Kissed at Midnight (9 page)

When he returned to the
house, he found them both in the drawing room. Bundled in Ivy’s arm, the child
looked hot and her skin shone with perspiration. She no longer cried, but that
concerned August more than when she had been screaming. Ivy stood by the window
and had clearly been looking out for him.

“Thank goodness.” She peered
around him. “The doctor isn’t with you?”

“No, he’s doing house calls
at present. He shall be here after lunch.”

She glanced at the clock on
the mantelpiece. “But that’s another three hours.”

“I know.”

Ivy paced across the floor
several times in front of the window. At this rate she’d wear a hole in the
carpet. He understood her unease, felt it himself, yet how many times had he
dealt with stressful situations? Tens, no, hundreds of times. None felt quite
like this though.

“Will you not sit?”

She glanced at the chair as
if it was some foreign object. Tension riddled her body—he saw it in the firm
line of her shoulders and the set of her mouth. Did he really believe her to be
incapable of looking after Elsie properly? August couldn’t be sure. She clearly
felt something for the child, but did that mean she could care for her as a
mother would?

After several moments, she
sat. He reached for the bell pull and thought twice about it. Jamieson would
take an eternity and it would give him something to do. “I shall fetch some
tea.”

Nodding distractedly, she
didn’t glance his way. He longed to go to her and tell her all would be well
but he did not know if it would, and why should he be comforting the governess?
It was hardly the sort of thing an employer would do.

As far as he was concerned,
most governesses where shut away in a room somewhere to care for and teach the
children and were hardly seen. His relationship with Ivy grew more and more unusual
by the day.

August strode to the rear of
the house and down the steps to the kitchens. Mrs Cartwright’s ear-piercing
humming drifted from the laundry room and Jamieson was nowhere to be seen. He
strongly suspected the old man was taking a nap. He patted his jacket and
cursed under his breath. Damn them all.  Would none of his staff do their jobs
properly? What was the point in hiring them?

He boiled a pot of water on
the stove and set about arranging a tray while the kettle heated. Two cups,
sugar, tea leaves in the pot. He’d been quite content with the way his house
ran until Ivy turned up. He hardly needed anyone pander to him, and as grumpy
as Mrs Cartwright was and as slow as Jamieson could be, they left him alone to
work and kept the house clean and him well-fed.

But Ivy... Ivy didn’t leave
him alone. Even when she did. Her sultry voice remained with him wherever he
went and the taste of her lingered on his tongue. He gripped the handle of a
cup and released his hold when he realised the fragile china was on the verge
of breaking.

He eyed the floral print
against his work-roughened, ink-stained fingers. The cup—like Ivy—was innocent,
beautiful, fragile. So easily destroyed. He could push his advantage, he just
knew it, and she’d accept him.

Pouring the water into the
teapot, he carried the tray back upstairs. When he reached the drawing room, he
heard her voice drifting from the room. It brought him back to the first days
of her living in his home. He’d wanted her then too really but not with such a
deep ache. This agony clawed at his gut. He disgusted himself. Elsie was ill
and Ivy was an innocent. His thoughts could not be more inappropriate.

August turned his back to
the door to push it open and the singing stopped abruptly. He placed the tray
on the table next to the chair and sat opposite her.

“You don’t need to stop
singing because of me. Elsie likes it,” he commented as he poured tea for them
both. “Be sure to have plenty of sugar. You look a little pale.”

She slipped a shy glance at
him. “I cannot.”

“Cannot have sugar?”

“Sing in front of you.”

“Why ever not? You have a
fine voice.”

Ivy lifted her shoulders.
“I’m not sure.” Her lips twitched. “Perhaps you intimidate me.”

His own lips curved in
response. Apparently he couldn’t control them any more than he could control his
desires. “I don’t see you being intimidated by anyone.”

“Oh, it does happen, sir...I
mean, August. Besides which, I think you do a fine job of appearing
intimidating.”

Letting a brow rise, he eyed
her. Did he? He wasn’t sure it was intentional. He liked things done a certain
way and was used to being in charge of everything. Things ran better that way.
But did that make him intimidating?

“I don’t intend to intimidate,”
he said stiffly.

“Then perhaps you should
work on that.”

“No one has ever called me intimidating.”

“No one dared, I’d wager.”

Elsie released a little
mumble and Ivy cast a worried glance her way. She hushed her, pressing a hand
to her warm cheek. August came to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder.

He couldn’t help himself. He
needed to reassure her. Worry ate into his gut for Elsie but at the same time,
he had the urge to wrap his arms around Ivy and let her know everything would
be well. It might not be, but she seemed so small and vulnerable suddenly, he
had to reassure her.

“Everything will be well,”
he told her.

When she glanced up at him,
he saw trust in her gaze. It fisted around his heart and entangled him with her
further. She offered him a tender smile and he feared that was it, he was lost.

Lost to the bloody
governess. What a bloody mess he was in.

August’s grim expression as he saw the doctor out sent
her heart plummeting to her toes. Elsie had to be very sick indeed if the thin
line of his mouth was anything to go by. The child was sleeping after being
checked over by the doctor but Ivy had the urge to run upstairs, scoop her up
and press her fiercely to her chest. Poor, innocent child. First her parents
dead and now this. Life was so unfair.

The door shut, August drew
in an audible breath and faced her. He folded his arms and looked so very... intimidating.
Had she not told him he needed to stop looking like that?

“What is it?” she asked, her
voice sounding fragile to her ears.

“Teething.”

Ivy gaped at him for several
heartbeats. “Pardon?”

“Bloody teething.” He
slashed a hand through his hair. “All that worry and for what? Her teeth are
coming through and that sometimes gives them a temperature and red cheeks.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

His jaw twitched. “You would
have known this had you had any proper experience with children.”

She jerked from the way the
words were shot at her, feeling as though she had been struck by arrows. “I...”

He was right. She knew
little about children, particularly babies. But that didn’t mean she was bad at
her job. She cared for Elsie—maybe more than cared—and she worked her hardest
to ensure the child was looked after. Drawing up her shoulders, she met his
heated glare.

“I told you I was a
governess not a nursemaid. You knew this when you offered me the job.”

“You should not have taken
it if you were not confident you could do it.”

“I needed a job and I think
I’ve done it well. Has she come to harm? No. I would never have accepted if I
thought I could do some damage.”

“Damn it, Mrs Pepperwhite
was right...”

“Mrs Pepperwhite?” Anger
boiled in her veins at the mention of that woman’s name. Her dismissive
attitude to her and the way she insinuated some interest in August still riled
her.

He waved his hand
dismissively. “Elsie needs a mother, not a governess.”

Arms folded under her
breasts, she narrowed her gaze at him. “Well, you had better go and find
yourself a wife then, had you not?”

His gaze narrowed too and he
peered down his nose at her. “Perhaps I will.”

“Good. I wasn’t going to do
this job forever, you know? I have ambitions too, I have a life I want to live.
I certainly never intended to work for a grouchy, miserable man for the rest of
my life.”

The words were out before
she’d thought about them. She wasn’t sure what she meant and what she did not.
He hardly gave her time to regret them when he took a step closer.

“Ambitions? What ambitions?”

“I...” Should she tell him?
If she did, he might think her a whore or a woman of lose morals. But at present,
she did not much care. “I wish to be a singer.” Chin lifted, she stared him
down and waited for the dismissive smirk or the horror to edge into his blue
eyes.

His expression remained
stony. “A singer. Indeed. Well, I wish you good luck. If you’ll excuse me, I
have much work to do and I have wasted much of my day. The doctor said a little
whisky on the gums and in Elsie’s milk should do the trick. Just a drop mind.”

With that he left and though
he closed the door slowly, the slight clunk rattled through her.

It was as though someone had
put a pin in her and she had deflated. Where were his angry declarations or
exclamations of disgust? Almost everyone she knew had expressed utter horror at
her ambitions. But August didn’t seem to care.

He didn’t care about her
enough to care what she did with her future. What a fool she was. She had begun
to invest her emotions in this man for some strange reason and it had all been
for nothing.

She sighed and stared out of
the window. Silly her for caring what he thought. Carriages trundled past and a
man in a tall hat strolled across the street, swinging his cane as he went. But
Ivy barely saw it. She offered a small smile to her reflection in the glass. At
least she didn’t have to worry about leaving Elsie. If August found a wife, she
would be in good hands. Ivy only hoped he didn’t marry Mrs Pepperwhite. The
woman really was quite... well, quite the vile creature in truth.

Turning away from her
reflection, she headed upstairs, grateful not to run into August in the
hallway. When she entered the nursery, she heard Elsie’s slow breaths and
warmth stirred in her chest. She stood watching her for many minutes, eyeing
the smooth curve of her cheek and the way her tiny fingers flexed in sleep. Ivy
had never really considered how sweet babies could be, but Elsie really was a
pretty little thing. It was hard not to feel attached to her when the child
never hesitated to burrow her head against her and smile when she saw her in
the morning.

Ivy settled in the chair
next to the cot. Her skirts scrunched against the padding and she cringed,
fearing it would wake Elsie, but the child slept on. She didn’t really need to
watch over her but what else could she do? She hardly felt comfortable sitting
in the drawing room now for fear of seeing August.

Fingers to her temples, she
rubbed them. She should be grateful she had not been let go, she supposed. Not
many masters would tolerate a governess with such a bold tongue. Sometimes she
wished she knew better how to control it.

***

A soft touch to her hand woke her. She rolled her head to
one side and peered blearily at the face in front of her. She jolted upright.

“Oh dear, forgive me.” She
went to stand to check on Elsie, when August pressed her back down with a
gentle touch to her arm.

“She’s fine. She’s still
sleeping.”

Ivy looked up at August,
taking in his slightly mussed state. Gone were his necktie and jacket, and his
shirt sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows. It gave her a fine view
of his strong forearms and a little flesh was visible at the collar of his
shirt. A hint of dark hair reminded her of the night she’d seen him almost
naked. A warm sensation like the flow of alcohol rushed through her.

“I didn’t mean to fall
asleep.”

“You’ve had a tiring day.”

She tried to focus on the
clock on the mantelpiece but it had to be early evening as the room was growing
dark, and only one oil lamp was lit in the corner.

“What time is it?” Her voice
sounded gritty and her head felt just as thick from sleep.

“Just past six o’clock.”

“I missed supper?”

He drew a chair over and sat
next to her. “We both did. Mrs Cartwright isn’t very impressed.”

“Oh dear.”

“I believe she kept the ham
for sandwiches. I’ll have her plate something up for us later.”

Ivy nodded slowly. Why was
he being so nice to her? She had caused him so much worry and strain, then
thrown the job he’d offered her in his face.

A hand to her mouth, she
suppressed a yawn. When she returned her hand to the arm of the chair, she
found he’d leaned across and put his hand to the wood. Her palm connected with
the outside of his hand and when she went to draw it away, he snatched her
fingers. The rough warmth sent a surge of instant comfort through her that
barely smothered the accompanying thrill.

August enclosed her fingers
in his and leaned across to eye her intently. “I did not mean to be angry with
you earlier.”

A little breathless from his
touch, Ivy stared back. In the dim light, the lines on his forehead were stark,
lending him a slightly harassed look. She longed to reach over and smooth those
lines, but more than that, she wanted to press her lips to them and soothe away
his worries. She hadn’t done a terribly good job of easing his stresses so far.
Instead she had added to them by not understanding what was wrong with Elsie.

“You were right,” she said
softly. “I do not know enough about babies.”

“And you were right. I knew
of your lack of experience but I still expected you to take on the role without
instruction.” A gleam entered his gaze and those lips that were so often in a
firm line curled upwards just marginally. “You are quite the creature, Ivy. You
took to it so very well.”

Ivy glanced at the crib.
“It’s not been easy but she is a dear little thing.”

He followed her gaze. “Yes,
I suppose she is.”

“Will you really look for a
wife?” she asked, the question spilling from her before she’d thought about it.

He lifted a shoulder. “I
suppose I should. I haven’t paid much mind to marrying but Elsie needs a
mother, needs things I can’t give her.”

“You give her much.”

He gave her a frank look.
“I’m hardly a paragon of fatherhood.”

Aware she likely looked like
a star-struck child, she shook her head. “I think you’ve done wonderfully. Few
men would take on another’s child alone. Had she been left with anyone else,
Elsie would have been abandoned in an orphanage.”

The thought of the helpless
child left alone with no love or affection made her heart squeeze. She was
mightily glad August had decided to keep and care for her. He might be busy
with work and not overly affectionate, but she saw some love in him for the
child. If he didn’t care for her, he would not have been so concerned for her
health.

She suspected August had
some hidden depths to him. Perhaps he could even become an affectionate father
if he allowed himself or... or if the right woman helped him.

Her heart squeezed again at
that thought—the image of a perfect family. A beautiful blonde lady holding
onto August’s arm as a young Elsie held his hand. Moments shared that Ivy would
never experience. Once she found success in the music world, a family would be
far out of her reach for what man would want to marry an ambitious singer and
have a life with a woman who could not offer the time to motherhood?

She studied his profile as
he gazed at the crib. A sigh worked its way out of her throat.

So handsome.

Even with the lines on his forehead
and the slight shadows under his eyes, his firm jaw and lips called to her. Her
fingers twitched with the desire to skip them down his profile and press them
against the warmth of his mouth.

“I’d hoped my cousin in
America might come and look after her, but I’ve yet to hear from her.”

“I see.”

So even if he did not find a
wife, this cousin might come back and replace her after all. It was perfect
really. She wouldn’t have to feel guilty when she found a singing job, when she
became a singing star. Oh, why did her heart feel as heavy as a sack full of coal?

“And then you can pursue
singing,” he said with a tight smile.

“Yes, I suppose I can.”

His blue eyes were
unreadable. They searched her gaze through the gloom for something. Whatever it
was, she wanted to offer it to him. More than anything she wanted to give
something to this hard-working, beautiful man.

Take it all, whatever it is
,
she wanted to say. For the first time in her life, her ambitions did not seem
at the forefront of her mind. It was the oddest sensation.

August broke away first, loosening
his hold on her hand before standing. Ivy shook her head at her thoughts. All
of them were folly, even if she fully understood them. What could a man like
August Avery need from a woman like her?

“You should come and eat.”

She stood and smoothed her
hand down her skirts. “I’m not all that hungry.” Confusion had stolen any appetite
she might have.

Concern flickered in his
gaze. “You must eat, Ivy.”

The thought of sitting alone
in the kitchen with a plate of cold ham didn’t appeal, so she shook her head
firmly. “I think I’ll just get some rest.”

He dipped his head in
acknowledgement. “As you will.”

She turned to the door
adjoining her bedroom to Elsie’s and was forced to a stop by his hand curling
around her wrist. Wide-eyed, she twisted to stare up at him.

“I would like it if you
would join me for something to eat.”

Ivy opened her mouth but no
sound came out. Apparently her voice had vanished. A foolish squeak of sound
forced its way out. Then he used his hold on her wrist to draw her closer. This
time only heavy breaths rasped in her throat. How foolish she must seem.

Gulping, she nodded slowly.
Now she was only a pace away from him. At this point, she would likely agree to
anything he asked of her be it for her to jump off the roof or roll around in
the filthy streets. Each part of her body felt vibrantly aware of him and at
the same time, weak and useless. She came closer still and this time it was her
own feet that closed the gap, rather than his grasp on her.

She glanced at his hand and
wriggled her wrist free. He let her go—gave her a choice. Return to her room
and rest, or stay with him. But she didn’t want food. A deep, hungry ache sat
in her stomach but none of it could be attributed to hunger.