Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage 05] (18 page)

She looked up, surprised she’d spoken, and even more surprised by the sympathy in his gaze. The man seemed to
really
understand. But how could he?

She decided it was too painful to continue that vein of conversation, so she made light. “You, the impeccable solicitor-general, making mistakes? I think not.”

A pained look crossed his handsome features. “Oh, I’ve had more than my share. Much more.”

He looked so distressed, and lost. There was an isolated quality to him, she suddenly realized. For all his title and wealth, the man seemed…
lonely
.

The man worked all the time. He seemed to keep to himself. He’d lost his wife. He had no children of his own. She suspected that he wouldn’t be fully accepted in the ranks he’d joined, yet he no longer had a place in the ranks he’d left.

The man is an island
, the thought whispered in her mind.

Just like me.

S
teele and Miss West walked side by side in silence, the cries of the playing children fading in the distance. The sun was warm on their backs, a fragrant breeze of pine and grass kissing their faces.

Her pale hair peeked out from under her bonnet, shining golden in the sunlight. “Do you…” He wondered why he was asking, but felt compelled. “Do you have many regrets?”

“My share.” Her tone was noncommittal, but he’d seen the softening in her gaze toward him. She had her guard up, but seemed to be sharing a bit of herself with him, and he was eager to learn more.

He wondered, if he pushed would she become tongue-tied or fight back? She tended to be quiet and timid, yet he’d seen her react strongly when she was angry and hadn’t the time to question herself. Then she was a lioness protecting those she cared for.

Defending Seth the way she’d done against Carlton showed a hidden pool of courage that he suspected went very deep.

Seth and Felix were fortunate to have her in their lives. Any man would be fortunate to be cared for by
such a woman. The idea unsettled him, reminding him of the lack of such caring in his own life.

He immediately pushed away the sneaky longing that threatened his carefully controlled existence.

He didn’t
need
anyone. Need meant vulnerability, something he avoided at all costs.

Two ginger-haired, fashionably dressed ladies walked by, arm in arm with their heads tilted together in deep conversation. The taller one was heard to say, “And then he dared to complain about the expense! As if he hadn’t agreed to the whole party in the first instance!”

The smaller lady rolled her eyes. “Pray don’t tell me he tried the old ‘if I’d only known how much it would cost’ excuse.”

“He did! And when I explained, with great patience I might add, that one must have the essentials—”

“Of course!” The smaller lady waved her fan as if it were a sword. “One can’t appear without means.”

“Well, he began to question what I considered essential!”

Steele was suddenly reminded that any lady entering his home as his wife would turn his carefully controlled existence on its head. The idea made his stomach sour.

As she listened to the ladies, Miss West’s eyes sparkled with contained amusement. He realized that
she
had changed the rhythms of his house, yet he didn’t seem to mind. But Miss West was staff, answerable to him. He had little doubt that a lady assuming the role of mistress of the house would be far more disruptive.

The smaller lady’s lip curled. “Husbands—it’s a wonder we put up with them at all.”

The tetchy ladies moved on.

After a few moments had passed, Steele realized that Miss West’s mien had become anxious. Her hands were clutched tightly before her; a frown creased her golden brow. She opened her mouth as if to speak and then closed it once more, as if afraid of what she might say or how it would be heard.

He hated when she acted so apprehensive about how she might be received. Again he had to wonder if she’d always been like this, or had the incident with Phineas Byrnwyck scarred her? Anger flashed in his gut, hot and quick. How any man could take advantage of such a wholesome girl was beyond him. His curiosity sparked, and he wondered if she wanted to discuss what had happened.

“We were talking about regrets,” he offered, hoping she would open up to him. “And we all have them, Miss West.”

The governess licked her lips, venturing, “Yes, well, sometimes…things…happen…not quite as one expects.” She seemed to be struggling for words. “And the way one reacts…” Her voice trailed off.

“Like one’s head only catches up after the fact?” he finished for her, knowing the feeling better than she could imagine.

She blinked. “Well, yes.”

Peering up at the elegantly handsome man walking beside her, Abigail had to wonder at the complex person her employer was turning out to be. He’d earned his name, worked to protect Seth and Felix,
but there was a hardness to him, a severity that made her think of the hammer of the law.

Yet whenever she’d decided that he was cold, distant, and unreadable, a noble barrister through and through, he’d say something that gave her a glimpse into a softer side of him, one that he kept hidden from the world. He had a sensible self-awareness that some probably deemed weakness. And she found it utterly charming.

“We’re human, I suppose,” he offered. “It’s in our nature to…get carried away.”

Well, she’d certainly gotten carried away last night. “I believe I’m more human than anyone I’ve ever met,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Oh please don’t be so hard on yourself. It’ll force me to retally my offenses.”

They shared an awkward smile.

Something deep inside Abigail’s heart melted just a bit and the feeling shocked her; she’d hadn’t had this sense of affinity with anyone save her brother.

Steele looked off into the trees. “In my experience, the world can be a very unforgiving place.”

“My experience, too,” she agreed, that warmth spreading to her whole body, like a blanket of understanding.

“Perhaps we should absolve each other?” he offered.

“But we didn’t do each other the harm.” She peered up at him, teasing gently, “Unless of course you have something to tell me?”

His lips lifted. Those astonishingly dark-as-coal eyes warmed and crinkled at the corners. It was nice to see him smile in such an unguarded manner.
She felt as if he was a closed book and rarely allowed anyone to peek within. She was getting a rare glimpse, she realized, and she wanted to swing open that cover and garner a better look inside.

“Confessions? From the solicitor-general? Are you taking notes for the broadsheets?”

She looked away. “I’m just jesting. You needn’t tell me anything.”

“But I’d like to.”

Abigail’s eyes met his and her breath seized in her chest. A fire burned in his eyes, and for the moment its heat was focused on her. She felt it, deep in her bones and in her chest and in places that had no business feeling anything as far as her employer was concerned.

Alarm bells rang in her ears. She shouldn’t be looking at Lord Steele this way, and he should certainly not be looking at her as if he wanted to
know
her as a person, not just an employee.

But she couldn’t help the heat glowing inside her; her traitorous body longed to know him…as a
man
.

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Inwardly she cursed the fires that had been lit by the masked stranger. This had to be his fault! She felt like a warming stove, once lit, unable to burn out.

This had to be her imagination. Lord Steele was way beyond her measure. And he was not the kind of man to become overly familiar with members of his household.

And the looks he was giving her—well, there was no
lechery
about them. They didn’t make her feel uncomfortable or dirty, the way some men made her
feel when they looked at her as if they wanted to consume her.

Nay, his glances warmed her the way hot cocoa teased her tongue and then fired her all the way down to her belly.

I’m turning into a dramatic ninny
, she told herself.
And I’d better stop it right now before I make a complete and utter fool of myself! He’s my employer and too principled a man to ever look in my direction.

The man was simply being amiable. And she was the one who was indecent! This taint of the scarlet woman was bleeding into her daily life, and she had to make it stop!

If only Lord Steele weren’t so very breathtakingly handsome. What woman wouldn’t want to kiss that chiseled jawline or run her fingers through those raven tresses? What woman with blood in her veins wouldn’t want to feel his broad chest against her or have her body crushed beneath his?

And those eyes, they drew one in with sorcererlike compulsion. A woman could lose herself to such a man…

Rubbing his hand over his eyes, Lord Steele swallowed. “I confess—”

“Miss West! Miss West!” a voice called.

“Confess what?” Abigail asked breathlessly.

“Miss West! Oh, yoohoo!”

With great reluctance, Abigail tore her gaze from Lord Steele’s and turned toward that voice.

M
r. Littlethom was striding toward Abigail and Lord Steele, waving a white handkerchief in the air and puffing as if winded from a long sprint. “Miss West!”

He huffed, the pink in his cheeks from exertion only adding to his Adonis-like handsomeness. A sparkle lit his pale blue eyes, and his teeth glistened white with his wide, boyish smile, setting off a dimple Abigail hadn’t noticed before. Holding his hand atop his tall black hat that tilted precariously, he rushed forward to greet her. He wore old-fashioned knee breeches in olive green with a gray coat that had seen better days. “Ah, I finally caught you!”

A lock of blond hair had fallen into his eyes, and he negligently shoved it aside. Abigail realized that the two men were like opposite bookends, one sharp as a razor and darkly attractive, and the other blond, boyishly handsome, and not quite the quickest wit in the land.

Swallowing her irritation, Abigail waved to Mr. Littlethom. “Lord Steele, may I introduce Mr. Nigel Littlethom, the tutor I mentioned.”

Lord Steele’s face had closed and his eyes had shuttered as if any softening at all had been a specter of her imagination. He was the elegant viscount once more.

“Oh, my lord!” Littlethom gushed. “It is my great privilege to meet you finally!”

Lord Steele tilted his head.

Littlethom’s face reddened as he squinted up at Steele in a servile manner. “I congratulate myself on being able to be of service to you, my lord.”

Steele raised a black-winged brow.

Abigail jumped in, “At the park, Mr. Littlethom helped rescue Seth from the water.”

Wiping the handkerchief across his sweaty brow, Mr. Littlethom gushed, “Although I am quite modest by nature, I have been known, on occasion, to show just an inkling of valor.”

“Well, you were very brave,” Abigail added gamely.

Lord Steele tilted his head. “I extend my thanks to you, Mr. Littlethom. Pray, how did you find yourself to be in such an opportune place at that time?”

The blond tutor preened. “I was meeting a friend at the park, my lord. A governess with whom I used to work. I am a tutor, you see. Latin, French, and Greek languages are my specialty. Although I do not like to boast, I have been told that my teaching skills are”—looking up at the sky, Littlethom pressed his finger to his brow—“profound. That was the very word used by the very discerning Countess Delinsky. Profound.”

Mr. Littlethom licked his lips. “Lately, however, I am indeed sorely untested in that regard. My skills, my abundant skills, have fallen into disuse.”

“That is a shame,” Steele commented noncommittally.

Abigail felt pressed to speak up on Littlethom’s behalf. “Mr. Littlethom was telling me that he is without a position at the moment.”

Mr. Littlethom clapped his hands together. “Yes, and I hunger for the opportunity to be of service.”

“Hmm.” Lord Steele looked off into the distance. “Send your references to my man Mr. Linder-Myer at the Excelsior Agency. He will be expecting your application.”

“Thank you, my lord! Thank you!” Mr. Littlethom gushed, leaning forward and looking up at Lord Steele as an adoring dog might at its master. “I am grateful! Grateful!”

Abigail thought he was overdoing it a bit, but she could sympathize with being out of work and sorely in need of a position. She resolved to do what she could for the unemployed tutor.

Lord Steele stepped backward. “I make no promises, Mr. Littlethom.”

“But still! The opportunity alone!” Tapping his finger to his temple, Mr. Littlethom prattled, “I have a mind like a steel trap, my lord! Mr. Lyner-Minder! At the Excellence Agency!”

“That’s Mr. Linder-Myer at the Excelsior Agency,” Abigail corrected quickly.

Lord Steele turned away. “Yes, well, good day to you, then.”

“Thank you! Thank you, my lord! And thank you, Miss West!”

She smiled. “I didn’t do anything. It was nice seeing you, Mr. Littlethom.”

“But where are you going?” the tutor cried.

Abigail frowned.

“What of our appointment?”

“Appointment?”

Mr. Littlethom grinned. “Yes, here at the park. Eleven-thirty, you’d said.”

They were supposed to meet at ten-thirty, and to Abigail’s mind, that opportunity was well and gone. Yet, not wanting to make the man feel foolish, Abigail pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, Mr. Littlethom, but I must cancel our appointment.”

The man looked positively crestfallen. “Cancel? But why?”

“Because she must remain with the children,” Lord Steele interjected tightly.

Abigail tried to soften the blow. “Lord Steele surprised the boys with a special treat. Gunter’s ices.”

“Gunter’s. Hmm.” Mr. Littlethom licked his lips. “I’ve heard such wonderful things and would dearly love to try them…”

Noting the irritated light in Lord Steele’s eyes, Abigail interrupted, “Perhaps another time.”

Laying his hand on Abigail’s arm, Mr. Littlethom brightened. “Oh, you are so good to me, Miss West. I shall not forget your kindness.”

Abigail didn’t like the man’s hand on her arm, nor did she like his obsequious behavior. Still, he might not have enough bread to eat at night, and she could hardly fault him for wanting to work.

And besides, everyone in London wanted Gunter’s ices, and she could easily forgive him for begging for an invitation.

“Let us be on our way, Miss West.” Lord Steele
was glaring at Mr. Littlethom’s hand as a mongoose eyes a snake.

“Yes, of course.” She quickly moved away from the tutor, and the man’s hand slid off her arm.

Mr. Littlethom pulled off his hat with a flourish. “Until we meet again!”

Smiling faintly, Miss West walked alongside her employer, who had gone from shockingly amicable to downright taciturn.

She sighed.

“You do understand, don’t you?” Lord Steele asked.

“What?”

“Why I cannot retain him without making a proper review.”

“Who? Ah…Mr. Littlethom.”

Steele eyed her strangely. “I can’t simply hire someone because you wish it to be so.”

Abigail’s brow furrowed. “No, of course not.” She bit her lip. “I just want you to give him a chance.”

Steele nodded curtly.

They walked along in silence, the birds twittering overhead and the breeze pressing against her face.

A sharp pain pieced Abigail’s eye and she immediately stopped walking, pressing her fingers to her eye.

“Are you all right?” Lord Steele asked.

“Yes, fine. Just a piece of dust blew in my eye.”

“Here, let me have a look.”

He set his fingers gently beneath her chin and tilted her face up at him.

The breath seized in her chest. His handsome face was so close that through her rapidly blinking
eyes she could almost see the shadow of fuzz of his whiskers.

His breath warmed her cheek, and she felt that astonishing charge that he exuded, sending a thrill racing up her spine and raising delicious bumps all over her skin. She forced herself to
breathe
and was overwhelmed by the gingery spice scent he wore.

“I don’t see it,” he murmured, his gaze traveling from her eyes to her mouth and lingering there.

Her lips parted as her breath suddenly became heavy and her heart hammered.

“I think it’s gone,” he declared suddenly, and removed himself as if singed by her touch.

“Thank you,” she sputtered. Quickly she looked down, smoothing her skirts and collecting herself. She had to stop reacting to her employer this way. For the thousandth time, she cursed the masked man. Never in all her life had she had such difficulty containing her passions; not even Phineas could arouse her senses so.

They walked as uncomfortable silence stretched long.

Staring off into the trees, Lord Steele waved a hand. “You do understand that my household has certain rules about fraternization…”

Oh my heavens! Lord Steele had noticed her reaction to him!

I can’t help it! You’re wretchedly gorgeous and I’m simply a flesh-and-blood woman!

But instead of voicing her defenses, she bit her tongue and her cheeks burned with mortification. How could she tell him that she was not interested
in bedding her employer? No matter how damningly handsome he was.

She decided to jump in head first. “I’m the first to admit I’ve made some mistakes.” She stared off at the white-blossomed pear tree, unable to meet his eyes. “I know that your father-in-law mentioned what happened with the Byrnwycks…I want you to know that I will not make that mistake again.”

Bloody hell!
Steele thought.
She suspects I’m not indifferent to her appeal! I shouldn’t have gotten so close
,
I shouldn’t have touched her. But it was innocent enough! She couldn’t read my thoughts—if she had she would have run screaming.

He shook his head, disgusted with himself.
I’ve never been so affected by my passions. It must be that blasted widow. If I ever get my hands on her again…

But the very idea had the opposite effect of settling his wayward lust.

Miss West pushed a golden tendril of hair deeper into her bonnet, as if aware that it was lovely to behold and not wishing it to be so. “I know you did not ask about what happened with the Byrnwycks, and I appreciate it. But I want you to know that I realize now what wretchedly poor judgment I had…and I would never under any circumstances do the same today.”

Now he felt really awful; she was blaming herself for the whole Byrnwyck affair when he knew full well that it wasn’t her fault. Miss West might be lovely to behold and have the kind of heavenly figure that made men long for transparent gowns. But she
was no seductress. She didn’t have a designing bone in her well-shaped body.

I have to convince her that she’ll not be subject to any attentions in my regard. How can I reassure her?

Steele pursed his lips. “I am a principled man, Miss West.”

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

He held up his hand. “If I may finish?”

She closed her mouth.

“I want you to know that I see the people in my household as under my protection. I believe that certain lines cannot be crossed.”

A look of relief washed over her features, as if she’d just been saved from a horrible fate. “I agree!”

“I think that you and I started off on the wrong foot.”

Her cheeks tinged pink. “My fault entirely.”

“As I recall, Carlton had something to do with it.”

She shrugged sheepishly.

He continued, “But now you and I seem on surer footing.”

She nodded. “Absolutely.”

“I would say that matters are well settled as far as you and I are concerned.”

“I agree.”

“Then let us be sure to keep things exactly as they are.”

The relief in her voice was unmistakable as she breathed, “Wonderful.”

“Very well then, let us consider this topic settled.”

She nodded. “I do.”

The “marriage vow” words didn’t sound as awful on her lips as he might have imagined they would, and he wondered if she’d ever say them standing before a vicar. He adjusted his coat, as if something itched between his shoulder blades. Mr. Littlethom didn’t deserve her, no matter how handsome he was. Steele had to admit that the man was too attractive for anyone
not
to notice, but he wasn’t smart enough for Miss West. She was bright and articulate, and Mr. Littlethom came across as less than her match.

And Steele certainly didn’t want to find a governess just to have her go off and get married.

No, Miss West couldn’t get married. It just wouldn’t do. The very thought was unacceptable.

He made a mental note
never
to consider it again.