The Mistress of Trevelyan
Read The Mistress of Trevelyan Online
Authors: Jennifer St Giles
| The Mistress of Trevelyan |
| Trevelyan [1] |
| Jennifer St Giles |
| Between Your Sheets Distribution (2011) |
The manor behind the mists....The man behind the mystery. In 1873 San Francisco, spirited Ann Lovell takes a position no one else dares -- as governess to the motherless sons of the enigmatic Benedict Trevelyan. It has long been whispered that Trevelyan Manor hides dark secrets and sinister deeds -- including the murder of Benedict's wife. But Ann refuses to pay heed to spiteful rumor. As she grows to cherish her young charges, Ann also finds herself powerfully drawn to the handsome Benedict, whose passionate persuasion introduces her to a new world of sensual pleasures. But even while falling in love with the master of Trevelyan, Ann wonders if his attentions are intended to blind her to the secrets of the past -- and if Benedict holds the key to her destiny...or her destruction?
The MISTRESS of TREVELYAN
USA Today Bestselling Author
J
ENNIFER
S
T.
G
ILES
Copyright Information
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2011 by Jenni Leigh Grizzle
First published 2004 by Jenni Leigh Grizzle
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
ISBN: 978-0-9824863-1-3
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His Dark Desires
Killdaren Series Writing as Jennifer St. Giles
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Darkest Dreams
Silken Shadows
Shadowmen Series Writing as Jennifer St. Giles
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Bride of the Wolf
Bewitching the Wolf (Coming soon)
Silent Warrior Series Writing as JL Saint
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Tactical Deception (Coming February 2012)
Weldon Series Writing as Jennifer Saints
Wild Irish
Smooth Irish
Hard Irish (Coming Soon)
Tales From the Dark Domain
Writing as Jennifer St. Giles
Aerick The Eternal: Point of No Return
(Coming Soon)
Find Jennifer Online:
www.twitter.com/jenniferstgiles
www.facebook.com/jenniferstgiles
Dedication
I dedicate this book of my heart to all of those who fill my heart to overflowing.
Table of Contents
More Titles by Jennifer St. Giles
AERIK: POINT OF NO RETURN Excerpt
C
HAPTER
O
NE
San Francisco 1873
The house on Trevelyan Hill had always beckoned to me. Its stone turrets, stained glass, and gray spires, often swirled with mists from the bay, rose like a dark manor in the clouds. Even today, an unusually bright San Franciscan day, the mysterious air hovering above the house intensified as I drew near.
Butterflies fluttered over my nerves, making me pause to stare at the house and dab at the perspiration upon my brow. As a child, in the rare moments when my mother and I escaped our laundering, I'd beg to go to Holloway Park. There, I'd sketch the manor's stark beauty and listen to my mother tell of her privileged life in England. She'd always drift off to sleep, dreaming of those days, and I'd make up stories about those who lived on Trevelyan Hill.
Such things as drawing and dreams were foreign to my practical nature, as was my penchant for books, but they were my only luxury. I held on to them as I grew from girl to woman—the art, the books, and the dreams. They eased my soul, and were my only solace during the toiling days of scalding water, lye soap, and scorching irons.
My fantasies of the inhabitants of Trevelyan Hill never matched the rumors about their rich lives. In recent years, tragedy had befallen the Trevelyan family as persistently as the waves of the bay beat against the dark, jagged cliffs visible in the patchy fog behind the manor. The death of their patriarch, rumors of madness, and then the suicide of Benedict Trevelyan's young wife had marked them. Leastwise, suicide was the official ruling concerning Benedict's wife's fall from one of the manor's turreted towers last year. No one had proven Benedict Trevelyan guilty—but there were whispers.
Gathering my courage, I forced myself up the manor's long drive to the perfectly polished mahogany doors. Desperation, or perhaps fate, spurred me. I had decided, and nothing would deter me, least of all rumors. My own life had made me immune to wagging tongues. Closer now, I saw with some surprise that the tall castle-like doors were carved with winged demons chasing after fair, dainty maidens. I'd expected something stately, like a royal emblem, or a proper design. My curiosity about the inhabitants of the manor grew.
My mother had named me Titania after Shakespeare's Queen of the Fairies. I think she'd expected I'd be as beautiful and tiny as she, and not the almost-six-foot plain woman I had become. Somewhere over the years—at my insistence—my name had been shortened to the more suitable form of Ann.
The heat of the afternoon sun must have had a strange effect on me. For as I straightened my dress to walk up the steps of the manor, I suddenly wished to be as attractive as a fairy queen. To be dainty and desirable, even if it meant having to run from demons.
Shaking my head, I put my mind back on my task and smoothed the stolen paper I held in my hand, suffering a twinge of guilt as I read it again. This was the first time I'd ever done anything so unseemly. The moment I'd seen the employment notice in the window of Mr. McGuire's Bookstore, I had snatched it down, unwilling for anyone else to read it and apply for the position before I could. Benedict Trevelyan was looking for a tutor for his small children, and those interested in the job were to apply in person at his residence.
I bolstered myself with a small prayer and a deep breath, feeling my hopes for a different life than that of a laundress lodge in my stomach as I lifted the gargoyle-like brass knocker.
A butler wearing a suit and black tie answered. At the sight of me, his polite smile immediately drooped and his nose inched higher. "May I help you?"
My attempts to hide the threadbare state of my gray serge dress with extra starch and ironing had apparently failed, and the heat of the day had wilted the crisply efficient air I had striven to achieve. Now that I was here, doubts about the wisdom of what I planned to do assailed me, but I pushed them aside, refusing to turn around and run.
"Yes?" the butler prompted. Though he stood on the step above me, he didn't quite reach my height Instead of looking me in the eye, he focused at some point below my chin.
I forced my feet to stay planted and continued to hold my head high. "I am here to see Mr. Trevelyan, please"
"Your name?"
"Miss Ann Lovell."
"Regarding?"
"Employment"
The butler finally raised his gaze to mine. That he had to crick his neck a bit to do it clearly displeased him as much as my appearance. His disapproving frown deepened.
"All household cleaning positions have been filled." He stepped back and started to shut the door.
"Please." I held up the bookstore notice. "I am seeking a teaching position."
"I assure you, he is looking for an educated young
man
to fill that position."
"Then the position is still available?" My hopes rose to my throat, nearly choking off my speech.
The sound of heavy-booted feet striding closer preceded a deep, polished voice. "Is there a problem, Dobbs?"
The tone and verve of the unknown man's voice vibrated in the air and ruffled my already quaking insides. The sensation intensified when a towering man appeared at the door behind the butler.
I almost stepped back. The man appeared as tall and as broad as the massive doorway itself. His dark hair gleamed in the sunlight like the rich, deep hues of the polished wood behind him. A distinctive brow and Roman nose topped a freshly shaven jaw that could conquer an empire with its determination. He was dressed in dark trousers and a white shirt. His hair lay damp upon his brow as if he'd just bathed, and he smelled pleasantly of sandalwood. I breathed in, luxuriating in the scent before I could stop myself. The aroma proved most distracting.
Dobbs cleared his throat with a self-righteous flair. "I was just telling the woman that you were looking for a male tutor for Masters Robert and Justin, sir. Not a governess."
Blinking, I attempted to refocus my thoughts. I lifted my gaze. The man had to be Benedict Trevelyan; his gaze, black as a moonless night in its darkest hours, probed mine. This time I had to crane my neck back, an unusual movement for me. I could easily cast him as one of the winged demons carved on the door. His eyes were so dark a woman would never be able to see through to his soul, and I pitied the poor maiden he would chase. No mercy lurked in his measuring gaze.
"And?" Though he spoke to his servant, the enigmatic master of Trevelyan Hill didn't move his gaze from mine. He pushed the door wider and joined me on the step. I quickly crumpled the notice that I'd ripped from the bookstore's window and tucked my hand in the fold of my dress lest he think my hasty action too presumptuous.
"She found—"
"I found the answer unsatisfactory, Mr. Trevelyan." I spoke with enough force to clearly be heard over Dobbs's disdain. Then I held my breath, forcing myself to stand strong. There were times when the bounds of propriety had to be breached, and this was such a time.
For a brief second, I thought I saw the corners of Benedict Trevelyan's lips twitch, but his eyes remained so dark and unmoved that I told myself I'd imagined it.
"Interesting. Since he is only reiterating my wishes, I am to take it that it is my words you find unsatisfactory, Miss—"
"Lovell," I supplied, offering my right hand in what I knew to be a manly manner. I felt I needed to stand my ground in the face of his challenge. His voice from inside the house had frayed at my confidence; now the pitch of his deep tones reached inside me, shaking unknown feelings to life that made me a bit queasy. I didn't like it
