Bloody hell!
When Lord Melcombe asked what she’d like to win, Althea could only think of the most inappropriate responses, such as a kiss, or to be held, being held while being kissed. Thankfully the maid interrupted before she had to answer as she had no appropriate response. And, given the reaction of the maid to her conversing with Lord Melcombe while drinking brandy, Althea realized that she’d overstepped. The maid clearly thought more was occurring between them than a simple discussion about chess, and it reminded Althea that she needed to be careful, or the servants would assume that which was not true.
She was not a guest in this home. She shouldn’t behave as she would in a friend’s home while visiting, teasing and such.
Yet, the friendly banter between them had been so pleasant. More than pleasant.
“I thought to ride this afternoon, Miss Claywell, would you care to join me?”
She would like nothing better, but theirs was not a courtship. If only he’d have asked her last spring, while he was still in London, perhaps everything would have turned out differently. But he hadn’t, and she must remember that.
“It would not be appropriate.” She finished her brandy and stood. “I really should attend to plans for tomorrow.”
“It is your free day.”
He was correct, and truly, she had already planned the schedule for the coming weeks, but it was a logical excuse that shouldn’t have been questioned. “Perhaps I’ll read if I could make use of your library, and enjoy the quietness often lacking above stairs.”
“You may borrow any book you wish.”
Althea was comforted by his sincere generosity, which further proved that his invitation had been no different than a polite offer or he would have pressed her to join him.
“Thank you, Lord Melcombe.” She stood. “I also thank you for the brandy and conversation. I will leave you to enjoy your afternoon.”
“I’ll see you at supper?” he called as she neared the door, as if he wasn’t certain she’d join him.
“I’ll see you at supper,” she promised.
Althea left him and went straight away to the library where she quickly chose a book that she’d not previously read, then fled up the stairs, her heart pounding.
She had nearly entered into a flirtation with Lord Melcombe and that would never do. He was her employer and no matter how much she longed for his kiss, she mustn’t overstep. Already the maid suspected there was more between them than there was.
Yes, she wanted him, but not at the cost of her reputation. Until, and if, he gave any indication that he saw her as anything other than a governess, Althea needed to be careful in how she behaved in his presence, especially where a maid or footman may take note.
Althea set the book on the bedside table with every intention of reading it later, as it would be impossible to concentrate on the words now. Instead, she crossed to the window. Winifred had been correct. This was a lovely view. Below her was the terrace, stripped of any furniture that she assumed would be present in warmer weather. Beyond was a parterre with an intricate knot of boxwoods. Althea hoped that she remained here long enough to learn what flowers bloomed within.
Further away were stone walls with a wrought iron gate, which pulled her curiosity. She could not see within but wondered if it was a walled garden.
Curiosity pulled and Althea found her cloak and bonnet. A brisk walk would serve her well and she hoped that it would settle her mind. As she’d yet to learn all there was to Ambrose Hall and the estates, today would be the perfect opportunity to explore.
Chapter Eleven
PrestonknewthatMissClaywell would decline his invitation to ride even before the offer was made. He’d seen the censorship in the maid’s eyes when she noted the glass of brandy that Miss Claywell was holding. No doubt that maid likely overheard portions of the conversation and wagers being discussed.
Miss Claywell noted her judgment as well and almost immediately reverted to the proper governess role that she’d cloaked herself in since her arrival.
It irritated him to see her fade from the teasing banter they’d enjoyed. A conversation where he’d not hesitated once, nor was he slow in his response. It had felt as natural as when he was with friends.
As a governess, she was in a difficult position within the household. Her rank was nearly equal to his own, being the niece of a Viscount, which elevated her above the rest of the servants, but as an employee, not his equal either, which meant that she didn’t have a place shared with others, but remained separated, with only the girls as her companions.
Such a position would be lonely.
This he pondered while sipping the remainder of his brandy.
However, the more pressing concern was what the maid may say. He’d heard the gossip surrounding Miss Halton, but only after she’d left. No matter how much Mrs. Wilson warned the servants to cease discussing the matter, there were still whispers with half of his servants blaming Miss Halton for what had occurred and the other half putting the blame on him.
Preston’s stomach tightened. He did not wish to see Miss Claywell suffer the same fate of being branded a woman of low moral character, and that is exactly what would happen if he was not careful.
One thing was for certain, he’d need to quell any potential gossip the moment he returned from his ride, or Miss Claywell would never be accepted as his bride. Some would assume she seduced him when in truth, Preston wanted nothing more than to seduce her.
