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Temptation Of A Governess
Sarah Mallory


‘THIS WILL BE A BATTLE OF WITS, MADAM.’Alex Arrandale, Earl of Davenport, is used to getting what he wants. So when he visits Diana Grensham, governess and joint guardian to his wards, and asks her to vacate his property, he is stunned when she refuses!p>Diana is determined not to bow to Alex’s demands. Her whole life she has believed she is unlovable and worthless, but now, as she and Alex engage in a battle of wills, Diana’s confidence blooms. And soon she finds herself tempted to make a few demands of her own!The Infamous ArrandalesScandal is their destiny!







The Infamous Arrandales

Scandal is their destiny!

Meet the Arrandale family—dissolute, disreputable and defiant! This infamous family have scandal in their blood, and wherever they go their reputation will always precede them!

Don’t miss any of the fabulous books in Sarah Mallory’s tantalising new quartet!

The Chaperon’s Seduction Already available

Temptation of a Governess Available now

and look for two more sinfully scandalous stories, coming soon!


Author Note (#ulink_440d97a4-7d1d-548b-a0a2-b98e73bb12b5)

When I was very young I loved fairytales—especially the story of The Ugly Duckling, the little creature who did not fit in. This is how I saw Diana Grensham: a young lady who has been told from a very early age that she is unattractive. She has therefore hidden herself away from the world, living as a governess because, as she says, governesses are of no consequence.

When we meet Alex he is a privileged young man with looks, health and fortune—a sportsman with an eye for beauty. The world is at his feet and no one has ever opposed his will…until he meets Diana. Despite their differences, Alex is the one man who sees past Diana’s self-effacing shell to the spirited and beautiful woman inside. He gives her the confidence to believe in herself.

Alex changes, too. He learns that the hedonistic world he inhabits is not the one he wants to live in. He discovers that happiness lies with Diana, but after all he has done to alienate her how can she trust him? The ballroom scene at the end of Temptation of a Governess is one of the most touching I have ever written: so much hangs in the balance, and it is important that both Diana and Alex get it right. That is for you, the reader, to judge.


Temptation of a Governess

Sarah Mallory






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


SARAH MALLORY was born in the West Country and now lives on the beautiful Yorkshire moors. She has been writing for more than three decades—mainly historical romances set in the Georgian and Regency period. She has won several awards for her writing, most recently the Romantic Novelists’ Association RoNA Rose Award in 2012 (for The Dangerous Lord Darrington) and 2013 (for Beneath the Major’s Scars).


To Kathryn, my lovely editor,

and all the team at Richmond,

without whom these books would never happen.


Contents

Cover (#ucab10c46-c065-5ed8-897d-c19ca18ac99f)

Introduction (#ua0f20ea0-57ed-5f9e-a2c1-c8b53248535f)

Author Note (#ulink_bf5427ae-e1e9-5ef4-b1df-5ad3cb9294bf)

Title Page (#u59457979-6559-504a-bec0-d45e081402f6)

About the Author (#ucc47bfb7-3255-5973-bccb-3e58dfcdd0e8)

Dedication (#u508c1414-ac44-5b17-bb3c-e0845c7bde60)

Chapter One (#ulink_87c6b3c2-7c08-5649-8045-ae1e11461429)

Chapter Two (#ulink_4e72f09b-040b-5353-a71a-cde097312e95)

Chapter Three (#ulink_3f726a06-6716-5678-a2c4-5c96a2ada177)

Chapter Four (#ulink_110bcb43-c707-5044-96cc-def2491b89ef)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_a0849e4a-ad82-5abc-b6fa-9381851371eb)

The April sun shone down brightly on the low-slung racing curricle as it bowled through the lanes and Alex Arrandale felt the winter gloom lifting from his spirits. A gloom that had settled and remained with him since he had heard of the shipwreck that had taken the life of his brother James and made him, Alex, the eighth Earl of Davenport. He had neither expected nor wanted the succession. James was only two years his senior and, at thirty, everyone had thought there was plenty of time for him and his countess to produce an heir. That was why the couple had set out on their sea journey, sailing south to warmer climes that the doctors advised might help improve Margaret’s health and allow her to conceive and carry a boy child full-term. The couple already had a healthy little girl, but a series of miscarriages had left the countess very worn down.

They had never reached the Mediterranean, a storm off Gibraltar in October had run their ship aground and all lives had been lost. The news had reached Alex several weeks later and the depth of his grief had been profound. Even now, six months on, he still wore a black cravat as a sign of his loss. In all other aspects of his life his friends found him unchanged. He had spent the winter as he always did, at a succession of house parties where hunting, gambling and flirting were the order of the day. Only his closest friend saw anything amiss in his frantic pleasure-seeking.

‘Everyone thinks it is because you do not care,’ Mr Gervase Wollerton told him, in a moment of uncharacteristic perception. ‘I think you care too much.’

Perhaps that was so, thought Alex as he slowed and turned his high-bred team of match greys through the gates leading to Chantreys, but he had been earl for a while now and it was time he made a few changes.

The drive curved between trees that were not yet in full leaf and sunlight dappled the track. Alex slowed, conscious that there might be holes and ruts after the winter. He was just emerging from the woods when he spotted a figure sitting on a fallen tree, not far from the side of the road. It was a young woman with a sketchbook. She had cast aside her bonnet and her red hair glinted with gold in the sunlight. He knew her immediately. He had not seen her for years but the red hair was unmistakable. It was Diana Grensham, sister of the drowned countess and governess to her only child and the other Arrandale waif who had been taken into the late earl’s household. She was so engrossed in her work that she did not even notice his arrival. Alex drew his team to a halt and regarded her for a long moment, taking in the dainty figure clad in a serviceable gown of green and yellow and with her wild red hair gleaming about her head like a halo.

‘Good afternoon, Miss Grensham.’

She looked up, regarding him with a clear, steady gaze. Her eyes, he noted, were unusual, nut brown but flecked with green and while she was no beauty her countenance was lively and her full mouth had an upward tilt, as if a smile was never far away.

‘Afternoon?’ Her voice was soft, musical and held a hint of laughter. ‘Heavens, is it so late already?’

‘You are not surprised to see me?’

She closed her sketchbook and rose to her feet.

‘I knew you would come at some point, my lord,’ she told him. ‘It would have been better if you had given us notice, but I am sure Mrs Wallace will be able to find some refreshment suitable for you. If you would care to drive round to the stables I will go and tell her.’

She took a few halting, uneven steps and he called out to her.

‘Let me take you to the house. Stark, get down and hand the lady into the curricle.’

She stopped and turned, saying with a challenge in her voice, ‘Because I am a cripple?’

‘No,’ he replied mildly. ‘Because I want to talk to you.’

She handed her sketch book and pencils to the groom and climbed easily into the seat unaided, affording Alex a glimpse of embroidered white stockings beneath her skirts. He could not recall ever being told why she limped, but there was clearly no deformity in those shapely ankles, or in the dainty feet encased in the neat but serviceable boots.

When she would have taken her sketching things back Alex stopped her.

‘Stark can carry them to the house. It is a fine day, let us drive around the park before we go in. I want to talk to you about the children.’ Without waiting for her assent he set the greys in motion. ‘I hope you do not mind?’

‘Do I have any choice?’

‘I thought it might be easier to talk out here than in the house.’

‘You are probably right,’ she told him. ‘You are a favourite with the girls and they will want you to themselves as soon as they know you are arrived.’ She added thoughtfully, ‘Although Meggie might demand to know why you have not been to see them before this.’

‘I have been very busy.’

‘Too busy to comfort your niece?’ When he did not reply she continued. ‘She and Florence were left to our joint care, my lord.’

‘You do not need to remind me.’ He flicked his whip over the greys’ heads. What could he say? He knew it was contemptible, but looking back and considering his brother’s death, he knew that he had been unable to face anyone’s grief save his own. He was a renowned sportsman, a hard rider, deadly with sword and pistol and a pugilist of no mean order, yet he had shied away from visiting James’s young daughter and witnessing her distress. He had told himself that her aunt was the best person to comfort little Meggie. Diana had been governess for four years to both James’s daughter and little Florence Arrandale, a cousin whose own mother had died in childbirth and whose father had left the country under suspicious circumstances. James had taken the child in as a companion for Meggie and the two girls had been brought up almost as sisters. It was assumed that Florence’s father was no longer alive and James had provided for her in his will, including consigning her to his brother’s care. At eight years old, both girls would be missing James and his wife, the only parents they had ever known. Alex featured in their lives as a favourite uncle, visiting occasionally to bring treats and play with them for an hour or two before returning to his own hedonistic life. He might be their guardian now, but what did he know about bringing up children, or comforting them? It was no defence and deep inside he knew it, but it was easy to push aside such tiny pinpricks to his conscience.

‘At least you corresponded with me,’ Diana went on. ‘I should be grateful you did not leave that to your man of business.’

‘James’s wife was your sister, your sorrow was equal to my own and I wanted to send my condolences.’

A black-bordered letter with a few trite sentences. How cold and hard that must have appeared to her.

Her hand came up, as if to ward off a blow. ‘Yes, thank you.’

It occurred to Alex that she shared his dislike of overt emotion, so he did not pursue the matter, merely asked after the girls.

‘They seem happy enough, but they miss their mama and papa. I know Florence is only a cousin, but her grief is equal to Meggie’s, I assure you.’

He said with real regret, ‘I am very sorry that I did not come to visit them sooner.’

‘Well, you are here now, and they will be very glad to see you. What is it you wanted to discuss with me?’

‘I was thinking that the girls might like to go to school.’

She paused, then said slowly, ‘You are aware that the girls’ education is my responsibility? Your brother was very clear about that.’

‘Of course, but that does not mean I cannot take an interest.’

‘No, indeed. But I do not think school would be right for them. Especially not at present, so soon after their loss.’

‘Very well, but they might prefer another house, where there are less painful memories.’

‘They are very happy here, my lord. It has always been their home.’

He felt the first stirrings of irritation. He would have to admit why he wanted them to move out.

‘But it is now my house, Miss Grensham, and I wish to use it.’

‘Well, there is nothing stopping you,’ she replied. ‘In fact, the girls would be delighted to see more of you.’

‘That is not the point. I wish to bring friends here, and it would not be...appropriate for there to be children in the house.’

‘What do you mean?’

He gave an impatient sigh. ‘Do I need to spell it out to you? I am a bachelor.’

He kept his eyes on the road ahead but he was very aware of her enquiring scrutiny and found it disconcerting.

She said slowly, ‘Am I to understand that you and your guests might act in an, an unseemly way?’

‘It is a possibility.’ His mind ranged quickly over his friends. ‘More than a possibility.’

‘It is certainly to your credit that you wish to protect the children from such scenes,’ she told him, ‘but I think in that case it would be better for you to hold your parties elsewhere. The Davenport estates comprise several excellent properties.’

‘I am well aware of that,’ he ground out. ‘But I want Chantreys.’

He kept his eyes on the road but felt her clear, enquiring gaze upon his face.

‘And why is it so important to have this house?’

Because it is where he and James had spent most of their childhood. Where they had been happiest. Alex knew that if he said as much she would turn the argument against him and appeal to his better nature to allow the girls to stay. And he had long ago buried his better nature well out of reach. He set his jaw.

‘Miss Grensham, perhaps you are not aware of the pressures that are brought to bear on the head of any family to marry and provide an heir. Old family friends, relatives I have never even heard of all think they have the perfect right to interfere in my life.’ His lip curled. ‘It is assumed that I shall find a wife before the year is out. My intention is to show the world that I will not be coerced into marriage. I want to hold the biggest, most scandalous party of my career here at Chantreys. It is close enough to town for me to invite the ton to see just how disreputable an Arrandale I am and to put paid once and for all to their infernal matchmaking!’

There, he thought grimly. That should do it. But when he glanced at the dainty figure beside him she was displaying no sign of shock and outrage. Instead she had the nerve to laugh at him.

‘That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard and I shall certainly not remove the girls from Chantreys merely to allow you to indulge such selfishness.’

He brought the curricle to a stand and swung round to face her. He held his anger in check as he said with dangerous calm, ‘Miss Grensham, have you forgotten that I am now the earl? These properties are mine, to do with as I will.’

She met his eyes steadily, in no wise troubled by his impatient tone.

‘I think you have forgotten, my lord, that you promised the girls might remain at Chantreys.’ Her smile did nothing to improve his temper. ‘You wrote to me, do you remember?’

‘Yes, I remember.’

He forced out the words, recalling the letter he had received from Diana Grensham shortly after the news of the shipwreck, asking his intentions regarding his brother’s wards. He remembered his own grief-racked reply, assuring her that Chantreys would be the girls’ home for as long as she thought it necessary. The terms of the will had been quite specific. He and Diana Grensham were joint guardians of Meggie and Florence, but James had added a rider that Diana was to have sole charge of their education, being the person most fit and proper for that responsibility.

‘I have kept your letter very safe, sir.’

‘The devil you have!’

His hands tightened on the reins and the horses sidled nervously.

‘Perhaps we should move on,’ she said in a kindly voice that made him grind his teeth. ‘There is a chill in the air and I should not like your team to come to any harm.’

* * *

Diana folded her hands in her lap as the earl set off again. She resisted the temptation to cling to the sides of the curricle, so noted a Corinthian as Alex Arrandale was unlikely to overturn her. Not physically, that was, but she could not deny that sitting beside him was causing no little disturbance to her spirits. Her conscience was already pricking her for the way she had questioned his reason for offering to take her up. It had been a civil invitation and she had responded childishly, doing the very thing she hated most, drawing attention to her infirmity. Her only excuse was that his arrival had caught her unawares. Suddenly she was confronted by a man she had only previously seen from a distance, a sportsman renowned for his strength and prowess. To look around and see him sitting in his low-slung curricle, easily holding in check those spirited greys, had thrown her own shortcomings into strong relief. She had no doubt that when he saw her take those first, hobbling steps towards the house that he had looked upon her with pity, if not disdain.

Not that he had said as much and she berated herself for being over-sensitive. It was a relief to turn her thoughts to the future of Meggie and Florence. She felt on much safer ground there but even so, to oppose the new earl at their very first meeting was not an auspicious beginning to their acquaintance. It could not be helped, the well-being of her charges was paramount. The new Lord Davenport had shown himself to be selfish and insensitive, but that was the case with most rich and powerful noblemen so it did not surprise her. What she had not expected was the attraction she felt towards the new earl. It was so strong it was almost physical and it shocked her. Whenever he had visited his brother in the past she had made sure she remained in the schoolroom, sending the children downstairs with their nurse to join the family. James and Margaret had been more than happy to include Diana in any family party, but they knew how much she hated her deformity and respected her wish for privacy when guests were present.

The late earl and his wife had been doting parents and, apart from short visits to other Davenport properties, the children had spent their lives at Chantreys. Diana had become their governess four years’ ago. She had been just eighteen and declared that she did not want to be presented, hating the thought of being paraded around Court and all the required parties, to be gawped at and pitied because she could not walk gracefully. Her parents had been relieved, not only to be spared the cost of a court presentation but also the embarrassment of having to show off their ‘poor little cripple’.

She had met Alex at James and Margaret’s wedding, of course, but a vigorous young man just entering Oxford had given no more than a cursory glance to the eleven-year-old sister of his brother’s bride. Since then Diana had kept out of his way, but she had followed his career and knew his reputation as a fashionable sporting gentleman devoted to the pursuit of pleasure. He was a perfect example of the notorious Arrandale family and nothing like his staid and respectable older brother. Now, sitting beside him in the curricle, she was very aware of the size and power of the man. His shoulders were so broad it was impossible not to bump against him as the vehicle swayed on the uneven carriageway, and he was not even wearing a many-caped greatcoat to add to their width, merely a close-fitting coat that was moulded to his athletic body with barely a crease. His hands, encased in soft kid gloves, guided the team with the ease of a master and the buckskins and top boots he wore could not mask the strength in those long legs.

It was not that he was handsome, she mused, considering the matter. His features were too austere and rugged, the nose slightly crooked, possibly from a blow, and there were tiny scars across his left eyebrow and his chin that were doubtless from some duel. His dark-brown hair was untidy, ruffled by the wind rather than by the hand of a master, and beneath his black brows his eyes, when they rested on her, were hard as slate.

No, thought Diana, as he brought the team to a plunging halt at the main door, he could not be called a handsome man, yet she found him disturbing. Possibly because he was now the earl, and technically her employer, even if her late brother-in-law’s will gave her joint guardianship of Meggie and Florence. There was no doubt he could make life difficult for her, if he so wished. She would have to tread carefully.

‘Can you get down?’ he asked her. ‘I cannot leave the horses.’

‘Of course.’ She jumped out. ‘Take them to the stables and I will fetch Meggie and Florence to the drawing room.’

She thought he might argue and want to continue their discussion indoors but to her relief he drove off without a word and she limped up the steps into the house.

* * *

Word of the new earl’s arrival had preceded her, thanks to his lordship’s groom and she found Mrs Wallace bustling through the hall. She stopped as Diana came in and beamed at her.

‘Ah, Miss Grensham, I have taken the liberty of putting cake and lemonade in the drawing room, and Fingle is even now gone to draw off some ale, since we know that Mr Alex—Lord Davenport, I should say!—is quite partial to a tankard of home-brewed.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Wallace. I will go up to the children.’

‘They are with Nurse now,’ said the housekeeper, chuckling. ‘They was all for dashing out to meet his lordship, so excited were they to hear he was come, but I sent them back upstairs to have their hands and faces washed.’

Smiling, Diana made her way to the top floor, where she found her two charges submitting reluctantly to Nurse’s ministrations.

‘Diana, Diana, Uncle Alex is come!’ cried Meggie, running to meet her.

‘I know, and once you and Florence are ready I shall take you to the drawing room.’ Diana smiled down at Meggie, thinking how much she looked like her mother, with her fair hair and deep-brown eyes. Would Alex see it and take comfort, as she did? A tug on her gown brought her attention to her other little charge. Florence was as dark as Meggie was fair but no less lively, her grey eyes positively twinkling now.

‘Can we still call him Uncle Alex, even if he is now the earl?’

‘Of course we can,’ declared Meggie. ‘He is still my uncle, and you have always called him Uncle Alex. Nothing has changed, has it, Diana?’

Diana merely smiled, but as she accompanied her charges to the drawing room she was very much afraid that everything was about to change.

* * *

The new Lord Davenport was already in the drawing room when they went in, standing with one arm resting on the mantelshelf and gazing moodily into the empty hearth. At the sound of the children’s voices the sombre look fled, he smiled and dropped down on to the sofa, inviting the children to join him. They raced across the room, greeting him with a hug and a kiss upon the cheek. Diana walked forward more slowly, surprised at the change in Alex from autocrat to friendly, approachable uncle. The girls settled themselves on either side of him, chattering non-stop, and she heard Meggie asking him why he had stayed away for so long.

‘I have had a great deal of business to attend,’ he told her. ‘But it was remiss of me not to come and see you, and I beg your pardon.’

‘Diana said you would be busy,’ said Florence. ‘She said you would also be very sad, because Papa Davenport was your brother.’

‘Did you weep?’ Meggie asked him. ‘Florence and I wept when we were told that Mama and Papa had drowned. And Diana did, too.’

‘No, I did not weep,’ he said gravely. ‘But I was very sad.’

‘Diana hugged us and that made us feel better,’ said Meggie. ‘It is a pity you were not here, Uncle Alex, because she could have hugged you, too.’

Diana smothered a laugh with a fit of coughing and turned away, knowing her cheeks would be pink with embarrassment. She might consider the new earl selfish and insensitive, but she was grateful to him for adroitly changing the subject.

‘I think it is time we had some of this delicious cake that Mrs Wallace has made,’ he declared. ‘Perhaps one of you young ladies would cut a slice for me?’

Recovering, Diana moved towards the table to help the girls serve the refreshments. She was relieved that the gentleman showed no signs of wishing to quarrel in front of the girls and she was content to remain silent while he talked to them about how they spent their days and what they had learned in the schoolroom. The children were bright and as eager to learn as Diana was to teach them and she was very happy, once they had finished their refreshments, for Meggie and Florence to take the earl up to the schoolroom and show him their work. Diana remained below. It would do him no harm to enjoy the company of his wards for a while, so she took her tambour frame into the morning room to await their return.

* * *

Lord Davenport came in alone some time later and she could not resist a teasing question.

‘Have they exhausted you?’

‘By no means, but Nurse reminded them that Judd would be waiting in the stable to give them their riding lesson and even I could not compete with that treat.’

‘No, they love their ponies and I can trust Judd to look after them.’

‘You can indeed. He threw me up on my first pony and is devoted to the family.’

His good mood encouraged her to touch on their earlier discussions.

‘You see how happy they are here, my lord.’

Immediately the shutters came down.

‘They might be as happy elsewhere.’

‘In time, perhaps, but not yet.’ She felt at a disadvantage with him standing over her so she put aside her sewing and rose. ‘They are content during the day, but they are still not sleeping well. They have suffered bad dreams and even nightmares since they learned of the shipwreck. Chantreys is their home; they know it and love it. It would be cruel to uproot them now.’

‘I am informed there are very good schools, where they might mix with children of their own age and rank.’

‘They have that here,’ she replied. ‘They have friends amongst several of the local families and the servants here all go out of their way to look after them. They do not want for company.’

‘But perhaps a broader education might be beneficial. A school would provide masters in all subjects.’

‘Perhaps, but the very best masters are to be found in London and living here we have access to them. There is also much to be learned from the entertainments to be found in town. Their education will not be found lacking, I assure you.’

* * *

Alex felt the frown descending. It was a novel experience to have anyone oppose his will.

‘Do you maintain that you can teach the girls everything they require?’ he demanded.

‘I do. I will not be moved, my lord. Meggie and Florence will remain here.’

There was a calm assurance in her tone that caught him on the raw. Did she think to defy him?

He said softly, ‘What would you wager upon my having you and the children out of the house by the end of the summer?’

That determined little chin lifted defiantly.

‘I never wager upon certainties, my lord, you will not do it—unless you mean to evict us bodily?’

She met his eyes steadily and he realised she had called his bluff. He would not do anything to hurt the girls, but neither would he capitulate that easily.

‘No, I intend that you shall go willingly.’

‘What you intend, Lord Davenport, and what will happen are two very different things.’

His temper flared at her calm defiance.

‘This was always a good marriage for your sister,’ he threw at her. ‘My brother took her despite her lack of fortune. I suppose he kept you on out of charity.’

It was a low blow, unworthy of a gentleman, and Alex regretted the words as soon as they were uttered, but surprisingly she was not crushed by his comment, instead she drew herself up and her eyes flashed with anger.

‘He kept me on because I am an excellent governess!’

Admiration stirred. She was only a slip of a girl, why, she barely came up to his shoulder but she was not afraid to meet his steely glance with one equally determined. There was also a glint of mischief in her eyes when she continued.

‘Margaret was always the beauty, but I had the brains.’

He laughed at that.

‘Very well, Miss Grensham, we will agree—for the moment!—that you are a suitable governess for Meggie and Florence, but this is not a suitable house for them, you must see that. There is only the one staircase, and the building is so small that every time the children left the schoolroom my guests would be bumping into them. It will not do, the girls must leave. You may have the pick of my other properties.’

‘I do not want any of your other properties.’

Alex bent a long, considering look upon Diana. Most people found his stare unnerving, but she merely replied with quiet determination, ‘If you insist, then I shall oppose you, sir.’

Anger stirred again. Did she dare to set up her will against his?

‘You would be ill advised to cross swords with me, Miss Grensham.’

‘I have no wish to cross swords with you, Lord Davenport, but I will not move the children, and since I have your letter, you cannot make me.’ She added, with deliberate provocation, ‘Unless you wish to fight me through the courts?’

* * *

When Alex drove away from Chantreys the spring day was ending and the clear sky left an unpleasant chill. He had failed in his quest and was in no very amiable temper. As the younger son of an earl, with a sharp mind and excellent physique, he was accustomed to succeeding in everything he attempted. His godfather, an East India merchant, had left him a considerable fortune, which had given Alex the independence to pursue his own interests once he had left Oxford. He had thus arrived in town endowed with excellent connections, good birth and considerable wealth, all the attributes he required to do very much as he pleased. He was not used to failure and it irked him.

He could easily purchase another property close to London and leave Diana and the children to live at Chantreys. He knew that this would be the most reasonable course of action, but when he thought of Diana Grensham he did not feel reasonable. Her opposition had woken something in him, some dormant spirit that wanted to engage her in battle. He never enjoyed losing and he certainly had no intention of being beaten by a slip of a girl with hair the colour of autumn leaves.


Chapter Two (#ulink_5e12a5a7-d6ec-50f1-91cd-197c207a87e3)

Alex was still mulling over his defeat as he drove into town and his mood was not improved by the knowledge that he had promised to attend Almack’s that night. The Dowager Marchioness of Hune had written to tell him she was helping to launch a young friend into the ton and asked for his support. Lady Hune was his great-aunt and one of the few Arrandale relatives who was not pressing him to marry. Also, he was fond of her in a careless sort of way and he had agreed to look in. Well, he would not go back on his word, even if it meant entering the notorious Marriage Mart.

* * *

After a solitary dinner he walked the short distance to King Street, where his mission was soon accomplished. Miss Ellen Tatham was a lively beauty so it was no hardship to stand up with her and once he had done his duty he made his escape and rewarded himself with a visit to a discreet little house off Piccadilly, where he could be sure of more congenial company.

The house was owned by Lady Frances Betsford, a widow and the youngest daughter of an impoverished peer. Despite being an accredited beauty, she had been unable to do better than a mere baronet for a husband. However he had died within twelve months of the ceremony and left his widow with a comfortable competence. She had lived in some style in town for the past five years, moving in all but the highest circles, tolerated by the ladies and sought out by their husbands. Her name had been linked with several prominent society figures in the past and most recently it had been coupled with the new Earl of Davenport.

Alex had known Frances for years. There had been a brief liaison, when he had first arrived in town, and she was keen now to get him back in her bed. Alex was well aware that her renewed interest in him stemmed from his accession to the peerage. That did not overly concern him, he knew his world and viewed it with a cynical eye. Lady Frances wanted to be a countess and she was not ineligible. Her birth was good, she was beautiful, intelligent and no ingénue who would bore him within weeks. That was a definite advantage, he thought as he walked into her crowded drawing room. He watched her as she leaned over Sir Sydney Dunford’s shoulder to advise him on his discard and realised just how little he cared if she shared her favours with other gentlemen. That, too, he thought, was in her favour. Theirs would be a civilised arrangement with no messy emotions to get in the way.

A tall, elegant figure clad in Bath coating and stockinette pantaloons broke away from the crowd and greeted Alex with a languid wave.

‘Well, Alex, have you fixed the summer party for Chantreys?’

‘I’m afraid not, Gervase.’

‘Pity,’ replied Mr Wollerton, shaking his head. ‘Lady Frances will be disappointed.’

‘That can’t be helped—’ Alex broke off as the lady in question approached, hands held out and a smile on her carmined lips.

‘My lord, I had quite given you up.’

He saluted her fingers.

‘I told you I should be late, Frances.’

She gave a soft laugh and slipped her hand through his arm.

‘So you did. Come along and join us. What will you play, Loo? Ombre? Commerce? Or shall we play at piquet, just you and I?’

He looked down into her beautiful smiling face. After Diana Grensham’s obstinate refusal to agree to his plans, the warm invitation in those cerulean eyes was balm to his battered spirits. What could be better than an hour or two spent in such agreeable company? It would help put the unsatisfactory visit to Chantreys from his mind.

‘Piquet,’ he decided.

Her smile grew. She moved closer and murmured for his ears only, ‘And afterwards?’

Her full breasts were almost brushing his waistcoat and he could smell her sweet, heady perfume enveloping him. She was voluptuous, desirable and knew how to please a man. The invitation was very tempting, but there was a restlessness in his spirits tonight and he was reluctant to commit himself. He gave an inward shrug. It was very likely that in an hour or so he might feel differently.

He smiled. ‘Let us begin with piquet and see what happens.’

* * *

Alex’s restless mood did not abate and even Lady Frances’s charms could not detain him. Soon after midnight he made his way back to his rented house in Half Moon Street. Piccadilly was busy, as always. Carriages rumbled past him and the flagway was bustling, mostly with gentlemen going to or from some evening entertainment. One or two females were on the streets, gaudily dressed and clearly offering their services to any man with a few coins in his pocket and time to spare. One of the women approached Alex but he waved her away. As she turned and flounced off the flaring light from a flambeau picked out the red glow in her hair. It was garishly unnatural, nothing like Diana Grensham’s glorious autumn tints, that thick auburn hair and her eyes the colour of fresh hazelnuts. A man might gaze upon her for ever without growing tired of the view.

A frisson of alarm ran through Alex and he gave himself a shake. By heaven, what was wrong with him tonight? Diana Grensham was not his type at all, she was stubborn, opinionated and what had James been thinking of, to give her sole charge of the children’s education?

The answer of course was that she was not an Arrandale, a family renowned for loose living. James had been the exception, a steady, sober young man who took his responsibilities seriously.

‘Confound it, so, too, do I!’ declared Alex furiously as he turned into Half Moon Street. No sooner had he uttered the words aloud than Diana’s reprimand came to mind and he stopped, a wry smile tugging at his mouth. How could he say that when he planned to set the ton by the ears with an extravagant ball to which he would invite all the very worst rakes and reprobates of society?

Yes, it would be selfish but the spirit of devilry appealed to him and it would show all those top-lofty dowds that he would not be bullied into settling down. He would take a wife when he was ready and not before. He reached his door and trod up the steps, the smile fading as quickly as it had come. That did not solve the problem of the girls, though. He could not hold such a party at Chantreys while they were in residence.

‘It would do the children no harm to live elsewhere,’ he muttered, handing his hat and gloves to a sleepy servant and taking the stairs two at a time. ‘In fact, it would be good for them and she should be made to see that.’

His man jumped up in surprise as Alex burst into the bedchamber.

‘My lord, I wasn’t expecting you so early—’

‘Never mind that, Lincoln. Do I have any engagements on the morrow?’

‘Why, no, my lord, nothing apart from your tailor.’

‘Well, he can wait.’ Alex shrugged off his coat and handed it over. ‘As soon as it is light send a message to the stables. I want my curricle at the door by nine tomorrow morning.’

* * *

Alex once again felt his spirits lifting as he drove his team towards Chantreys. The house had always been the favourite of his childhood and now, as he regarded the east front, bathed in the bright spring sunshine, he was struck anew by its beauty. Completed soon after the Restoration, the walls were of dressed chalk enhanced with decorative Bath stone at the corners and around the windows. It was small but perfectly proportioned, topped with a steep-pitched roof surmounted by a balustraded platform above which rose the elegant tall chimneys. It was a work of art in its own right and would make an excellent setting for the paintings and sculptures he had acquired over the past few years. It was also perfect for the kind of intimate parties he intended to hold here for his close friends.

* * *

It was nearing midday by the time Alex pulled up at the door. He left his groom to take the equipage to the stables and walked to the open door, where the butler was waiting to greet him.

‘Miss Grensham and the children are on the west lawn.’ Fingle took Alex’s hat and gloves and carefully placed them upon a side table. ‘Would you like me to announce you, my lord?’

‘No, no, I will find them.’

Alex strode across the entrance hall and made his way through the drawing room from where the long windows gave direct access to the gardens. There was no sign of anyone on the terrace or parterre, but the sound of childish voices and laughter led him through a gate in the high hedge between the formal gardens and the extensive lawns that led down to a large ornamental lake with the park and woods beyond.

A lively game of battledore and shuttlecock was in progress with Meggie and Florence ranged against Diana. They were all so engrossed in their game that at first they did not see him and he was able to watch them at their sport. The little girls dashed back and forth, laughing and shouting with delight as they patted the shuttlecock back to Diana, who rarely missed a shot. Alex kept his eyes fixed on Diana and it took him a moment to realise what was different about her. As she ran and turned, covering the ground, there was no sign of that ugly dragging step he had noted the previous day. Meggie sent the shuttlecock sailing high into the air and Diana leapt up to reach it.

‘Bravo, Miss Grensham!’ he called out appreciatively. ‘A fine return.’

‘Uncle Alex!’

The girls raced towards him. Diana, he noted, lowered her racquet and watched him, her manner reserved. Unsurprising, he thought, considering their encounter yesterday, but there was nothing to be gained by recalling that, so he greeted her cheerfully.

‘Taking advantage of the good weather, Miss Grensham?’

She relaxed slightly and warily returned his smile.

‘It is a reward to Meggie and Florence for their hard work in the schoolroom this morning.’

‘Must we go in now?’ asked Florence, clearly reluctant.

Alex shook his head.

‘You need stand on no ceremony with me. I have interrupted your game.’

‘We are not doing very well,’ Meggie confided. ‘Diana is so much better than us.’

‘Well, let us see if we can even things up a little,’ said Alex, spying a fourth racquet lying on a nearby rug. ‘What do you say, Miss Grensham, you and Florence against Meggie and myself?’

The girls squealed with delight but Diana shook her head at him. ‘You did not come here today to play games with us, my lord.’

A few unruly red locks had escaped from their pins and he wanted to reach out and tuck a stray curl behind her ear. He would very much like to play games with her, if they were alone... The thought seared him, sending the hot blood pulsing through his body and he had to struggle to concentrate. They had been talking of battledore, not flirtation.

‘The honour of the Arrandales is at stake,’ he declared, fighting down his baser instincts.

He stripped off his coat, revealing an exquisitely embroidered waistcoat, more suited to Bond Street than a country garden, but he did not care for that. ‘Fetch me a racquet, Meggie!’

A fast and furious thirty minutes ensued. Diana, Alex noted, was at first a little shy of having a gentleman present. She was favouring her left leg and limping badly but Alex ignored it, giving no quarter in his returns. To his satisfaction her competitive spirit soon won through and as she lost herself in the game, running and straining to reach every shot he sent her way he saw no signs of the ungainly limp that affected her walk. The game only ended when Fingle appeared with a tray of refreshments for them all and a gentle reminder that Cook was even now preparing nuncheon for the schoolroom party.

‘Then tell Cook to set another place for me,’ declared Alex. ‘That is, if Miss Grensham has no objections?’

The girls immediately voiced their approval of the idea and Diana spread her hands.

‘It will be nursery fare,’ she warned him.

‘Then Fingle shall look out a decent claret to sustain me,’ declared Alex, nodding at the butler.

Fingle bowed and went off to inform Cook of the change. Alex took the tankard of ale from the tray and sat down upon the blanket while Diana poured lemonade for Meggie and Florence. He watched the rise and fall of her breast beneath the low-cut neckline of her gown and again felt that stir of attraction. He dragged his eyes away. This was no part of his plan.

‘Is this how you spend every day?’ he asked her.

‘Whenever the weather permits. Fresh air and exercise are very beneficial to growing bodies.’

* * *

And those already full grown.

Diana was unable to stop her eyes travelling over the earl’s muscular form as he lounged on the rug, his long legs, encased in their pantaloons and Hessians, stretched out before him. She knew he was considered a Corinthian, a man of fashion but also a sportsman, and it was not difficult to believe it when one observed those powerful thighs, or the broad shoulders, deep chest and flat stomach, accentuated by his close-fitting waistcoat.

Having served the girls, she picked up her own glass of lemonade and made her way to the only free space upon the rug, acutely aware of the awkward, dragging step caused by her shortened left leg. It was not very pronounced and had never prevented her from excelling at the more energetic games she had played as a child with her sister and cousins, but she could never forget it when she was in company. She could never walk with that smooth gliding elegance that was required of young ladies. Her mother had developed a habit of averting her eyes whenever Diana limped into a room.

When her sister had suggested that Diana should become governess to little Lady Margaret and Miss Florence, Diana had accepted readily. All talk of a court presentation and a London Season ended and Diana saw the relief in her mother’s face when she knew she would be spared the embarrassment of introducing her crippled daughter to society.

‘You look very serious, Miss Grensham.’ The earl’s voice jerked her out of her reverie. ‘Have I said anything amiss?’

‘No, not at all.’ She pushed away the unwelcome memories. ‘You asked how we spend our days here. We are always up by seven-thirty and after breakfast we work at our lessons. Then, in the afternoon, there are more lessons or if the weather is fine we might walk, or play games out of doors. Our days are very full, the girls are learning to play the harpsichord, plus all the accomplishments necessary for young ladies, such as sewing, singing and dancing, but at eight years old I think there is time enough for that.’

‘I am not questioning your skill as a governess, Miss Grensham.’

Diana noted that Meggie and Florence had grown tired of sitting down and were playing battledore again, there was no one to overhear them.

‘No?’ she challenged him. ‘Yesterday you suggested I might have been given the post because I was a poor relation.’

And a cripple.

Diana did not voice the words but they were there, all the same.

‘I beg your pardon for that.’ He sat up. ‘Why did you take the post?’

‘I have always been interested in book learning,’ she replied, avoiding his eyes. ‘As Meggie’s aunt, I was able to be so much more than a mere governess.’ She explained, to fill the silence. ‘You know how James and Margaret liked to travel, and then there were the house parties to attend and visits they were obliged to make. The children could spend most of their time here, in familiar surroundings, and when their parents were away I was always here with them.’ She plucked at her skirts. ‘In the event, it was fortunate. When the news came, that Margaret and James were drowned, I could comfort the girls.’

Alex recognised the pain shadowing her eyes. He was not the only one to have lost a sibling when that ship was smashed against the rocks off the Spanish coast.

‘And who comforted you, Diana?’

He was not sure if she shuddered or if it was merely a shake of the head, but she did not answer him.

‘We had best go in now.’ She scrambled to her feet and shook out her skirts. ‘Meggie, Florence, bring the racquets, if you please, we must put them away safely. Fingle will send someone to bring in the rug and the tray, my lord, so do, pray, go on ahead with the girls, I will follow in a moment.’

Alex said nothing, but as he accompanied the children into the house he suspected that she did not wish him to see her walking with that dragging step.

The schoolroom was on the top floor, as it had been during his own childhood, but it was barely recognisable. It was no longer dark and austere. The walls were painted white and covered with prints and drawings, many of them clearly the work of childish hands. The girls carried the racquets to the corner cupboard and he strode ahead to open it for them. As he did so his eyes fell upon an object in one corner and with a laugh he pulled out a small cricket bat.

‘I remember this,’ he declared. ‘Old Wilshire, the estate carpenter, made it.’ He grinned down at Meggie. ‘Your father and I used it when we were here.’

‘We still use it, Uncle Alex,’ said Florence, coming up. ‘Diana taught us how to play.’

‘Well, well,’ he said, grinning. ‘Then you must show me just how good you are.’

‘Perhaps another day,’ put in Diana, following them into the room. ‘This afternoon we have work to do.’

‘Then I shall join you, if I may!’

* * *

If anyone had told Alex that he would enjoy spending the day with two eight-year-old girls, eating bread and butter in the schoolroom, listening to them reading their books and joining them for games of dominoes and spillikins he would have laughed at the idea, but when Nurse came in to take Meggie and Florence off for their dinner he was surprised to see that it was nearly five o’clock. The day had the charm of novelty, of course, and it was undoubtedly helped by Diana’s presence. She was a lively companion and clearly very proud of her charges. Alex took his leave of the girls, almost as sorry as they were that there had been no time to try out the old cricket bat and promising that they should do so on his next visit.

‘Thank you,’ said Diana as she accompanied him down the stairs. ‘It was very kind of you to give up your day for Meggie and Florence.’

‘Kind?’ he repeated, surprised. ‘I am not renowned for being kind, Miss Grensham! No, I enjoyed myself, else I should not have stayed so long. They are delightful children, although I should not want charge of them every day, as you do. Do you ever have time to yourself?’

‘Why, yes. Nurse takes care of the children now, leaving me free until about eight, when I go up to wish them goodnight.’ She paused as they reached the entrance hall. ‘Would you care to step into the drawing room, my lord, while you wait for your carriage?’

‘Oh, I am not going yet.’

‘But you will wish to be back in town in time for dinner.’

‘I thought I might dine here. If you have no objection?’

He watched her dark lashes sweep down, shielding her thoughts as she said politely, ‘It is your house, my lord.’

His lips twitched.

‘Be honest, you are wishing me in Hades.’

She flushed at that, but shook her head.

‘I apprehend that you wish to discuss the children’s future.’

‘Pray do not show hackle, Miss Grensham. We have had a pleasant day and I thought it would be useful for us to become better acquainted. As you reminded me, we are both guardians of Meggie and Florence.’

‘Yes, of course. Then if you will excuse me, I will go and find Fingle and tell him to lay another place...’

She hurried away upon the words and Alex went into the drawing room. So far so good. Diana had thawed a little and he had no doubt now that he could achieve his object in coming to Chantreys: they could have a reasoned and logical discussion about moving the girls to one or other of his properties. Upon reflection he did not think Davenport House would be suitable, it was in the far north and the climate was rather harsh, but there was the estate in Lincolnshire, or the manor house north of Oxford. They both had large grounds where Miss Grensham could exercise her charges to her heart’s content.

Chantreys was too perfect to be wasted upon children. Its light rooms would show off his growing art collection to advantage. It was the smallest of the properties he had inherited and it had plenty of snug little bedrooms well suited to late-night assignations, yet it was also close enough to London to invite parties down for an evening.

A shade of unease possessed him. Was he being selfish, to move the children out of Chantreys? He could hardly continue his bachelor lifestyle here with the children in residence. His father would not have worried about such things, but then his parents had rarely considered their children, leaving them to be brought up by a small army of nannies, nurses and tutors in some distant wing of whatever house they were occupying at the time. Chantreys was different, there was no convenient wing in which to shut the children away, but even so the earl and his countess had contrived to avoid too much contact, spending most of their time in London and driving down to Chantreys only occasionally to visit their offspring. Alex had quickly learned not to reach out for Mama, lest he make her gown grubby, or to speak unless Papa addressed him. He had learned to keep his emotions in check, to keep everyone at bay except James. And now even James was gone.

Alex paced the floor, disturbed by his memories. The drawing room suddenly felt close and confined and he walked to the French windows and threw them open. He stood there, breathing in the fresh air. To one side he could see the empty lawns, stretching beyond the formal gardens. He had enjoyed playing outside today. It reminded him of those far-off days when he and James had been left to amuse themselves, playing cricket on that very same grass. Only there had been no warm and loving governess like Diana Grensham to look after them, to join in with their games so energetically that her hair escaped from its pins and bounced around her shoulders like a fiery cloud. His eyes narrowed, as if he might better recall the image she had presented, her hair curling wildly about her head, breast heaving from the exertion, eyes bright and sparkling. It was clear the children adored her and she was devoted to them. Well, let her argue her case again over dinner. Perhaps this time he would listen.

The door opened and he turned, expecting to see Diana there, but instead it was Fingle.

‘Miss Grensham sent me to tell you that dinner would be served in an hour, my lord, and to see if you required anything in the meantime.’

‘Yes, I require her company.’

The butler was an old and trusted retainer and at these words he bent a fatherly smile upon his master in a way that made Alex feel about ten years old.

‘Miss Grensham has gone to her room to change for dinner, my lord. I am sure she will be downstairs again just as soon as she is ready.’

Alex kept his lips firmly closed, fighting against the impulse to demand that she hurry up. That would sound petulant in the extreme. He had set out that morning with the intention of holding a reasoned discussion with Diana. To order her to attend him would immediately put up her back. She was not a servant to be commanded. He curbed his impatience to see her again and asked Fingle to bring him some brandy.

* * *

Diana made her way to the drawing room shortly before the dinner hour. As she walked in the earl gave her a frowning look.

‘Are you still in mourning?’

She glanced down at her lavender silk.

‘No, my lord. This is my best evening gown.’

She could have added that it was the only evening gown. She had never needed more. When she had first joined the late earl’s household she had always been invited to join the family for dinner, whenever they were in residence at Chantreys, but one never knew how many guests would be present, and Diana preferred not to be subjected to the stares and pitying looks of strangers. After a while the invitations had stopped.

‘It looks very much like mourning,’ he told her.

‘One might say the same of your cravat, my lord.’

For a long moment they regarded one another, before the earl looked away and walked to the sideboard.

‘Sit down, Miss Grensham. Can I get you a glass of claret, perhaps. Or Madeira?’

‘A little wine, thank you.’ She moved to a chair opposite the one he had been occupying, glad that he was pouring the claret and not watching her limp across the room. ‘What is it you wish to discuss with me, sir?’

‘You are very direct.’ He handed her a glass and returned to his chair. ‘I have already told you, I thought we should become better acquainted. You were always absent whenever I visited the house in the past.’

‘Then the earl and countess would be present. I was not required.’

He stared at her over the rim of his glass.

‘Were you avoiding me?’

She was surprised that his question did not offend. She replied, equally blunt, ‘I was avoiding everyone.’

‘Because you limp,’ he said. ‘What happened?’

‘A broken thigh bone, when I was very young.’ She paused to taste her wine. ‘The doctor set it badly, and although others were brought in they could not undo his incompetence. I was left with my left leg shorter than the right. It does not prevent me from doing anything I wish, but it looks ungainly and makes people uncomfortable. They do not wish to see deformity in the drawing room.’

‘Have you ever considered that if you were to be in society more, people would become accustomed to your...’ he paused ‘...your deformity?’

‘Perhaps, but I go on very well as I am. The children no longer regard it.’

He held her eyes.

‘But you must take them out and about. Does that not make people uncomfortable?’

‘Oh, no,’ she said quietly. ‘I attract no attention at all in the street. Governesses are of no consequence, you see.’

Fingle came in to announce dinner and Lord Davenport rose.

‘Shall we go in?’

He was holding out his arm to her. Diana hesitated, tempted to tell him such courtesy was unnecessary, but he would know that. Silently she slipped her fingers on to his sleeve. It was impossible not to feel the hard muscle beneath the soft wool of his coat. He exuded strength and power, and she felt a tiny tremor of excitement at his proximity.

‘Oh.’

Diana stopped as they entered the dining room. Two places were set at the table, facing each other across the width rather than at either end.

‘I told Fingle to set it thus,’ remarked her companion. ‘I thought it would be an advantage not to be peering the length of the table and shouting at one another.’

He guided Diana to her seat and held her chair. She sank down, suddenly nervous. She had never dined alone with a man before. We are here on business, she told herself sternly. But when the earl took his seat opposite and smiled at her it felt strangely intimate, even though the daylight was still streaming into the room.

The earl’s unexpected presence at dinner had certainly put Cook on her mettle and Diana decided there could be no complaint on the number and variety of dishes that appeared on the table. If the earl was not satisfied with the ragout of lamb and tender young carrots and turnips then there was a cheese pie or a fricassee of eggs and a dessert made with some of Cook’s preciously hoarded quince jelly.

For many months Diana’s meals had been taken alone or with the children and at first she was a little nervous to be in company, but the earl was determined to please and be pleased. He was an excellent host, ensuring that she had her choice of every dish on the table and keeping her wine glass filled. He was at pains to draw her out and she was surprised how easy it was to converse with him. By the time the meal was over she was quite relaxed in his company.

‘I had best leave you to your brandy,’ she said, when the clock chimed the hour.

‘No, please. Stay and talk to me.’

She chuckled. ‘We have talked throughout dinner.’

‘But not about the children.’

She was disappointed. They had been getting on famously, and now they would argue again. She knew it. He signalled to Fingle to refill her wine glass and she did not object. She would not, of course, drink brandy, or port, or even Madeira after dinner. That would be foolish and could lead to her becoming inebriated, but a little more wine might stiffen her resolve when dealing with the earl.

* * *

Alex signalled to the servants to leave the room. He had enjoyed dinner, surprisingly so. He had decided at the outset that he would spare no efforts to charm Diana, but in fact it had been no effort at all. Her education had been thorough and she was an avid reader. Although she lived confined he learned that she corresponded with several long-standing friends and no one had ever cancelled the late earl’s subscription to the London newspapers, so she was well informed and eager to learn. Their discussions ranged from politics to art and philosophy, and if he introduced a subject of which she knew little, her questions and comments were intelligent and interesting. He made sure the wine flowed freely, and as he encouraged her to talk and express her opinions she began to relax, to blossom. Whenever some particular subject caught her interest she would become animated, waving her hands, challenging his views and not afraid to put her own. The one topic they had not touched upon was the children and their removal to another property, but it would soon be time for him to leave, and since that was the reason for his being here, he must make the attempt.

As Fingle shepherded the footmen from the room Alex refilled his glass and sat back, regarding the petite figure sitting opposite him. She would never be a beauty. No coiffeuse would tame that red hair without resorting heavily to the use of pomade, her mouth was too wide and as for those freckles sprinkled liberally across her pert little nose and cheeks, any female with pretensions to fashion would have concealed them with a little powder. Having decided the freckles were a blemish, Alex found himself looking at them again. They did have a certain charm, he conceded. In fact, some men might find them quite attractive...

Diana’s voice cut into his thoughts.

‘No doubt you wish we still lived in your great-grandfather’s time.’

With an effort he forced his mind back to the discussion.

‘The fourth earl?’ His brows rose. ‘What has he to do with anything?’

‘By all accounts he was a tyrant,’ she told him cheerfully. ‘He cleared whole villages to create the park and the views we now enjoy from the house.’ She shook her head, saying disapprovingly, ‘Positively feudal.’

‘He provided a whole new village for his people.’

‘Yes, because he needed to keep them close to work on his estate.’

‘You are deliberately seeing the worst of my family.’

She laughed at that. ‘The worst? Moving a few dozen villagers is nothing to the debauched and dissolute manner with which the Arrandales have conducted themselves over the years.’

Alex reined in his temper. Who was she to criticise his kin?

‘The Arrandales are no worse than many other families,’ he snapped. ‘I would not contemplate displacing a whole village, but I would move two little girls! It is not as though I am throwing you on the streets. You may have the pick of my properties, if you wish I will even buy you a new house.’

‘I do not want a new house,’ she retorted. ‘My sister thought it best for the children to be settled in one place and I agree with her.’

‘I am not advocating that they should be constantly moving from house to house, Miss Grensham, merely asking that you settle them somewhere else.’

Alex reached across to refill her glass. By heaven, but she was stubborn! He noticed that his own glass was empty. He might as well refill that, too. He had forgotten that the brandy in the cellars here was very fine indeed.

She sipped her wine before replying.

‘No, my lord. Chantreys is an eminently suitable house for the children. Its proximity to London means that when they need dancing and singing masters we will be able to command the very best.’

There was the faintest suggestion of unsteadiness in her voice. His glance flickered over the half-empty wine glass. Was she intoxicated? He had intended that she should be at ease with him, but perhaps in the enjoyment of the dinner he had allowed her too much wine. After all, she was not used to society and possibly might not be used to wine-drinking either. He pushed his chair back.

‘It is time I left,’ he said abruptly.

She blinked at him, her eyes wide. ‘But we have not finished our discussion, nor have I finished my wine.’

‘I think you have had quite enough,’ he muttered, walking round and putting his hand on her chair. ‘Come along.’

With a tiny shrug of her shoulders she rose. She looked perfectly steady but he was taking no chances. He pulled her hand on to his sleeve and walked her out of the dining room. As they crossed the hall he barked out an order to a hovering footman.

‘Ask Mrs Wallace to make tea and bring it into the drawing room, immediately.’

‘Oh, are you staying for tea?’ said Diana. ‘That will be de—delightful.’

He felt the weight of her as she leaned into him. He had intended to leave her, but perhaps he should stay and make sure she drank something other than wine. She continued to chatter as he guided her into the drawing room and eased her off his arm and on to a sofa.

‘Chantreys is most, most excellently situated,’ she told him. ‘We are close enough to London to visit the art galleries, and the famous Shakespeare Gallery in Pall Mall. Do you know it, my lord?’

‘It is not somewhere I have visited as yet,’ he replied, moving away.

‘Then you should do so,’ she said seriously. ‘It has illustrations of Shakespeare’s plays, commissioned from the finest artists.’

He watched her as she rose and began to walk about the room, idly running her hand along the chair backs.

‘There is nothing to say you could not live further from town,’ he said, ‘You could bring the children to stay in London from time to time. Money is no object—’

‘This is not about money, my lord.’ She stopped and turned, fixing him with those large, hazel eyes. ‘Chantreys has always been their home, they know it and love it. It would be cruel to uproot them now.’

The entrance of Fingle with the tea tray gave Alex time to consider her words and to admit to himself, grudgingly, that she was right. How could he even think of moving the girls at such a time? He could buy a house, or rent one. It might not be as perfect as Chantreys but there must be something suitable for entertaining. For some reason he found it difficult to concentrate on the matter. Or on anything very much. Perhaps it was not only Diana who had been drinking a little too freely.

When they were alone again he said, ‘Come, take a cup of tea.’

‘I do not think I want anything just yet.’ She wandered over to the open window and gave a loud sigh. ‘Is it not the most beautiful view from here?’

He crossed the room to stand behind her, but it was not the rolling acres of parkland that he was thinking about, it was the way the westering sun set her red hair aflame. Without thinking he reached out to touch it, but quickly snatched his hand back when she turned suddenly to face him. She was glaring at him, the light of battle in her eyes.

‘Do you know what the problem is, my lord Davenport? You are spoiled. You have never had to struggle, to fight for anything. Is it any wonder if you are dissolute and irresponsible? Whatever you desire you only have to click your fingers.’ She held up her hand, frowning in concentration as she tried to fit the action to the words. After a moment she gave up and turned her rather misty gaze upon him once more. ‘You only have to click your fingers and your wish is granted, your wealth has always bought everything you want.’ She stabbed at his chest with her fingers. ‘Well, you shall not buy me.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t do that.’

‘Why not?’ She looked up, a challenging gleam in her eyes. ‘Are you afraid I might sully your exquisite tailoring? Or do you fear I shall disturb the perfection of your cravat?’

Her fingers began to slide up over the embroidered waistcoat, but before she had reached the black linen neckcloth he clamped his hand over hers.

The effect was shocking.

A bolt of desire shot through Alex. It was no longer an annoying little governess standing before him, rather a creature of fire, a flame-haired siren who tantalised his senses. Her eyes widened, as if she was aware of the effect she was having. Hardly surprising since he was still holding her fingers against his chest, where she must feel the drumming of his heart. His free hand slid around her neck and cupped the back of her head. He almost expected those flaming locks to burn him but her hair was cool as silk against his palm. She made no move to resist and gently he drew her closer. As he lowered his head to kiss her he saw her eyelids flutter. Soaring elation overwhelmed him. His mouth came down upon hers in a bruising kiss.

* * *

Diana’s senses swooped and spun. He teased her lips apart, his tongue flickering, demanding access and she could not deny him. She knew she should be outraged but instead she was exultant, revelling in the taste and smell of him, an exciting mixture of wine and spices plus something unfamiliar but very male. Her bones turned to water but it did not matter, because he was holding her so close, his arms strong as iron bands. Her hand was still trapped against his chest and she struggled to move and slip it around his neck, to push her fingers through the thick dark hair that curled over his collar.

She had never been in a man’s arms before, no man had ever so much as kissed her cheek, but she felt no fear, only a fierce, primal pleasure when Alex’s teeth grazed her lip before his tongue was once more dipping and diving into her. She gave a small moan of pleasure before returning his kiss and when she felt him withdrawing she clung tighter, instinctively pressing her body against his, wanting to prolong the hot, intimate embrace.

The blood was pounding through her veins, her senses were swimming, but she was aware that his arms were no longer around her, he was easing himself away, gently but inexorably. The frantic, heated kisses came to an end.

Dragging in a breath, Diana put her hands behind her, thankful to find the window frame was within reach. She leaned against it, trying to work out just what had happened. Alex was staring at her, frowning from beneath those heavy brows, his deep chest rising and falling with every ragged breath.

‘I beg your pardon,’ he muttered, his voice unsteady.

Her body cried out in agony at the distance between them. They were leaning against opposite sides of the window frame, only inches apart, but it was too much. She dug her fingers into the wood at her back to stop herself from cupping her breasts, which felt so full and hard they ached. She shook her head.

‘I do not—’ she began, when she could command her voice. ‘That is, I have never—’

‘No, you haven’t, have you?’

A wry smile curved his mouth and Diana felt embarrassment replace the heat of passion. She should move away but her legs would not support her. There was a throbbing ache between her thighs, so intense that she wanted to throw herself at Alex, instinct telling her that only he could assuage it.

He stepped sideways, away from her and into the room.

‘Let us blame it on the wine and think no more about it,’ he said, walking to the door. ‘I must go now.’

Diana did not want him to leave. She tried to drag her reeling thoughts into some kind of order.

‘What—what about the children?’

He stopped at the door and bent another frowning look at her.

‘I do not think either of us is in the mood for more discussion, Miss Grensham. I bid you goodnight.’

* * *

He was gone. Diana closed her eyes, breathing deeply and leaning heavily against the window frame at her back. She was not sure if she was most in danger of fainting or bursting into tears. Perhaps the earl was right, it was the wine. She had certainly taken more than usual, and she had felt very relaxed by the time dinner was over. Relaxed enough to tell Alex that she thought him a rich, spoiled nobleman for whom money could buy everything.

Her hands crept up to her cheeks. She had told him he could not buy her and he had punished her by showing that he did not need riches to reduce her to a trembling, incoherent wreck. He had done that with nothing more than a kiss.

She heard a soft scratching at the door and Fingle came in. Diana turned away quickly, pretending to look out at the gardens, deep in shadow now and with the moon rising in the distance.

‘I beg your pardon, Miss Grensham. I heard his lordship leave and thought—but you haven’t touched the tea. Would you like me to ask Mrs Wallace to put the kettle on again?’

‘No, thank you, Fingle. I, um, I am going up to say goodnight to the children and then I think I shall retire.’

‘Very well then, miss, shall I take the tray away?’

‘Yes, please do.’ She remained in the shadows and watched him depart with the untouched tray. No, she thought wretchedly, it was not tea that her body craved this evening.

* * *

‘What in the name of all that’s wonderful were you about?’ Alex demanded of himself as he drove through the darkened lanes.

The cool night air had cleared his brain sufficiently for him to think straight again. The brandy had momentarily clouded his judgement. Thin redheads had never appealed to him and neither did headstrong, opinionated women. Diana was a lady, and his sister-in-law, to boot. It had been reprehensible of him to ply her with drink. True, she had annoyed him when she had called him irresponsible. Who was she to criticise him, to accuse him of trying to buy her? He had merely offered her the pick of any of his houses. By heaven, many a man would not even have given her a choice in the matter.

His mouth tightened. If he hadn’t written her that letter assuring her she could stay at Chantreys, then perhaps he might now have ordered her and the children to leave, but he could not in honour do so. And he was not without honour, however dissolute she might think him. He gave a little grunt of frustration, knowing he had not acted honourably this evening. Her responses had been passionate but inexpert. Why, he would wager on it that she had never been kissed before. He recalled her look when he had put her away from him, her eyes huge and dark, regarding him with a mixture of wonder and apprehension.

It was not his habit to pursue innocent virgins and she was most surely an innocent. A veritable Sleeping Beauty, whose passion he had awakened with a kiss. His mouth twisted. But he was no Prince Charming. He had been on the town long enough to know what happened to men of experience who married innocent young women. They were bored within a month and within two they had set up a mistress, leaving a wife distraught at the desertion.

His hands jerked on the reins at the thought and he was obliged to give his attention to the greys, who objected strongly to his unaccustomed treatment. No, he thought, when the team was once more running smoothly, he had no intention of entering into such a marriage. He had determined to marry for convenience, a woman who understood what was required, who would make no demands upon him emotionally.

His mind wandered back to the memory of Diana, chin up, eyes challenging. He recalled the sudden stirring of interest, a flicker that had become irresistible when he had caught her fingers. He had only meant to prevent her from committing an indiscretion, but with her tiny hand clasped against his heart he had felt an irresistible urge to pull her into his arms. She had felt it, too, that connection between them. He had read it in her eyes, along with an invitation that he had accepted far too readily.

So there was another reason to remove Diana Grensham from Chantreys. She was governess to his wards and could not risk the loss of reputation that would result from an affair. And for himself, he would not want that on his conscience. Diana Grensham was no drab from the stews, willing to indulge in a quick tumble. When he had kissed her he had recognised her passionate nature and it had drawn a response from him. He knew that these attractions were never long lasting, but Diana was not experienced in flirtations—what if she were to develop a tendre for him?

He reached the outskirts of London and bowled through the town, his mind made up. Whichever way one looked at it, the best thing would be for Diana and the children to remove from Chantreys and preferably a good distance from London, well out of harm’s way. The problem was how to achieve it? The devil of it was that so far Diana had proved surprisingly stubborn. She was determined not to capitulate. His jaw tightened. Well, he could be stubborn, too. This was no longer about the children, it was a battle of wills, and he was not about to lose.


Chapter Three (#ulink_aa0bd356-964c-5943-b4a7-236dd1b20a54)

The following day brought word from Chantreys, the letter arriving at Alex’s lodgings just as he was about to set off for Jackson’s Boxing Academy. With a faint sense of satisfaction he broke the seal. Perhaps his lapse yesterday had not been such a bad thing. Diana was probably so mortified that she wanted nothing more than to remove as far away from him as possible.

His hopes were short lived. The missive was brief and to the point. Miss Grensham sent her compliments—hah!—and wrote to inform him that she had decided the children should remain at Chantreys for the next year at least.

‘She has decided!’ he exclaimed, resisting with an effort the temptation to crush the paper between his hands. He forced himself to continue reading to the end.

Miss Grensham therefore considers further discussion of the children’s future would be of little benefit. However, if Lord Davenport wishes to call upon the children a message to Chantreys ahead of his visit would be appreciated, in order that Lady Margret and Miss Florence might be ready to receive him.

Alex swore explosively. Nothing would persuade him to make an appointment to visit his own property! He threw the letter on the table, snatched up his hat and gloves and set off for Bond Street.

Striding through the crowds brought some relief and after an hour in Jackson’s Boxing Academy, sparring with the great man himself, he was able to view Diana’s letter more dispassionately.

She had made it clear that she did not wish to move from Chantreys, but it was equally obvious that she was reluctant to meet with him again after their last encounter. That was the reason she wished for prior warning of his visits to the house, so that when he called she could arrange for Nurse to bring the children downstairs. For a moment he recalled that impromptu game of battledore upon the lawn and felt a tinge of regret that they would not do it again. But that could not be helped. She must be persuaded that it would be better for her and the girls if they moved out of Chantreys altogether. If only he could think of a way to do it.

* * *

A week later Alex was still no nearer solving the dilemma and such was his distraction that he almost walked past Gervase Wollerton in Jermyn Street without a word.

‘By Jove, Alex, I don’t know when I last saw you looking so blue-devilled,’ observed his friend, when Alex had stopped and begged his pardon. ‘Something amiss? I was going to look in at White’s, but if you want to talk...’

‘No, I don’t,’ said Alex. ‘I am on my way to see Lady Frances, if you want to give me your arm.’

Mr Wollerton lifted his eyeglass and surveyed Alex.

‘Thing is,’ he said slowly, ‘not sure I can do that, my friend. Not with you in that coat. In fact, if it wasn’t growing dark, I would hesitate to acknowledge you.’

Alex’s lips twitched.

‘Gammon,’ he said rudely. ‘Have you been listening to Brummell again, Gervase? What is it this time, are the buttons too large, is my coat not plain enough for the Beau’s taste?’

‘No, no,’ Mr Wollerton assured him. ‘It ain’t the buttons and the coat’s plain enough. It’s the cut. Shouldn’t be surprised if you can shrug yourself into it.’

‘Of course I can shrug myself into it.’ Impatiently Alex took his arm and urged him on. ‘I am happy to follow Brummell’s lead when it comes to clean linen and simple, dark coats, but I’m damned if I’ll spend hours each morning letting my man dress me.’

‘Which is why the Beau will never be seen in the street with you, dear boy.’

Alex gave a bark of laughter. ‘I shall live without that privilege.’

‘I think you will have to,’ murmured his friend. ‘But at least you have come out of the sullens.’

‘I was not in the sullens,’ Alex objected, preparing to cross Piccadilly. ‘Are you coming with me to see Frances, or would you rather retrace your steps and go to White’s?’

‘Happy to call upon Lady Frances.’ Mr Wollerton coughed delicately. ‘If I won’t be de trop?’

‘Good God, no. What makes you think that?’

Wollerton gave a slight shrug.

‘You seem to be getting mighty close, taking her out to Chantreys and all that.’

Alex frowned.

‘I haven’t taken her to Chantreys.’

‘Well, she has seen it at all events.’

‘What? How can she have done so?’

‘She drove out to view the place recently, heard her telling Anglesey about it at the assembly last night.’

‘The devil she did.’

Gervase brushed a speck of fluff from his sleeve as he said, ‘I think she aspires to be your countess, old friend.’

Alex scowled. ‘I thought I had made it very plain I am not yet in the market for a wife.’

‘So you are not meeting her tête-à-tête tonight?’ asked Wollerton, looking relieved.

‘Great heavens, no. She has invited all the world and his wife.’

Mr Wollerton protested mildly, ‘The world might turn up, but not so sure about the wives. Not the high sticklers, at any rate.’

‘Thank God for that,’ muttered Alex. ‘That’s one of the main reasons I go there, to get away from the single females and their mamas on the hunt for every eligible bachelor. This Season has been particularly grim, having been obliged to escort Lady Hune and her protégée to just the sort of parties that I most abhor.’ He quickened his pace. ‘Come along, it’s starting to rain.’

* * *

Lady Frances’s soirées were comfortable affairs where one could expect good conversation and excellent refreshments. The company was predominantly male but at least a man could relax and enjoy himself without falling prey to a matchmaker. Alex and Gervase stepped indoors before the rain had sullied their coats and since they were familiar with the house they went directly to the card room set up in one of the spacious salons. Their hostess appeared in the doorway as they approached and held out her hands to Alex, smiling.

‘Welcome, my lord, and to you, Mr Wollerton. You are set upon cards, I see. What will it be for you this evening?’

‘Whist,’ said Alex. ‘If you and Wollerton will join me.’

He noted the little flicker of surprise and wondered if Frances wanted to keep him to herself. If Gervase’s observations were correct, Frances had aspirations Alex had no intention of fulfilling for a long time yet. It was reassuring to see her smile without any hint of disappointment.

‘Of course,’ she said smoothly. She looked about her. ‘We will need a fourth... Sir Charles, you are free? Do join us for a rubber of whist.’

Alex had no great opinion of Sir Charles Urmston and when they moved to an empty table he chose to sit opposite Gervase, leaving Lady Frances to partner Urmston. As they made themselves comfortable Alex glanced up and surprised a look pass between Urmston and the lady. It was fleeting, but there was an intimacy that made him wonder if they were more than friends.

The first rubber went to Frances and Urmston. Alex threw down his cards.

‘I beg your pardon, Gervase. I was not concentrating.’ He glanced at Lady Frances. ‘You did not tell me you had seen Chantreys. When was this, ma’am? When did you go there?’

Her eyes widened but her smile did not falter.

‘I did not exactly go there, my lord. I was on my way to Upminster to visit friends and I glimpsed it from the road.’

‘You must have driven a long way around the perimeter,’ he said sardonically. ‘As far as I am aware there is only one spot where you have a clear view of the house.’

‘I was curious to see the place that holds such happy memories for you, Alexander.’ Her fingers touched his arm. ‘I am now in a rage to visit Chantreys in the summer.’

‘That will not be possible. My wards will be in residence.’

She looked up at him, her finely arched brows rising.

‘But you were looking forward to holding a party there for all your friends.’

‘You were looking forward to it, Frances.’ His glance was mocking. ‘As I recall the idea of a ball to shock the ton was yours.’

The lady brushed this aside with a smile.

‘Nevertheless, my lord, I thought you had decided to send the children to school.’

‘The decision is not solely mine to make.’ The admission rubbed at his pride. ‘Miss Grensham is also their guardian and she is against the idea.’ He continued, deciding it would be best to get the whole thing over with. ‘She is also against moving from Chantreys for the next twelve months at least.’

‘And have you no say in the matter?’ murmured Urmston, unwrapping a new pack of cards.

‘We discussed it,’ said Alex shortly.

Lady Frances put her hand on his arm. ‘My dear Alexander, you should have left her in no doubt of your wishes in this matter. I thought we were agreed that the girls would be better off at school.’

‘Unfortunately when it comes to the girls’ education, my brother decreed that the final decision should belong to Miss Grensham, as the...er...“most fit and proper person to attend to it”.’

Gervase laughed. ‘James certainly had your measure, then, my friend!’

‘It seems odd that she will not give up the place,’ murmured Sir Charles. ‘I believe the ladies generally find your charms persuasive.’

Alex felt his lip curling in derision. ‘It is my money and my title that they find persuasive.’

Lady Frances tensed and Alex wondered if she thought the barb was directed at her.

‘You are probably right, old boy.’ Wollerton nodded, enjoying his wine and oblivious to the tension around the table. ‘Not that you ain’t charming when you want to be,’ he added hastily. ‘It’s just that most likely you didn’t think it necessary to charm a servant.’

‘Miss Grensham is not a servant,’ retorted Alex, unaccountably annoyed. ‘She is the children’s guardian.’

‘But that does not give her the right to monopolise your property,’ objected Lady Frances.

Alex might agree, but something compelled him to put Diana’s point of view. ‘She considers Chantreys the most suitable place for the children at the present time.’

Sir Charles was about to deal, but he hesitated as if a thought had struck him.

‘Perhaps, my lord, you should demonstrate that the lady is not a...er...fit and proper person to have responsibility for your wards.’ He sat back, smiling in a way that made Alex dislike him even more. ‘How difficult can it be?’ he drawled. ‘Wollerton here says you have charm, when you wish to use it. Seduce the wench and send her packing.’

‘Miss Grensham is no wench, Urmston,’ Alex retorted coldly. ‘She is a lady.’

‘But Sir Charles has a point,’ remarked Lady Frances, her tone smooth and reasonable. ‘Perhaps not seduction,’ she said quickly, observing Alex’s frown. ‘But if some gentleman were to take her fancy, if she wanted to marry, she might be more willing to compromise over the little girls’ education. And consider the advantage to the lady; she could exchange the drudgery of being a governess for a much more respectable station. She would be a married woman and have a man to protect her.’

Alex watched Urmston deal out the cards, but his mind was on Frances’s words.

‘That might be possible,’ he said slowly. ‘If she were to marry she could no longer look after the girls. And why not school rather than another governess? My brother’s will provided Miss Grensham with a handsome sum, so she would not be a penniless bride.’

And she was not unattractive, if one liked dainty, red-headed women, he thought, regarding Lady Frances’s voluptuous form.

‘Yes,’ he mused. ‘It might just work. I know several fellows in want of a wife.’

‘Well, there you are then,’ murmured Sir Charles. He finished giving out the cards and turned over the last one. ‘Hearts,’ he declared. ‘Hearts are trumps.’

* * *

The second meeting with Lord Davenport had left Diana angry and unsettled. She was appalled at her own behaviour in encouraging the earl to kiss her; just the thought of it sent a shiver running through her. She was even more appalled to realise how much she wanted him to do it again. Quite reprehensible! Clearly in future he must not call unannounced. She decided, therefore, that she would write to him, telling him as much. The letter was written and despatched before she broke her fast the following morning, but even before it could have reached its destination she was regretting the rash impulse. Her tone had not been at all conciliatory and she was sure the earl would take offence. However, when the timorous side of her nature suggested that she should write again and apologise her spirit rebelled strongly. Lord Davenport must acknowledge that he was as much to blame for the lapse in decorum.

Why should he? He is an Arrandale, after all.

The thought came unbidden and Diana was obliged to acknowledge the truth of it. Even the late earl, for all his staid and respectable nature, had possessed the famed Arrandale arrogance. They went their own way, convinced of their superiority, and she had no reason to think Alex Arrandale was any different from the rest of his family.

The thought remained with her for the next few days, contributing to her mood of restless anxiety. It became so bad that one evening, after saying goodnight to the children she did not go immediately downstairs but instead went to the schoolroom, walking around and idly touching the familiar objects.

Was she being unreasonable to keep the children at Chantreys? It was perfectly understandable that the new earl would wish to make use of his properties and since he was an Arrandale, she was in no doubt that any party he brought to Chantreys would be far from respectable. The society pages of the newspapers she read often mentioned his name in connection with the more notorious of society’s hostesses. She had a shrewd idea that he considered Chantreys would be the perfect place to bring his latest flirt.

That he refused to do so with the children in residence showed he had some sense of honour, but Meggie and Florence were not his children and it was clear he saw them as an inconvenience. She had learned a great deal about the family since becoming governess to the late earl’s children. James and Alex had been brought up to want for nothing, an army of servants to obey their every whim, but their parents had been shadowy figures with little time to spare for their offspring. Margaret had always said it was a blessing James had turned out as respectable as he had done, but was it any wonder if his younger brother had grown up to consider nothing but his own pleasure? No, Diana was sure he would not give up the fight to remove her and the girls from Chantreys.

Well, perhaps she would write to him again and suggest a compromise. She would offer to take Meggie and Florence away for a few months. The earl had offered her the use of any of his other properties, or perhaps they might remove to the coast. A spell of sea bathing might prove beneficial, as long as Meggie and Florence knew they could return to their home afterwards.

‘It is certainly worth pursuing,’ she murmured as she blew out her candle that night. But her encounter with the new earl of Davenport had roused her spirit and she was reluctant to capitulate too easily. No, she thought as she settled down to sleep. She would not write immediately. It would do the new earl no harm to savour his defeat for a little longer. However, a little over a week after the earl’s visit, a letter arrived from him that sent all thoughts of compromise from her head.


Chapter Four (#ulink_cc6080e6-0998-5674-994a-91bd4d34a732)

‘How dare he?’

Diana screwed the paper into a ball and threw it into the corner. She paced about the morning room, hands clenched and muttering angrily, thankful that she was alone and could allow her temper full rein. The letter had been waiting for her when she returned from a walk with the girls and, recognising the seal, she had sent the children off with Nurse as soon as they had all removed their muddy boots and outdoor clothes.

She had braced herself for the earl’s response to her letter, expecting at best a suggestion for another house where they might reside, or at worst an angry condemnation of her presumption in opposing his will, even an ultimatum, but not this missive couched in the politest terms, telling her that he intended to bring a party of friends to the house and was giving her a month’s notice of the visit, that she and the children might be prepared.

‘How very considerate of you, my lord!’

Her words echoed around the morning room, but although her indignation remained, her anger was cooling. She picked up the paper and smoothed it out, then she sat down on a chair to read it again.

Perhaps he expected her to panic at the thought of his visit, to demand that he find another home for his wards immediately, but what if she did not do so? She nibbled her finger. He might be selfish and hedonistic but she did not believe he would hold a truly outrageous party while Meggie and Florence were living in the house. Diana made a quick mental survey of the building. The nursery and schoolroom were on the top floor, there would be no reason for visitors to venture so far. The children would not be able to have the run of the house, as they did now, but it would be May, so they would be able to spend much more time out of doors. She glanced at the clock. There was no time now to reply, but once she had concluded the children’s lessons she would compose a letter to the earl. A polite note that would leave him in no doubt that she would not allow the children to be chased out of their home.

* * *

The cavalcade of carriages rattled through the park and swept around the curling drive that snaked towards the front door of Chantreys. Alex was leading the way in his curricle, with Lady Frances beside him. As he drew his team to a halt she placed her hand upon his leg, saying with a laugh,

‘My dear Alexander, it is quite, quite charming!’

He had to admit it was looking particularly well in the late-spring sunshine, a perfectly proportioned little confection of a building. Rather than ruin the aesthetics by extending the house itself, successive generations had added two pavilions to flank the house and provide extra accommodation.

Alex glanced upwards. The rooms under the eaves had once been the servants’ quarters but his parents had moved the staff outside into one of the pavilions and converted the whole top floor into a nursery. He wondered if Diana and the children were looking out for their arrival. Or perhaps they were waiting just inside the wide door, which was now thrown open as the servants came spilling out to welcome Lord Davenport and his guests.

Alex jumped down and walked around to help Lady Frances alight. He led her past the row of wooden-faced servants and into the hall, cool and light with its pale marble floor and white-painted walls. He paused there, waiting for the rest of the guests to follow them inside. It was a small party, only six guests, as many as the house could hold without opening up the south pavilion to accommodate them. Gervase Wollerton was the last to come in, looking about him in appreciation.

‘You are right, Alex,’ he declared, ‘it is a very pretty place. Is this where you plan to put the Canova, opposite the stairs? The plainness of that wall would be the perfect foil for it.’

‘Yes, but not while the children are in residence,’ murmured Lady Frances. ‘One dreads to think of what might happen to such a precious statue with little ones running riot through the house.’

‘Quite,’ replied Alex. He beckoned to a hovering servant. ‘And talking of children, where are the girls, Christopher?’

The footman gave a little bow. ‘Miss Grensham begs that you will advise her what time you would like your wards sent to the drawing room.’

Alex felt a hand on his arm and heard Lady Frances softly laughing beside him.

‘Dear me, I hope you will allow us time to change out of our travelling clothes and rest awhile, my lord.’

‘If you wish it,’ he replied, ‘although I had thought this an easy distance from town.’

‘It is, of course,’ she returned smoothly. ‘But I should like to refresh myself and look my best when I meet your wards.’

‘Then I shall hand you over to Mrs Wallace.’ He beckoned to the housekeeper, who was hovering expectantly. His glance swept over the guests now assembled in the hall. ‘She will show you to your rooms while Fingle and Christopher deal with your baggage. If you will excuse me.’

With a brief smile he left them and ran up the stairs two at a time, a pleasurable anticipation speeding his steps as he made his way to the schoolroom. He opened the door on a particularly domestic scene. A sofa had been placed beneath one of the windows and Diana was sitting there with Meggie and Florence on each side of her while she read to them from a large, leather-bound book.

At his entrance all three rose, the young girls’ faces breaking into smiles of delight, while Diana’s conscious look and sudden blush told him she had not forgotten their last meeting. Neither had he, Alex thought ruefully as he stifled a sudden rush of desire at the memory of that one, sizzling kiss.

‘Uncle Alex!’ Margaret ran forward and he scooped her up in his arms, laughing.

‘Yes, I am here, Meggie.’ He hugged his niece, then set her down and turned to greet Florence, who had followed more slowly. That gave him a few moments to compose himself before he looked up and acknowledged Diana with a friendly nod. ‘Miss Grensham.’

She dropped a slight curtsy to him.

‘Lord Davenport.’

He surprised a slight, puzzled look in her eyes.

‘Is anything amiss?’

‘Your neckcloth...you are no longer in mourning?’

He put his hand up to the froth of white linen at his throat.

‘I shall always mourn my brother, but I decided it was time for a change.’ He wanted to say more, but the words would not come. All he could think of was how her simple cream gown enhanced her flame-red hair, which was pulled back from her face into a knot, almost tamed, save for a few silky curls that had escaped and now kissed the back of her neck. His eyes regarded that neck, noting the elegant way it rose from the folds of the muslin fichu covering her shoulders. Demure as a nun. Was that for his benefit?

‘Look, Uncle Alex, we have new gowns.’ Meggie was pulling at his sleeve. ‘Diana ordered them. Do we not look well?’

‘As fine as fivepence,’ he told the girls as they twirled before him.

‘They are ready to meet your guests, my lord, as soon as you wish me to send them downstairs.’

‘I wish you to bring them downstairs, Miss Grensham,’

‘There is no need for me—’

There is every need,’ he interrupted her. ‘You are as much their guardian as I am. In fact, more so,’ he added, ‘since you are in charge of their education.’

A mischievous gleam put to flight the rather anxious look he had seen in her eyes.

‘I think that rankles with you, my Lord Davenport.’

Alex’s lips twitched.

‘I am not deceived by your demure tone, Miss Grensham,’ he growled. ‘You revel in your superiority in this matter.’

‘That would be ignoble of me, sir.’

She was smiling, clearly more comfortable when they were teasing one another. As was he.

‘It would indeed,’ he replied gravely. He glanced down at his dusty boots. ‘I beg your pardon for appearing in all my dirt. I wanted to come up immediately to see the girls.’

The faint blush was on her cheek again but she spoke calmly enough.

‘Not at all, Lord Davenport, your eagerness to see your charges does you credit.’

* * *

Diana hoped he could not see how he discomposed her. From the moment she had heard his booted tread outside the door her heart had been racing. She would have liked to say it was from anger, or indignation, but she had to acknowledge the frisson of pleasure that ran through her at the thought of seeing the earl again. And when he had appeared, she had thought for an instant how much less severe he looked, but that might have been merely the fact that he was no longer wearing the black neckcloth, which had certainly heightened the glowering effect of his heavy black brows. Really, she must be desperate for adult companionship if she had been looking forward to this visit! That is what she told herself, but in her heart she suspected it was specifically Lord Davenport’s company she enjoyed. The verbal sparring. The kiss.

No!

As the children took their visitor to the table to show him their drawings she busied herself with gathering up the books and slates and putting them away. The kiss had nothing to do with it. That was a mistake, the result of too much wine, nothing else. She had been alone too long at Chantreys. Since the death of her sister and brother-in-law she had shut herself away too much with the children. That was all.

‘I must go and change.’ The earl’s voice broke into her thoughts. Diana turned to see that he was moving towards the door. ‘You will bring the children to join us after dinner, Miss Grensham.’

Diana would have preferred to send the girls downstairs with Nurse, but there was something in the earl’s tone that told her he would brook no defiance. She would not argue. At least not in front of her charges.

‘As you wish, my lord.’

The hard look he gave her suggested he was surprised by her meek acquiescence, but after regarding her silently for a long moment he gave a little nod and was gone. The girls ran about, chattering excitedly. For Meggie and Florence the hours could not pass quickly enough but it was quite the opposite for Diana, who could almost wish for a disaster to save her from the forthcoming ordeal.

* * *

At the appointed hour Diana accompanied her charges to the drawing room. There were seven persons awaiting her, three ladies and four gentlemen, including Lord Davenport. He had a voluptuous blonde at his side but it was not the lady’s striking beauty that drew Diana’s attention, it was the fact that she was standing rather closer to the earl than was necessary and had one hand resting possessively on his sleeve.

Resolutely Diana turned to the other two ladies in the room. The younger one was Miss Prentiss, a single lady with all the poise and confidence Diana lacked. She also had a rather strident voice and a harsh laugh that grated upon the ear. Her companion was considerably older. The young lady addressed her as Mrs Peters, not her mother then, but Diana guessed she was here to act as chaperon.




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