That hadn’t been her intention, though perhaps it had been fate.
And now she was ruined.
One thing was for certain, she could not go back to Ambrose Hall. Winifred was only five and all she had to do was mention that her uncle had been hugging Althea in his bedchamber and the entire staff would turn on her. She deserved their scorn. She had behaved no better than a light skirt. Worse, the door had been open, and anyone could have walked by or come into the room.
A new thought brought a fresh wave of tears. What if someone elsehadseen them but discretely backed away? Were the servants gathered and gossiping about her and Lord Melcombe at this very moment?
Never could she return.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Prestongrabbedtheshirtoff the chair and pulled it over his head as he called after Althea. Had he ruined everything because he could not control himself?
He raced after her but by the time he reached the entry, she was already down the drive, her cloak flying behind her and running as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. He took a step to go after her but stopped when his bare foot sank into the icy wetness of snow and a cold wind slapped against him. He’d forgotten that it had started to snow.
He stood there and watched until she disappeared. Her midnight hair came loose from the confines of the tight bun at the back of her head, and long tendrils flew on the wind. He would love to see all her hair loose and fanned out across the pillow one day.
Preston hoped he still had the opportunity.
The moment he saw her standing in the hall, watching him, he couldn’t control his desires. The very ones that kept him awake at night and plagued him daily. He didn’t stop to think but acted on instinct to get her into his room, close to his bed. Had Winifred not interrupted him, who knew what might have transpired.
Deep down he knew exactly what would have transpired, and she’d been a willing participant in his seduction, with the door open for the world to see.
Where had his mind gone?
All proper thoughts disappeared at her perusal of his body. Her eyes darkened with passion, face flushed to a lovely, rosy glow, and her full lips parted as if in anticipation. In contrast, when she fled, her skin was quite pale, and he could only guess at what she was thinking and feeling now.
Snow came down heavier than it had when he first woke, which was highly unusual, though he didn’t expect it to last long. Certainly, she would be back shortly.
He should give Althea some time to compose herself Preston reasoned and made his way back up the stairs. As soon as she returned, they would discuss what happened. Further, he needed to tell her the truth, the whole of it. She may reject him, but it was important that she know that his intentions were completely honorable.
Winifred stood at the top of the landing, pulling on her braid, a worried frown marring her brow.
Preston raked his fingers through his hair as he settled on the top step. “Don’t worry. Miss Claywell will be back in a moment.”
Winifred plopped down next to him. “She was terribly upset.” Tears pooled in the little girl’s eyes.
The sadness pulled at his heart. The children had gone through so much since losing their parents nine months ago and had grown attached to Althea in such a short time. If she left, his nieces might not ever forgive him. Further, he wasn’t a very good example of proper behavior.
“Maybe she didn’t like being hugged?” There was certainly no way to explain to a five-year-old what was the true cause of her governess’ distress.
“But she loves hugs. She tells me so every time I hug her.”
What could he say to that? “Maybe she doesn’t like my hugs.”
Winifred’s arms wound around his waist, and she squeezed hard before placing a peck on his cheek. “I like your hugs, Uncle Preston.”
An involuntary smile pulled at his lips. Since his return from the Continent, his nieces had wormed their way into his heart, and he knew that he was wrapped around each of their little fingers. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Once Miss Claywell returned and they settled things between them, then life would be perfect.
“Go find your maid. I am certain Miss Claywell will be back in plenty of time for lessons.”
Winifred hopped up and without a backward glance, ran toward the stairs leading to the school floor. He followed and made his way to his own chamber to finish dressing for the day and hoped that Althea would return soon. There were serious matters that needed to be discussed with his governess, and it was best to do so fully clothed.
Dampness seeped through her shoes and the cold permeated her cloak before Althea finally looked about. Had it really snowed so much while she was walking? She’d pulled the hood of her cloak up at one point, but in truth, she wasn’t paying attention to what was occurring around her because she was too caught up in her humiliation.
She searched for a handkerchief, but she didn’t have one and needed to use her sleeve to wipe her eyes and nose. Althea was too miserable to care that she was doing the very thing she admonished Winifred for doing the other day. With a sniff, Althea entered the village and stopped in the middle of the road.What do I do now?
She scanned the shops along either side and chose the dressmaker. At least there she could pretend to look at fabric, or designs, or something while she decided what to do next.
