The Impossible Governess (15 page)

At once, Georgeanne understood Raynor’s tone referenced her status as a servant, not a guest.  She jumped out of the chair onto her sore feet.  “I apologize, my lord.  It is the small hours of the morning and I forgot myself.”

“Meekness does not become you,” he snorted at her effrontery.  “I suppose the general lack of respect you show me as your employer can be laid on my aunt’s republican views.  However, that in no way can explain nor excuse your lack of manners this evening—”

“I beg your pardon?”  Georgeanne was completely taken aback.  She had thought he had sought her out earlier in the evening to bestow a word of kindness, after observing Olivia’s cruel words to her.  Obviously, he’d intended something different.

“First,” Raynor continued, ignoring her interruption, “you arrived late to greet my aunt’s guests, in fact, only minutes before dinner was announced—“

“I was tardy because I was with Marissa while she ate her meal—“

“Then there was your appalling conduct at the table, snickering like some school girl behind your napkin at Lady Cosgrove—“

“Olivia Cosgrove no more likes small children than—fleas!”

“Lady Cosgrove!” Raynor corrected her.  When Georgeanne glared at him, refusing to answer, he said, “The woman was a guest in my home.”

“Someone should remind her of that fact, my lord,” Georgeanne bit out with righteous indignation.

“Finally,” he said, glaring at her, “you showed a complete disregard for propriety’s rules, flirting with every male present in my drawing room.”

Georgeanne was incensed.  Servant she might be, but she would not allow anyone, female or male, to stomp on her feelings as though she were no better than a rug.  Before she could stop herself, she let her unruly tongue have its say.  “You mean, I flirted with all the men with the exception of one,” she scoffed with a contemptuous glare.  She knew she’d scored a hit as his nostrils flared and he lowered his brow.

“You forget yourself, Miss Forsythe,” he replied in a dangerously quiet tone.

“That seems to be a recurring vice of mine,” she snapped, crossing her arms under her bosom and glaring at him.

“
You will calm down, Miss Forsythe,” he ordered.

“Calm down!” she bellowed, raising her fists in the air.  “Ahhhhh, you make me so angry.” 

Raynor eyed her speculatively, then turned his back to her and strode over to the sideboard, arrayed with a decanter, a water jug and glasses.

Georgeanne was two steps behind him.  “You expect me to meekly desist when you have accused me of being the most ill-mannered hoyden.  All you do is berate me for the least little thing.”

Raynor, who had intended to pour two glasses of brandy, turned and stared at Georgeanne, as she continued to harangue his “highhanded ways.”  She was gorgeous, of course, looking almost wild with her green eyes spewing sparks, her chestnut mane falling from the confines of the ribbons of her coiffure and flying about her face.  Her face was flushed, whether from anger or exertion he didn’t know, and he suddenly saw a similarity in Georgeanne’s rant and one of his niece’s tantrums.  Thus, instead of the brandy decanter, he grabbed the water pitcher and tossed its contents on her.

She must have seen his intent, for she retreated a step, but she wasn’t fast enough.  As she stood sputtering, her yellow gown drenched in water, Raynor gazed appreciatively at the slender form the clinging gown revealed.  He waited for her temper to cool, half anticipating a contrite, weepy female, pleading his forgiveness.  Which he’d give as he accepted her in the comfort
of his arms. 

But this mental picture was fractured when he was accosted by a rampaging she-devil.

“Aaahhhh—you idiot!” she hissed through clenched teeth, advancing on him.  “Can you not tell the difference between a raving lunatic and a righteous woman.”

“Righteous?” He arched one dark eyebrow.

“Yes!” Georgeanne said, her face even more flushed, despite the soaking.  “You, my lord, can . . . can . . . go jump in the Thames!”  She flung both hands out in front of her, shaking water on him, then flounced out of the library, slamming the door behind her.

Now alone, Raynor found the ensuing silence oppressing.  He was also puzzled over his governess’s actions, as well as his own urge to race after the infuriating woman to offer her the comfort of his arms.  After pouring a generous amount of brandy into a goblet, he sank down in a leather wingback to ponder just what went wrong.

~~~~~

Early the next day, Lord Raynor, with a fresh cup of coffee, retired to the library immediately after a lone breakfast to ponder the previous evening’s events.  He was still baffled by Miss Forsythe’s behavior.  He’d thought he’d reasonably presented his argument for her outré behavior.  Obviously, her perception of the evening was counter to his. 

Most annoying was the fact that the gloriously angry creature never gave him the opportunity to offer her solace in his arms. 

Considering her words, Raynor admitted he’d been over pompous of late, stuffy even.  But confound it, he’d found he didn’t like sharing her with Will Townsend.  In fact, he envied Will’s easy manners and camaraderie with both Georgeanne and Marissa.   

Taking a sip of coffee, he heard the brass knocker sound on the front oak door.  Then, as if the act of thinking of Will had conjured up his friend, Raynor heard Bivens solemnly greet Townsend and direct him to the library.  

Townsend appeared a trifle edgy, Raynor noted but declined to mention it.  Instead, he invited his friend to be seated in an opposing wingback chair and offered him a cup of coffee. 

Will eyed him dubiously.  “Got anything stronger?”

Raynor
quirked one eyebrow, then rose and went to a mahogany commode to pour two glasses of Madeira.  After Raynor gave Townsend his goblet and was seated again, both enjoyed a quiet moment, savoring the wine’s excellent quality. 

Crossing an ankle over the other knee, Raynor observed Townsend with some concern.  “Not feeling your usual self, Will?”

“What? Oh, no, ain’t that.  Had a great time last night.  Lady Ashbury always did know how to throw a party,” he said distractedly.  Then a grave expression settled on his fair countenance, as he leaned forward and, with a studied purpose, put his goblet on a side table.  “Don’t know of any other way of doing this, Tony, except to come straight to the point.  I’m here to ask for Miss Forsythe’s hand.”

“Her hand?” Raynor repeated.

“Yes, you know, so I may pay my addresses to her.  Court her that is.”

A heavy silence filled the room.  Raynor was overcome with a bleak feeling somewhere in the mid region of his chest.  Within moments, however, his sense of despair turned to one of betrayal and his anger rose to the forefront.

“By Jove, have you no conscience, Will?  You have the audacity to appear in my drawing room, almost on a daily basis, so that under my very nose you can make love to my governess.”

“Now hold on, Tony—“

“No, for in truth, I have to question your motives.  The girl is an innocent even if she is of a lower station, and while she resides under my roof and in my employ, she is under my protections.”

“Now there you are out,” Townsend retorted angrily.  “Miss Forsythe is as much Quality as you or I, no matter where financial circumstances have placed her.”

“I did not mean to imply anything less,” Raynor answered somewhat sheepishly.  While his aunt had repeatedly pointed out Georgeanne’s lineage, Raynor tended to view the young woman as a governess, someone he had some control over—or at least he tried to have control.  Yet with this realization, he hesitated to delve into the reason behind his behavior.

“Then don’t look down your nose at my suit or take it for anything other than what it is.  I happen to care deeply for her and hope she may return my feelings.”

“So you have already expressed your intentions to her?”

“Just what kind of cad do you take me for?  Of course I recognize your role as her protector.  That’s the very reason why I’m here, to do the honorable thing!”

Raynor was far from mollified.  In fact, he was deucedly unhappy but was hard pressed to understand why.  He found it easier to conclude his wretched melancholy stemmed from the fact that he was faced with the tedious chore of finding another governess for Marissa, which was most unfortunate since the child had grown so attached to that green-eyed vixen.  Reluctantly, he decided he could offer no real objection to Will’s suit, other than he found the whole idea repugnant.

“Very well, I grant you leave to pay your addresses.  However, while you are presenting your suit, I must insist you do not make me out as an ogre.  As her employer, I want it understood
that Miss Forsythe need never to fear her position in my household.”

“There can be no comparison between being Lady Townsend or a governess for you,” Will retorted acrimoniously.

Raynor drew his eyebrows together with annoyance.  “I meant no insult.”

For several moments, Raynor and Townsend glowered at each other.  Finally, Townsend nodded his head and extended his hand toward Raynor.

Raynor hesitated only a second before firmly clasping Will’s hand.  Rising, he went to the bell pull, and when Bivens answered within seconds, he requested the governess’s presence.  An uneasy silence again fell upon the two men as they waited for Georgeanne until Townsend ventured to inquire if Raynor had visited White’s recently.

***  Chapter 10  ***

Although she’d stormed out on Lord Raynor the previous evening, Georgeanne had not expected to be called down for an interview with her employer until after lunch.  Removing the pinafore she wore in the nursery, she ran her hands down the front
of her poppy red and white striped jaconet gown to remove any creases.  But as the summons was forthwith, she’d only had time to hastily repin a few stray curls; thus the recalcitrant tendrils escaped their confines and fell about her face as she hurried down the stairs.

Upon entering the library, she found the two friends congenially engaged in making arrangement
s to meet at their gentleman’s club later that day.  Although flustered from her rapid descent as well as unsure of her reception, Georgeanne gave Raynor an uncertain smile and was not surprised to receive only a curt nod in return.  She was, however, confused when he abruptly brushed past her to quit the room.  Looking about, she was completely thrown off stride to find herself left alone with Lord Townsend.

“Please come in, Miss Forsythe, and have a seat,” he said, indicating the burgundy sofa by the fireplace. 

No sooner had she perched on the edge of the couch than he nervously availed himself of the cushion next to hers, giving her cause to speculate on both his closeness and agitated behavior. 

“Georgeanne, this may seem unusual,” Townsend began tentatively as she continued to cast her eyes about the room, looking for a means of escape, “but once I
’ve explained, you’ll understand there is no need to feel distressed being alone with me.  In fact,” he said with a slight tremor in his voice, “I sincerely hope you will come to look forward to spending time with me.”

“Lord Townsend—“

“Call me Will.”

“Lord Townsend,” she repeated, deliberately ignoring his request, “this is all very improper.”

“No, my dear, quite the contrary.  Please let me explain.”  When she made no further objections, he slid off the sofa onto one knee, heedless of the damage done to the perfect lines of his nankeen pantaloons.  Taking her hand and clasping it between both of his, he tried to gaze into her eyes, which she kept shifting, fearing what was to come.  “Georgeanne, from the moment I first saw you, I knew you were the woman for me.  You have captured my heart, and now it is my fervent wish to give you my name.  Please say you will do me the honor of becoming my wife,” he pleaded earnestly.

Georgeanne was speechless.  Once she realized she had been left alone with Townsend, she suspected a proposal was forthcoming but expected it to be phrased in the form of a slip on the shoulder.  It wasn’t that she had come to think any less of herself since becoming a governess.  Merely, she was cognizant of the fact that the members of the
ton
wedded for the benefit of finances or social position, rarely for the grand passion.  That, it was believed, was a commodity readily found outside of marriage without any cumbersome strings attached.

Of course, she was highly flattered and admitted to being exceedingly fond of the amiable lord kne
eling before her.  Still, she’d decided long ago she would marry only for love.  The simple truth was she did not love this kind and affable gentleman.

Townsend must have read
her feelings in her eyes, for he tightened the grasp on her hand as his expression grew graver.  “There is no hurry for your reply, so perhaps it would be best if you allowed yourself time to adjust to the idea.   It is obvious this has come as a shock to you.”

“Indeed it has, my lord.”

“Then think of the advantages you’d have as Lady Townsend.  All the doors of the
ton
would be opened to you once again.  You would be mistress of not only a London townhouse here but sizable estates in Sussex and Wiltshire.”