The Mistress of Trevelyan (39 page)

"When I was younger, I would arise in the morning and look at the huge task of washing mountains of clothes with dread. My mother always seemed to know what troubled my heart, and she said, 'Just as a babe learns to walk one step at a time, a man climbs a mountain, or a woman raises a child alone.' Any of life's tasks, no matter how great, can be achieved by so simple a way as one step at a time. And when the heart is willing, the job is easier. I sense your heart is willing."

"So you think I can redeem myself one step at a time?"

"I believe so."

"You do not hate me for what I did, do you?"

I sighed, since loving Benedict as I did, I found I could not condemn another for loving. "I do not condone what you did, and I believe that you are truly repentant I see a great many worthy things within you, and I believe the greatest sin of all would be to let those things die by drowning yourself in drink and self-pity."

"The avenging angel bestows mercy. It is a gift that I will cherish and not waste."

"I am but a governess who prides herself on being practical as much as you thrive on drama. Perhaps once you have taken truths to heart, you should put them to pen after all, and try your hand at poetry. It may be that you will write the words that will keep others from your folly."

"I think I just may do that."

"Uncle Stephen, I drew a picture of Cesca in my notebook. Do you want to see her?" Justin came up, holding the drawing pad I had given him for his birthday. My heart swelled a little. Justin was returning to the circle of his family, one small step at a time.

Stephen paled, and I realized that though Justin referred to his pony, Stephen would always think of Francesca when he heard the name. I left, asking Stephen if he wouldn't mind taking the boys down to Cook Thomas for dinner after their chess game. I wondered if one small step at a time was going to work for Stephen.

And what about myself? I'd made very little progress in figuring out what had really happened to Francesca. This whole week I'd thought of nothing but being in Benedict's arms. He had a way of making everything else become unimportant.

Walking down the hall, I realized that it had been quite some time since I'd had the sensation of being watched. In fact, I think the last time I'd felt it was when I'd gone through and opened all of the doors. Tackling things in a direct manner worked.

Thankfully, Dobbs wasn't standing guard in the foyer, and I took my time, turning circles through the dancing colors of light, lifting my face to their warmth. A soft laugh escaped from me as I realized I was so full of love that my heart was bubbling over with it

"May I?" Benedict asked.

Swinging around, I came to an abrupt stop. He stood, leaning against the frame of his study door, his arms crossed, the length of his legs molding buckskin-colored breeches to an almost indecent degree. But it was the sensual question in his dark eyes that made my senses tingle and my insides turn all buttery.

"May you? I'm sorry, I must have missed what you said."

"You have not missed anything yet, Miss Lovell, I assure you. Come, I will show you." He held out his hand. Crossing the few feet separating us, I placed my hand in his. The warm strength I always associated with his touch eased into me. He led me into his study and shut the door, then pulled me into his arms.

"May I have this dance?"

I blinked up at him, my heart melting even more at the curve of his smile. Little things about him, a look, a touch, the timbre of his voice both in passion and in pain, kept redefining my world, kept picking me up, swirling me around, and when everything settled, nothing was the same again.

"Would that I knew how to dance," I said softly. "For dancing in your arms would indeed be a treasured memory."

I saw his eyes darken, as if he knew what we shared couldn't go on forever, just as I knew it.

"Then let me have the pleasure of showing you." He caught up my hand, firmed his hold on my back, and swung me around. I found myself stepping with him, not unlike swirling within the dancing lights of the stained glass windows. When he stopped minutes later, I was quite breathless.

"May I have this kiss?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer. He bent to me, his lips capturing mine with a questing fervor that matched our midnight adventures. Pressing against him, I moaned, my body instantly awakening to the call of his passion.

His arms wrapped around me, his leg found purchase between mine, and his palm cupped my breast through the thin muslin of my dress. I slid my hands over the hard contours of his shoulders and back, feeling the remarkable breadth of him and wondering how he could be so gentle and yet so strong. Then I ventured lower, remembering how his breeches had clung to him, and knowing that I'd feel the hard length of his arousal, straining against soft cotton. I pressed my hand over his need, wanting to give him as much pleasure as he gave me. He shuddered and responded with an even greater, insistent need.

"May I have you?" he asked, his voice strained and as intense as the hammering of his heart.

"Yes," I said, arching to his touch, wanting him as much as I wanted to breathe. "But what about—"

"Interruptus, thy name is heaven," Benedict said, kissing me harder.

"But... what about... the detriment to your... constitution?" I asked between kisses.

"As you are wont to say, my constitution is remarkably strong."

"Strong constitutions are a very good thing to have, Benedict. Especially right now." Minutes later I was half sitting, half reclining in his massive wing chair, my skirts hiked up and my drawers snatched down. Benedict kneeled between my legs, his arousal freed from its cotton prison and sliding inside me, driving me heavenward. At some point, the light-heartedness fell away like a mask being torn from us, and the desperation of our passion, made even starker by the light of the day, revealed itself. I knew this time we were stealing together wouldn't last, but I couldn't let him go. I couldn't find the strength to deny myself his touch.

I was still shuddering with the force of our passion when a knock sounded on the study door.

Dear God, not only had I lost any sense of practicality I'd ever possessed, but I had to have lost my mind with it. The look on Benedict's face seemed to mirror my own horror.

"The window seat, behind the curtains. Hide there quickly." He stood, scrambling to fix his breeches. "Go," he urged.

Standing up, and trying to hold on to my drawers as my skirts fell down, I rushed to the window and dove behind the curtains onto the cushioned seat. It took me but seconds to gather my skirts and curl myself into the space. I was slightly cramped, but not terribly so.

It wasn't until another sharp knock resounded that I heard Benedict open the door.

"Benedict, I need to speak to you about a troublesome situation." Mrs. Trevelyan's voice cut straight to my stomach, making it flip-flop with nausea.

"Mother, this is not a good time. Might we discuss this before dinner? You are walking well enough that I will take you on a stroll through the garden."

I thought I was about to expire with embarrassment. The position I'd placed both of us in was completely intolerable. I should have stayed in the schoolroom or my quarters.

"The matter is rather private, and I do not wish to be overheard. I will take but a moment. Are you feeling well?" Mrs. Trevelyan asked.

"Yes. Very well," Benedict said, sounding harried. "But this discussion really needs to wait."

"You look flushed," Mrs. Trevelyan said.

Could this situation become any more horrendous?

"Just returned from riding Odin to a business matter that needed my immediate attention," he said.

Yes, I answered my own question. Much more horrendous. Riding Odin indeed.

"Then I'll get right to the point I realize that Miss Lovell is doing a fine job with Justin and Robert, but I have some serious reservations about her continued presence here."

"Mother, we discussed this once, and I said the subject was closed. Miss Lovell has proved herself to be an exemplary governess."

"But at what cost, Benedict? I hesitate to say this, but I must. Have you seen the way Stephen looks at her? The boy has found another angel to worship. And I have seen you watch her, too. It is happening again. The whole sordid situation that happened with Francesca, only this time over the reddened hand of a washerwoman. I will not have it. She does not belong here. She's another charity project you have allowed yourself to become responsible for. Just like that lad you hired, who then ran off with the silver. Just like that woman you—"

"And I will not have this," Benedict's voice lashed out I flinched, shoving my hands beneath my skirt, for not even I could look at my reddened skin.

The room vibrated with the force of Benedict's anger. "Stephen ceased to be a boy at least ten years ago. It is time you stopped pandering to his sensitivity just because he's like Father. Perhaps then he will find the strength to stand without a drink in his hand. And washerwoman or not, Miss Lovell shows more strength of character and intelligence than any simpering lady of social standing dillydallying through life."

"That does not change the facts, Benedict. So it would behoove you to stop pandering to the fantasy of—"

"Of what, Mother? That a man's worth should be measured by his word rather than his ancestry? The world is changing."

"Not that much. This is not the deck of your ship. This is a city with a social structure that must be adhered to. And you had best remember it before you damage this family and your sons. Find Miss Lovell a post somewhere else. Preferably East. And find a male tutor for Robert and Justin, as you had planned to do. Do it before it is too late."

Benedict didn't say anything, and I heard the study door shut I closed my eyes and fought for the breath that the truth of his mother's words had stolen. Though I sat in the basking warmth of the sun shining through the glass, I grew cold inside.

Benedict pulled open the curtain, and I turned from him, too shamed to face him.

"Titania," he said, reaching for me, pulling me against him even through I fought him. "I am sorry. You must not take her words to heart. She's of a different era and does not understand."

I shook my head, not believing him.

"Please, do not turn away." His voice deepened with emotion. "Robert needs you. Justin needs you. And God help me, so do I."

I could not keep from him. I turned to him, burying my face against the surety of his chest, and I wrapped my arms around him. I wouldn't let myself cry. I wouldn't let him know, for he'd surely try and argue, but I knew his mother had spoken true. It cut me deeper than any pain I'd ever known to realize that the more I stayed within the circle of his arms, the more I'd rather die than leave him. To stay here long enough to help Robert and Justin, I could no longer be with Benedict. But I couldn't force the words from my mouth. I needed time to think, to figure out the best way to say all that was in my heart. Tonight, I would have to tell him.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
T
WO

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. I dressed for dinner, spoke to the children, went to the parlor. I smiled when I was supposed to, spoke when appropriate, and managed to push my food around on my plate so that no one noticed that I barely ate a thing. I couldn't. I was crying inside, hurting as much as I hurt when my mother had passed away. Maybe even more so, for I'd a long time to prepare for her passing. With Benedict, I felt as if I had to rip him from my heart while I still had strength enough to keep it beating when I did. But I thought it was too late already.

Benedict looked my way several times, a worried frown marring his chiseled features. But I could tell by the pointed effort he made to keep his distance from me that he was as much aware of the eagle eye of his mother as I was.

Tonight of all nights, it was decided to return again to the music room. It wasn't until we all entered the room that I realized I'd paid little attention to the others. I hadn't even looked at Stephen, and I wondered if he was as enamored with me as his mother seemed to think. When I sent a nervous glance his way, I found him looking at me with an odd expression, almost as if he was worried about me.

"I have a recitation that I would like to do for everyone tonight," Stephen said. "And I would like to dedicate this especially to Miss Ann."

My breath froze in my lungs. No, Stephen, I thought. Your timing couldn't be worse. I shot my gaze to Benedict, only to see his jaw clench.

Mr. Henderson, who stood near Benedict, seemed to catch the sudden tension and set a hand on Benedict's shoulder. "It has been quite a long time since you've done a recitation, Stephen. I have missed your flair for such things. What did you have in mind?"

"Words from the master of witty prose, Shakespeare. And tonight I would like to share with you the wisdom of Portia, the rich heiress of Belmont, from
The Merchant of Venice
, as she speaks of mercy as a 'gentle rain from heaven.' " Stephen stood, cleared his throat and began his speech.

"
The quality of mercy is not strained;

 It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath: it is twice Blest,—

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:

'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes

The throned monarch better than his crown;

His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,

The attribute to awe and majesty,

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;

But mercy is above this sceptred sway,—

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,

It is an attribute to God himself;

 And earthly power doth then show likest God's,

When mercy seasons justice.
"