In the end, he purchased a writing box with hidden compartments for Delia, along with a journal, paper, ink, and a selection of writing implements. For Matilda, a chess set, and he ordered a book. He then ordered a toy theatre for Lila, who enjoyed making up stories, and a doll’s house for Winifred. They then continued onto the hat shop, which sold far more than hats, and purchased new riding gloves and a bonnet for Theodora. Once everything arrived, he’d have Christmas once again and was much more confident that his presents would be welcomed instead of politely received.
As they stepped from the shop, Preston pulled out his timepiece. He was not ready to return to Ambrose Hall where he’d need to share Miss Claywell with his nieces. She’d likely leave him to return to the schoolroom to carry out her duties and he was not ready for her to do so.
“We’ve missed luncheon,” he noted. “Perhaps we should visit Hemsley Coffee House and at least enjoy tea.”
She’d like to sit with him, but in truth, her heart was bruised. When she mentioned opening a lending library, his only concern was that he’d lose a governess. Not that he’d lose her.
It left her further confused as to his intentions.
“I should return to my duties, Lord Melcombe. You didn’t hire me to take tea with you.”
“As your employer, shouldn’t I determine what your duties should be?”
Did that also include kissing him?
Had the one maid been correct that the cause of the former governess’ termination was Lord Melcombe?
Althea dismissed the thought. She always believed herself a good judge of character and had he seduced the governess, he would have felt obligated to marry her, of that Althea was certain, even with no facts in which to support her belief.
“While it may not be a concern of yours, Lord Melcombe, the longer I am away from the house, not attending to my duties, and with you, it might lead to gossip among the servants.”
His blue eyes grew concerned. “Has someone said something to you, Miss Claywell?”
“No,” she answered honestly because nobody had come directly to her, she’d simply eavesdropped, which she must cease doing if only for her own peace of mind. “However, there was a look of censure from the maid the other day,” she reminded him.
“I’ll speak to them.”
That isn’t what she wanted. “Interference from you might actually invite speculation and I’d like to avoid it completely.”
He stared at her for a long moment before he finally nodded. “Then we shall return to Ambrose Hall.”
Althea inwardly sighed. As much as she would have enjoyed taking tea with Melcombe, she needed to remember that theirs was not a courtship. When they reached the carriage, he assisted her inside then settled on the bench beside her instead of across. It was wide enough for the two of them, but she was very much aware of his thigh against hers and the heat radiating off his body.
Each time they met with a turn in the road, Melcombe leaned into her before he placed his arm behind, giving an air of intimacy that did not exist between them, no matter how much he desired or kissed her.
If he needed more room, he should have taken the bench across from her, then Althea would have peace of mind instead of battling the longing within her being.
At the next turn, he leaned close, his breath on her neck. Chills trailed down her spine. If Lord Melcombe had any idea what such closeness did to her being he’d stop, but she certainly couldn’t voice her own desires. It would be unbecoming. Althea could only hope that she didn’t burst into flames from the heat before they reached Ambrose Hall. Or worse, that she didn’t turn and kiss him because that would never do.
Soon they were on the road leaving the village, which meant there would be fewer turns, thank goodness, and Althea began to relax, even though Lord Melcombe still sat close enough that his body touched hers.
Was he even aware?
An instant later, the carriage listed to the right, almost as if it were going to tip, then settled. Melcombe had nearly fallen over her and placed a hand upon her thigh, which she was certain was unintentional. Yet, he didn’t remove it, and she became all too aware that his fingers rested near the apex of her thighs. An unfamiliar ache began. Another element of desire that she must ignore.
“Is anyone injured, Lord Melcombe?” the driver called.
Melcombe looked into Althea’s eyes. “Are you injured?”
“No,” she managed to breathe out.
“No,” he called back. Yet, Melcombe didn’t lift himself away from her person. “What happened?”
“The wheel came loose,” the driver called. “You and Miss Claywell wait right there, and I’ll hurry onto Ambrose Hall and return with lads to help me fix it.”
“It appears we are stuck, Miss Claywell. What shall we do while we wait?”
She sucked in a breath as her body became alive. Her breasts grew heavy as heat swept through her body. One thing was for certain, Lord Melcombe was very much aware of how close they were because he’d yet to remove himself from her person.
