Название: Temptation Of A Governess
Автор: Sarah Mallory
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Сказки
Серия: Mills & Boon Historical
isbn: 9781474006286
isbn:
‘Do you maintain that you can teach the girls everything they require?’ he demanded.
‘I do. I will not be moved, my lord. Meggie and Florence will remain here.’
There was a calm assurance in her tone that caught him on the raw. Did she think to defy him?
He said softly, ‘What would you wager upon my having you and the children out of the house by the end of the summer?’
That determined little chin lifted defiantly.
‘I never wager upon certainties, my lord, you will not do it—unless you mean to evict us bodily?’
She met his eyes steadily and he realised she had called his bluff. He would not do anything to hurt the girls, but neither would he capitulate that easily.
‘No, I intend that you shall go willingly.’
‘What you intend, Lord Davenport, and what will happen are two very different things.’
His temper flared at her calm defiance.
‘This was always a good marriage for your sister,’ he threw at her. ‘My brother took her despite her lack of fortune. I suppose he kept you on out of charity.’
It was a low blow, unworthy of a gentleman, and Alex regretted the words as soon as they were uttered, but surprisingly she was not crushed by his comment, instead she drew herself up and her eyes flashed with anger.
‘He kept me on because I am an excellent governess!’
Admiration stirred. She was only a slip of a girl, why, she barely came up to his shoulder but she was not afraid to meet his steely glance with one equally determined. There was also a glint of mischief in her eyes when she continued.
‘Margaret was always the beauty, but I had the brains.’
He laughed at that.
‘Very well, Miss Grensham, we will agree—for the moment!—that you are a suitable governess for Meggie and Florence, but this is not a suitable house for them, you must see that. There is only the one staircase, and the building is so small that every time the children left the schoolroom my guests would be bumping into them. It will not do, the girls must leave. You may have the pick of my other properties.’
‘I do not want any of your other properties.’
Alex bent a long, considering look upon Diana. Most people found his stare unnerving, but she merely replied with quiet determination, ‘If you insist, then I shall oppose you, sir.’
Anger stirred again. Did she dare to set up her will against his?
‘You would be ill advised to cross swords with me, Miss Grensham.’
‘I have no wish to cross swords with you, Lord Davenport, but I will not move the children, and since I have your letter, you cannot make me.’ She added, with deliberate provocation, ‘Unless you wish to fight me through the courts?’
* * *
When Alex drove away from Chantreys the spring day was ending and the clear sky left an unpleasant chill. He had failed in his quest and was in no very amiable temper. As the younger son of an earl, with a sharp mind and excellent physique, he was accustomed to succeeding in everything he attempted. His godfather, an East India merchant, had left him a considerable fortune, which had given Alex the independence to pursue his own interests once he had left Oxford. He had thus arrived in town endowed with excellent connections, good birth and considerable wealth, all the attributes he required to do very much as he pleased. He was not used to failure and it irked him.
He could easily purchase another property close to London and leave Diana and the children to live at Chantreys. He knew that this would be the most reasonable course of action, but when he thought of Diana Grensham he did not feel reasonable. Her opposition had woken something in him, some dormant spirit that wanted to engage her in battle. He never enjoyed losing and he certainly had no intention of being beaten by a slip of a girl with hair the colour of autumn leaves.
Alex was still mulling over his defeat as he drove into town and his mood was not improved by the knowledge that he had promised to attend Almack’s that night. The Dowager Marchioness of Hune had written to tell him she was helping to launch a young friend into the ton and asked for his support. Lady Hune was his great-aunt and one of the few Arrandale relatives who was not pressing him to marry. Also, he was fond of her in a careless sort of way and he had agreed to look in. Well, he would not go back on his word, even if it meant entering the notorious Marriage Mart.
* * *
After a solitary dinner he walked the short distance to King Street, where his mission was soon accomplished. Miss Ellen Tatham was a lively beauty so it was no hardship to stand up with her and once he had done his duty he made his escape and rewarded himself with a visit to a discreet little house off Piccadilly, where he could be sure of more congenial company.
The house was owned by Lady Frances Betsford, a widow and the youngest daughter of an impoverished peer. Despite being an accredited beauty, she had been unable to do better than a mere baronet for a husband. However he had died within twelve months of the ceremony and left his widow with a comfortable competence. She had lived in some style in town for the past five years, moving in all but the highest circles, tolerated by the ladies and sought out by their husbands. Her name had been linked with several prominent society figures in the past and most recently it had been coupled with the new Earl of Davenport.
Alex had known Frances for years. There had been a brief liaison, when he had first arrived in town, and she was keen now to get him back in her bed. Alex was well aware that her renewed interest in him stemmed from his accession to the peerage. That did not overly concern him, he knew his world and viewed it with a cynical eye. Lady Frances wanted to be a countess and she was not ineligible. Her birth was good, she was beautiful, intelligent and no ingénue who would bore him within weeks. That was a definite advantage, he thought as he walked into her crowded drawing room. He watched her as she leaned over Sir Sydney Dunford’s shoulder to advise him on his discard and realised just how little he cared if she shared her favours with other gentlemen. That, too, he thought, was in her favour. Theirs would be a civilised arrangement with no messy emotions to get in the way.
A tall, elegant figure clad in Bath coating and stockinette pantaloons broke away from the crowd and greeted Alex with a languid wave.
‘Well, Alex, have you fixed the summer party for Chantreys?’
‘I’m afraid not, Gervase.’
‘Pity,’ replied Mr Wollerton, shaking his head. ‘Lady Frances will be disappointed.’
‘That can’t be helped—’ Alex broke off as the lady in question approached, hands held out and a smile on her carmined lips.
‘My lord, I had quite given you up.’
He saluted her fingers.
‘I told you I should be late, Frances.’
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