Breaking the Governess’s Rules (9 page)

Louisa’s face became mutinous as her tawny eyes darkened to rich amber. ‘You accepted her story without questioning.’

Jonathon winced as the barb hit home. He had accepted the story of Louisa’s death, because who would be wicked enough to lie about such a thing? He had made his feelings about Louisa quite clear. He had wept for days after he had been told, wept in a way that he had never done before or since. Venetia had made noises, but she had known the depth of his feeling for Louisa.

‘I will be interested to hear the explanation.’ Jonathon inclined his head.

‘Our business is satisfactorily concluded.’ Louisa began to close the various drawers. ‘That particular episode may now be once again consigned to the past and
youthful folly. We may both continue with our lives.’ She gave a perfunctory nod. ‘Good day to you, Lord Chesterholm. May your future be a pleasant one. For me, Sorrento beckons.’

Anger surged through Jonathon. If she thought she would be rid of him this easily, Louisa had another think coming. He would confront his stepmother. Venetia would never be able to play that sort of trick again, but that had nothing to do with his relationship with Louisa.

Love might have fled, but passion and desire remained. They were not finished until he said so. He hated to think of another man looking at Louisa, let alone touching her. Somewhere beneath that bravado and polished veneer lurked his Louisa, the woman he had dreamt about spending the rest of his life with, the one whom he had sworn to protect. She would go to Chesterholm and she would confess her untruths.

‘You remain intent on marrying your baronet.’ Jonathon’s muscles tensed.

‘As much as I ever was.’ Louisa’s laugh rang out, high and shrill. ‘My future is none of your concern, Lord Chesterholm. Our connection is over, severed. You have no claim.’

‘I looked his name up in Debrett’s. It was most enlightening.’

‘You obviously have more time than I do.’ Her smile wavered slightly. ‘Did you find it interesting?’

‘He is twice your age. Is that why he wants you, Louisa—to add to his collection of pretty things? Has he ever kissed you?’

Louisa’s hand plucked at her skirt and she pressed
her lips together and slowly, almost imperceptibly, she shook her head. ‘Such matters are none of your concern. But know that he has great admiration for me.’

‘Admiration,’ Jonathon scoffed as the white-hot rage in his soul eased. ‘Is that the same as love?’

‘It is a form of love.’

‘Is it a passionate love match, then?’

‘Yes, yes, if you insist. It is … what I want.’ She shook her head. ‘Not that you would understand such simple concepts as restraint and forbearance.’

‘Why isn’t he here with you?’ Jonathon brushed her cheek. ‘If this man was dying of love for you, why did he allow you to go back to England alone? Any man should know the folly of that. If you were my fiancée, I would make certain no other man had a chance of going near you.’

‘I don’t believe in love, not that sort,’ she whispered, not meeting his eyes. ‘I seek the comfort of companionship.’

‘You did once.’ He trailed a finger down the side of her face. ‘You were the most passionate creature I had ever met. You wanted to grab life with both hands. And now, you only want a companion. You might lie to yourself, Louisa, but do not lie to me. Sir Francis and his bloodless offer is not what you desire.’

‘That is all in the past, Jonathon. Finished and ended. It was never love, simply desire. Desire that flared out of control, but burnt out quickly.’

‘It is something you should worry about. Do you think Sir Francis will want to marry you once he discovers your youthful indiscretion?’

Louisa stared at him in astonishment. She had given
him the letter that proved her point and he still appeared intent on destroying her and her reputation. Surely he had to let her go. Last night proved nothing except that she was a fool. ‘What do you mean?’

‘What a man asks from a mistress is different from what he demands from a wife.’ A faint smile appeared on his lips. ‘Have you told him about what passed between us? Surely a husband deserves to know about his wife’s lovers.’

‘There is no us, Jonathon. That particular folly ended years ago.’ She tilted her head and dared him to say otherwise. The sudden image of Jonathon vital and determined in Sorrento flashed through her brain—Jonathon loudly declaiming to Sir Francis and everyone else who gathered on the Hotel Trasemeno terrace for their afternoon tea about her past, or, worse, Jonathon gathering her in his arms and kissing her in front of everyone. The thought unnerved her. She glanced at him under her lashes. He would never do it, would he?

‘Then he has no idea why you left England. Interesting. Perhaps he should be enlightened.’ Jonathon cupped his fingers under her chin and forced it upwards so he gazed directly into her soul. The shifting colours in his eyes mesmerised her. ‘What hurts most, Louisa, is that you think so little of the people you profess to care about. You were the one who said that those closest to you should share your innermost secrets.’

‘Are you threatening me?’ She wrenched her chin away. ‘Threats are only effective if the person is prepared to carry them through. Venetia Ponsby-Smythe taught me that.’

‘Threats or promises, Lou?’ he asked, using his old
pet name for her. He ran his hands lightly down her arms and saw the pulse at the base of her throat quicken. ‘What will Sir Francis do when I appear in Sorrento to give this demonstration?’

Jonathon traced the outline of her lips with the back of his thumb. They shifted and moved under the subtle pressure, sending pulses of warmth throughout her body, making an ache grow within her.

Louisa inhaled and caught his citrus scent. Heat infused her body as her breast strained against her stays. It would be so easy to give into him, so easy to become the person that she swore she would never be again. With her last ounce of self-preservation, Louisa straightened her shoulders and moved out of his grasp.

‘What do you want from me, Jonathon?’ she asked, hating the faint sardonic smile on his face as if he knew of her inner turmoil. ‘How can I get you out of my life?’

The creak of the door gave her a split-second warning and she jumped away, aware her colour was far too high.

Miss Daphne entered the room, with Lord Furniss nearly tripping on her heels. Miss Daphne wore a concerned expression, but Lord Furniss’s was a cross between concern and outrage.

‘Chesterholm, what do you think you are doing?’ Lord Furniss thundered, shaking his fist at Jonathon. ‘Miss Sibson is not some piece of Haymarketware to be trifled with. Miss Sibson, your reputation… I demand the satisfaction of an explanation, Chesterholm.’

‘Miss Sibson’s reputation is in no danger from me.’ Jonathon made a bow. ‘I hold Miss Sibson’s reputation
in very high esteem, Furniss. There will be no need for seconds. It was a matter of the light and the cameos. Nothing has happened here that was intended to dishonour Miss Sibson.’

‘Humph.’ Lord Furniss’s brow wrinkled as he digested Jonathon’s statement. ‘With any other man, Chesterholm, I might wonder, but I know you to be a sound fellow.’

Silently Louisa cursed her stupidity in not insisting that Jonathon open the door. A few more heartbeats and she would have been properly in his arms, surrendering her mouth and body.

Louisa pressed a hand to her forehead. He was not the one making piecrust promises. She was. And she had to get him out of her life or risk losing all the respectability that she had worked so hard to regain.

‘Ah, I see Louisa has worked her usual magic with the cameos. Personally I can never see the attraction, but my late sister was enthralled, particularly with the Psyche ones.’ Miss Daphne frowned slightly. ‘But the door …’

‘Miss Sibson protested and I overruled her. I needed less light.’ Jonathon carefully placed the last remaining cameo in its resting place and shut the drawer. ‘Sometimes there are delicate shades in cameos that need bringing out, or so my late uncle said. Subtlety is all.’

‘My sister taught her well.’ Miss Daphne beamed benevolently. ‘My sister was readily acknowledged to be an expert in the field, and Louisa proved to be an apt pupil. We were so lucky to find her.’

‘I am certain she would be an apt
pupil.
Miss Sibson shows an aptitude for any number of areas.’

Louisa forced a smile until her jaw ached. She refused to give Jonathon the satisfaction of knowing how he disturbed her with his little innuendos and
double entendres.

‘Lord Chesterholm has seen all that he requires. He will be leaving.’

‘Next time, Louisa, I trust you will remember that you are no longer in Italy, but in England,’ Miss Daphne said, shaking her head. ‘Servants will talk if you close doors. Appearance, my dear, appearance is all important in English society.’

‘Appearances can be deceptive,’ Jonathon remarked.

‘It is unbelievable how quickly scandal can travel, Aunt.’ Lord Furniss dropped his voice. ‘A whisper here and a word there and suddenly one can find oneself embroiled in a full-blown scandal that is reported in all the scandal sheets. Miss Sibson must be careful. Cameos or not.’

‘I trust you will remember your words, Rupert… should you become embroiled. Your dear mama would be mortified.’ Miss Daphne bowed her head, but not before Louisa detected a faint gleam in the old woman’s eye. ‘Louisa is guilty of no more than being accustomed to Italian manners.’

‘I will endeavour to remember the point for the next time.’ Louisa kept her voice even and avoided Miss Daphne’s glance. Less than a day after meeting again Jonathon and she had forgotten all the lessons she had learnt. There would be no next time. She was not going to be alone with Jonathon again. ‘As Lord Chesterholm said—the light was not conducive to viewing the cameos. The delicate shading was hidden by the bright
light. The fault was all mine. I did not think that it could be misconstrued.’

‘Miss Sibson has proved most enlightening on the subject.’ The colour of Jonathon’s eyes deepened and shifted. ‘I am hoping you and Miss Sibson might be persuaded to visit me at Chesterholm, Miss Elliot. I would like to get some expert advice on several cameos in my collection.’

‘You can bring them to Newcastle,’ Louisa said quickly as Miss Daphne’s ribbons twitched. ‘Perhaps there will be time before the packet leaves.’

‘Mattie and I enjoyed a prolonged stay at Chesterholm Grange in our youth.’ There was a wistful look in Miss Daphne’s eyes. Louisa groaned, remembering where she had seen Miss Daphne’s look before—last autumn in Sorrento when Miss Daphne had attempted to play cupid with Miss Henderson and Colonel Prism. Only Miss Mattie’s quick thinking had saved the situation and the pair was now happily married but it had been a close-run thing. ‘It lives as a happy memory. I never thought I would return … not after what passed between them. But now my entire being longs to see it one more time.’

‘I had not realised it was such a happy time in your life,’ Jonathon said, giving Louisa a significant look. Louisa glared back at him. He had known. It was underhanded using Miss Daphne in this way. ‘Furniss explained you were visiting your old girlish haunts. It would be remiss of you not to come to Chesterholm, particularly now that we have made our acquaintance again.’

Miss Daphne’s eyes shone like two beacons. ‘I would love that.’

‘Perhaps you can explain a mystery about my uncle,’ Jonathon said smoothly. ‘He kept himself to himself in later years, but I understand he had heartache as a youth.’

‘Mattie and he had an understanding, but then they quarrelled. Over the Romans, of all things. Poor Mama took to her bed for weeks. Neither married.’ Miss Daphne clapped her hands and the years fell away. For the briefest of instances Louisa glimpsed the beauty that Miss Daphne must have been in her youth. ‘Yes, it would be very fitting to return there before I depart for Sorrento. Very fitting indeed. I accept your invitation with pleasure.’

‘And Miss Sibson?’ Jonathon turned his hard gaze on Louisa, daring her to refuse. ‘Will you accept? Or is there somewhere you need to run away to?’

‘Louisa promised to look after me on my journey,’ Miss Daphne said, giving her a wistful look like a child about to be denied a longed-for treat.

‘And she never breaks her promises.’

‘Miss Daphne knows that I will stay until she is ready to go back to Sorrento.’ Louisa clenched her fists. Very well, he was determined that she would visit Chesterholm. She would, but on her terms. He would discover that it took more than an indulgent smile and a purring voice to seduce her. And when she had finished with him, he would learn never to involve himself in her life again.

A slow appraising smile crossed Jonathon’s face. ‘Then I will take it as a yes.’

‘If you must.’ Louisa pressed her palms into her eyes and regained control of her temper.

‘Miss Sibson is angry with me for suggesting the visit.’ He hung his head in a show of mock remorse. ‘And my intentions are pure.’

‘Should I be angry?’ Louisa gave him her most guileless smile as inwardly she longed to throw the box of cameos at his head. ‘For you have done nothing wrong. The only thing you are guilty of is wishing to know the truth … about your cameos.’

Jonathon made a small bow towards Miss Daphne. ‘Then I will be delighted to show off how the estate has changed and improved since my great-uncle’s time. Were you there before or after he demolished the Roman settlement?’

‘Before.’ Miss Daphne’s eyes twinkled with a mischievous light. Louisa frowned. Had Miss Daphne expected the invitation?’And I would look on it as a great personal favour if you invited my nephew to join this house party of yours.’

‘Furniss? Will you join us?’

‘Of course, my dear chap.’ Furniss touched his fingers to his hat. ‘I would be honoured. The last time I visited was when you had just inherited the house. I look forward to seeing the changes.’

‘And the Blandish family.’ Miss Daphne’s eyes took on a distinct gleam. ‘I am taken with Miss Nella. She bears cultivating, that young lady. And Miss Blandish will be making her début this Season. It must be about time for your half-sister, Margaret, to make her début.’