Sarah Mallory - Temptation Of A Governess

The door opened and he turned, expecting to see Diana there, but instead it was Fingle.

‘Miss Grensham sent me to tell you that dinner would be served in an hour, my lord, and to see if you required anything in the meantime.’

‘Yes, I require her company.’

The butler was an old and trusted retainer and at these words he bent a fatherly smile upon his master in a way that made Alex feel about ten years old.

‘Miss Grensham has gone to her room to change for dinner, my lord. I am sure she will be downstairs again just as soon as she is ready.’

Alex kept his lips firmly closed, fighting against the impulse to demand that she hurry up. That would sound petulant in the extreme. He had set out that morning with the intention of holding a reasoned discussion with Diana. To order her to attend him would immediately put up her back. She was not a servant to be commanded. He curbed his impatience to see her again and asked Fingle to bring him some brandy.

* * *

Diana made her way to the drawing room shortly before the dinner hour. As she walked in the earl gave her a frowning look.

‘Are you still in mourning?’

She glanced down at her lavender silk.

‘No, my lord. This is my best evening gown.’

She could have added that it was the only evening gown. She had never needed more. When she had first joined the late earl’s household she had always been invited to join the family for dinner, whenever they were in residence at Chantreys, but one never knew how many guests would be present, and Diana preferred not to be subjected to the stares and pitying looks of strangers. After a while the invitations had stopped.

‘It looks very much like mourning,’ he told her.

‘One might say the same of your cravat, my lord.’

For a long moment they regarded one another, before the earl looked away and walked to the sideboard.

‘Sit down, Miss Grensham. Can I get you a glass of claret, perhaps. Or Madeira?’

‘A little wine, thank you.’ She moved to a chair opposite the one he had been occupying, glad that he was pouring the claret and not watching her limp across the room. ‘What is it you wish to discuss with me, sir?’

‘You are very direct.’ He handed her a glass and returned to his chair. ‘I have already told you, I thought we should become better acquainted. You were always absent whenever I visited the house in the past.’

‘Then the earl and countess would be present. I was not required.’

He stared at her over the rim of his glass.

‘Were you avoiding me?’

She was surprised that his question did not offend. She replied, equally blunt, ‘I was avoiding everyone.’

‘Because you limp,’ he said. ‘What happened?’

‘A broken thigh bone, when I was very young.’ She paused to taste her wine. ‘The doctor set it badly, and although others were brought in they could not undo his incompetence. I was left with my left leg shorter than the right. It does not prevent me from doing anything I wish, but it looks ungainly and makes people uncomfortable. They do not wish to see deformity in the drawing room.’

‘Have you ever considered that if you were to be in society more, people would become accustomed to your...’ he paused ‘...your deformity?’

‘Perhaps, but I go on very well as I am. The children no longer regard it.’

He held her eyes.

‘But you must take them out and about. Does that not make people uncomfortable?’

‘Oh, no,’ she said quietly. ‘I attract no attention at all in the street. Governesses are of no consequence, you see.’

Fingle came in to announce dinner and Lord Davenport rose.

‘Shall we go in?’

He was holding out his arm to her. Diana hesitated, tempted to tell him such courtesy was unnecessary, but he would know that. Silently she slipped her fingers on to his sleeve. It was impossible not to feel the hard muscle beneath the soft wool of his coat. He exuded strength and power, and she felt a tiny tremor of excitement at his proximity.

‘Oh.’

Diana stopped as they entered the dining room. Two places were set at the table, facing each other across the width rather than at either end.

‘I told Fingle to set it thus,’ remarked her companion. ‘I thought it would be an advantage not to be peering the length of the table and shouting at one another.’

He guided Diana to her seat and held her chair. She sank down, suddenly nervous. She had never dined alone with a man before. We are here on business , she told herself sternly. But when the earl took his seat opposite and smiled at her it felt strangely intimate, even though the daylight was still streaming into the room.

The earl’s unexpected presence at dinner had certainly put Cook on her mettle and Diana decided there could be no complaint on the number and variety of dishes that appeared on the table. If the earl was not satisfied with the ragout of lamb and tender young carrots and turnips then there was a cheese pie or a fricassee of eggs and a dessert made with some of Cook’s preciously hoarded quince jelly.

For many months Diana’s meals had been taken alone or with the children and at first she was a little nervous to be in company, but the earl was determined to please and be pleased. He was an excellent host, ensuring that she had her choice of every dish on the table and keeping her wine glass filled. He was at pains to draw her out and she was surprised how easy it was to converse with him. By the time the meal was over she was quite relaxed in his company.

‘I had best leave you to your brandy,’ she said, when the clock chimed the hour.

‘No, please. Stay and talk to me.’

She chuckled. ‘We have talked throughout dinner.’

‘But not about the children.’

She was disappointed. They had been getting on famously, and now they would argue again. She knew it. He signalled to Fingle to refill her wine glass and she did not object. She would not, of course, drink brandy, or port, or even Madeira after dinner. That would be foolish and could lead to her becoming inebriated, but a little more wine might stiffen her resolve when dealing with the earl.

* * *

Alex signalled to the servants to leave the room. He had enjoyed dinner, surprisingly so. He had decided at the outset that he would spare no efforts to charm Diana, but in fact it had been no effort at all. Her education had been thorough and she was an avid reader. Although she lived confined he learned that she corresponded with several long-standing friends and no one had ever cancelled the late earl’s subscription to the London newspapers, so she was well informed and eager to learn. Their discussions ranged from politics to art and philosophy, and if he introduced a subject of which she knew little, her questions and comments were intelligent and interesting. He made sure the wine flowed freely, and as he encouraged her to talk and express her opinions she began to relax, to blossom. Whenever some particular subject caught her interest she would become animated, waving her hands, challenging his views and not afraid to put her own. The one topic they had not touched upon was the children and their removal to another property, but it would soon be time for him to leave, and since that was the reason for his being here, he must make the attempt.

As Fingle shepherded the footmen from the room Alex refilled his glass and sat back, regarding the petite figure sitting opposite him. She would never be a beauty. No coiffeuse would tame that red hair without resorting heavily to the use of pomade, her mouth was too wide and as for those freckles sprinkled liberally across her pert little nose and cheeks, any female with pretensions to fashion would have concealed them with a little powder. Having decided the freckles were a blemish, Alex found himself looking at them again. They did have a certain charm, he conceded. In fact, some men might find them quite attractive...