, and that they were following in their father’s footsteps. Their brother needed to know this.

  Huddled in her cloak, Gwenn peeked in at the breakfast parlour to see both girls were happily tucking into a mountain of sausages and egg, and went to meet Lord Cheam.

  She wasn’t certain if she was relieved or disappointed when he didn’t offer her his arm, but walked at a respectful distance beside her.

  “Please explain your concerns, Miss Wynter,” he said once they were out of earshot of the inn and its comings and goings.

  “I only want to describe what I have observed of Susan and Selina, and what I have learned from speaking to them. Only… I must speak frankly, and I fear—”

  “Miss Wynter. You will not offend me if you have the best interests of the girls at heart. They are my priority. I well know that this family is not… that I’m not….”

  There was such guilt in his eyes as he spoke that Gwenn acted without thinking, reaching out and placing her hand on his arm. “Lord Cheam. The girls are loved and cherished by both you and your brother. That is obvious to anyone. That your aunt has been so insistent on accompanying you only shows that your extended family is also supportive. No one can hold you responsible for the actions of your father, any more than they could hold the girls responsible. But you, as an adult, must know this. Susan and Selina do not.”

  Lord Cheam, whose gaze had been riveted on the sight of her fingers upon his sleeve, looked up at that.

  “They think they are responsible?” he said, his auburn brows tugging together.

  “Not exactly,” Gwenn said, shaking her head. “But the last few governesses they’ve had have been strict disciplinarians.”

  “They were out of control, Miss Wynter.” He ran a hand through his hair so it stood up at odd angles, betraying his anxiety. “I didn’t know what else to do. They were abominably rude and refused to do as they were told….”

  Though she knew it was a mistake, Gwenn could not help herself. The poor man looked so guilt ridden. So this time she took hold of his hand within both of hers.

  “Of course you didn’t know what to do. I know you did not have a good relationship with your father, and neither did the twins, but… they were still grieving, as you were too, and you had the world upon your shoulders. This is not your fault. I’m only trying to explain that those governesses, as well meaning as they may have been, made the girls feel as though they were bad, wicked children. Susan and Selina heard you and your brothers speaking of their father being a devil, of him going to hell, and they thought that was where they were bound too because they were bad like him.”

  “What?”

  Gwenn hated herself for saying it as she saw his response. It was as if she’d struck him and the blow had winded him. They came to the river, and he stood staring down at the water, and at the mist that swirled over the surface.

  “I can’t believe they thought such a thing,” he said, never taking his eyes from the water as it slid past, rushing towards its fate. “They’ve always been such happy girls, despite everything. I thought I’d protected them from it, from him.”

  “You did,” she said, squeezing his fingers before forcing herself to let them go. “But they hear gossip all the same and, if things aren’t explained to them, they aren’t past creeping out of bed and eavesdropping on the adults.”

  “You’ve made them happy again,” he said, turning to look at her, such gratitude in his eyes that her heart skipped about in her chest like a mad rabbit.

  “Oh, I-I…. Well, it really wasn’t difficult. They just needed a bit of reassurance, that’s all, but I wanted you to know, so that you understood. They need to be told they are good girls. They need to know that even good girls do naughty things now and then, and it doesn’t mean they’re wicked. We’re all human, we all make mistakes, that doesn’t make them evil, or mean they will go to hell.”

  He was staring at her, such obvious admiration in his eyes she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. Good Lord! Blushing? Her? She thought she’d lost the ability years ago. Yet she felt undeserving of that look. It had been given to her under false pretences. He might have figured out she wasn’t really a governess, but he didn’t know she’d been trained to be the finest courtesan London had ever seen. If he knew that, he’d get her out of the girls’ company so fast her head would spin. She’d do well to remember that. Except it was hard to remember anything, think of anything, when the poor man looked so in need of someone to hold him, to smooth the anxiety from his brow and kiss him until he smiled again.

  Oh, she wanted to make him smile.

  Oh, she was in such trouble.

  “I think perhaps we all need reminding we’re only human now and again, Miss Wynter,” he said, such warmth in those words that the cold morning disappeared, and she basked in the heat of them. “What a good thing we have you around to take the weight from our shoulders.”

  Gwenn’s breath caught. There was a look in his eyes that told he
r he wanted to kiss her, to pull her into his arms and hold her tight until she did all the things she’d just been considering and made him smile again. Alarm bells sounded in her head and she reminded herself of all the reasons she could not have him. She could feel the pull of temptation, desire rising beneath her skin, and she knew she ought to be afraid. She ought to keep her distance. He was her Marquess of Davenport, and there would be no rubies to take the sting from losing him. There weren’t rubies enough in the world to ease the pain of losing a man like that.

  No.

  Run now, you fool. Run while you have the chance.

  She took a step backwards and forced a cool smile to her lips.

  “Well, I’m sure I’m not deserving of such praise, or such responsibility. I only wished you to understand the girls so when you next sought a governess for them you would choose with a greater knowledge of what you need.”

  “Another governess?” He stared at her. “You’re… leaving us?”

  “Oh, not at once,” she said, turning away from him, away from the shock and disappointment in his eyes, and keeping her voice light. “I shall remain with you for the duration of the holidays of course, and for as long as it takes to seek another to replace me if you desire it. Indeed, I should be happy to assist if you wish it.”

  That was something she could do for him at least. For the girls.

  “But so soon?”

  Gwenn steeled herself against the words. She wanted to tell him she’d stay if he asked her to, but it was stupid, and she was not stupid. Foolish, perhaps—to hope for a future far away from the glittering glamour her mother had promised was within her grasp—but not stupid.

  “Oh, I know we had no time to discuss it, such was the urgency of your situation, but it was only ever a temporary position for me,” she said, forcing herself to sound as though it wasn’t a wrench to her heart to leave them when she was just beginning to do some good. “You desperately needed my services, and I was at a loose end for the Christmas period, so it was mutually beneficial. For the future, however, I have… I have other commitments.”

  “Other commitments,” he echoed, returning his gaze to the river. His voice was low, and he sounded weary. “Yes, of course. I understand.”

  The tight little lines were visible about his eyes again, and Gwenn clenched her fists against the urge to reach for him. “It’s for the best,” she said, her voice softer now. At once she wished the words back, wished she had in no way alluded to what had almost passed between them.

  He looked at her then, the full force of those vivid blue eyes settling on her.

  “Is it?” he asked, as though he wanted an answer at once, and then he laughed and shook his head. “Yes,” he said, and it was a decisive sound. “Yes, of course it is.” She watched as he straightened, his expression hardening, though his tone was light enough. “We’d best return to the inn before the girls run out of sausages.”

  Gwenn nodded and turned to follow him and then paused, frowning. “Aren’t… Aren’t those your carriages?” she asked, as the glossy back conveyance that bore the crest of Viscount Cheam left the yard and took to the road at a smart clip. Behind it followed the carriage that carried his valet and the ladies’ maids, and yet another that held the bulk of their luggage.

  “Yes, they bloody well are!” he said, quickening his pace. “What the devil is going on?”

  ***

  Sampson cursed as he stared down at the hastily scribbled note in his hand. According to his brother, Aunt May had suffered a relapse and couldn’t face a day in the carriage with her nieces. They would go on ahead and meet up in Carlisle where they were due to stop for the night.

  What the hell were they playing at? Aunt May had seemed in fine fettle when she’d come down to breakfast this morning and, if she’d wanted to travel with them, there was room enough without leaving him behind. No, it was too smoky by half. This was Samuel’s work, no doubt, but why? Why would he throw Sampson into close quarters with Miss Wynter, with only the girls to chaperone, when he was so clearly interested in her himself? It made no sense.

  Whatever the reason, it was a disaster. He’d been so close to kissing her down by the river.

  Miss Wynter’s insight into what the girls had been feeling and her evident concern for their welfare, for his welfare, had touched him deeply. Her beauty, combined with an understanding of human nature, and such compassion…. She took his breath away. He felt as if everything was just as it ought to be when he was with her, as though holding her in his arms could chase away all his troubles and make everything right. Nonsense, of course, yet when she was before him it didn’t seem like nonsense; it seemed natural and obvious and damn near irresistible.

  Thank God she’d had wit enough to keep things on a professional basis. She might be young, but she had more prudence than he possessed to put a halt to such a disastrous move. Though why she had when she’d so clearly invited his advances before….

  She’d come to senses, that was all. She desired him, but she knew it was impossible. He desired her and he knew it was impossible. He sought to avoid scandal and to secure the girls’ future, and the disparity in their positions made any honourable solution out of the question. They both knew it. Therefore, they must part company. It was for the best.

  Just as she had said.

  It was.

  Yet his heart felt heavy, and not just for himself. The girls would be crushed.

  Now, however, he would have to share the confines of a closed carriage with her for hours on end, and he would kill bloody Samuel when he got to Carlisle… if he didn’t go mad in the meantime. Anger rose in his chest. His brother was a menace. No doubt Sam thought an affair with Miss Wynter would do him good, never stopping to think whether such a thing would be good for Miss Wynter.

  Now, instead of them both taking care to keep clear of temptation, they would be forced to face it head on. Irritation simmered beneath his skin and he held onto it. If he was angry and irritated, he’d be bad company and Miss Wynter would not be tempted to hold his hand or touch his sleeve as she had this morning. Both incidents, slight as they were, had sent desire slamming through him, proving to him just how catastrophic this was. His earlier words to her came back to haunt him.

  A few minutes ought not make the difference between safe arrival and catastrophe.

  Sometimes he thought the Almighty had a twisted sense of humour.

  Chapter 10

  “Wherein temptation triumphs.”

  Lord Cheam was in a foul temper. It was obvious from the rigid set of his shoulders. Not that he’d been in any way rude or irritable with either her or the girls, he’d simply tipped his hat over his eyes and feigned sleep from the moment they’d left the inn.

  Gwenn couldn’t blame him for feigning sleep or being irritable. She suspected that today’s little arrangement had not been accidental, but she could not understand what was to be gained by it. Aunt May had professed herself quite recovered when Gwenn had seen her in the upstairs corridor, and a sudden relapse seemed unlikely, if not impossible. Yet, why sneak off like they had? Aunt May could very well have shared the carriage with both Lord Cheam and Mr Pelham and left Gwenn with the children. Indeed, it would be normal to do so.

  It made no sense.

  They could not be hoping to promote a romance with a woman so below Lord Cheam’s standing, and she could not believe Aunt May would approve of an affair. The woman had too much regard for Gwenn for that. Didn’t she? Was she just a dispensable servant who would serve to put a smile on Lord Cheam’s face until he grew tired of her? Surely not.

  No. She refused to believe that.

  They changed horses at Burton and Lord Cheam didn’t so much as blink. Hot bricks were delivered as usual, along with steaming cups of chocolate, his meticulous planning needing no further input. Kendal came and went with the same outcome and a repeat of the girls’ poem. Gwenn thought perhaps Lord Cheam’s lips twitched as they recited it, but she couldn’t be certain.
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  The carriage moved on once more and everyone subsided into a weary silence. Gwenn fought against the temptation to stare longingly at the girls’ big brother and forced herself to watch the scenery. The sunny morning had given way to a grim afternoon, and the sky was a stark white and rather threatening. They stopped briefly in Shap for a meal, which was adequate rather than the excellent repasts they’d enjoyed to date. Gwenn and the girls made the most of a warm fire and a private parlour whilst Lord Cheam ate in the public rooms after making some excuse about seeing someone he knew.

  On they went again, with Lord Cheam once more retreating behind the safety of closed eyelids, until they changed horses at Penrith before the final leg of the journey to Carlisle. He spent the next hours glowering out of the window at scenery which appeared to glower back at him. A few solitary flakes of snow drifted about, buffeted on the wind over the barren landscape, and Gwenn regarded them with misgiving.

  After an hour of unexpected peace, Gwenn studied Susan, who had curled up with her head against the squabs and was staring out of the window. Selina sat beside Gwenn, looking at the pictures in the book of Shakespeare’s tales. It occurred to her then that both girls were unusually quiet.

  “Susan, are you well?” she asked, noting the girl looked rather wan.

  “My head hurts,” she admitted, a little tearful. “And my throat is all scratchy.”

  “Oh, dear,” Gwenn said in dismay before turning to Selina.

  “My throat’s sore, too,” the girl said, closing her book and rubbing her eyes.

  “What is it?”

  They all looked around, a little startled by the deep voice after so many hours of silence.

  “I think the girls are coming down with colds,” she said, taking off her glove and putting her hand to Selina’s forehead. “Certainly a little feverish.”

  “What can I do?” Lord Cheam asked at once.