“It never occurred to me before,” he said as he caught the small pillow, “but you would have made an incredible governess. You haven’t just a brilliant mind, but also the capacity to be strict when necessary and dashing fun when it is not.”
Rebecca said nothing in response to his “revelation.” The idea of her seeking employment had never occurred to Daniel before, because the women of his class didn’tbecomegovernesses. They became countesses or duchesses.
She, on the other hand, had become an orphan, and then a spinster. She might have a formidable grasp of mathematics—and she’d read every book in the Banfield library—but that didn’t mean she had the means to become a governess. She had no letters of reference. No experience. Raising children required a great many more skills than the ability to add and subtract.
“I’m not certain I have the patience required to be an effective governess,” she confessed.
He gestured at the stack of journals. “You’ve patience enough for numbers.”
“Numbers don’t talk back.” And accounting was far easier. She raised her brows. “Know anyone in need of a steward…ess?”
To her surprise, he frowned in thought as if he had taken her question seriously. Or as if he tookherseriously, and had no doubt she could perform such a role, if a gentleman existed willing to employ a female steward.
“Honestly, I wished I’d had you on the census committee this May.” He rolled his eyes in remembrance of some plight. “We could have used someone capable of managing figures and statistics.”
She stared at him, nonplused. She wasn’t certain whether the most fantastical element of that speech was the part where he considered her adept for the task of managing the second national census… or the fact that he’d thought of her while it was happening.
“I would have loved to have been part of the committee,” she said softly. “It seems fascinating.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “Too bad you can’t become a viscount and join me.”
She smiled back. “I’d rather be a duke so I could outrank you.”
“You already outrank me,” he said quietly. “You always have.”
She blushed and looked away, feigning a sudden deep interest in resuming her audit of the Banfield ledgers to keep him from realizing how easily he could still affect her.
This was why he was dangerous. Not because of his rakish reputation or his fast friends and life of pleasure-seeking, but because behind all that balderdash was a quick mind and a poet’s heart. He made her want things she couldn’t have. Dream things that could never be.
She couldn’t be a duke. She couldn’t even be a viscountess.
She was just a lonely nobody, meddling in someone else’s affairs because she had no affairs of her own. Her fingers trembled.
Whether or not she found a country suitor before the reading of the will, she would feel nothing but relief when Lord Stonebury returned to London.
Perhaps when he was truly gone for good, her heart could finally start to heal.
Chapter 6
Daniel straightened the sleeves of his blue kerseymere tailcoat in front of his dressing glass. He had at best one week to earn Rebecca’s forgiveness, before the other guests descended on Crowmere Castle like a pack of locusts. Once the finite opportunity for private conversations had vanished, there would be no second chances.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Wind howled through the turrets. Daniel glanced out of the bedchamber window at the darkening sky. He ignored a sudden pang of foreboding.
Sunset was the perfect time to open a bottle of sherry with an old friend. Perhaps tonight he and Rebecca could begin to put their past behind them. A fresh start. With determination, he strode out from his bedchamber and into the belly of the castle.
Before reaching the wine cellar, he glimpsed the true object of his desire disappearing into an open doorway at the rear of the property.
Rebecca had just entered the billiards room.
He smiled to himself as he hurried down the corridor to catch up with her. Years ago, during the same visit in which raisin biscuits had forever become his favorite dessert, he and Rebecca had sneaked into the billiards room and he had taught her to play.
She’d been abysmal, of course. Rarely managed to knock her ball in the correct direction, much less bank the red carom ball into an appropriate rail. But they’d spent an entire afternoon talking about anything and everything, and had laughed until their cheeks hurt.
Daniel hadn’t enjoyed a game of billiards that much before or after.
He crossed the threshold just as Rebecca finished placing the red ball and the spot ball onto the billiard green.
