A Mother For His Family. Susanne Dietze

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ first response died on his lips. As did his second. Helena was right. Flogging wouldn’t be tolerated, and it sounded as if Miss Campbell wasn’t qualified. He’d wanted the matter resolved today, but no governess was better than the wrong one. And he must trust Helena to hire another, just as he handled the estate and his political issues. This was, as she said, why he married her.

      He sat back in his chair. “So what will you do?”

      “I shall make inquiries on the morrow.” Her lips twitched into a shy grin, a far different smile from those placid, frozen-into-stillness smiles she wore so much of the time. Her expression was not in the least flirtatious. Nevertheless, her little smile drew him in, and he craved another from her, the way the children hungered after desserts of cream ices and puddings. As if he could ask for more, please.

      What a ridiculous thing to think, considering their arrangement. He shoved the foolish thought aside. “And in the meantime? Until someone who uses a handkerchief can be found?”

      She didn’t look up at him, even though he’d used a teasing tone. “I thought I might teach the children.”

      “You?” The word blurted out before he gave it thought.

      “Whyever not?” Her shoulders squared. “I’m proficient at pianoforte and not too terrible with sums.”

      But she was the high-born Lady Helena. Catriona had never sat down with the bairns, not to read or spin a top or play a tune on the pianoforte. He’d not expected this duke’s daughter to lower herself to execute the duties of a governess. His surprise faded, replaced by a warm glow of pleasure under his waistcoat.

      “I think that would be delightful.” His words conjured another of her genuine smiles, the one he liked too much for his own good. He speared a bite of fish.

      “How did the candidate for governess come to be recommended to you?” Helena’s head tipped to the side. “She said it was not through a service.”

      The fish stuck in John’s throat, even as the plates were cleared. How pathetic he must seem to his new wife, arranging for an interview with an inept governess. But he had thought—oh, never mind. “She is the great-niece of the housekeeper, Mrs. McGill.”

      Helena’s lips twisted. “Now it makes sense.”

      “What?” He rose when she did.

      “Nothing of note.”

      He didn’t believe her. She held something back from him.

      Then again, he held something back from her, too. The blackmail letter, locked in the ornamental box upstairs. His secrecy was for her own good, however, not at all like a matter of household staffing. Before he could ask anything further about it, though, her brows lifted. “What is your habit after dinner?”

      “I bid the children good-night. Yesterday was different, with the wedding and lateness of the celebration. Would you care to join me in the nursery?”

      She nodded. Her hand was light on his forearm as he escorted her up the stairs to the nursery. Her closeness filled his senses, from the rustling fabric of her gown to the delicate scent of her perfume. Everything about her emanated femininity.

      Then she looked up at him, casting that shy smile. It transformed her entirely. Not that she was not beautiful when she bore that fixed smile, but when her true smile curved her lips, she was no longer like a magnificent artwork, a cold sculpture. She was enchanting.

      He did not know how long he had been smiling back, or when he’d patted her tiny hand, resting on his forearm. But her fingers felt so warm and natural there, he left his hand atop hers.

      “Papa, at last.”

      He startled. Dropped Helena’s arm. With too much haste, perhaps, but the children—Margaret and Callum, at least—frowned at his hand on Helena’s.

      Perhaps they were unready to view a sign of affection between him and their stepmother. Perhaps he’d confused Helena by touching her. He’d certainly confused himself. Affection of any sort was not part of their arrangement.

      “Ready for bed, I see.” He hurried from her side into the main room, where the four children waited in their nightcaps and dressing gowns. Bending away from Margaret’s glare, he hauled Louisa into his arms. She smelled of milk and soap.

      “Papa.” She sighed. “I’m sleepy.”

      “Not me.” Alex’s dressing gown billowed about his legs as he ran circles around John. “I’m a ship in the sea. Ach, a storm.” He flung himself into John’s side.

      “Time to come ashore.” John wrapped an arm about his heir’s waist and hauled him off the ground. Alex squealed.

      “Me next.” Callum jumped on John’s back, yanking his neck cloth and almost knocking him off balance. Margaret dashed behind John, and at once Callum’s weight lessened. Bless her for boosting her cousin’s rump, so he wasn’t pulling John backward. But Callum’s small hands still held John’s neck cloth like a leash.

      “My throat, Callum.” John’s request was gurgled. At once, the pressure moved from his neck to his shoulders. “Enough, monkeys. To bed with you.”

      “Never,” Alex cried. “You can’t leave, Papa. No more London.”

      “You must stay with us.” Callum squeezed.

      “I’m here for a while yet.” But he couldn’t ignore the pinch to his conscience.

      The boys slid to the ground, and he was left with naught but Louisa in his arms. He kissed her plump cheek, under the ruffle of her nightcap.

      “Rest well.” Then he bent to Margaret for a kiss, then Alex.

      Callum scowled. “No kisses for me.”

      “Fine, then. Off you go to say your prayers.”

      The children scattered to their separate rooms.

      “Good night, then.” The small voice behind him drew his gaze.

      Helena lingered inside the threshold, staring at him. He’d forgotten all about her. How thoughtless. Guilt pricked his abdomen and warmed his earlobes.

      “Forgive me. Did you wish to kiss the children? I shall call them back.” His tone was apologetic, but even to his ears the offer sounded weak.

      “No.” Her thumbs fidgeted at her waist and she stepped backward, as if in a terrible hurry to escape him.

      Little wonder, the way he’d ignored her. “Helena—”

      “Good night, my lord.”

      “John,” he corrected her, but she had disappeared into the darkness of the hall.

      One step forward, two steps back. Lord, help us find ease in this arrangement, before we both come to regret it.

      Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

      Текст СКАЧАТЬ