Tainted by Temptation (6 page)

Velvet turned. The angular woman had her hand against her chest, as if speaking to Mr. Pendar was unusual.

“Yes. Is Iris ready to go down for breakfast?”

“No.”

“Will you have her ready in ten minutes, please?” Velvet felt snappish. Hungry, overwrought, and ready to bite the head off the next person who interfered with her. Instead, she concentrated on breathing slowly—A feat nearly impossible after climbing four flights of stairs.

“Don’t you wish to wait until after the master has finished?”

“No.” As hungry as she was, she saw no reason to delay. Away from the cliffs, she was regaining her equilibrium.

She sighed. It was almost as if she’d lived a lifetime this morning. She was eager to get to the breakfast table and fully fill her stomach for the first time in months.

An image of Lucian Pendar with his tousled wet hair ruffled by the sea breeze crowded out thoughts of food. A frisson of alarm shuddered down her spine. No matter how solicitous he’d seemed, he was not the reason she was eager to go to breakfast. He couldn’t be.

Nellie continued to stare at her.

“I should like to begin Iris’s lessons by nine,” Velvet said firmly. She needed to begin as she meant to go on and firmly establish her position as Iris’s governess. “I believe we have a great deal of catching up to do.”

“Uh, ma’am, Iris is not fond of the schoolroom.”

Nellie’s pronouncement saved Velvet from ruminating on her fascination with her employer.

“Why is that?” she asked.

Tucking her hands under the bib of her apron, Nellie looked away. “She’s not the most clever when it comes to book learning.”

Nothing Velvet had seen in Iris suggested the girl was slow, but she couldn’t discount the warnings. “Her instruction will include much more than basic subjects. I will be teaching her painting, music, and manners. Perhaps she will find some lessons she likes.”

“Is that why the easel is out?” asked Nellie, as if it had been a great mystery.

A clattering of heels on the stairs brought a breathless young woman to join them. “He’s back.”

The maid pushed past them and ducked inside a room down the hall.

“Who was that?” asked Velvet.

“Meg,” answered Nellie. “She knows better than to be around when the master comes in. Them that knows what’s good for them, stays out of his sight.” Nellie pivoted and strode toward Iris’s room.

Velvet shook her head and continued on to her room.

A chilly breeze swept across her as soon as she opened the door. Her window casements were wide open and the thin strips of muslin that served as curtains flapped.

Her heart leapt to her throat and threatened to choke her. All she needed to do was cross the room and pull the casements shut, but she couldn’t force her feet to move.

She swallowed hard.

No other person would be afraid of open windows, four stories above a cliff. She couldn’t let this terror control her. Instead she wheeled about and headed back down the stairs.

She’d be braver after she ate. Or at least she hoped she wouldn’t be shaking so badly.

“That will be all, Evans.” Lucian snatched his dressing gown from the bed.

“You don’t wish me to help you dress after your bath?” asked Evans as he pressed the wet bathing suit in a towel.

“No, I’ll manage.”

“Very good, sir.” Evans slipped into the dressing room.

Once Lucian was in the bath, his man would slip back in the room and retrieve the Turkish robe, but he didn’t need Evans’s company at the moment. The company he wanted didn’t reciprocate his interest. He was probably the only man in the world who could repulse an indiscriminate seductress.

Not only had Miss Campbell betrayed her terror, the upstairs maid had gone scurrying when he startled her. He’d thought after three years the day staff would stop thinking he was just waiting to pitch the next woman off the cliffs.

He dropped the wet robe to the floor and turned to stuff his arms in the clean dry dressing gown, only to find Eve’s painted blue eyes staring at him.

He winced, hoping he hadn’t traumatized the doll with his aroused condition. Then he shook his head at the thought.

The doll had been his attempt to erase a six-year-old’s memories of her mother and replace them with an idealized version of a mother who cared enough to buy her child a doll for Christmas. He probably would have done better to bury Lilith’s memories with her.

Not only Eve, but three other expensive dolls sat in his armchair. He brought one back for Iris on every trip he went. Every six to eight weeks he needed to travel to take care of his business interests. He frowned at the dolls.

Iris probably needed a new mother, a matronly woman who truly cared about children. He sighed. He’d considered remarriage a dozen times and always dismissed it. Perhaps he was old enough now that no one would think it odd if he married a widow with children. The house should have children. It was too big for him and Iris. Too bad he didn’t know any widows who fit his requirements.

Lost in thought, he left his room and headed toward the bathroom at the far end of the hallway. He’d taken half a dozen steps when Velvet rounded the corner at the top of the main stairs. She was the last woman he wanted to see right now, but they would have to pass in the hall as she moved toward the stairs past his bedroom, which led to the nursery floor.

“Miss Campbell,” he said.

She nodded. “Sir.”

“If you want the dolls, they’re in the chair by the window.” He gestured back toward his room.

He could still read the fright in her eyes, but she raised her chin. “Iris has yet to pick the ones she will give away.”

So Eve would be witnessing his dressing and undressing a while longer. Giving a brisk nod, he moved past Velvet. She seemed to plaster her body against the wall as if he were a leper she couldn’t bear to touch.

He took a few steps toward the bathroom and the warm water that might release the growing knot from the back of his neck. His fist clenched, and the boil of anger, never far away, began anew. He pivoted and returned to Velvet.

“You have no reason to fear me.”

“No?” She met his gaze squarely.

Ages had passed since a woman met his gaze without her attention straying to the scars, or had even carried on a conversation with him. He was uncertain of his read on her. “No. I am not in the habit of tossing beautiful women off cliffs.”

“A habit would require a repeated behavior, wouldn’t it?”

He was at a loss for words. She certainly wasn’t shy about challenging him. His heartbeat quickened and he took a step closer.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” She ducked her head. “It was impertinent and . . .” Her gaze darted left and right. “ . . . and Mrs. Bigsby said breakfast won’t be served until you are downstairs.”

He frowned. “Didn’t you get the tray? I told Evans to have Cook send up a light meal.”

“About that. I do not wish to be treated differently than any other governess who has gone before me.”

“But you . . .” He let his voice trail off. Her condition prompted his concern, but he’d been condemned for it. As if he’d been trying to seduce her with chocolate and buns. The misconstruing of his intentions was typical, but it cut him nonetheless.

He stared into her snapping green eyes. The challenge was there, her fear too. Her pale pink lips needed to be relaxed with kisses. Her willowy form should bend to his. His arousal and need were in danger of defeating him. He hated to lose control.

“Don’t hesitate to treat me as you treated your previous employer either.”

She gasped and went pale. “I’m not what you think I am,” she whispered.

“No?” He leaned close. “
You
believe the rumors about
me.
”

Her eyes widened but her voice was low and soothing. “Rumors are often riddled with falsehoods.”

“And enough truth to make them appear valid,” he returned.

A wash of pink stained her cheeks.

Were the rumors about her wrong? Had she been a seductress or had her previous employer forced himself on her? But then that would not explain the tales of her becoming her former student’s mistress.

Her willingness to linger in the hall with him only made him want her more. Grimes would have ducked her head and been on her way—of course her avoidance of him might have been as much about hiding her drinking. Velvet wouldn’t be hiding from him; he wouldn’t allow it. He would know every move she made. He’d know if she catted around; not that she had a lot of likely prospects in the household, beyond him.

Her chest rose and fell in a rapid tempo. Too rapid. He took another step closer.

Her breath hitched but she didn’t step back.

Her green eyes were like the sea, full of secrets and surprises. He couldn’t tear his gaze away. Breathing deeply, he inhaled her soft feminine scent, a scent he remembered from carrying her up the stairs. Another step and their bodies would brush. His heart pounded and the air sizzled.

Only the thinnest thread of sanity kept him in check, but from his second invitation to his room before breakfast she had to know he wanted her in the way a man wants a beautiful woman.

He touched her satiny cheek.

Her breathing stopped, and like a deer caught in that moment before it bounded away, she tensed. The only way to postpone the inevitable flight was with slow easy movements.

Her lashes fluttered as if she were uncertain what to do. He trailed his finger down her pale smooth cheek to the corner of her mouth and then slowly traced along the curve of her lower lip.

Her breath came out in a rush, feathering over his palm in warm damp heat.

“Velvet,” he whispered.

Her head snapped to the side, she clamped her lips together and her eyes shut. Her hand came up between them, stopping just short of pushing him away.

“Don’t. Please. I’m not . . . not what you think I am,” she whispered.

“Nor am I,” he answered. He didn’t force women dependant on him for their livelihood to his bed. His heart wasn’t that black . . . yet. He backed away. “I’ll have the craftsman who fixes your door install locks.”

She raised a shaking hand to her mouth.

He swiveled, heading toward the bath that had probably grown tepid with his delays. “Use them.”

V
elvet trembled as Mr. Pendar walked away, his caged energy holding her trapped. If only she didn’t have to travel the length of the second floor, past his bedroom, to reach the narrow staircase to the nursery floor.

Attuned to every sound, she jumped when the bathroom door clicked shut. A double splash followed. Not twenty feet from her, he was naked, stepping into the bathtub. And she was trying to imagine what he looked like without clothes. Oh God, what was wrong with her?

She turned and darted toward the narrow stairs. By the time she reached the top, her lungs were straining and her vision was spotty and narrow.

Like an imbecile, she’d stood there waiting for his kiss. The way he’d traced her lower lip with his finger seemed far more intimate. Her heart thundered and her legs shook.

Gulping in air, she reached for her door. She still had to face closing the windows, although the prospect of shutting them seemed less frightening than waiting for Mr. Pendar to kiss her, drag her into his room and toss her onto the bed.

Would anyone come to save her if she screamed this time?

Even if she was saved from ravishment, there was no place left for her to go if she was turned out. Worse than that, for a second she’d just want to give in to the inevitable and learn the mysteries of the joining of the flesh.

“Did you see him? Has he gone down yet?” asked a housemaid peering out of a room down the corridor.

Velvet whirled. “I believe he’s bathing.”

The young woman rolled her eyes. “What is taking him so long today? He’s usually downstairs by now.”

Velvet closed her eyes and leaned against her door frame. She’d delayed Lucian, not once, but twice this morning. And delayed her breakfast in turn. Now, she didn’t even know if she could eat in his presence. The gnawing in her gut told her she had to.

Meg opened the door to Iris’s room.

Velvet shuddered.

“Are you cold?” Meg asked. “I thought it would be a good idea to air out your room on such a lovely day. I don’t know the last time it was seen to.” She cast a dark look over her shoulder at Nellie, who had emerged from Iris’s room.

“I’m out of coal,” said Velvet resignedly. Without a fire to burn off the chill, her room would be miserable. There was no way she could lug a bucket of coal up the stairs from the cellar.

She was weaker than she’d ever been in her life. The stairs were practically defeating her. Never would she have thought a few flights would wind her so. It had taken her nearly a quarter hour to get a half-full pail of water up one flight to scrub the schoolroom this morning. The days she could skip up all 122 steps of the bell tower in her father’s church seemed eons ago.

The stiff breeze coming in the window cooled her flushed skin.

“I’ll take care of it, ma’am.” Meg bobbed a curtsy.

Iris followed Nellie out of her room. “I’m ready.”

Velvet turned and found the girl decked out in a frothy yellow dress covered by a ruffled pinafore and her golden hair tamed into long sausage curls. A large yellow ribbon held her hair back from her face. Other than her sulky expression, she looked like an angel. “You look lovely, Iris.”

“I didn’t want you looking prettier than me.”

Velvet sighed. She crouched, putting herself on the eye level of the child. “No one will think you pretty if you frown at them. What would you do if your face froze like that?”

Iris twisted left and right. “I want Eve back.”

“Have you picked out four other dolls to give away at church this Sunday?” Velvet stood.

“Where did you hide her?”

Velvet shook her head. “You may have her back when you pick out four dolls to give away.”

“I’ll find her,” said Iris, then darted toward the stairs.

“Iris!” Velvet caught her charge before she could run past. “Ladies walk indoors.” Closing her eyes, she realized how hypocritical she sounded. “You and I will walk down to the breakfast room.”

She caught Iris’s arm in a tight grip and headed downstairs.
Please just don’t let me run into him again.

Iris gave up on trying to make Miss Campbell let her go. Her grip had loosened, but every time she started to move away, Miss Campbell tightened her hold again.

“Now where do we go?” asked Miss Campbell.

“You don’t know?”

“I’m not certain,” said Miss Campbell, looking around. “I only saw briefly in the gloom yesterday. You know where all the rooms are, don’t you?”

Miss Campbell’s breathy voice made Iris want to be kind to her. Perhaps she was sick, as her papa thought. “I’ve lived here my whole life.”

“If we have a little time after breakfast, you might show me around a bit.”

“All right,” answered Iris. Anything was better than the classroom. Perhaps she could make the tour stretch out for days. And she could look for Eve. For not knowing the house, Miss Campbell had hidden the dolls well.

“My favorite room was always my father’s office,” said Miss Campbell.

“I’m not allowed in my papa’s study.” She’d been lucky he hadn’t yelled at her when she came in to tell him about Miss Campbell lying in the rain.

Miss Campbell looked down on her. “Yes, well it doesn’t do to disturb a man at his work. But sometimes my father would let me join him, if I sat very quietly. His office always smelled of books.”

Clenching her jaw, Iris jerked toward the breakfast room. She hated books. On no account would she show Miss Campbell there was a room full of books.

Miss Campbell wrinkled her forehead but she continued on, “Do you have a favorite room?”

“My mama’s sitting room,” blurted Iris before she could stop herself. She hadn’t been allowed in there either, at least not while her mama was alive. But no one cared now. She could spend hours in there, and rarely was she missed. It was her special secret place now.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” said Papa just as they reached the door.

Miss Campbell’s hand tightened.

“Ow!” Iris twisted away. Not that Miss Campbell’s grip really hurt, but she wanted to break free. She rubbed her arm and watched Papa to see if he realized the new governess was mean. Papa didn’t like governesses being mean to her, and maybe she could persuade him to dismiss Miss Campbell.

Miss Campbell’s mouth flattened, and Papa opened the door. He reached out to put his hand on her back to guide her through.

Most of the staff were scared of him. Miss Campbell didn’t look to be different to Iris, if the sudden forward pressure on her shoulders was any indication.

Iris rubbed her arm harder. Papa didn’t look at her. He only watched Miss Campbell glide to the table. His hair dripped on his collar, which wasn’t quite straight. Mr. Evans never let Papa go anywhere with a crooked collar. Everything had gone cockeyed.

He pulled out her chair, and Miss Campbell murmured “Thank you” as she sat. “Come sit, Iris.”

At least her governess hadn’t forgotten she was there. Papa rang the bell for the food as she slid into her chair.

“Shall we pray?” asked Miss Campbell.

Iris waited for her father to glare at Miss Campbell until she realized he didn’t like God, but instead he bowed his head and asked for God’s blessing on the food they were about to receive.

“Miss Campbell took Eve away,” said Iris.

Without even lifting his eyes from her governess, he answered, “I know.”

“I want her back.”

“We all want things we can’t have,” said Papa.

His voice sounded strange, low and almost growly, and he kept watching Miss Campbell.

“Then you know what you must do,” said Miss Campbell. “Now put you napkin in your lap, please.”

Iris considered throwing the napkin on the floor, but her papa would just send her away without letting her eat.

Mrs. Bigsby entered with a platter of buttered eggs and kippers and the newspaper tucked under her arm.

Instead of flapping out the paper, Papa tucked it beside his plate. Usually he grunted a good morning to her and then ignored her. Perhaps he would actually talk during breakfast.

“Mrs. Bigsby, if Miss Campbell comes down before me, please see she is served.”

“But—” said Mrs. Bigsby.

“There is no reason for her to have to wait until I have returned from my swim.”

Miss Campbell pressed her lips together as if she didn’t like the notice. She didn’t know what it was like waiting and waiting for Papa to come down.

Mrs. Bigsby sharply clicked Iris’s plate with the serving spoon. Nellie came in with rolls, butter and jam, and the teapot. She poured all around but no one said anything.

“Grimes didn’t eat breakfast,” supplied Iris. Grimes didn’t like to rise too early either. Not that Iris wanted to defend Miss Campbell, but there were some mornings she just wanted to eat. If Miss Campbell could get food earlier, perhaps she could too.

“The schoolroom is out of ink, and there is little paper. I would have written a list of needed purchases, but I needed ink or a pencil.” Miss Campbell pushed her eggs around on her plate.

Ugh!
She didn’t even want to think about lessons.

Papa hadn’t even lifted his fork. He just looked at Miss Campbell as if he’d rather spend all morning reading her instead of his newspaper. The corner of his mouth curled up. “I’ll have writing supplies sent up to you.”

Her chest hurt. He wouldn’t talk to her. Iris scowled. He didn’t pay her any mind. He never did. He certainly never smiled at her.

Now, he had Miss Campbell to smile at.

After breakfast, Velvet allowed Iris to pick the book she wanted to read aloud. She needed to make an assessment of her charge’s reading level. The girl’s voice was clear as she spoke. Her mistakes had been small, skipping an adjective or changing a definite article to an indefinite one, but something about her reading was off kilter.

Sitting on the hard-backed chair next to the girl, Velvet watched the words as Iris turned the page, her narrative no longer matching the print. Iris continued on, blithely unaware.

“Stop.” Velvet reached for the upper left corner and turned back a page. Two pages had stuck together.

Iris hunched forward as if waiting for a blow.

Velvet slid off the chair and knelt in front of the girl, taking her hands. Iris’s big blue eyes were swimming.

“Iris, do you know how to read?” Velvet asked carefully.

Iris jerked her hands away and pitched the book. “I’m stupid.”

How had the girl made it to nine without learning to read? Velvet was shocked, but she was more concerned about Iris’s aspersions about her intelligence.

The girl twisted away and held the back of the chair. Velvet rubbed between Iris’s narrow shoulder blades. “Sweetheart, a stupid girl cannot memorize an entire book and recite it back.”

Iris snorted.

“A stupid girl wouldn’t ask what the word ‘relish’ meant, she wouldn’t care.”

“Miss Grimes said I was stupid.”

“And did all those bottles in the desk belong to Miss Grimes?”

Iris nodded.

“I wouldn’t value the opinion of one who is deep in their cups. In fact, I should quite likely think it in error. Perhaps your former governess was lazy and didn’t want to teach you.” Velvet calculated in her head. Even so, Iris should have been learning to read long before her last governess entered the picture.

With a scrunched face, Iris swiveled, looking at her.

“It doesn’t matter where you are in your lessons, it only matters that we begin with what you know. Do you know how to write your letters?”

Iris turned her head away.

How bad was this? Velvet’s stomach churned. “How about the alphabet? Can you say the alphabet?”

“Of course,” said Iris with scorn.

“Well, if you would, please say the alphabet.” While Velvet kept half an ear tuned for signs that Iris didn’t recognize each individual letter, she mulled over how she could instill confidence in the girl. A few reassurances would likely not overcome her doubts.

“Very good,” Velvet said as Iris landed on Z.

Iris rolled her eyes.

“We will start with recitation, then,” said Velvet.

Iris’s nose wrinkled. “What’s that?”

“I will teach you a poem, and you will say it out loud.”

“I won’t have to read it?” Her voice betrayed doubt.

“No. The whole point of reciting is to show that you have memorized it and are not reading. Perhaps you can recite for your papa when you learn it.”

“Really?” asked Iris. “He’ll listen?”

Uneasiness crept up her spine. Although she wasn’t at all sure what she could guarantee, Velvet said, “Of course he will.”

“I’ll listen to what?” said Mr. Pendar from the doorway.

Iris sprang off the chair. Velvet swung around and tried to still the churn of her stomach. After going so long without eating, it had rebelled against breakfast. She’d grown full after just a few bites. Now her breakfast was like nails churning in her gut.

Lucian stood with a bottle of ink and a sheaf of papers in his hands.

“I don’t have to read at all. I’m going to recite poetry,” exclaimed Iris. She ran to him.

Wincing, Velvet picked up the book from the floor. That wasn’t exactly what she meant.

His expression turned dark.

Velvet barely resisted rolling her eyes. Surely he didn’t think she wouldn’t teach Iris to read. She didn’t know which one of them was more annoying. Except she felt on much firmer ground dealing with a truculent child than an employer who made shivers run down her spine.

“Iris, I’m sure your father will appreciate recitations when you can actually do them. Now, please return to your chair and remember young ladies walk while inside.”

Lucian set the writing supplies on her desk. “Is everything going all right?”

Sure. She had a nine-year-old who threw books and didn’t appear to know how to write her letters. She had an employer who made her jump when he was around. And she had treacherous cliffs for a view. Everything was lovely. Velvet considered her answer. “As well as can be expected.”

Why had he brought supplies himself and not sent a servant with them?