Page 2 of The Governess’s Carnal Temptation

“Come with me,” he said and proffered his hand. Lydia hesitated but stepped toward him. When his warm skin touched hers, her heart gave a jolt as it always did when they held hands – an activity that might have resulted in her ruination if anyone ever saw it. Today, Bond Street was almost empty; no wonder as it was Sunday, and many noble families congregated at St. Martin’s in the Field or St. George’s.

Nicholas pulled her toward the back door, past the narrow staircase that led to their cramped living quarters, and then out into the alley.

“I ought to tell my father…” she started but shook her head. “No, he’s asleep. I can leave for a little while.”

He drew his eyebrows together. “How is he?”

Lydia sighed deeply as they walked down the dark, narrow street tinged with the biting smell from the sewers below.

“The same. He hasn’t left his bed today. Sometimes I’m unsure if it’s the grief over losing Mother or gout.”

Nicholas took a shallow breath as they cut across the alley and into a small garden that lay hidden between the tall houses occupied by those above them in station. There, they sat on a bench, surrounded by flowers that chased away the memory of the street’s unpleasant odors.

“I’ll have a lot of money now. We’ll be able to afford a wonderful physician. Your father will want for nothing. Neither will you. I’ll buy you all the finest gowns and take you to a milliner to have a hat made for you, and you’ll have half-boots, dancing slippers, and…. Every kind of pelisse and reticule you want.” The enthusiasm seeped off him with childlike passion, and Lydia smiled. Nicholas had always been a dreamer. It was one odd thing she’d liked about him from the start.

When he first arrived at their shop and took the position of secretary and general assistant to her father, he’d been serious, stoic. His mother had passed away shortly before that, which explained his disposition. But soon, she’d learned he had another side, one filled with hope and dreams. Dreams of rising in station, of outgrowing the confines of a merchant’s life.

The thing was that she was comfortable in that life, and no matter how often he proclaimed it, he too had to know that Lydia didn’t fit into the world of the rich and powerful.

“Won’t you want someone that’s more ladylike?” she asked quietly, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Ladylike? What do you mean? Someone who fiddles about with a white feathered fan and giggles into her hands instead of laughing out loud? No. Never. I want you. I’ve always wanted you, Lydia. You and me. We’ll be together, we’ll be whoever we want to be – after all, who would dare contradict a proper duke?”

“I suppose nobody,” she conceded.

“There you go. That’s what I mean. Once I come back from Hertfordshire….”

“Come back? You’re to leave?” she asked, alarmed.

He nodded. “I shall have to take charge of the estate, see about the books, and so on. It’s fortunate I’ve been working for your father for a while now and know how to do the books, so I won’t be taken for a fool. But do not fret. I shall be back soon, and our life together will begin.”

He sounded so confident, so genuine, and yet Lydia could not fight the feeling of impending doom that spread inside her like spilled wine on a white tablecloth. She knew Nicholas well enough to know he meant what he said, but he often made promises only to abandon them later. He dreamed big and could draw anyone in with his vivid imagination and enthusiasm, but often none of the things he wished to speak into existence came to pass. Was this the case now?

His warm hand appeared on her cheek then and gently turned her face to him.

“Lydia, please do not fret. I love you; I’ll always love you,” he murmured, and then, he tilted her head upward, and she felt his soft lips on hers. Warmth and passion flooded her as she drew closer, aware that they were shielded from prying eyes only by a few bushes and trees, yet she did not care. At this moment, all she cared about was being near him and soaking in his presence.

When they parted, he ran his thumb over her cheek.

“I love you, Nicholas,” she whispered. “Please, promise me you will not forget about me and will always love me.”

“Oh, darling Lydia. I would never. I promise you; we’ll be together forever, and our life will be spectacular indeed.”

He kissed her again, gentler this time, and for the briefest of instances, Lydia believed that perhaps this time, he would keep his promise, and their future would be bright indeed.

CHAPTER ONE

Queensberry Manor

Twelve years later

Nicholas leaned back in the old leather chair and felt his back mold into the cushion. He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. His eyes hurt from staring at the estate books all morning. He rubbed them furiously before getting up. The floorboards creaked under his weight but faded as he stepped onto the thick carpet by the window.

Spring was upon them, and the flowerbeds below his study bloomed with daffodils and pansies. A bird hopped on the windowsill, banging its beak against the glass. Nicholas smiled and tapped his index finger against the glass in reply when the sound of racing footsteps boomed outside his window.

He glanced over his shoulder in time for the knock.

“Come,” he called and turned.