How to Sin Successfully. Bronwyn Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ merits of the green poplin or the one good silk gown she owned. ‘You were right to save the silk for a better occasion,’ he said lightly, taking his own seat.

      ‘How did you know?’ She shot him a sharp look, her thoughts evident. He’d bet odds of two to three she was imagining peepholes secreted in the walls of her room. It was a fairly worldly thought for a governess, or any young lady, and it did make him wonder.

      Riordan dismissed her fears with a laugh. ‘Have no worries, Miss Caulfield. It’s all very simple. To understand women, a man must understand their clothes.’ He’d learned that particular skill a long time ago and it had served him well in the intervening years.

      She settled the linen napkin on her lap and gave him a doubtful look that said she didn’t believe him. Riordan leaned back in his chair, letting the footmen serve the soup while he studied the effects of candlelight on Miss Caulfield’s features. This morning, much of her hair had been hidden under her bonnet, but this evening it was pinned up in a pretty twist that hinted at its thickness and length while it exposed the delicate arch of her neck. The effect was enough to make him imagine what it would be like to take all that hair down and sift it through his fingers. ‘The light turns your hair into red-gold; very lovely,’ he commented as the footmen moved away.

      ‘And what does that tell you about me?’ She shot him another sharp look with her green eyes.

      ‘You don’t believe me about the clothes, do you?’ Riordan set down his soup spoon, starting to enjoy himself. He was good at this. Observation and subsequent conjecturing had always come easy for him. Most women loved his little ‘fortune telling’ game. ‘Allow me to demonstrate. You wear shades of green often. With your colouring, all that red hair and those emerald-green eyes, it makes sense. Greens would be your best palate. I’m right, am I not?’

      ‘Yes.’ Even discomfited, her manners were impeccable. She sipped from her soup spoon without spilling a drop. His governess was very well bred indeed.

      ‘You’re intrigued now. I can see it in the way you’ve subtly leaned forwards.’ Riordan lowered his voice, giving the conversation a private allure.

      Her eyes sparked, a good sign. She was warming. ‘All right, if you’re so good, tell me why a governess has a silk gown.’ But any further conversation had to wait a moment while the fish was served.

      ‘You have more than one,’ Riordan said when the footmen had retreated. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but it seemed right. She was born for fine fabrics and delicate trimmings. Riordan reached for her hand and traced a lazy circle in the palm. ‘Tell me I’m right.’ A woman who wore silk gowns and imagined peepholes in her room was an exciting mystery. ‘You’re not the usual governess.’

      She stiffened and withdrew her hand. ‘You’re not the usual earl.’ All her attention went straight to her neglected fish. He’d touched a nerve there. Intriguing, but not surprising. Her clothes were too well made. He’d seen it instantly. Pretty and young with well-made clothes and a bold demeanour with a man she should view as her superior suggested there was more to Miss Caulfield than she let on.

      ‘I don’t hold it against you, Miss Caulfield. The “usual” has never held much of my attention.’ He would leave it at that. No sense frightening her off. If she thought he guessed at more, she might be compelled to run and that was the last thing he needed. He needed a governess to stay and he was willing to overlook any secrets said governess thought she had.

      Miss Caulfield finished her fish without a single faux pas. He always watched women during the fish course at dinner parties. It was the perfect chance to see if they were all they claimed. Miss Caufield was definitely more. Unlike many a pretender, she’d kept a piece of bread in her left hand and the fork in her right, never once reaching for the very taboo knife. Anyone of any true social refinement knew fish juice stained knives if they weren’t silver. It confirmed what he’d noted earlier: she had excellent table manners, as if she ate at candlelit tables complete with china, crystal and the requisite earl every day.

      By the time the beef was served, his thoughts had taken a more erotic turn. He found he could not contemplate her manners without also contemplating her delectable mouth with its kissable lower lip, or the column of her throat as she swallowed. This led his eyes lower to her bosom, which the cut of her gown showed to advantage, which gave way to a bevy of illicit thoughts, most of them involving all the ways he could get her out of that gown and on to the table.

      ‘Is everything to your liking?’ he asked in low tones that were more seductive than solicitous. ‘Would you like some more wine?’ He was flirting deliberately now, his hand provocatively caressing the stem of his own empty wine glass, and wondering if she’d call him on it. She did. It was bravely and boldly done of her. Not every employee would dare. Good for her. He had little use for people without spines.

      ‘Tell me, Lord Chatham, do you flirt with every woman you meet or just the governesses?’

      Riordan reached for the wine and refilled her glass as an excuse to lean close and make some more mischief. ‘I assure you, this is not flirting. If I were flirting with you, Miss Caulfield, you’d know it.’ But of course he was flirting with her, just a little by his standards, and they both knew it.

      Riordan laughed and filled his glass. ‘A toast, Miss Caulfield, to our, ah, relationship. Cheers.’

      Maura clinked her glass gently against his. It was impossible not to get swept up in Lord Chatham’s bonhomie. He couldn’t help it, she realised. But she could. She could have enough sense for the both of them. He might not be flirting with her by his standards, but society would see it otherwise. No wonder Mrs Pendergast had called him a dissolute rake. Women probably swooned in his wake and he likely didn’t lack for female attention. Handsome, charming and personable, he could have any woman he wanted and not have to work that hard at it.

      Well, he couldn’t have her if that’s what he was intending with all this light flirtation. She would make that clear over cheese and fruit as their dinner came to a close. It would be just the right note to end the evening on. Two bites into a sharp cheddar, she began her campaign. ‘I thought the purpose of dinner was to discuss the children. Here we are, at the end, and the children haven’t even been mentioned.’ She couldn’t be more direct than that.

      ‘What would you like to know about the children?’ He filled his glass again and Maura began to wonder if that was his third or fourth. Wine disappeared from his glass like water.

      ‘We could start with their schedule and perhaps move on to their education,’ Maura prompted. This was the most extraordinary discussion she’d ever had. She wasn’t supposed to be the one asking the questions. She’d expected to be told.

      ‘Their schedule?’ Lord Chatham stabbed at his cheese as if the question irritated him. His tone became frosty, as it had been that afternoon. ‘They don’t have a schedule, Miss Caulfield. Their lives have been turned upside down, they’ve lost their trusted guardian, they’ve been through five governesses in as many weeks. They’ve had no stability in their lives since my brother’s death.’

      Maura refused to be intimidated. ‘They’ve had you. Surely you have imposed some order on their lives in the absence of a governess.’ Her own parents had been active participants in her life.

      ‘Some, but I wouldn’t go as far as to call it a schedule.’ Lord Chatham sat back in his chair, wine glass empty again and dangling negligently in his hand. ‘I can see you’re disappointed in me. Perhaps your standards are too high.’ He wasn’t flirting now. His tone had taken on a self-deprecating note. СКАЧАТЬ