The Impossible Governess (24 page)

By Jove, he had been stupid not to see how much she meant to him.  Over night she’d become an intricate part of his life, and he’d been blind to it.  Even when it looked like he might lose her to Will Townsend, he still clung to the idea that he was merely infatuated by those sparkling green eyes of hers.  It took her abrupt departure to wake him up.  Now, he hoped she would at least listen to him.  Besides, he thought grimly while surveying the unbelievably vulgar decor, he was not going to allow his love to remain in such an atrocious house one more day.

*** 
Chapter 16  ***

Upon receiving the summons from the snooty Denton, Georgeanne at first thought that Mrs. Kidd had somehow gotten word of Geoffrey's spanking, but then realized that was impossible. None of the children had left the schoolroom.  Since Mrs. Kidd had never requested an interview with her before, she assumed it must concern the children's progress or welfare.  A selfish woman and insensitive mother, Mrs. Kidd rarely visited the nursery or schoolroom. And on the one brief occasion when she had exerted herself, the ridiculous woman fawned over the little heir, petting his head and crooning to him while completely ignoring the girls, leaving them anxious and fretful.

Still, as Mrs. Kidd had never shown any interest before in how the governess was getting along with
 her brood, Georgeanne did wonder over her employer's sudden interest.

Thus, upon entering the drawing room, Georgeanne was totally unprepared for the sight of Lord Raynor's lean tall figure, unfurling from of an uncomfortable looking, black chair beside Mrs. Kidd.  Her first impulse was to turn and run, except that her legs suddenly felt like jelly.
 She feared she'd only disgrace herself by falling flat on her face.

Raynor
 realized what he had to say was not for the avid ears of Mrs. Kidd.  He also noticed how the color had drained from Georgeanne's countenance and took heart from this, for such a reaction meant she was far from indifferent to him.  Of course, he reminded himself, it could be because she had formed an abject aversion to him.

"Is
 there some place where we may be private, madam?" Raynor asked politely, tearing his eyes away from his beloved.

With obvious reluctance, Mrs. Kidd roused
 herself once more to ring for the butler, who answered the call immediately.  After receiving his instructions, he held the door for the exalted guest and the governess, his disapproval conveyed by his rigidly straight posture. 

When
 Georgeanne made no effort to follow Denton out, Raynor took her by the elbow and turned her about to usher her from the room.  Docilely, she trod behind the butler to the library. 

Filled with new books from floor to lofty ceiling, the used chamber was situated just across the hall, but even that short of a distance allowed Georgeanne time to gather her wits together. She
 could hardly credit that he had come. But when common sense exerted itself, she thought of poor little Marissa, who undoubtedly was feeling abandoned once more and, thus, had reverted back to being a miniature termagant.  The situation must be pretty desperate for Lord Raynor to have persisted in tracking her down, she concluded, never once guessing that Mrs. Hawkins had aided him in the search.

Once Denton had withdrawn and closed the door, Raynor still did not release her, but gently swung her about to face him.  By now, she had herself well in hand and managed to squarely meet his eyes.  What she saw in their blue depths, a tenderness mixed with anxiety, was enough to make her lower her own quickly in confusion.

"Georgeanne," he began only to be immediately interrupted.

"It is ‘Miss Forsythe’ to you, my lord," she corrected him with
 more assurance than she was feeling. She was determined to keep this interview on a proper level from the very start.

"Miss Forsythe, you must come back."

"I think not, Lord Raynor," she replied, bristling at his imperious command. "It would hardly be fair of me to desert Mrs. Kidd."

"Yet, you
 deserted me," he stated baldly.  When she tilted her chin up and gave him a defiant look, he quickly added, "Marissa needs you."

The
 mention of the child's name caused an ache in her heart.  She had truly missed the little girl and was unable to stop herself from asking, "How is she doing?"

"Come back with me and find out."  When she shook her head, he said, "We have tea together
 every day and are learning a lot about each other."

"She really is a delightful child."

He did not answer but seemed to be struggling with himself before he whispered softly, "I need you, too, Georgeanne."

She kept her eyes on his cravat, seemingly fascinated by the intricate folds of the stark white linen, all the while holding her breath, waiting.  But no declaration of undying love
 came, no romantic proposal of marriage.  Georgeanne could bear it no longer.

"You are a despicable cad," she said under her breath, then turned
 on her heel, headed for the door.  She heard him call out to her, but ignored him.  She had to put distance between the unfeeling lout and herself before she caved in to his wishes, and hurried up the stairs.

When she reached the upper floor, she heard sounds of pandemonium coming
 from the schoolroom.  Geoffrey was terrorizing the girls again, but Georgeanne was heedless of anything other than her own pain.  She raced past the scarred door and on down the hall to her room, a small cubby hole under an eave of the house. 

Once inside with the door shut, she scanned the room and the sparse furnishings.  Most of the space was taken up
 by a narrow iron post bed with a coarse wool coverlet.  In one corner stood an old walnut bureau.  There the roof line slanted down sharply, the cause of her hitting her head more than once on the ceiling rafters when she'd forgotten to stoop down.  On the other wall was a washstand with an attached oval mirror and next to it a small window covered with a drab muslin drape.  The room posed such a dramatic contrast to the spacious and comfortable one she occupied at Curzon Street.  But this sort of thinking would lead her nowhere, she stoically reminded herself.  She was here now.

After having cried herself to sleep every
 night since arriving at the Kidds, she didn't think she would ever shed another tear.  But they welled up and spilled over despite her efforts to dash them away with the backs of her hands.

Why
 had he come?  Seeing his handsome face had only served to reopen her wounds.  Heaven knew how much she had missed Marissa, and, oh, how her heart ached for that selfish beast.  What did he expect of her, anyway? That she would gladly fall into his open arms, grateful for a second chance.  Well, he had a thing or two to learn.  She had pride.

"Heaven help me," she cried out in desperation.  She was desperately in love with the man.

She had slept with her pride for one whole lonely week and knew, where Lord Raynor was concerned, she was dangerously close to throwing everything over and accepting his offer, just for the consolation of being near him. 

These self destructive thoughts were int
errupted as a commotion erupted out in the hall with doors being methodically opened and closed.  Next, she heard Mrs. Ripley's whiny voice. 

"Here now, who are you?  Geoffrey boy, get behind me.  I don't like the looks of this one with those bushy
 eyebrows of his."

That could describe only one man.  Immediately Georgeanne checked her tears while frantically darting her eyes about for a place to hide.  But there was none, not even a wardrobe, only several pegs on the wall behind the door for her clothes.

When Lord Raynor swung the door wide, he was rewarded for his diligent search with Georgeanne's tear stained face, standing forlornly in the middle of a ridiculously tiny room, its size no bigger than one of his closets.

"Here,
 Missy!" Mrs. Ripley poked her head from around Raynor.  "What's the meaning of this?  You can't be entertaining no gent in your room, here and now."

Raynor
 whipped about and directed one of his infamous scowls at the old nurse, making the woman clasp Baby Nancy closer to her bosom and draw back several steps, with the two older girls falling in behind her.  He had paid scant attention to the stocky, dark haired boy standing next to her until he felt a sharp pain to his left shin. With murder in his cold blue eyes, he looked down on the tyke who had so brazenly raced over and kicked him.

At first,
 the lad stood his ground, a devilish smile stretched across his round face.  But under Raynor's unwavering glower, Geoffrey soon lost his nerve and backed up a step or two.

"Beat it, brat," growled R
aynor under his breath, fast losing patience with the whole crowd, especially since he could hear others hurriedly ascending the stairs.

Stepping into Georgeanne's bedchamber, he kicked the door shut, leaned back against it and folded his arms across his chest.

"You leave me with no choice but this confrontation, Georgeanne," he said, ignoring the noise intruding upon them from the other side of the door.

"You have no right to do this," she said.  She looked close to panic. "You will get me fired!"

"You have another position waiting, if that is all you want."

Her green eyes were huge in her white face, giving them a haunted look.

"I cannot go back," she whispered.

"Why not?" he probed gently. "I know you love Marissa, and she loves you."

"Yes," she admitted.

"Am I the reason?"

She turned her back to him and stepped up to the tiny window, pulling back the drape to look out over the rooftops and chimneys of other townhouses.

"It is impossible for me to stay in the same house
 as you," she said by way of explanation.

"Why?" asked
Raynor, his voice slightly raised in anger. 

When she didn't answer, he said, "Then I will leave, or
 if you prefer, I will send Marissa and you to one of my estates."

She
 hung her head before letting the drape drop back in place and said, "Marissa needs you, my lord."

The noise in the hall was growing louder with Mrs. Ripley yelling to the butler above the ruckus, "Do something,
 you stuffy bloke!"

"Georgeanne,
 look at me," he said.  When she shook her head, he repeated the order with a desperate note in his voice.

Turning
 to stare at him, she waited with baited breath for him to continue speaking.  Instead, he reached out and gently drew her closer to him. 

"You must marry me, Georgeanne."

She pulled back from him, hardly believing what she’d heard.  There still remained the hurt of his earlier offer, and she hesitated to trust him completely with her already bruised heart.  Besides, he had not yet said he loved her.

"There
 you go again," she began in a soft, questioning tone, "being impervious, always giving commands." Searching his face, she saw that he was serious and added in a quizzing lilt, "For once in your life, could you ask for something?"

"I
 did," he replied with a puzzled look, his dark brows drawn together.

"Well,
 do it again," she snapped back.  "And could you try to make it sound like a request this time...please?

"Who
 would ever believe I would have this much trouble getting a female to accept my proposal?" he commented dryly.  When Georgeanne smiled at his words, he gave her another long look.  "Georgeanne, my dearest, please do me the great honor of becoming my lady wife?  I promise to take good care of you for all the days of my life and make you happy."

She
 regarded him suspiciously for his tone sounded unnaturally sweet.  But there was no doubt of the vulnerable plea in his eyes. "Oh, my lord, I do love you," she said with a catch in her voice and tears of joy welling up in her eyes.  Then, flinging herself against his chest, she confessed, “I've been so miserable, wondering about you and--“

Her words were ruthlessly cut off as his lordship cupped her chin
 in one hand and lifted her face to receive his passionate kiss.  Both were lost in their own blissful world, aware of only each other.  Their euphoria was shattered when Mrs. Kidd's strident voice demanded, "What's the meaning of this?"

Guiltily Georgeanne sprang away from Raynor and turned to face the irate woman.  Raynor, however, retained a firm hold on her with one
 arm locked securely about her waist.

"The meaning, madam," he began before Georgeanne
 could gather her wits to reply, "is that you will need a new governess."

"That,
 Lord Raynor, is obvious.  I don't care a fig about your rank.  And I tell you to your face, I'll never keep your doxy--“

"Hold your
 tongue, woman, before I forget I'm a gentleman." 

His voice was deceptively low, but
 Georgeanne wasn't fooled by his tone.  When she looked at Raynor, she actually felt pity for the imprudent dame, so wrathful was his expression.