Pleasing the Colonel (7 page)

She nodded quickly. “Yes, sir,” she whispered.

“Go on, then,” he said gently.

He watched her go and then leaned his head back on the couch with a groan, the image of her squirming bottom, her parted thighs, and her sweet, delicate sex seared forever in his mind.

* * *

At lunch several days later, the Colonel handed her a letter. At first she thought it might be a job offer from the letters of inquiry she had sent out, but instead it was from her cousin Joseph Belford, the relative who had taken over her father's estate without helping her family in the slightest. She felt that familiar ire rise in her as she opened the letter.

Dear Miss Watson,

I am writing to you, as you seemed to be the only female in your family capable of handling any business affairs. I believe I have given you enough time to come to some arrangement for the remainder of the property belonging to your mother; namely, the pieces of furniture and the two ponies that you requested I not sell. I simply cannot continue to board your ponies here at Helmcamp. It is absurd that you should have requested such a thing. Likewise, we have moved the furniture into the old stable, but cannot continue to keep it either, as we will be purchasing new horses and will require the use of both stables.

If you cannot collect these belongings within the next two weeks, I will sell them and send you the proceeds. Please respond at once.

Sincerely,

Joseph R. Belford

Mandy blew her breath out with a huff, her hand squeezing the letter so tightly that it began to crumple. She pressed her lips tightly together and blinked back the tears burning in her eyes, her mind whirling with angry thoughts. The Colonel's outstretched hand appeared before her, and without thinking, she handed him the letter. Then she started, realizing what she'd done, and looked at him with dismay. She should not allow her personal problems to appear to affect her ability to conduct herself professionally.

The Colonel read it in silence, then stretched out his hand for the envelope. Again, she found herself automatically handing it to him. He studied the return address. “I would guess this is a half-day's drive from here,” he said, considering her. “We'll go tomorrow.”

She looked at him, stunned. “Wh-what?”

He nodded definitively. “We'll go and get your furniture and ponies and bring them here.”

Tears filled her eyes and spilled over before she could stop them. She dashed at them with the back of her hand, completely overcome. “Colonel Watson—” she brushed at her tears again and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you, sir,” she managed.

“It is nothing,” he said dismissively. “Let's eat, shall we?” he said, waving to the table.

The following day, true to his word, he called for the carriage as well as an empty wagon, hitched to a second team of horses. They set off, the two of them alone together on the journey to the home that was no longer hers. It did cross her mind that it was unseemly for her to travel unchaperoned with the Colonel, but then she immediately dismissed the thought. He was nothing if not of the utmost propriety, and there was the driver of both the carriage and the wagon attending them, so she was not truly alone with the man.

A variety of thoughts flitted through her head as they sat silently in the carriage. She remembered vividly the fateful carriage ride she'd first shared with the Colonel—the one which had nearly ended in disaster. He'd not said more than a word or two on that ride, either. She hadn't liked him when he'd joined their carriage. He had seemed so very stuffy and formal and the atmosphere in the carriage had quickly become stifling.

But then he had been so very capable during the emergency, whilst she had acted like a little fool, drinking brandy and letting her tongue fly loosely. How different he seemed to her now that she knew him. She could see the kindness underneath the stern exterior, though in retrospect, she should have seen it that night, too.

She considered the way he had wiped clear the debt of the advance she'd taken to visit her mother, how he'd come to collect her in the rain, and now this favor, which was overwhelming, really. He was giving her the day off, taking the trouble to personally escort her, providing his carriage and wagon, and offering to keep her furniture and ponies indefinitely. It was truly more than generous. It actually made her uncomfortable to think of him in this light. She'd preferred disliking him as the rigid military man who'd punished her at the end of a leather strap.

She studied the planes of his handsome face. He had a large, square jaw that seemed to go perfectly with his tall, imposing frame. His eyes were dark, the same brown as his hair, which was generally well-kept.

He glanced up and caught her staring. Her breath hitched in her throat and she could not seem to make herself look away—as if her eyes were magnetized to his. A strand of his brown hair had fallen out of place and was hanging over one cheek and her hand actually lightened in her lap as if she were going to stroke it back. With great effort she wrenched her gaze away from his and stared out the window, praying she would not blush as she was prone to do.

They arrived at her family's former home by noon. It produced such an odd mixture of emotions to return—joy at the familiar landscape and the memories, and pain at the reminder of her father's death and the knowledge that this property would never again be hers to enjoy. She closed her eyes and turned her head away from the window to find the Colonel's eyes resting on her face, with a look that vaguely resembled sympathy. She forced a bright smile. “We're here at last.”

“Indeed.” He looked out the carriage window. “No wonder you like my property so well.”

“What? Oh! Yes, the landscape is quite similar, isn't it?”

Mr. and Mrs. Belford both stepped out of the house after looking out the window to see their arrival. Mr. Belford was a tall, arrogant man and his wife was a plump, high-strung, self-centered lady. They were both surprised to see the fine carriage and the two teams of horses arrive, complete with a wagon in tow. She smiled a little, thinking that they probably never dreamed she would be able to respond to their demands.

“Miss Downy!” Mrs. Belford exclaimed when the Colonel handed her out of the carriage. “What a surprise!”

She greeted them politely and introduced the Colonel as her employer. For once, she appreciated his cold demeanor, as it seemed to fluster the Belfords. “Won't you come in for luncheon? The cook was just preparing some cold sandwiches, I believe.”

“Thank you, that would be delightful,” she said, though she really felt it would be anything but. Ever efficient, the Colonel asked Mr. Belford to send a servant to show the two drivers where to find the furniture for loading and to prepare the horses. At lunch the Colonel made polite conversation with Mr. Belford, and she was pleased to notice that Mr. Belford seemed properly impressed with him, having heard of his military career and his relations.

“I think it's quite generous of you to have taken on Miss Downy, considering her lack of experience,” Mrs. Belford had the nerve to say.

Mandy clamped her teeth together. That wretched woman was trying to embarrass her. Not that she could possibly have known that Mandy had lied about her references… unless the neighbor who had vouched for her had told her. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she was filled with a sudden sense of loathing. They meant to embarrass her in front of the Colonel.

* * *

“I consider myself immensely fortunate to have hired someone as qualified and intelligent as Miss Downy. I can't imagine there's a better governess to be had, frankly,” the Colonel interjected, irritated that Miss Downy's relatives would treat her so wretchedly.

He watched Miss Downy flush and flash him a look of gratitude, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. It made him even more angry to see how much his defense meant to her. Somehow this poor young lady had taken the responsibility for her entire family after her father's death, and these relatives had not helped her at all. It was despicable. He felt like throttling the pompous Belford right there.

“So what will you ever do with the furniture? I hope it hasn't turned to rot sitting in our stable all this time.” Belford placed a subtle emphasis on “our stable,” as if to remind Miss Downy that none of this belonged to her anymore.

“The Colonel has kindly offered to store it for me,” she answered matter-of-factly.

Lunch was concluded and he had no intention of dawdling there allowing the Belfords to continue to insult his governess. He went directly outside to see that his men had completely loaded the furniture and hitched the ponies to a lead attached to the wagon.

“We will be off then,” he said rather curtly.

“Give our regards to your mother,” Mr. Belford said to Miss Downy as she bid them goodbye.

It lacked sincerity, and Miss Downy smiled tightly. “Thank you, I will.”

He offered her one hand and used the other on her low back to help her into the carriage. Her waist was so slender and pleasing to touch that he found himself wishing he could assist her climbing in and out of carriages all day. He climbed in after her, settling in for the return carriage ride. He watched with amusement as Miss Downy stole glances at him and then chewed her lip nervously.

“What are you frowning about?” he asked at last.

She tugged at her locket—a nervous gesture he'd noticed previously. “I'm just realizing that perhaps I am wasting your time and resources.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, the truth is, I insisted my cousin save our furniture more out of ire with him than out of any true sentimentality. The ponies, I do indeed love, but the furniture… I mean, it's not that I am so very attached to it, although some pieces are quite nice. It's more that I couldn't stand the idea of Belford throwing our things away, or selling them for a pittance.”

He nodded his understanding.

“But now you've gone to all this trouble to come here and load it up… and I'm a bit embarrassed, actually. Not all of it is high quality and…”

He couldn't help but chuckle—she was adorable. She looked at him in surprise. “You amuse me, Miss Downy.”

She looked disconcerted. “How so?”

He looked out the carriage window for a moment, thoughtfully, then back at her, hiding a smile. “You are…” he waved his hand. “I don't know. I find your confession quite charming.” He smiled at her with fondness.

She blushed. “You're not angry? To have gone to all this trouble of hitching a wagon and carting the furniture all the way back just because I didn't want to give my cousin the satisfaction of disposing of it himself?”

He smiled at her indulgently. “I don't mind in the slightest. Your cousin treated you poorly and you deserve to preserve your dignity by having your belongings restored to you.”

She sat back with a shocked look on her face. He laughed again. “Does that surprise you, Miss Downy?”

She met his eye and he was surprised to see tears glistening there again. “Thank you,” she said with sincerity. “Truly.”

His heart tugged at that. She was pure sweetness. He reached over to pat her hand but before he knew it, he had picked it up and was drawing it toward his mouth. Fortunately, he stopped himself in time—it was not acceptable to kiss the inside of her wrist, nor to pull her into his arms, nor to kiss those raspberry lips. Instead he squeezed her hand and offered understanding, “You know, Miss Downy, you've taken on an enormous responsibility since your father died—handling your family's financial matters without any help.”

Her composure broke and she choked back a sob. He rubbed his thumb soothingly over the back of her gloved hand.

“My father asked me to take care of my mother and my sister after he'd gone,” she said in a strangled voice. “And I've done the best I can, but it hasn't been enough. We are all separated, and neither of them is happy with their new situation.”

“You said your sister is a governess in Banford?” he asked gently.

She looked at him ruefully. “Yes. Is there nothing I said the night of the carriage accident that you didn't commit to memory?”

He chuckled. “Not all of it was damaging,” he reassured her.

“I miss my father so much,” she burst out confidingly. “I never knew how quickly and completely one's world could change.”

His own heart constricted. He remembered that feeling distinctly from his wife Gracie's death. “Aye, death is a cruel mistress,” he said with feeling. “Anyway, I don't want you to feel as though you must shoulder it all alone. I am here to help.”

She sniffled. “I am overwhelmed by your generosity.”

He released her hand and gave her his handkerchief.

After a moment, she looked at him with an impish little smile growing on her lips. “I must confess that I'm not truly sorry that I lied about my references, else I never would have gained your employ.”

He tried to frown, but failed completely and laughed instead. “I cannot approve of your methods,” he said, “but I'm not sorry either.”

* * *

Perhaps because traveling alone with him made Mandy realize just how kind the Colonel was underneath his cold exterior, she began to deplore the stiffness in him even more. Observing him with the children, she noted how they still had not warmed up to him—their own father—and remained formal and nervous in his presence. Considering the children had no parent but him, this seemed tragic.

She noted it particularly when he joined their riding lesson later in the week. His very presence made both children, and therefore the horses, nervous. Fortunately, he had a good way with the animals and he soothed Dusty, her own pony from Helmcamp, which she had chosen as the perfect mount for the children. She had grown up riding Dusty and he was calm and reliable. She had the stable boy saddle him after showing the children how to brush him and feed him a few small carrots.

The Colonel's presence made her nervous, too, she realized. She felt self-conscious about her teaching skills. “Rosie, you'll ride first. Come climb up on this rail, please. All right, now.” She lifted the girl onto the horse, sitting astride. “I'm having her learn to ride astride first, sir,” she said, feeling compelled to explain herself. “Then she can transition to side saddle when she's a bit older and more comfortable.”