Michelle Styles - Breaking the Governess's Rules

‘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 people entertain without bothering to check the facts.’ Louisa clenched her reticule. She looked forward to seeing Jonathon’s arrogant expression replaced with abject begging. And for each barb he sent her way, she’d make him beg a little longer.

‘Are we going to discuss cooking utensils now, Miss Sibson?’ He gave a slight flourish with his hand, daring her.

‘Is that a pile of stones I see beside you, Lord Chesterholm? What is the state of your soul?’

‘Utensils, stones and souls? I fear I cannot follow this conversation,’ Miss Blandish declared with a slight pout and shake of her golden curls.

‘Honestly, Susan.’ Miss Nella rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘A pot calling a kettle black. And from the Bible about someone without sin casting the first stone. Miss Sibson and Lord Chesterholm are having the most interesting quarrel. Now do be quiet and you might learn things.’

‘It is a long-standing argument,’ Louisa said quickly.

‘Miss Sibson and I used to enjoy such arguments,’ Jonathon said with a teasing glint in his eye. ‘She was quite notorious for her skill with … words.’

‘Miss Sibson was renowned for her wit in Sorrento as well,’ Lord Furniss said, hooking his thumbs into his waistcoat. ‘For my part, I always think of the right words precisely five minutes after I have left a gathering.’

‘My poor tongue is feeble compared to the late Matilda Elliot’s.’ Louisa ducked her head as her insides churned. She had been wrong to give in to that impulse.

‘Come, come, Miss Sibson, false modesty does you few favours,’ Jonathon said. ‘Your remarks were often repeated when you were in my stepmother’s employ.’

Louisa fought against a tide of red heat that threatened to engulf her face and banished it. It was up to her whether or not Jonathon discomforted her. Her choice, not his. She gulped a breath of air and met his gaze full on. ‘I rarely think about that time. It was far from the happiest period in my life.’

‘Indeed.’ His eyes became glacial ice. ‘It is always pleasant to discover the truth of the situation. I regret that you spent one moment of unhappiness.’

Quietly Louisa consigned Jonathon Fanshaw to the hottest room in Hell. He regretted nothing. He had come here to torment her. He probably intended to make it his mission in life. Well, he’d learn that the new Louisa played by a different set of rules. ‘It was a long time ago. I have put it from my mind.’

Jonathon lifted an eyebrow, as if he were inviting the next round. Louisa gave a slight shake of her head and turned her body towards Lord Furniss.

‘What do you think of Newcastle, Lord Furniss? Does it meet with your expectations?’

‘Very much so.’ Lord Furniss made a low bow towards her. ‘The day is brighter for having seen you and my aunt.’

Jonathon began to rapidly speak of the latest John Martin exhibition in London to Mrs Blandish, asking Lord Furniss to comment as he had seen it.

‘The discussion about John Martin should divert their attention,’ Jonathon’s low voice rumbled in her ear. ‘It is a topic of conversation to keep everyone entertained, but not you, I think. You never did care for painting.’

‘You know nothing about me.’ Louisa took a sip of her lukewarm coffee. ‘I happen to enjoy John Martin’s paintings.’

Jonathon pressed his lips together. ‘You do?’

‘I have changed, Jonathon.’

His eyes searched her face. ‘Not that much. You only think you have. And I have only done what your eyes implored me to do—rescue you from Furniss and divert the conversation.’

‘I happen to like Lord Furniss’s company. Why should I want attention diverted?’ Louisa asked between gritted teeth.

‘Our conversation last evening is far from finished,’ Jonathan said, looking down at her with hard eyes. ‘I wait with baited breath, Louisa. Where is your infamous proof? I had fully expected it to land on my breakfast table while you took the first boat out of Newcastle back into the arms of your aged baronet.’

The words stung far more than they should.

‘All things come to those who wait.’

His voice lowered to a seductive and intimate growl, which made her insides curl with warmth. ‘I devotedly hope so.’