The Wicked Governess (Blackhaven Brides Book 6)(17)

“And do you find our Rosa a good pupil?”

Caroline turned to her civilly. “Indeed I do.”

“Is her learning advanced for her age?” Miss Benedict inquired.

“In some areas, yes,” Caroline replied.

“Just in some?” Miss Benedict seemed inclined to take umbrage at this.

“For her years, she is excellent at reading and writing, arithmetic, geography, and the sciences,” Caroline replied. “It is only in the ladylike accomplishments that she has little training so far. But she is quick, and the matter is easily remedied.” Caroline caught her pupil’s gaze with mock severity. “If she works hard.”

Rosa gave her a mischievous smile.

“Ladylike accomplishments,” Miss Benedict repeated in triumph. “Well, there you are. Javan does not have many of those.”

Caroline’s gaze flew to Benedict’s. “You have been teaching, Rosa?”

His lips twisted into a wry smile. “Is it so hard to believe I have been educated, too?”

“Of course not,” Caroline said hurriedly. “Then it’s from you she developed her interest in botany?”

“It’s a hobby of mine,” Mr. Benedict allowed.

“Hobby,” his sister disparaged. “He is most learned, is even writing a book on the subject.”

“But even I know music and watercolors are more important to a young lady’s education than botany,” Mr. Benedict said. “Hence, the necessity of a governess.”

An idea arrived in Caroline’s head. “If you wish her to be a cut above the ordinary in painting, I believe I could arrange a few lessons with Lord Tamar, who is Lord Braithwaite’s brother-in-law and a most accomplished artist—”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Mr. Benedict interrupted. “You are tasked with teaching my daughter.”

Caroline flushed. “Of course,” she said stiffly. “I beg your pardon.”

She was spared further embarrassment by the entry of the servants to clear the plates and serve the pudding.

Abruptly, Mr. Benedict said, “How do you find the piano?”

It might have been an olive branch, or a way of showing her he was not angered by her presumption. Or he might just have thought of it.

“A little out of tune,” she replied. “But not enough to hurt the ears. Otherwise, it works perfectly. We have had only a couple of lessons so far, but I believe Rosa is enjoying it.”

Rosa nodded enthusiastically, and Miss Benedict began to plan her niece’s first recital.

*

When Rosa was in bed, Caroline read to her for a little, before handing the book over. They agreed Rosa should read by herself until her father came to say goodnight. Caroline was just crossing to the door which connected to her own chamber, when the passage door opened and Mr. Benedict came in. He paused at sight of her, as though surprised.

“Good night, sir,” she said civilly.

Unexpectedly, he changed direction, and opened her bedchamber door. “Good night, Miss Grey.”

There was something unspeakably intimate about walking past him into her bedchamber. It wasn’t just that he controlled the door, or that crossing the threshold brought her so close to him that she could smell the warm spice of his skin and the wine and coffee on his breath. She made the mistake of glancing up at him to prove she was not intimidated. His hard, grey eyes glowed in the candle light, flaming with a heat that seemed to scorch her. Her stomach plunged as she recognized the look for what it was. Lust.

Go in before I forget I was once a gentleman.

By the time he closed the door softly behind her, his heat seemed to have spread to her own trembling body. She released her breath in a rush, trying to laugh at herself or him, wondering which of them she truly feared.

*

With the knowledge of his presence on the other side of the door, Caroline’s foolish heart beat too quickly to allow her to settle to anything. Which was ridiculous, since this happened every evening. This time, was just more.

But she would not think of that. In desperation, she lit another candle and took out her sewing box. She’d retrieved two pairs of Rosa’s stockings which needed mending, and now, suddenly, seemed the best time to do it.

While she worked, the occasional murmur from the other chamber died away. She heard a faint rustle, his uneven footfall as he crossed the room. She held her breath, waiting for what, she couldn’t imagine, although she’d lowered her work into her lap and all her concentration focused on the connecting door. She even imagined a hesitation in his step…before it continued and Rosa’s door to the passage opened and softly closed, and his footsteps faded on into the distance.

She released her breath in a rush of relief. At least, she called it relief, though the feeling was made up of so many more conflicting emotions, including a bizarre disappointment, and a wish that things were different. That she was different.

Taking herself to task, she forced her brain and body to calm by concentrating once more on her mending. It wasn’t easy in the dim light, especially as the rising wind now rattled the window panes and made the candles flicker, but she didn’t make a bad job of it. After that, she began to patch together some old material she’d horded over the years to make a lining for her old boots. It might provide some protection from the rain until she could get to the cobbler in Blackhaven.