Page 19 of The Governess’s Carnal Temptation

Nicholas dropped into his leather chair and rubbed his forehead. The strong desire to take a drink overcame him, and he licked his lips. He could almost taste the sweet brandy and feel the tingle of the citrus-infused liquor. His mouth watered. The drink would chase away the memories, the shame...

Nicholas jumped out of his chair once more and paced the length of his study like one of the caged lions he used to see at London's Royal Menagerie. His legs tingled and twitched, his mind ever racing.

Strangely, Lydia's presence had made him even more determined to resist the bottle's allure. She'd brought up memories that were both painful and comforting. Memories of the man he'd been, the man his poor wife had thought she was marrying, only to discover that man had begun to fade even as they exchanged vows.

Lydia. He shook his head, wondering if he'd made a mistake in summoning her. He needed her, Charlotte needed her. He knew this well. And he didn't intend to rekindle what they once had. He knew it was too late. He'd done far too much harm for that.

But he had hoped that they could be friends again in some way. Nicholas looked down at his arm and remembered the soothing sensation he had felt earlier when Lydia touched him. It had been both unexpected and familiar. It felt good, like a warm glass of milk with honey on a cold day. She'd made him feel something he hadn't felt in a long time, something inherently good. That brief connection had triggered something in him.

He wasn't sure what that sensation was, but he was certain of one thing: he would not let his daughter scare away the woman who had not only been his love, but also his best friend.

* * *

“Sil vous plait,” Charlotte concluded the passage with ease and smiled, aware of how well she read French for a child of only nine. Lydia nodded her head and suppressed her desire to praise the child. She'd already gathered that Lady Charlotte Steward had heightened confidence for a young girl.

“Good. We will practice your pronunciation, but you already grasp the language well.” She saw how Charlotte's smug smile faded, and anger flickered across her eyes.

“My pronunciation is flawless. Miss LeClerc told me so, and she lived at the French Court.” She crossed her arms in front of her narrow chest and pouted.

“Miss LeClerc? And who might that be?” Lydia asked, ignoring the girl's sullen stance.

“My governess, two years ago,” she replied. “She was the daughter of a French Count. Mrs. Funny told me your father is a merchant.” She looked Lydia up and down. “Is that true?”

Lydia smiled kindly and shifted in her seat, her hands folded on the heavy oak table.

“A tea merchant. My family owns a shop on Bond Street,” she confirmed with pride.

Charlotte's tongue poked out between her lips.

“How come you're a governess if your father is only a merchant? All my governesses before you were noble women. Spinster sisters of barons and viscounts, or at the very least daughters of knights. I never knew a merchant's daughter could be a governess,” she said, judgment dripping from her lips.

“You can be anything you want,” Lydia assured her. “You just have to work hard.”

Charlotte sneered at this; her face twisted into an unpleasant mask. “I thought the working class could only ever aspire to be maids or cooks.”

“Well, that is why I am here, Lady Charlotte. To teach you about the world, broaden your horizons,” Lydia said breezily, unwilling to let the child shake her confidence. Charlotte was not the first child to attempt to set her bristles up by questioning her background. She knew she was a gifted teacher, and such slights did not bother her.

“Well, I venture to say that I am already well educated and do not need a merchant's daughter to teach me.”

Lydia dipped her head and tapped her finger against her lip. “Is that so? For, in my experience, one is never done learning. There is so much knowledge to absorb in the world.”

Charlotte shrugged. “I have had many governesses who all besieged me with many a book, all of which I read. I dare say I know all I need to.”

Lydia smiled at her. “Well, if that is so, then you would not mind a little quiz, would you?”

Charlotte blinked her long lashes at Lydia, and her nostrils flared.

“A quiz? Of what sort?”

Lydia shrugged. “To understand your level of knowledge in various subjects. For instance, how well versed are you in the history of this country?”

Charlotte smirked at her. “I know all there is to know.”

Lydia nodded eagerly. “Very well. Then let me ask you five questions about England's rich history. If you can answer them all, I shall not trouble you on the subject further.”

Charlotte's face lit up. “Then I can play? If I answer your silly questions correctly, I can play?”

Lydia assessed the possible outcome of this deal in her mind. If Charlotte, who had easily mastered her French lesson, was as good as she made herself out to be in English history, then Lydia stood to lose the rest of the day with her. However, if Lydia was correct and Charlotte, for all her cleverness, was not as knowledgeable as she thought, she might have a breakthrough.