The Earl and the Governess. Sarah Barnwell Elliott

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      A footman answered promptly. He seemed surprised and confused to see her, as if she were the last person he expected.

      ‘You’re here to see his lordship?’ he asked.

      She nodded uncertainly. It was an oddly direct greeting.

      ‘There were only six names on the list,’ he said accusingly. ‘I thought we’d finished for the morning. What is your name?’

      Now it was her turn to feel confused. What list? ‘Miss Isabelle Thomas. I…perhaps I should explain—’

      He sniffed disapprovingly and ushered her inside. ‘Quickly, quickly. There’s little time for explaining. His lordship had hoped to complete these meetings half an hour ago and won’t be too pleased to see you. You might as well sit, Miss Thomas.’

      And then he briskly crossed the hall and disappeared behind a door before she had another chance to protest. She sat on a mahogany hall chair, nervously fingering the watch in her pocket. This wasn’t going as planned. Perhaps she should just leave the watch on the table, cross her fingers and run.

      She didn’t have time. The footman reappeared. ‘This way, Miss Thomas,’ he said impatiently.

      She rose, feeling unsteady. But she didn’t need to feel scared. The theft had been an accident, and she was now returning the watch as was correct and honourable. Lord Lennox would surely understand. He’d been kind to her before.

      The footman held the door open wider for her to enter and, somehow, she did so without fainting. She stood anxiously, keeping her gaze fixed on the grey marble chimney-piece that dominated the room. Only when the footman closed the door solidly behind her did she allow her eyes to focus on the tall, masculine form sitting behind the desk.

      He was staring right back at her, and he didn’t bother to rise out of respect. He was as handsome as the memory she’d carried around with her for the past fortnight, but now his green eyes were cold and assessing. She should say something…something…anything…

      Instead she turned the colour of a radish.

      He smiled at her embarrassment, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I must admit, when Rogers told me that a Miss Isabelle Thomas was waiting I thought it must be a coincidence. But it is you, isn’t it?’

      ‘I…perhaps I should have written first?’

      ‘Oh? Would you have warned me to hide my silver? I assume that’s what you’ve come for.’

      ‘I—’ She frowned at his sarcasm. ‘No, I have not.’

      ‘You haven’t seriously come about the position, have you?’

      ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

      ‘You saw the advertisement. You must have.’

      She shook her head. ‘No—’

      ‘Then why have you come?’He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

      With unsteady hands, she removed the watch from her pocket. She crossed the room and placed it on the desk in front of him. ‘I’ve come to return it,’she explained, when all he did was stare at it. Then she took three steps backwards.

      The room remained silent for several uncomfortable seconds. He picked up the watch and opened the case to examine it. His eyes showed no emotion when he returned his gaze to her face. ‘You were just…borrowing it, I suppose?’

      Oh, God, how could she explain? Her words spilled out in a jumble. ‘No, I mean, I never intended to take it. I saw…’ Start at the beginning. She took a calming breath. ‘When you saved me from that pickpocket…I—I mean the reason I wasn’t paying attention then is that I thought someone was following me, and I was trying to locate him in the crowd. I’d seen the same man several times that morning. And, well, my point is that I thought I was safe while you were accompanying me, but then when you left to converse with your driver I saw him again. I had little choice but to run. I didn’t realise until too late that I’d taken your watch with me. I was too afraid to go back to see if you were still there.’

      He was silent for several seconds. ‘Who was he?’

      Please let him believe her. ‘I don’t know, but I know it was the same man. I…I’m sorry it took me so long to find you, but all I had was your name, and I had to pay the boy who delivers coal to locate you. But I’ve finally found you. Please believe me.’

      He deposited the watch on the desk in front of him. Any anger in his expression had been replaced by curiosity.

      ‘Please sit, Miss Thomas.’

      She did, flushing again as she realised that, as was habit, she’d said too much. ‘I’m so sorry.’

      ‘You can stop apologising. Have you seen this man since then?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘That area is teeming with criminals. He was probably another pickpocket.’

      ‘I think so.’ But she felt certain he wasn’t. It was much more likely that he’d been sent by Sebastian Cowes to make sure she didn’t flee. He could have discovered her London address easily from her housekeeper. Kindly Mrs Vincent would’ve worried terribly if she’d gone without telling her how she could be contacted, but Isabelle now wished she’d given false details.

      He turned slightly in his chair and pulled the bell cord that hung down the wall.

      She tensed and rose. Maybe he didn’t believe her after all. Maybe he was going to send for the authorities. ‘What are you doing?’

      ‘Having a tray of…’ He paused when the door opened. This time a butler entered. ‘Oh, Bartholomew, please have a tray of tea brought.’

      ‘Mrs Graham is just preparing one now, my lord. Shall I ask her to include an extra—?’

      ‘Yes, yes, enough for two, obviously,’ Will said with a touch of impatience.

      The butler left silently.

      He turned his attention back to her. ‘You can sit again, Miss Thomas. You’ve nothing to be afraid of.’

      ‘I must go. Really.’

      ‘No, sit.’

      It was an order, but she continued to stand. Because even if he didn’t want to have her arrested for theft, he still did funny things to her insides. Funny things that made her blush and speak like an imbecile. ‘No, no. I have to leave.’

      ‘Why? Do you have plans for the afternoon?’

      ‘Yes.’ That wasn’t true.

      ‘I don’t believe you.’

      ‘I do. I’m having lunch. With…uh—’

      ‘The king?’

      Her gaze met his, and he challenged her to come up with another excuse. His eyes were so disconcerting that

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