The Governess Club: Bonnie (10 page)

She turned and sat back down on the sofa. She knew such thoughts were inappropriate, considering everything. Why could she not stop thinking like this?

A silence fell between them. He didn’t seem inclined to break it and Bonnie didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t put a voice to her salacious thoughts and he obviously did not wish to share anything regarding his investigation.

She put the rest of her drink on the small table and smoothed her skirts over her knees. She couldn’t seem to divert her mind away from either the investigation or the man at the fire.

Stephen continued to stare into the fire, his thoughts on the woman behind him. He had had such plans when he invited her for tea. Images of sitting close to her, chatting about whatever it was that men and women talked about when having an intimate tea had hovered in his mind.

What had he been thinking? He had no experience with this; wooing and courting a woman did not come easily to him. Which was the very reason why he limited his interactions with members of the fairer sex to professionals more concerned with the color of his coin than the sound of his words.

But he had to do something, otherwise she would leave thinking he was some degree of mute idiot.

He turned away from the fire and looked at her. She seemed uncomfortable. She was summoned here by him and could not leave without his permission. God, where was the flirtatious chap he had channeled in the afternoon?

Stephen cleared his throat. “You are warmer?”

She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“I like fires in the evening.” Gads, why on earth would he say that?

“Yes, their warmth can be comforting when the weather turns.”

At least it was a conversation. “Did your parents sit by the fire in the evenings?”

She didn’t answer right away. “Occasionally. Not often.”

“Mine never did.”

Bonnie stood. “Sir, if you have no need of me—”

“Do you ever wish your life were different?” Stephen blurted out.

Her eyebrows raised. “I beg your pardon?”

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, no matter how ridiculous he felt with the conversation. But he was desperate to have her stay. “If you could change something about your life, what would it be?”

“I don’t understand. Why would I want to change anything?”

Stephen gave a small shrug. “It’s not necessarily about wanting to change something, but if you could.”

“What is the purpose of this conversation, sir? Is this one of your games again? Are you trying to see if I am unhappy at Darrowgate?”

“No,” he said. “No,” he repeated more calmly. “It is just a conversation. Shall I go first?”

“Um, please.” She lowered herself uncertainly back to the sofa.

“If I could change something, it would be . . . my feet.”

Bonnie let out a disbelieving laugh. “Your feet?”

Stephen smiled. “Aye. They are large and ungainly. I am certain that if they were an inch smaller, I would be able to run the wickets better and my boots cheaper to make.”

She gave him a smile. “I have not noticed any lack of grace, sir.”

“You are being kind.”

Taking a moment, Bonnie thought. “If I could change something, it would be my hesitation around horses. It would make transporting myself much easier if I did not have to depend on a coach and driver.”

“That can be easily remedied. Why are you hesitant around horses?”

Bonnie shrugged. “I never learned as a child. While my mother had a coach and driver, riding horses were an unnecessary expense.”

“Your mother is a widow?”

She turned the subject back to him. “Is there something else you would change?”

“My penmanship. It is horrid. My knuckles were wrapped to the point of bleeding by some of my professors.”

“Now that I have noticed. But I am afraid that if you have not mastered it by now, there is little hope for you.” She smiled again.

He gave a mock scowl. “Ouch.”

“I would change my hair, if I could.”

“Indeed?”

She nodded and patted her coif proudly. “Yes. When it is unbound, it is very unruly. Can barely be controlled when not tied up. I spent hours in the mirror, trying to learn how to control it.”

Stephen’s throat went dry at the image of her unruly chestnut hair spread over his pristine pillows. Easy for his hands to reach out and his fingers to thread themselves through the wavy locks, feeling them twine around his hand after a bout of passionate lovemaking.

Her voice jerked him out of his erotic thoughts. “Your turn,” she said, smiling at him.

Stephen cleared his throat. His mind worked fast to hide his distraction. “Um, if I could change something, it would be my marriage.”

She stared at him. “Your marriage?” she squeaked.

“Aye. Or I mean, lack of it. I am not married.”

“Oh.” Was he mistaken or did he see relief in her pose? “Oh.”

“I have never been married,” he clarified further. She gave him a weak smile. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from talking. “It’s not that I have been avoiding it, per se. I have just been waiting for an appropriate time. I won’t marry without being able to support a wife. I do not think it is fair to ask a lady to place herself in an uncertain, financially insecure position. Such a sacrifice would not be a foundation for a strong marriage. I want a strong marriage. I believe anything less would be disrespectful to my wife and to myself.”

Sweet Mary and Joseph, what drivel was coming out his mouth? He believed every word, but why on earth was he telling her this? Stephen strode back to the Scotch, poured himself another, and downed it in one big gulp, trying to focus on the burn down his throat instead of the absolute ass he was making of himself.

“Your views are admirable,” Miss Hodges said to his back. “One doesn’t often hear that from gentlemen.”

He cleared his throat and turned back to face her. “Don’t sell us short. Many men believe as I do. But it seems to be expected for the male of the species to malign matrimony. I am fully convinced that my life will change significantly when I marry.”

He felt so deep in the hole he had dug, Stephen thought he would take a risk. “For instance, if we were married, I wouldn’t be standing here.”

She looked at him in question. “You wouldn’t?”

He shook his head. “I would be sitting beside you, like this.” He put actions to words and settled on the sofa beside her, not close enough to touch, but he could feel her heat. “I might even sit like this.” He stretched his arm along the back of the sofa, his sleeve brushing her shoulders.

Bonnie cleared her throat. He was so close she could smell the sandalwood cologne he wore and tingles radiated along her shoulders where his sleeve brushed them. “Might you?”

“Aye. I imagine many evenings spent like this with my wife, just the two of us.”

“What would you do?” Her throat was so dry Bonnie was surprised she could speak.

“Whatever we wanted. Talk, read, play cards, I could finish up work while you embroider or knit or whatever you do. It’s not about what we do but rather about spending time together.”

Well. “My first impression of you was not that of a romantic.”

He gazed at her. “I am not sure I would define myself as a romantic, but more of a realist. Relationships deteriorate if they are not maintained. Speaking vows does not mean one can neglect that which they worked so diligently to obtain.”

Well.
“I think I would enjoy those evenings,” Bonnie said quietly. “If I were your wife, that is.”

A small smile played at his lips. “Aye?” She nodded. “If you were my wife, would you object if I did this?” He moved closer so their sides were pressing together.

Oh my
. She shook her head.

“And this?” He reached and took her hand in his free one.

She closed her eyes. His fingers were warm around hers, his thumb running over her knuckles comfortingly, seductively. She shook her head.

“And this?”

She almost objected when he released her hand, only to find him cupping her cheek, turning her face towards him. She opened her eyes a crack to see him moving closer to her, his face filling her vision until he was all she saw. She tilted her head and met his lips as they covered hers.

His lips were familiar now, but still so new. They moved against her mouth, slow and confident, their firmness reassuring and arousing. She followed his lead, matching his movements with her own, enjoying the heat of his breath against her skin. Small spirals of pleasure swirled around her mouth and travelled down her throat, settling in her chest. She felt her breasts swell and nipples tighten.

Bonnie gave a little start when she felt his tongue touch her lips. That was interesting. He did it again. Very interesting. When he did it a third time, she opened her mouth and touched her tongue to his. She felt his responding growl vibrate down her neck. The hand that had been caressing her cheek slid along the side of her head, his fingers pushing into her hair, unsettling her coif. She raised her hand to rest on his chest, fingering his lapel.

His tongue slipped into her mouth, touching hers, running along her teeth. She mimicked him, doing the same in his mouth. A surge of power swept through her when she heard him groan.

“Bonnie lass,” he moaned before moving and taking her ear into his mouth. One hand moved down her chest, his fingers circling around her breast, teasing her tight nipples. Bonnie shuddered. No man had ever touched her like that before and she knew it was a sensation she could easily become addicted to. She felt a tingling between her legs, followed by wetness. “Bonnie lass,” he moaned again. “Let me take you to my room.”

Bonnie opened her eyes, reality arriving with a vengeance. He didn’t notice her reaction. “If I were your husband,” he continued, “we would share the same room.”

She pushed on his chest, pulling away. She dropped her head, acutely feeling the lack of contact. Her skin protested at her for ending the connection.

She took a deep breath to steady herself and disengaged from his embrace. Bonnie stood on shaky legs, fixing her hair back into respectability. He stood as well, adjusting his coat along the front.

She moved towards the door. “You are my employer, sir, nothing more. It is best we remember that.” The door closed on her last word.

D
earest Claire,

I finally understand my mother and how she could allow herself to give up her position as a governess to be a gentleman’s mistress.

Oh Claire, I have never been so tempted before. Men have tried, but this is different. Sir Stephen is different. As much as I tell myself that it is wrong, that nothing can come from it, my body betrays me as soon as I am in close proximity to him. My mind stops working and suddenly I am a slave to my body and what he can do to it.

Bonnie stopped writing and stared at the paper. How could she put all this into words? How could she explain all this to her friend when she didn’t even know for certain herself?

Bonnie stared at the paper for several more minutes before crumpling up the letter and throwing it into the nearby fire and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper.

Dearest Louisa,

Forgive me for the brevity of this letter, but I wished to tell you to expect me soon at Ridgestone. I will send more specifics when I have them.

Stephen lifted his head at the sound of the boys’ voices coming down the stairs, their governess’ voice drifting after them at a more subdued level. Once again it had been several days since he laid eyes on Miss Hodges and those days had moved more slowly than turtles plowing a field.

Her last words to him in the study had shaken him. Was he taking advantage of his authority over Miss Hodges? The thought disgusted him. If it were true, he was the lowliest of men, even worse than his father.

Renard clearing his throat brought him back to the present. Stephen looked at him questioningly.

“Sir, I wanted to assure you of my discretion.”

“Discretion?”

“The other day I cleared away the teacups and snifters before the maids or footmen could see them.”

Stephen raised his eyebrows.

Renard continued. “I don’t think others on staff have noticed. And I will continue to do my best to keep it that way. No one needs to be aware of the relationship you have with Miss Hodges.”

Stephen blinked. “Miss Hodges? Why do you think it is her?”

Renard smiled. “Sir, it is unlikely to be anyone else. A maid would have difficulty keeping it quiet and Miss Hodges is an attractive woman. I may be betrothed, but I am still a man. I can still appreciate the sights around me.”

Stephen’s grip tightened on the quill until he thought it would snap. “Mr. Renard, you presume too much. You are discussing women in my employ and I will not tolerate disrespect.”

The man of business swallowed and nodded. “Of course sir. My apologies. I meant no offense.”

Stephen watched as Renard resumed his seat and bent over his work. He turned back to the books in front of him and continued taking his discreet notes.

He couldn’t deny it anymore. Two things actually. It irked him that he had concluded these things at the same time as it meant he couldn’t address one without dealing with the other first.

The first thing was that Miss Hodges—Bonnie, his bonny lass—was more than just a fling to him.

He loved her. It was a simple as that. And it was frustrating that he could not pursue her and his feelings until he dealt with the second thing.

Which was that the evidence of Renard being the perpetrator was mounting. Based on the books, things had started going wrong several months after he was hired. Simple entries seemed skewed, such as costs for planting seeds and various farm implements being entered approximately ten percent over the price; letters from his man of business in Edinburgh confirmed that. And the poor investments Renard had mentioned? Further communication from Edinburgh revealed the companies were false, all leading back to a company owned by one Simon Rees, the same initials as Sylvester Renard.