The Guardian's Dilemma. Gail Whitiker

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ in the dining-hall; her hips following her legs in a movement that was decidedly provocative, yet totally instinctual. Her attire, a simple, round gown of unadorned muslin, was not designed to flatter her figure, yet the voluptuous curves of her hips and the fullness of her breasts caused it to appear enticing in spite of it being so plain. Furthermore, in direct contrast to what was expected of a woman in her position, she did not hide her hair under a cap or restrain it in a matronly style. The glorious tresses rippled freely down her back, falling almost to her waist in a dark, shimmering stream.

      Yes, she was certainly a woman to be desired, Oliver acknowledged. And given what he had seen of her conduct in the library at Grovesend Hall, she was not inexperienced in the arts of love. But if that was the case, what was she doing here? Sophie had assured him that the teachers at the Guarding Academy were all of the highest moral character. Yet what he had witnessed of Helen de Coverdale’s conduct in the past had been impropriety, plain and simple. How could a woman like that be hired to teach moral rectitude to the young women in her care?

      Suddenly, Oliver straightened. The lady in question had broken away from her girls and was walking towards him.

      Without thinking, he pushed himself away from the gate and removed his beaver. She might be a lightskirt, but she was a woman, and his manners were too deeply ingrained to allow him to treat her any differently. Besides, to demonstrate such shocking lack of manners in front of a group of young girls who were even now casting secretive glances in their direction would have been the height of rudeness.

      Nevertheless, Oliver kept his voice polite but cool as he sketched her a brief bow. ‘Good afternoon, Miss de Coverdale. I hope my study has not disturbed you.’

      ‘It has not disturbed me, Mr Brandon, but I fear you are affecting the concentration of some of my girls,’ Helen said quietly. ‘They are easily distracted by the presence of strangers, especially those about whom they are curious.’

      Oliver had expected her voice to be as seductive as everything else about her, but he was surprised to discover that her eyes were not brown as he had first thought, but a most unusual shade of dark green flecked with bits of amber and gold. ‘I apologise for any disruption I might be causing, Miss de Coverdale. I was simply curious to see if you were as good an artist as Mrs Guarding led me to believe.’

      The beautiful eyes grew wary. ‘You discussed me with Mrs Guarding?’

      ‘Of course. As I discussed all of the teachers I met this morning. I thought it only wise since my ward is to be a pupil here.’

      Oliver knew he didn’t owe her an explanation, but neither did he wish to make her feel as though he had singled her out. Why he should be concerned with her feelings, he had no idea. After all, it was not his conduct that had engendered his current opinion of her.

      ‘Does your ward like to paint?’ Helen surprised him by asking.

      ‘Paint? Yes, I suppose she does. Gillian is skilled in a number of areas, including those of a more creative nature.’

      ‘Good. Then I look forward to the opportunity of working with her.’

      ‘That is what I would like to speak to you about, Miss de Coverdale,’ Oliver said stiffly. ‘I think there are things which need to be clarified—’

      Suddenly, a clattering behind them, followed by smothered gasps and then a burst of feminine giggles, brought an abrupt end to their conversation.

      ‘Miss de Coverdale, come quickly!’ one of the girls cried. ‘Rebecca’s easel has fallen over and she is all spattered with yellow and blue paint.’

      Helen’s eyes widened as she turned to survey the spectacle. ‘Dear me! Miss Walters, did I not tell you to make sure your easel was securely placed?’ She turned back around and Oliver was surprised to see not anger, but laughter bubbling in the depths of her beautiful eyes. ‘Forgive me, Mr Brandon, I fear I must return to my class.’

      ‘But it is important that we speak—’

      ‘I am sure whatever you need say to me can wait, sir.’

      With that, she turned and hurried back towards her class. The girls were all clustered around the unfortunate Rebecca, ineffectually dabbing their small white handkerchiefs at the spots of yellow and blue paint on her smock. Oliver listened as Helen put one of the older girls in charge, and then watched her escort the stricken Rebecca back to the school. Once again, she did not spare him a second glance.

      Oliver bit back a sigh of vexation. He was not used to being summarily dismissed, and certainly not by a woman like Helen de Coverdale. But she had made her position clear. Obviously if he wished to have any kind of private conversation with her, it was either going to have to be before her classes, or after them.

      Helen was somewhat surprised that she did not see Oliver Brandon again that day, but she was not in the least surprised to receive a summons to the headmistress’s sitting-room later that afternoon.

      ‘I hope you do not mind my asking you here, Helen,’ Mrs Guarding began, ‘but I think you know the reason why.’

      Helen sighed. She had long since come to realise that Eleanor Guarding was not only an intelligent woman but an intuitive one. She had obviously seen the look on Oliver Brandon’s face this morning—as well as on her own—and the interview now was about achieving an understanding of what those looks had been about. For the good of the school, of course.

      ‘Not at all,’ Helen said, taking the indicated seat in front of the headmistress’s desk. ‘I am sure you noticed my reaction to Mr Brandon.’

      The headmistress smiled. ‘I am used to young women blushing in the presence of a handsome gentleman, but I thought your response indicated something more than just a touch of simple embarrassment.’

      Helen was dismayed to feel fresh colour rise to her cheeks. ‘It isn’t what you think.’

      ‘Oh? What is it you perceive I think it might be?’

      ‘I am not acquainted with Mr Brandon,’ Helen said carefully. ‘I merely saw him at the home of one of my employers, many years ago.’

      ‘Really. And yet it struck me there was some discomfort on your part. Why would that be, if you had done nothing more than see him?’

      ‘Because I saw him while I was being…’ Helen broke off, finding it difficult even now to say the words. ‘While I was being most…rudely treated by the man whose daughters I had been engaged to look after.’

      ‘I see.’ There was a moment’s silence during which all that could be heard was the ticking of the mantel clock. Then Mrs Guarding nodded. ‘It would be foolish of me to pretend an ignorance of what goes on in the world, Helen. You would not be the first woman to be unjustly put upon, and I sympathise with you for what you had to endure. I take it Mr Brandon did not realise what was happening at the time?’

      ‘No. I am quite sure he believed he was witnessing a mutually agreeable embrace. He said nothing, but he left the room very quickly.’

      ‘And you have not seen him since?’

      ‘No. I left Lord Talbot’s employ the very next day.’

      Mrs Guarding laced her fingers together on the desk in front of her. ‘Well, I think we need say no more about it. I apologise if my question seemed intrusive, СКАЧАТЬ