The Governess (Wicked Wallflowers, #3)(14)

Had she always been this tenacious? “Three,” he capitulated. But he needed her to know . . . “This arrangement, Gertrude . . . there will be benefits to you. Your security. Your safety. Marriage is just”—Gertrude stared expectantly back—“a business arrangement.” Just as all life was. A contract entered into between two people that proved mutually beneficial.

Gertrude snorted. “That’s a lot of rot.”

“It’s the truth,” he said simply. All relationships were based on what one could both do for another and receive for themselves in return.

“They’re not. But I’ll not debate the point with you. I have another term.”

“What is it?”

His sister drew her shoulders back. “I want Reggie to serve as my companion.”

“Absolutely not.” Impossible. Not after what had nearly transpired between him and her. She’d been oblivious to his lustful thoughts, but to have her close . . . ?

His flat rejection was met with a scowl. “And whyever not?”

Because he didn’t trust himself. Because he needed some distance with which to return their relationship to the platonic, businesslike one that had defined it for . . . all the years they’d known one another. “Because I might not have been born to the peerage, but I know enough the requirements for a lady’s governess or companion.” God, even as that admission left his mouth, he inwardly cringed at the pomposity of it.

Gertrude scoffed. “What a supercilious thing to say.”

Yes, it was. He deserved to be called out on it. And yet he’d still rather his siblings took him for a self-important prig than know the truth: that he was a bounder lusting after a loyal employee and woman who’d been like family to them. Broderick fiddled with his collar. “Although I call Reggie friend and trust her with my very life, Polite Society will never prove as accepting,” he brought himself to say. Which wasn’t untrue. There was no one he trusted more. No one as loyal as Reggie. Those bastards, however, wouldn’t see her worth or her strength. They’d merely see her bloodlines—or rather, lack of—and both she and Gertrude would pay the price in the ton’s disdain.

“Since when did you become so bloody puffed up?” Gertrude shot back. Master Brave hissed; that sound sent nervous whinnies up around the stables. “Oh, my apologies, love,” Gertrude crooned, Broderick summarily forgotten. The cat darted farther down the wood beam. “I shan’t do it again.”

“Gertrude,” Broderick began, needing her to let the matter of Reggie go. “You require someone who can perform proper introductions and who knows the social norms of the peerage.” Liar. You’re just afraid to have Regina Spark there, now that you’ve noticed the hue of her bow-shaped lips and can’t stop thinking of what it would be like to claim them.

“Reggie can do all those things, and the continuity will be good for Stephen,” Gertrude said, matching Master Brave’s back-and-forth pacing.

Yes, there was nothing Reggie couldn’t do. But he could not have her there. She’d be a distraction . . . that he couldn’t afford. Not now.

“Furthermore,” Gertrude said, “I’m not sure if you’ve ever listened to or observed Reggie, but she wasn’t born to the streets.”

That brought him up short. Yes, Reggie spoke in flawless King’s English and exuded propriety and decorum in a place wholly stripped of either, but that did not mean she was also familiar enough with that world to ease Gertrude’s way. As his sister continued to cajole that black cat overhead, Broderick caught his chin in his hand.

Nay, Reggie hadn’t been born to Polite Society, but she, as Gertrude aptly pointed out, was more skilled than any of the governesses who’d tutored his sisters on proper decorum. More than that, she could wield her tongue with the same skill she could a blade but without Cleo’s and Ophelia’s loose tempers. With a fierce protector such as Reggie Spark at her side, there could be no doubting Gertrude would be defended if—when—need be, while having a companion who also knew how to conduct herself amongst the peerage. And that mattered more than his own sudden fascination with the young woman.

“Very well.”

Gertrude spun around. “What?”

She hadn’t thought he’d concede that term, then. “Reggie will serve as your chaperone,” he said clearly for his sister’s benefit. His mind was already going to what needed to be done before Reggie took on that respective role. She’d require a new wardrobe, one that would mark her position of influence and wealth.

An image flashed behind his mind’s eye of Reggie as she’d been a short while ago, with her hair in a tangle of crimson curls around her nipped waist, and he stripped her of those drab brown skirts, replacing them with purple ones.

His mouth went dry.

Nay. A rich emerald green of diaphanous satin that clung to Reggie’s long, supple frame—

“At last!”

Broderick jumped.

Master Brave scrambled down the sloping beam and rushed into the corner stall. A moment later he bolted out from under the opening in the door and raced over to Gertrude. She scooped him up and murmured soothing, nonsensical words to the troublesome creature.

His ears burning, Broderick started for the front of the stables.

“Broderick?”