Page 14 of The Governess’s Carnal Temptation

He remained in a squatting position for so long that the feeling in his feet slowly faded, though he hardly noticed.

“Oh,” Lydia groaned behind him suddenly. Alarmed, Nicholas jumped up only to realize his legs would not carry his weight.

“Perdition!” he hollered, and he staggered backward. His arms flew like sails in a heavy wind, desperate to cling onto just about anything. Alas, there was nothing to hold on to, and before he knew it, Nicholas’ feet came out from under him, and he fell back, directly into his father’s knight’s armor.

The crash could have deafened the sound of Napoleon’s approaching army as the iron armor fell apart and dropped with Nicholas smack in the middle of it all. He lay on his back as the helmet rolled past him, clanging and banging as it went across the floor. An iron glove landed on his stomach with such force he grunted.

“Well, that is quite the sight,” Lydia said, and when he looked around, he saw she’d leaped off the chaise and stood pale-faced before it, her eyes on him as she shook her head.

What a cake he was making of himself, Nicholas chided himself. What a fool she had to think he was.

He clambered to his feet but got tangled in the remains of the once-imposing armor and tripped. He caught himself and pulled his shoulders back, determined to regain his composure.

“I apologize. I did not mean to wake you. I attempted to be quiet.”

The corners of Lydia’s cheeks twitched. “Well, if this was your best attempt at being quiet, I hope you are more successful at whatever other venture you set out to accomplish.”

He saw a glimpse of his old Lydia, a reminder of the girl she’d been, the boy he’d been before he allowed everything to go so very wrong.

“For a split second, he thought he saw a flicker of affection. As if she were happy to see him upon waking and seeing his awkward side once more. However, the scowl reappeared, and her eyes wowed as she pushed herself up.

“Nicholas,” she said, her tone infused with venom that matched her expression. “Why are you staring at me?”

He gulped, dismayed at her reaction. Was this the way she’d always look at him now? With contempt?

“I beg your pardon. I only wanted to select a book. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I beg your pardon, I shall go,” he said and turned, but she stepped forward, her dress rustling with the movement.

“I will go,” she replied coldly, pulling her woolen wrap around her shoulders. “It is your library.”

“You were here first and my guest, so I will go.” He picked up a random book from the shelf as if to show he was done with his task. Lydia shrugged.

“Whatever you wish.” She paused and blinked before adding, “Your Grace.” He wasn’t sure if she meant to mock him. As children, she would occasionally call him “Your Grace” if he’d upset her or if she meant to tease him, but it had been so long that he did not know her temperament anymore. They stood across from one another, awkwardness hanging heavily between them.

Nicholas rubbed his temple. Come morning, Lydia would leave his home, and he might never see her again.

If there was even the faintest hope to convince Lydia to stay, it was now.

“Lydia, I understand you’re angry at me...”

She raised a hand. “Stop. There is no need to draw this out further.”

“I have no desire to draw out our quarrel. I’ve never enjoyed being at odds with you, but I would ask that you give me a chance to explain why I brought you here the way I did,” he pleaded.

She looked at him quietly, and he spotted a slight twitch in her right eyelid. Then, she took a deep breath that sent her bosom rising most invitingly. When she exhaled, he saw the resignation on her face. He’d worn her down, for now.

“Go on,” she said, motioning for him to continue. Nicholas swallowed hard, aware this was his only chance to change her mind.

“I know the way I brought you here was wrong; I understand that now. But, Lydia, when I saw your advertisement in the newspaper, I knew I had to bring you here. I knew you were...” he bit his lips as he’d almost said she was what he needed. It was true, of course, but he didn’t want to admit this. “I know you are what Charlotte needed. For, you see, it is my daughter I did this for. She needs a governess, someone to be there for her, to guide her...”

“There are many a great governess in England,” Lydia replied though her voice carried a hint of intrigue.

“There are, and many have worked for me already,” he admitted with a small twisted smile. “Charlotte is not an easy child. Much of that is my fault. I’ve not been a stellar parent. And her mother...” his voice hitched, and he looked past Lydia into the darkness that enveloped his home. “She is gone. Charlotte never knew her. I’m afraid I allowed her parenting to be conducted by governesses, nurses, and an assortment of strangers, and it’s left its mark. Lydia, I’m afraid Charlotte will grow into a resentful young woman unless someone can guide her, teach her; someone who understands what it is like to be motherless and alone.”

“I am not alone,’ Lydia replied gently. “I have my father and Caroline.”

“Yes, but I remember how you were after your mother passed. Lost, alone, overburdened by responsibilities. And still, I saw how you comforted Caroline and helped her through. You kept her from falling into melancholy. Lydia, you were so strong, and I admired you for it.” As he spoke, the old warmth he’d felt whenever he was near her overcame him, and he knew that the love he’d carried in his heart for her was still there. Likewise, Lydia’s scowl disappeared, and her visage softened. Her arms dropped, which she’d crossed in front of her, and she wetted her lips, leaving a shimmer behind.

“But why lie? Why did you have Mrs. Funny write to me? Why not reach out yourself?” she dipped her head to one side and waited for his answer.