The Impossible Governess (14 page)

“You cannot do that
, my lord,” Georgeanne instantly challenged.

“I most certainly can and will do exactly that.”

“But Marissa has grown attached to Rosie, and it will hurt her deeply if you take the dog away.  I cannot let you do this.”

Raynor allowed his eyes to take in Georgeanne’s rigid stance, from her clenched fists, the glorious flesh of her heaving chest, slender neck, flushed cheeks, and
vivid green eyes that fairly glowed with her anger.  Just the sight of her was enough to put his emotions into a tailspin.  What he wanted to do was reach out and draw her into his arms.  What he needed to do was remind this adorable widgeon that she was the governess. 

He brought his brows together and drawled in a dangerously low voice, “You forget yourself, Miss Forsythe.”

“You are an abominable brute!” she retorted, throwing her chin up in the air.  “Apparently, Marissa’s feelings mean nothing to you.”  She whirled around and was out the door before Raynor could think of a suitable reply.

“Damnation,” Raynor growled.  The woman was infuriating. From the very day she’d appeared before him, she’d managed to upset his life.  It was quite a paradox, actually, for she’d succeeded with Marissa where others had not, controlling his niece’s tantrums and brin
ging a smile to Marissa’s angelic face.

Despite this, the volatile Miss Georgeanne Forsythe remained a constant source of irritation to him.  Forgetting her positi
on as a governess—a servant—she continued to instruct him on how to act, challenging his every decree, and even casting disparaging looks on her betters.

W
orst yet, he was growing more and more attracted to her.  Infuriating, yes, but he remembered every curve of her supple form, the eager openness with which she’d returned his kisses, the honest emotion displayed in her flashing green eyes. 

He shook his head in frustration.  How was one to deal with such an impossible governess?

***   Chapter 9   ***

No summons for a reprimand came the following morning, so Georgeanne breathed another sigh of relief.  Still, she was mindful that she needed to curve her behavior to that befitting a servant.  Thus later that afternoon, Georgeanne, the governess, walked demurely beside her charge into the drawing room with Lord Townsend.   As usual, Lord Raynor stood by the fireplace. 

After she and Marissa had bobbed curtsies, they sat on the settee with Lord Townsend to partake tea.  Lady Ashbury sat opposite Georgeanne, poised to pour tea, when the knocker sounded on the front door.   Moments later, a discreet tapping on the double doors heralded Bivens, who announced Lady
Olivia Cosgrove.

A stunned silence settled over the drawing room as all eyes stared at the beautiful vision in rose satin sailing past the butler.  Olivia greeted Lord Raynor with a resplendent smile, then acknowledged Lady Ashbury and Will Townsend.  Deliberately ignoring Georgeanne, Olivia glided over to Marissa and gave the child a light, condescending pat on the head, almost as if she were afraid of contamination, Georgeanne thought irreverently.

“You are just like a miniature lady, Marissa,” Olivia cooed in a cloyingly sweet voice. 

Marissa
’s little mouth formed a moue as she ducked her head down.  Pulling away from Olivia’s hand, the child scooted closer to Georgeanne before her big doe eyes peeked up at her uncle through long brown lashes. 

Raynor gave his niece a reassuring smile, and Georgeanne noticed that he made a point of placing Lady Cosgrove in a chair some distance away from his niece and her governess.

As Lady Ashbury resumed pouring tea, Olivia explained airily, “I have been meaning for ever so long to drop in and see your aunt, Anthony, for a comfortable coze, but somehow time just slips away.  Of course, I had no idea your teas were strictly
en famille
,” she concluded, pointedly directing a glance at Georgeanne.

“Since she takes care of Marissa, stand
s to reason Miss Forsythe would be included,” Townsend spoke up.  “Besides, I am here so it ain’t just family.”

Olivia gave a tinkling laugh.  “Maybe not through blood relations, but certainly your relationship with Anthony qualifies you as an honorary brother.  I wonder, would that make me his honorary sister?  Though ours is hardly a type of relationship in which siblings indulge themselves.”  She smiled coyly at Raynor.

Raynor acted as if he’d not heard a word.  Instead, he asked Marissa if she cared for another macaroon.  Since the child sat with one in her hand and another on her plate, she declined with a shake of her blond curls.  Then he began questioning her about her schoolwork.

If Lady Cosgrove was miffed by Lord Raynor’s lack of attention, she hid it well.  She chattered easily with Lady Ashbury and Townsend, mostly comparing their social calendars, which effectively eliminated Georgeanne from participating in their discussion.  Unfortunately
, the beauty weaseled out of Townsend that he would be attending a dinner at Curzon Street two nights hence.  Consequently, with the aplomb of an accomplished hostess, Lady Ashbury graciously extended an invitation to Olivia.  Which, Georgeanne concluded, was the main purpose of Olivia’s visit.

When Olivia prevailed in soliciting Raynor’s escort to Vauxhall for that evening, Georgeanne decided she’d endured all she could and remain silent.  She helped Marissa gather her leftover cookies and pocket them in the front of the child’s white muslin pinafore, then made their escape.  They were almost out the door when Lady Cosgrove loudly proclaimed, “My Anthony, what a presumptuous female, not to wait to be excused.  I suppose one must expect that attitude from hired help nowadays.”

Trying not to react, Georgeanne nearly bit her tongue.  However, while mounting the stairs, she could not resist bending down and whispering to Marissa, “I am truly sorry, dear, that you did not see fit to bat that spiteful cat’s hand away like some annoying fly when she patted your head.”

As Marissa found this sentiment highly amusing, she and Georgeanne continued up the stairs in a much more cheerful mood to finish off the stash of macaroons.

Over the next few weeks Lady Ashbury kept the staff busy, hosting small dinners with elaborate menus followed by light entertainment.  Raynor was not always available, as he’d depart early for a rout, the theater, or simply for one of the gentlemen’s clubs.  But Lady Ashbury never appeared ruffled by his defections for she called upon Lord Townsend to even out the number of males per females. 

Also as instructed, Georgeanne attended the dinners and afterwards found herself drafted to be the fourth for cards or, more often, participating in impromptu dances.  The rugs were rolled back in the long drawing room, and the older ladies volunteered to play the pianoforte.  Georgeanne was flattered by the fact that she never lacked for dance partners and genuinely enjoyed Lady Ashbury’s older set.  Since a number of young people were always present, she formed several congenial relationships with the women. 

Most of the guests accepted her unique position as a lady of quality cum governess.  But Georgeanne never was included in the invitations that rained on the Curzon Street mansion, nor did the ladies ever share confidences that amounted to anything more than the latest
on dits
.

The gentlemen, on the other hand, paid her lavish compliments on her appearance, yet always maintained a discrete distance.  Oh, one or two tried to break through her own natural reserve to embark on an illicit relationship, but Georgeanne was quick to give them a sharp set down.  If that didn’t dampen the ardent suitor, she never hesitated to warn that her employer would be informed if the gentleman did not cease his attentions.  Needless to say, none were foolhardy enough to chance facing Lord Raynor’s displeasure.

When Lord Townsend was included among the guests, he took pains to see to Georgeanne’s comfort, such as procuring her drinks, and of course, was first in line to solicit her hand for a dance or volunteer to partner her at cards.

Predictably, since Lady Cosgrove managed to finagle that first invitation from Lady Ashbury, Olivia was at all of the parties, from the more lively routs and soirees to the somber card parties with the crusty older set, and could be found glued to Raynor’s side when he was in attendance.  In most instances, her presence did little to dampen Georgeanne’s own enjoyment since she made it a point to maintain a wide breadth between the willful beauty and herself.

This was not always possible, however.  On one particular night, Lady Ashbury presided over a particularly small dinner party.  Georgeanne found herself sitting across from Lady Cosgrove, who was conversing with Lady Amelia Wooten, the mother of three small children. 

“Children are so adorable,” Olivia said to the table at large.  “And I simply adore small children.  Why, my little cousin, Marissa, is the sweetest little dear.”

Such a blatant lie goaded Georgeanne beyond endurance.  While she dare not open her mouth, she rolled her eyes upward, but then caught Lord Townsend’s gaze just as he was taking a sip of wine.  She was forced to revert to her serviette to hide a grin when he grabbed his napkin and coughed repeatedly into it.  Georgeanne was unsure whether the tears that involuntarily streamed down his flushed cheeks were caused by his chocking or stifled laughter, much like her own. 

As the guest
s gathered later in the drawing room to listen to a musical repartee, Georgeanne was surprised when Lady Cosgrove purposefully sought her out and gracefully sank next to her on the settee during a break.

“La, Lady Ashbury is indeed a kind-hearted soul to include you in her little entertainments,” Olivia began in a confidential tone.  “Of course, it did cause some comment at first.  But people are always inclined to overlook the eccentricities of the older generation.  Why, even my brother, Major Heaton, asked me about your peculiar status,” she added, wide-eyed with guileless innocence.  When Georgeanne refused to reply to her sally, Olivia said, “I suppose that is why governesses should be much like their charges, seldom seen and never heard.  It would appear that you have failed on both counts, Miss Forsythe.”

“Lord Raynor is pleased with how I govern his niece,” Georgeanne retorted, keeping her fingers tightly squeezed together in her lap as they fairly itched to slap the woman.

“Hmmm.  It is rumored your, er, work extends beyond the schoolroom.”

“I am afraid I do not understand your meaning?”  Georgeanne barely kept her anger in check.

“Really, Miss Forsythe, I did not think you obtuse.  But you must realize that people will talk.  And y
ou have been most conspicuous at these dinner parties.  Then riding with Lord Townsend in Hyde Park, besides taking tea daily with your employer.  It is just not seemly in one of your, er, station,” Olivia said, glancing about the room as if to infer that everyone had been privy to their conversation and completely agreed with her view.

Georgeanne let her eyes scan the drawing room to see if anyone had taken heed of their tête-à-tête.  But she saw no c
ensure in the eyes or mannerisms of the other guests.  She bit the inside of her mouth, least her unruly tongue lead her into trouble.  Then, deciding not to allow this vixen or her spiteful remarks upset her further, she hurriedly rose from the settee to find more amiable company without a backward glance.

She had no sooner crossed the room when Lord Raynor, his expression unreadable, came toward her and took her elbow.  She wondered if he’d overheard Olivia’s comments, but he said nothing and guided her to a window enclosure where they were afforded some privacy.  She braced herself for a thorough tongue lashing.

“From Lady Cosgrove’s expression, I’d guess she has been busy spreading venom.  Tell me, were her barbs aimed at you?”

She was surprised by the concern in his eyes.  Unsure of why he was being so considerate, she answered tartly, “You need not worry over me, my lord.
I am well able to take care of myself.”

“Are you, Miss Forsythe?”  His voice was soft and his blue eyes intently searched her face.   “I wonder, do you really believe that, or are your words sheer bravado?”

She would have liked to argue the point with him, but unfortunately, Olivia had managed to get loose from Lady Ashbury, who had immediately taken up Georgeanne’s position on the settee.

Laying a hand on Raynor’s arm, Olivia crooned, “Anthony, do come say hello to Lord Harrow.  He was at Lady Jersey’s rout the other night and asked about you.”  Looking down her nose at Georgeanne, she continued, “No doubt, Miss Forsythe understands these obligations.”

Georgeanne didn’t bother to reply.  Instead she turned abruptly on her heel, determined to seek out less irritating company.

Much later when the guests were departing, Raynor grimly requested a word with her before she retired.  It was late, and
Georgeanne was exhausted after rising early and spending the day with Marissa.  Nonetheless, she duly followed her employer down the hall to the library. Without thinking, she gratefully sank into a chair and reached down to massage her aching feet.  The heavy, disapproving silence that overlaid the room finally penetrated her foggy brain, and only then did she glance at Raynor.

He was fuming.  His dark brows were drawn together and his lips pinched into a thin line.  “Are you quite comfortable, Miss Forsythe?” he asked with biting sarcasm.