Taste of Temptation (7 page)

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Authors: Cheryl Holt

Tags: #Romance - Historical, #American Light Romantic Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Fiction, #Fiction - Romance, #Love stories, #Romance: Historical, #Historical, #American Historical Fiction, #Regency novels, #Regency fiction

BOOK: Taste of Temptation
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“I’m prepared to do you a favor, so be silent and listen.”
“What is it? I’m absolutely on pins and needles waiting to hear.”
“You will work for me.”
She inhaled sharply. “I will not be your mistress!”
She jumped up, ready to march out again, and he stomped over, so that they were toe-to-toe. He was very tall, and very irate, and it was definitely a sight, having all that male umbrage lorded over her.
She’d never previously had to deal with a furious man. The bulk of her experience had been obtained through occasional visits by her father when she was a girl. He’d always been full of fun and mischief and grandiose plans that never came to fruition. He’d never raised his voice or waxed indignant on any topic.
How was she to handle a very angry, very arrogant Captain Odell?
She had no idea, but she didn’t retreat. Feminine instinct told her to stand her ground, to show she wasn’t afraid of him—and she wasn’t.
She seemed to know things about him that she had no means of knowing—the most relevant being her certainty that his bark was much worse than his bite. He might grumble and nag, but he would never hurt her.
“You will work for me,” he started again, “as my ward’s governess, the position for which you interviewed this morning.”
“I’m sure this will come as a huge surprise to you, Captain, but I don’t want the job.”
“You don’t want it?” He looked as if he might faint.
With his having purchased her from Mrs. Bainbridge, she had an inkling of his ruse. He was offering honest employment, but if she accepted and moved into the mansion, she had no doubt that he’d attempt carnal mischief.
“No. So ... if you’ll excuse me? It’s a long way back to our boardinghouse, and my sisters will be worried.”
She tried to step by him, but he grabbed her arm and snarled, “Just a damned minute!”
He whipped her around to face him, and she bumped into him so that her chest was pressed to his, their legs tangled together.
For a brief instant, they were frozen in place, and to her astonishment, there was a charge of energy flowing between them. Their proximity made the air sizzle with excitement. Her anatomy was enlivened. Her pulse raced, her cheeks heated, then—as if he’d been burned—he released her so swiftly that she nearly fell.
They glared, breathing hard, as if they were quarreling, and she supposed they were.
“You are the most obstinate, exasperating woman I’ve ever met,” he seethed.
“And you are the most irritating, annoying man.”
He was about to hurl another insult, but he reined himself in, visibly tamping down all the rude remarks he was yearning to hurl.
“We’ve gotten off to a bad start,” he stated, “so let’s begin again”
“You can say whatever you wish, but I will not be your mistress.”
“Miss Hamilton! Why must my every comment precipitate a battle with you?”
“Because I’m fighting for my life, and I intend to go down swinging.”
“Well, shut up for once. I’m trying to help you.”
“A likely story.”
“Miss Hamilton!” His patience was exhausted. “Don’t speak! Don’t complain! Just listen!”
He dragged her to the sofa and pushed her down onto it.
“There is a tender of decent employment on the table,” he said. “Accept it immediately.”
“No.”
“Why on earth not?”
“I don’t trust you.”
“I don’t care. Simply say
yes.
Stop being such an ingrate.”
“Since the moment we met, you’ve been a total beast. Why should I imagine you’re serious? Why would you suddenly be kind to me?”
“I have decided—as you so prettily put it—to have mercy on the destitute children of a fellow soldier. I had planned to tell you this morning. That’s why I came outside, but then I caught you drinking, so I changed my mind.”
“I wasn’t drinking!” He frowned, dubious, and she insisted, “I wasn’t!”
“I’ll believe you—for now.”
She threw up her hands. “Oh, for pity’s sake.”
“But so long as you’re working here, I won’t allow such misbehavior. I’ll expect you to be a model of decorum at all times.”
She wanted to continue protesting her innocence, to call him a conceited bully, an overbearing lout, but the most exhaustive wave of weariness swept over her.
She was only twenty-four, but she’d been swimming upstream since she was a young girl. Her mother had died when Amelia was born, when Helen herself was just twelve, and the family’s burdens had fallen on her shoulders.
She had raised her sisters, had held on to their home. She had juggled the creditors and paid the bills. She had struggled and struggled, but it had all been for naught.
There was nothing left of what had been, and Odell was tossing her a rope, offering to pull her out of the ocean of debt and despair where she’d been drowning. The chance she’d been seeking had arrived, and she needed to close her mouth and do whatever he said.
For Jane and Amelia
, she told herself. She could endure any torment in order to know that they were safe.
“I will remain so piously sober,” she vowed, “that you’ll think I’m an evangelical missionary.”
At hearing her acquiesce, he reverted to his smug self. “Good. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“What will my salary be?”
“We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”
“Fine.” She nodded sweetly, the very picture of accommodation. “Will the position come with room and board?”
“Of course.”
“What about my sisters?”
“How old are they?”
“Jane is eighteen, and Amelia is twelve.”
“My ward, Rose, is twelve as well. Amelia will be her companion, and you can school them together.”
She scowled, wondering if it was some sort of trick, but he seemed sincere. Why would he act so magnanimously?
“What a lovely gesture,” she replied, stunned by his generosity. “Amelia has been so lonely since we moved to London. She’ll be excited to have a friend.”
“As will Rose.”
“They’ll get on like thieves in a thicket.”
“Yes, they will.”
“What shall we do with Jane? You won’t demand that she serve as a maid, will you?”
“No.”
He scoffed as if it was the most preposterous question he’d ever heard, and she breathed a sigh of relief. No matter how bad things became, Helen was determined to see her sister wed to a husband befitting her prior station.
“What will she—” Helen tried to say, but he interrupted her.
“Once again, we’ll figure it out later. In the meantime, let’s get you home. I’ll send a carriage to fetch the three of you at ten o’clock in the morning.”
Helen stood, and she gazed at him, overcome with such powerful emotions of gratitude and joy that she could barely keep from grabbing him and pulling him into a tight hug.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“You’re welcome.”
“You’ll never regret this as long as you live. I swear it.”
“I regret it already.”
She glowered at him. “You won’t even know we’re here.”
“I seriously doubt it.”
They headed for the door, walking side by side, when he glanced down at her.
“Always remember,” he warned, “that I’m responsible for my wards. They’re impressionable children, so no flirting and no drinking.”
Just when she thought he was being marvelous!
“Do be quiet, Captain Odell. You insult me with your complaints about my character.”
“I’m taking a huge risk by hiring you.”
“No you’re not, but be quiet anyway.”
They started out again, when he paused, looking uncomfortable.
“I need one other thing from you,” he said.
“What is it?”
“The ... ah ... curse you leveled? Would you please lift it?”
She smirked, delighted to have the upper hand for a change. He was a sailor; she’d known he’d be a superstitious devil!
“I have no idea how. You’ll have to take your chances.”
 
 
MIRIAM Seymour, Michael’s sixteen-year-old cousin, knelt on the floor, her eye pressed to the keyhole so she could spy on Captain Odell.
“You will work for me,” Odell was saying, “as my ward’s governess...”
At his remark, Miriam bit down a gasp of astonishment. She couldn’t see Odell, but she could clearly see the woman to whom he was speaking. She was very beautiful, and thus, the exact opposite sort of person Miriam and her mother, Maud, would ever want in the house.
Miriam had discovered the pair after coming downstairs in a failed bid to bump into Michael. She was dressed in nightgown and robe, her hair down and brushed out, and she’d been hiding on the landing, waiting for him to return so she could descend and pretend she couldn’t sleep and was retrieving a glass of warm milk.
With Michael having known her since she was a baby, he treated her like a little sister, and she was desperate to have him view her in a different light. He didn’t realize it was time to pick a bride, and he remained oblivious to the obvious solution: He should marry Miriam and keep his fortune in the family.
Why
shouldn’t
she be his countess? It made perfect sense.
When the front door had been flung open, she’d huddled up above, expecting Michael to enter, but being shocked to find Odell dragging in a protesting, recalcitrant female.
For a purported
governess
, she was extremely uppity, having no concept of her lowly status or of the captain’s elevated role in the Seymour household. She was very rude, arguing with him as she prepared to stomp out against his wishes.
“Just a damned minute!” the captain barked, as Miriam leapt away and raced for the stairs.
She burst into her mother’s boudoir, hastening through the sitting room to the bedchamber beyond.
“Mother! Mother!” she panted as she hurried in.
“My goodness, what is it?”
“You’ll never guess.”
“What? What? Is it Michael? Were you finally able to wrangle a kiss?”
Miriam stumbled to a halt, hating to witness her mother’s excitement and that she was about to dash it. Maud always told Miriam that she had no feminine wiles, that she didn’t know how to flirt or entice.
The criticism hurt. Miriam was trying as hard as she could with Michael, but she couldn’t help it that she was poor, quiet, and plain, while he preferred girls who were rich, vivacious, and attractive.
“No, I didn’t see Michael. He’s not back yet, but you’ll never believe what I
did
see.”
Maud yawned, her enthusiasm for the chat having vanished in an instant.
“Tell me, then let me get to bed. I’m tired of dawdling up here, hoping that you’ve managed to push matters forward with Michael.”
“Captain Odell has hired a governess for Rose.”
“What?”
Maud threw off the blankets and scrambled to the floor, her mob cap bobbing, her robe rippling behind her.
“He’s hired a governess,” Miriam repeated.
“When?”
“She’s with him in the parlor—even as we speak.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I listened at the keyhole. I heard them very clearly.”
“The wretch didn’t consult me!”
Since the captain’s arrival, it had been Maud’s constant lament.
For years, she’d run the properties and supervised Michael and Rose with very little interference. With Odell appearing on the scene, she couldn’t so much as suggest a servant dust a table without said servant scurrying to the captain to ask if Maud’s order should be obeyed.
“It’s awful how he ignores you,” Miriam commiserated, “and he should have sought your opinion, because I can’t imagine where he found her. She looks as if she’s been trolling for customers at Vauxhall Gardens.”
“Miriam! Honestly.”
“Well, she does. Wait till you see her.”
“Is she pretty?”
“Very.”
“She seems to be a woman of low ... morals?”
“Yes. How could he bring her into the house? It’s an insult to us.”
“It certainly is. Was the captain interested in her in a manly way?”
Miriam thought of how the captain had yanked the woman inside, how he’d kept her close and loomed over her, and Miriam wished that, someday, a similarly handsome fellow—Michael, perhaps?—might manhandle her in the same rough fashion.

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