My Brown-Eyed Earl (11 page)

Relief flooded his veins as he helped Alec to his feet. “I should have. Next time, don't ask so many damned questions. We're in a boxing club, not a bloody ballroom.”

Alec rubbed his face and winced. “Thanks for clarifying.”

“You know, you might be a decent fighter if you could manage to keep your mouth shut.”

Alec tugged off a glove, sipped from a ladle of water, and poured the rest over his head. “But then I'd never know what was going on in that mind of yours.”

Will snorted. “Careful what you wish for.”

They moved to the side of the room, where Alec slung a towel around his neck. “I struck a nerve when I mentioned Miss Lacey. Or is it Meg now?”

Will gave his shoulder a shove, backed him against the wall, and glared. “Tread lightly, Torrington. Tread very, very lightly.”

Alec raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. But I happen to have some experience in this area—navigating a relationship with one's governess. You know where to find me if you want my advice.”

Will blinked then laughed out loud. “The day I seek relationship advice from you, my friend, will be a cold, cold day in hell.”

Alec started to laugh, too, but quickly stopped and cupped his cheek. “Damn, that hurts.”

“I'll buy you dinner at the club later—
if
you vow not to speak of governesses.”

“Fine,” Alec said sullenly.

But as Will toweled off and dressed, he
was
thinking of Meg. Of how she'd responded when he'd kissed her and how he'd looked for her around every corner for the past two days. She seemed to spend all her time teaching the twins in the nursery or planning their lessons in her room.

He could hardly be cross about that—it's what he was paying her for, after all.

But he couldn't help wondering if she was avoiding him. If she regretted the whole evening. After all, she'd soundly rejected him once. Her infamous refusal of his proposal may have been eight years ago, but in his experience, people didn't change much, not at their center. And she'd obviously found him abhorrent then.

Regardless of whether her opinion of him had changed, the real problem was
him
. He'd crossed a line with the kiss. Granted, for that evening they'd shrugged off their roles as employer and governess. But as much as he'd enjoyed their interlude, he knew in his gut that they had no choice but to return to their assigned roles.

Meg had gone back to being Miss Lacey, dedicated teacher of unruly twins and steadfast wearer of ugly dresses. Will had gone back to being the Earl of Castleton, carefree bachelor of considerable means and consistent shunner of weighty responsibility.

He should be used to the playing the part. Hell, it wasn't even a part, it was simply
him
.

And if the role wasn't as satisfying as it once had been, if it left him feeling vaguely empty and lost, maybe it was a sign that, God help him, his mother was right.

Being an earl—at least a good one—meant doing his duty. He wouldn't repeat the mistakes his father had made—taking both his title and fortune for granted.

When his father died, Will had inherited more than an earldom; he'd inherited a mess of the first order. The entire estate was in a shambles, and the family's coffers were depleted. Every outstanding debt, ill-considered contract, and excessive expenditure had landed squarely in his lap.

Once he'd recovered from the shock, Will had rolled up his shirtsleeves. He'd dedicated the last five years of his life to restoring order where he could, making his land profitable, and generally cleaning up the remnants of his father's carelessness.

To be fair, he'd only worked twelve hours a day, which left plenty of hours to indulge in the sorts of activities bachelors normally enjoyed. Such as a highly pleasurable dalliance with one's fetching governess.

But when it came to being a truly fine earl, business acumen and hard work were only half of the equation. The other half was being honorable and, damn it all … doing one's duty.

It was time for him to stop keeping mistresses and seducing governesses and move on with his life.

It was time for him to find himself a proper countess.

*   *   *

“We have time for one more.” Meg wrote
8-3
=
? on a small slate and showed it to Diana. “Try this.”

She closed her eyes, moved her lips, and took a deep breath. “Six?”

“Close,” said Valerie.

“Seven?” Diana guessed.

“Not quite.” Meg patted Diana's knee. “But don't be discouraged.”

“You almost had it,” said Valerie.

Diana clenched her fists and let out an impressive growl. “It doesn't make
sense
. I started with eight and counted back three times. Eight, seven, six. The answer should be
six
.”

“Ah, I think I understand the problem,” said Meg. “You're starting with eight, when you should start with seven.”

“No,” said Diana, pointing her stubby finger to the problem on the slate. “We're starting with eight. It says so right here.”

Heavens, it
was
rather confusing. Meg looked around the neat but sparsely furnished nursery for small objects she could use to demonstrate. “Have you any marbles?”

Diana rolled her eyes. “We did, but Gibson took them away. He said that, in our hands, they were a hazard.”

“He's probably right about that.” Meg tapped her chin. “I know. Tomorrow we'll go for a walk and collect some small stones.”

“Stones are going to help me with arithmetic?” Diana asked, clearly skeptical.

“Maybe they're good luck,” Valerie offered.

Meg smiled at her charges. “Perhaps they will bring us good fortune, but mostly they're for demonstrating equations. You'll see.”

“Why can't we go now?” asked Diana.

“She has the afternoon off.” Valerie sighed.

“Off from what?”

Valerie sighed again. “From us.”

Smiling, Meg erased the slate and returned it to the bookcase. “I'm going to spend a few hours with my sisters.”

Diana pouted. “What are
we
going to do?”

Meg had wondered the same thing. She'd debated staying with the girls, but Mrs. Lundy had insisted she could manage them while Meg was gone. It was only a few hours, after all.

“You are going to have your lunch and take a nap.”

“I detest naps,” announced Diana.

“Then you may read instead,” Meg said smoothly. “And Mrs. Lundy said that if you behave yourselves, you may go down to the kitchen and help Cook prepare a cake before dinner. Won't that be fun?”

“Grand,” Diana intoned.

“I shall return this evening in plenty of time to tuck you into your beds.”

“Do you miss your sisters?” Valerie asked soberly.

“Very much.” It had only been six days, but Meg had never been apart from them for so long.

Valerie shuffled closer and wrapped her arms around Meg in a hip-high hug. “Enjoy the afternoon with your sisters,” she mumbled into the skirt of Meg's gown, “but please, please be sure to come back.”

“Oh, Val.” Meg knelt, pulled her into a proper hug, and patted her golden curls. “I will. I promise.”

But Diana sat on the edge of her bed with her arms crossed, brooding, and Meg could see the doubt in her eyes.

“In fact,” Meg said to Valerie, “I would consider it a great favor if you could hold onto my locket for me while I'm gone—just until I return this evening.” She took off the locket, dropped it into Valerie's palm, and curled her little fingers around it.

The girl's face split into a smile. “I'll take good care of it for you.”

“What about me?” Diana marched over. “What shall I keep for you?”

“I don't suppose you could help Valerie with the locket?”

“No. I want to look after something on my own.”

“Very well then.” Meg had no other jewelry, but even if she had she would have thought twice before entrusting it to Diana. She pulled the lavender ribbon from her hair and gave it to Diana. “Why don't you hold onto this for me?”

“Yes, Miss Lacey,” she said seriously.

“Wonderful. I feel much better now that that's settled. Mind Mrs. Lundy today, and I shall see you both this evening.”

As she made her way to her bedchamber to change and gather a few things, she realized how desperately she needed a little time away. She didn't require a respite from teaching so much as from the earl. She'd done her best to avoid him over the past two days, but it was rather draining, trying to plan one's schedule with the sole purpose of minimizing the chances of random encounters.

Of course, if the earl had truly wanted to see her, he would have found a way.

But he hadn't.

In the two days since the kiss, Meg had done a considerable amount of thinking and had arrived at two conclusions. First, the impressive charm that the earl had employed that evening had no doubt been for the sole purpose of retaining her services as governess. He must have known she was on the verge of resigning and did not wish to be bothered with hiring another, so he'd shrewdly sought to distract her with pretty words and scorching kisses. And distract her, they had.

Second, these sorts of flirtations—replete with all manner of gazing, kissing, and caressing—had meant nothing to the earl. For her, their romantic interlude atop the staircase had been a glorious, magical, enlightening introduction to pleasure.

For him, it had merely been Friday evening.

Meg would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how much the kiss had affected her—how she'd lain awake at night remembering the sweet pressure of his lips on her neck and the thrilling feel of his hands on her body. Better to carry on as though it had been a perfectly ordinary Friday evening for her as well.

She peered into her satchel to ensure she had her first week's pay—more money than she'd ever held at one time. Mrs. Lundy had handed the note to her that morning and said it was well earned. If the dear housekeeper only knew.

 

Chapter
ELEVEN

 

“Meg!” Beth and Julie catapulted themselves at her the moment she walked through the door. “How we've missed you!”

Meg managed to hug both of them at once, savoring the cozy, intimate atmosphere of home. “I've missed you too. How's Uncle Alistair?”

“He's well—the same as ever.” Julie swept off Meg's bonnet and hung it on a peg in the front hall. “But we want to know about
you
. Your letters were vexingly brief, Meg. You must tell us about the twins. Are they ill behaved? Is Lord Castleton as overbearing an employer as I suspect he is?”

“You might at least allow her to catch her breath before you start bombarding her with questions,” Beth scolded. Smiling at Meg she said, “You must be exhausted. Come sit in the parlor. Tea is ready.”

“Wait. Take this.” Meg reached into her satchel and gave Beth her first week's earnings. “It's certainly not enough to pay all our debts—it won't even make a dent—but please use it as you see fit. There's no need to mention it to Uncle Alistair; it would only embarrass him.”

Beth stared at the note, her blue eyes wide with wonder. “I had no idea governesses earned so much.”

“They don't.” Meg blew out a breath. “The earl was desperate to hire me.”

“Serves him right,” said Julie in a sisterly display of loyalty. And for some unfathomable reason, Meg had to check the urge to defend Will.

“You've no idea how much this will help,” Beth said. “I can give the staff a portion of their back pay
and
stock the pantry.” Her eyes welled, and in that moment, Meg
knew
she was doing the right thing.

Working for the earl was dangerous—
especially
now that they'd kissed—but her family's well-being was worth the risk to her reputation. And to her heart.

“I'm glad I can make a small contribution. And tea sounds wonderful.” She sniffed at the air. “Do I smell chocolate?”

“Yes!” Julie cried, as they entered the parlor. “To celebrate your first week as a governess. Look, Charlotte's here too.”

“How lovely!” Meg exclaimed, giving her friend's hands an affectionate squeeze.

“I don't mean to intrude on your family visit, but I simply had to see you and hear how you've fared. You didn't write after that day in the park.”

Meg gave a slight shake of her head. No need to recount the harrowing tale in front of Beth and Julie—they'd only ask scores of questions and worry needlessly. “There's not much to tell,” Meg fibbed. “The week was a blur of planning, reading lessons, and sums. The twins are delightful.”

Taking her cue, Charlotte nodded vigorously. “Darling girls.”

Beth's gaze shifted between Meg and Charlotte, as though she suspected there was more to the story. “Is it difficult to tell them apart?”

“From a distance, it can be tricky, but Diana is left-handed and has a small dimple in her cheek; Valerie favors her right hand.

“If I had a twin,” Julie announced, “she and I would have had great fun at the expense of our governess. You should be on your guard.”

“Not everyone is blessed with your level of deviousness,” said Beth. “Thank heaven.”

As the four women squeezed themselves onto the threadbare settee, Meg reached for a cup, then paused. “You used the fine china
and
arranged fresh flowers on the table? Why all the fuss on my account?”

“We wanted today to be special,” Beth said.

“Besides, you've been living in Castleton House,” Julie pointed out. “You've no doubt become accustomed to elegant things. Home must seem awfully shabby by comparison.”