Breaking the Governess’s Rules (8 page)

Louisa stared at him. The Jonathon she remembered had been interested in having a good time, drinking and pretty women. He had had little time for history, declaring it to be dull fodder for growing minds. And now he wanted to prove that the wall had been built by Hadrian.

‘Miss Mattie liked cameos—both the Roman paste type and the ones carved from shells. Sorrento has many cameo makers. Did you know that you can tell a real cameo by holding it up to the light?’

‘And how can you tell an errant fiancée?’ Jonathon murmured. ‘One who prefers to jump to conclusions, rather than waiting for answers? One who seeks to deny certain things even when the truth is obvious to everyone else?’

Louisa gritted her teeth and revised her opinion. Jonathon had not changed. He remained the same single-minded man that he had always been. He was seeking to put her off balance. But he was going to be the one to learn and to suffer. ‘I will let you know when I meet one.’

J
onathon watched with grim amusement as Louisa marched down the hall towards the library, her shoulder blades twitching in mock indignation. She expected seduction. Good. She needed the anticipation. But it would be she who seduced him, and not here but at Chesterholm. Miss Elliot had neatly solved his problem. Louisa would be going to Chesterholm. It would give him the perfect opportunity.

In the intervening years, Louisa’s beauty had grown and matured rather than diminished. Her clothes and hair might not be precisely up to the minute, but there was a certain sensuousness about the way she moved and the way the light lit the red fire in her hair. His body stirred with anticipation.

He could remember what she’d looked like—her glorious titian hair spread across his pillow and body, long white limbs and rosy mouth whispering how their love was eternal, how he was the only man for her. Right
before she’d disappeared. Now she was back and her beauty, instead of fading, had deepened and ripened.

On how many other men had she practised her schemes? How many other men had run their fingers through her hair, enjoying its silky smoothness as it covered their bodies like a protective cloak? Had she kissed the baronet? Furniss?

A surge of jealous anger went through him. He refused to think about any other man touching her. The current of desire ran between them, unabated after all these years. Jonathon clenched his fist around the head of his silver-topped cane and regained control of his body. The important thing was ensuring Louisa did precisely what he wanted her to, rather than thinking about his rivals.

She walked quickly to the library and with practised movements began to pull out the various drawers where the cameos were stored, talking very quickly and loudly about the merits and where the collection was from.

Jonathon wondered how many times she had played this little game, keeping the door open just wide enough so as not to excite the servants’ curiosity. Once he had thought innocence and purity had shone from her face. An uneasy thought whispered in the back of his mind that she had been pure until he had introduced her to the arts of love and subterfuge. He silenced the thought. He had to get her out of her environment and into his. They would start playing by his rules. Now.

Jonathon closed the door with a decisive click, half-expecting an immediate protest at the impropriety. Louisa stopped for a moment and their gazes held. Her lips parted as if she was about to protest, but then she
gave a slight shrug and concentrated on straightening the cameos.

‘You will want to see the best. It took me a moment to find them and here they are.’

She pushed a drawer forwards. The deft movement emphasised the length of her fingers, slender and tapering but with a certain resilient strength.

He had always admired her hands and how they moved. When he was recovering from the accident, he had lain awake, imagining what it would be like to have his brow stroked. He could remember her innocent hesitant touch becoming more assured as she had gained in confidence until she’d touched his body with the skill of a courtesan, playing it like a musician plays a fine instrument. But it had been that underlying innocence that had heated his blood to fever pitch.

He wrenched his thoughts away from the past.

Her lips curved up into a secret smile, challenging him to make his move. ‘This is the cream of the collection. Miss Mattie used to show all her visitors these cameos. The fact that others coveted them only increased their value.’

‘Where is Eros? Psyche is alone in each of these cameos.’

‘You know the myth!’ Her eyes widened in astonishment.

‘Going to Eton did give me a classical education, Louisa. The myth serves as the basis for
Beauty and the Beast
and several other fairy tales.’ Jonathon leant forwards and dared her to say the truth.

‘Eros abandoned Psyche. He flew away and left her to
her fate. Miss Mattie and I prefer the ones with Psyche alone and surviving. They are more honest.’

The words cut through him, but he pushed the thought away. He had not abandoned her. He drew a steadying breath and kept his gaze on her. Louisa had obviously forgotten the entirety of the story. Eros had won in the end. He had made Psyche into a goddess.

‘Or could it be that Miss Mattie was shocked?’ He allowed his eyes to dance. ‘Some in my late uncle’s collection are very
risqué.
Eros and Psyche intertwined. Hardly the subject for an unmarried spinster.’

‘This one might be to your taste.’ Her eyes flashed fire. ‘You do, I believe, have a healthy appreciation of the female form.’

‘On occasion.’

He held out his hand. She dropped the cameo into his palm, being careful not to touch him. Psyche about to enter the underworld stared up at him, her figure much as he remembered Louisa’s.

‘What else does the
collection
offer? Which ones are
your
favourites? Do you have a healthy appreciation of the masculine form?’

Louisa’s tongue flicked out and moistened her lips. Her hands pressed harder against the table and her pupils flared slightly. Her breath emerged as a hiss before she seemed to regain control and reached for the drawer again. ‘That is a personal question. Are we now moving to the personal, Lord Chesterholm?’

‘Everything between us is personal, Louisa. But I can answer the question. You once watched me bathe.’

‘You have no interest in the cameos.’ She gripped the drawer so tightly that her knuckles shone white. ‘Why
lie? Why not tell the truth? You intend to seduce me, but you will fail, sir.’

Her tongue flicked over her lips and he knew she remembered. It was enough for now. Soon, they would repeat the performance. Slowly. With candlelight flickering, red rose petals shimmering on the water and the soap sliding over her naked back as she sighed. Jonathon forced his mind from the image.

‘You have no idea what I am interested in,’ Jonathon said, crossing his arms. ‘You make assumptions without bothering to discover the facts. I inherited my uncle’s collection. I know the difference between the modern and the ancient. Between the German paste and the carved shells from Naples. But I want to learn more.’

‘Why?’

‘Because Chesterholm was robbed recently and they jumbled up the cameos. My uncle never trusted the so-called experts. So I am not entirely sure what there is and what is missing. Teach me, Louisa. Everything.’

He watched as her fingers fiddled with the cameos.

‘Come with me to Chesterholm,’ he purred and waited.

Instantly her backbone straightened. ‘No.’

Jonathon blinked. He had misjudged the situation. ‘What do you mean, “no”?’

‘You closed the door. You seek to use this collection for your own purposes.’ Louisa ticked each point off her fingers. ‘Deny that if you will. There is another purpose to you.’

‘The light is better with the door closed.’ He smiled, daring her to deny it. ‘I want you to come to Chesterholm and help.’

‘Why would you ever think that I would agree to help you? After all you did to me?’ Her treacle-heavy voice taunted him as her eyes became more catlike. Jonathon tried to see the girl he had loved so desperately all those years ago, but all he could see was the harridan in the making who cared more for objects than people.

‘Does Miss Elliot even know what happened between us?’

‘She knows that you ruined me. I drew a veil over the details.’

‘You failed to inform Miss Elliot that we were engaged. Or that you left without speaking to me.’ Jonathon stared at Louisa in astonishment. ‘It is a wonder that Miss Elliot continues to receive me. Perhaps she thinks there is more to it than your story.’

‘Do not seek to judge me, Jonathon.’ Her cat eyes narrowed and spat fury, but her breath was far too quick and her lips glistened from where her tongue flicked. Jonathon took a steadying breath as he felt his control begin to slip. He concentrated on the cameos and regained his purpose.

‘Some day, you will learn, Louisa. When you are playing games, decide in advance the sort of reaction you are hoping to provoke.’

‘What sort of response would that be?’ She tossed her head back slightly. ‘Why do you think I seek anything from you?’

The very air crackled between them. Reaching into the depths of his will-power, Jonathon forced his hands to stay at his sides. If he reached for her now, he would be the one punishing her with a kiss. When they next
kissed, it would come from her. She would be the one to shatter.

‘Anything at all.’ An uncertain pucker appeared between her perfectly arched brows.

‘Are you seeking to be kissed?’ he said in a lazy voice. ‘I thought last evening would have shown you how dangerous that is.’

Her rosebud mouth became a perfect O and colour flamed on her cheeks. Deep within him, Jonathon was relieved that she could blush, that not all of her innocence was gone. He reached for her. Fury came into her eyes and she twisted out of his grasp.

‘Not much for pleasant conversation or small talk, are you, Jonathon? Always seeking to dominate with the physical. You did not get my immediate agreement to go with you, so you are going to attempt to seduce me into it. The answer will remain no, no for all eternity.’

‘I have never felt the need to dominate or use force.’ He took a step closer, touched her arm with a featherlight brush of his hand. She did not move. ‘You came to my bed willing. Stop pretending otherwise.’

‘I have never pretended.’ Louisa retreated and bumped against a drawer with a small thud. ‘No doubt in time, you will find someone else to answer your questions about cameos. We would not suit. And in any case, I am wanted elsewhere.’

‘When do you depart England?’

Her eyes darted everywhere but on his face. His blood boiled as Furniss’s intelligence from last night was confirmed. She was going to leave, thinking that he would not follow and that she could live in relative obscurity abroad. A miscalculation on her part.

‘We only came for a visit. That visit is now over.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘We are in the waning days.’

‘You are planning to abandon Miss Daphne without asking if she wants to visit Chesterholm.’

‘Why would she want to do that? She has never mentioned going there before.’ Her voice sounded suddenly less certain. She bit her lip. ‘But you distract me. Read this. Then tell me that I lie.’

She reached into her reticule and withdrew a heavily creased piece of paper. The ink was blotched in a few places as if she had cried over it. His heart twisted and he knew the image of her crying would haunt his dreams.

He took the stained piece of paper in silence and rapidly perused it. Four months on from his accident, he had been recovering at the Newtons’, practising his first steps with Clarissa hovering at his elbow. His stepmother had paid for Louisa’s passage out to Italy and had asked Louisa to contact her when she arrived. She had also informed her to be careful as fallen women never fully recovered. At the end Venetia had wished her a happy twenty-first birthday. Spiteful and cruel words.

He folded the letter and put it in his pocket, refusing to think how they had planned to spend that birthday compared to how she must have actually spent it. ‘I believe you, Louisa, but this changes nothing between us.’

Unshed tears shimmered in her eyes. ‘Do you know what it is like, Jonathon, to be made to feel like you are a piece of dirt on the bottom of a shoe? To have everyone see the shame on your cheek?’

‘You exaggerate.’ He touched her soft cheek, but she turned her face away.

‘It is in my past.’ Louisa’s knuckles shone white against the blackness of her reticule. ‘I have another future, far different from the one your stepmother had planned for me. Nightly I go on my knees and thank God for Miss Mattie and her offer when I was at my lowest ebb. Trust me, Jonathon, the girl I once was has long since vanished.’

A cold fury filled Jonathon. He had promised to protect Louisa and she had not even believed in him enough to demand to hear the words from his lips. She had believed Venetia. His late uncle had been right when he’d said that there could be no love without trust. Louisa had not trusted him. She had not loved him. It changed nothing, but it still hurt. ‘Why did you believe my stepmother rather than my promises to you?’