He felt her enter reluctantly behind him, and his heart tightened when he heard the little gasp she made. She was pleased. Good. He’d done that, and he’d be damned if it didn’t make him feel like a colossus.
“Oh no, it’s too much. It’s not proper.” Her voice was hushed, as if she’d forgotten his presence and was speaking only to herself.
Ajax chuckled. “You work for the Sedleys now—you must rid yourself of such archaic notions as ‘propriety.’ It will all be easier that way.”
She drifted forward as if in a dream, carefully running her fingers along the back of the walnut chaise lounge that faced the fire. Christ, she was a pretty thing.
“Besides, we shan’t be here long. Once my niece has wed, we’ll return home.” Harmonia was set to marry in a few days.
That caught her attention, and she returned to herself, tightening her posture as well as her expression. “Home, sir?”
“Gallox Castle, Yorkshire Dales,” he said, watching for any indication of reluctance on her part. He knew how biased southerners could be. But she held herself with a remarkably even keel. It was maddening. He wanted that sweet, wondrous look of awe back. He wanted a smile to dance across her lips, for her to feel once more. Even a frown or a pout would be equally alluring. And worse, he wanted that wretched cloak off her, those dark curls released from their high-security prison of pins and coils.
Ajax turned, realizing that even if he spoke dismissively of propriety, he wasn’t free of its smothering grasp. He simply couldn’t have her, this beautiful woman who’d somehow finagled her way into the cloistered privacy of his home.
For even at twenty-seven she was far too young, and too prim to boot. And for better or for worse, she was Charlotte’s governess.
“Goodnight, Miss Abbotts. We’ll visit Oswine House as soon as you’re awake.”
She offered him a polite goodnight before he shut the door.
He’d only made it a few steps down the hall before he halted, leaning back against the wall, hand to his head. “Compose yourself, you old fool,” he hissed under his breath. After a few more moments he continued on again, and returned to his own chamber, alone.
Chapter Four
Susanna woke with astart, her mind suddenly aware that the hour was far too late for her to be abed.
It took her a moment to recall just how she had ended up here, in this massive bed in a proportionately scaled room. And then it all came back to her in a rush—from the frightful sight of the Earl of Clifton, his handsome face twisted with rage, to the dreamlike ride through the city at night, and then to the image of Mr. Ajax Sedley, elegantly disheveled in his library, still managing an affable sort of ease despite the impropriety of her arrival.
Forcing her fingers through the thick, tight curls of her hair, Susanna considered the two men. They were of the same height, and they both had a suave demeanor, though she now supposed Clifton’s to be carefully cultivated in order to obscure his darker qualities. But what about Mr. Sedley? Was the wit just a façade? Were the courtly smiles hiding something more? She hated that her first year in London had made her so skeptical of people. And yet she couldn’t help but be wary now.
Chagrined at the hour displayed on the black slate mantel clock, she went about her ablutions and dressed herself asquickly as possible. Even though she didn’t exactly feel well-rested, putting herself to rights helped her feel somewhat more alive.
Downstairs she found an empty breakfast room with a tidy sideboard of cold cuts and bread. She sat down with two slices of buttered bread, and in short order a woman arrived with a pot of tea for her.
“Good morning,” Susanna offered, feeling a little hesitant at the outlandish living situation she found herself in. It was beyond the pale, a single woman living in the same house as a bachelor, with Miss Charlotte Sedley nowhere in sight. But beggars could not be choosers. Susanna only hoped the staff would not be too quick to judge her.
The woman with the tea nodded at her before standing and folding her hands in front of her. “I’m Mrs. Prew, the housekeeper. I know you won’t be long, miss, but do let me know if there’s anything you need.”
Susanna thanked her, wanting desperately to pepper her with questions about the house, its owner, and what to expect, but Mrs. Prew had the look of a determined woman facing down a mountain of work. So she simply watched her leave instead.
Just as she finished her second cup of tea, the sound of a man clearing his throat alerted her to the presence of the butler, who informed her that the carriage was ready when she was. Still flustered at the abnormality of it all, Susanna rushed back upstairs to fetch her cloak. She regarded her reflection in the room’s ornate gilded mirror as she put it on, noting her strained expression.It was normal to be nervous, she reminded herself; after all, it was the first time she would meet her charge. A charge that would be her constant companion, the focus of all her labor for the next few years. Susanna swallowed and prayed they would get on. The little cottage in her dreams had never felt so far away, so unattainable.
Hurrying downstairs, she nearly stumbled at seeing Mr. Sedley there, waiting at the door. He was very smartly turned out, and was already donning his hat. He turned lazily toward her, wearing an expression more solemn than any she had yet seen on him.
Her breath caught in her throat as she alighted from the stairs. Why did everything have to feel so strange in this house?
Mr. Sedley’s face softened, and he broke into a slow, carefree grin. Susanna didn’t trust it, even as he offered her his arm.
“Ah, just the woman I’ve been waiting for. Shall we depart?”
“I regret I kept you waiting, sir.”
“Oh, nonsense. I instructed my valet to drag me from bed once you were up and about, no matter how fiercely I protested. Canham’s a bit bulkier than me, you see; I was no match.”
She bit back a smile.Be professional, she reminded herself.
They rode to Oswine House in silence. Unwilling to prattle on about this and that just to fill the air, Susanna kept her eyes trained forward or out the window, watching the people along the road hurry about their business. When she finally dared to sneak a glance at her new employer, he was staring morosely out his own window with his chin resting on his hand, one finger extended and tapping his cheek.
