Page 25 of The Governess’s Carnal Temptation

Her lips parted and eyes wide in white-hot terror, when she saw a third rock fly by and hit the hive above with full force. The heavy nest swung from the impact, and Lydia knew she had to get away. Yet, Charlotte’s sheer wickedness and the shock at its results had her frozen in place for just a second too long.

It was too late when she understood what was about to happen. The bees whizzed out of their damaged home, inspected by the assault upon their hive and turned on her.

“No, no!” Lydia called, waving her hands wildly through the air when the first sting came. It hit the back of her hand as she attempts to swat at the swarm. Pain seared through her hand, but before she even had a chance to process what had happened, another sting came and another. And then, she saw with absolute horror that the nest, which had dangled wildly above her, detached from the branch, and hit the ground.

At once, dozens of bees emerged from their ruined home at once, and she saw them approaching her like an army. Another stung her cheek, sending a roaring flame of pain through her face. Lydia screamed and waved her arms, certain she would die as a result of their attack. Her gaze was drawn to the lake, and her legs took off running. Lydia ran and ran, remembering her father's wise advice that the best way to get rid of wasps or bees was to jump in water.

Thus, she did. The water beckoned her, glistening in the sun, while the swarm followed her, stinging her legs and arms relentlessly. The coldness slashed up her legs as her right foot hit the water, and she threw herself forward.

Water splattered around her, creating a deafening roar that drowned out the buzzing that had followed her for what seemed like an eternity. Lydia dipped under the water while holding her breath. She kicked her legs to distance herself from the bees. When she opened her eyes, she was met by the stillness of the lake, a beautiful oasis that had become her sanctuary. She swam underwater until she couldn't hold her breath any longer, at which point she surfaced at the other end of the lake.

Her eyes scanned the air, and to her relief, she found the bees had dispersed. Likewise, Charlotte was nowhere to be seen. Good, she thought, for she knew if the girl had been anywhere in the vicinity, she would have shaken her. Lydia crawled onto shore, her white gown heavy with the water’s weight, and she collapsed, breathing rapidly as her skin burned. She raised her right hand. Red, swollen bumps covered it so much that she could no longer see her pale skin.

Her skin felt taunt as the venom spread through her, and she groaned in pain when sitting up. She scanned the area around the lake, looking for Charlotte when the girl’s taunting laughter echoed in her mind. She’d never known a child so malevolent or awful all her life. No wonder no governess stayed with her. Anger roused in Lydia’s stomach. It was one thing to be haunted by a bad childhood and unhappiness, but it was quite another to be so downright horrid as to enjoy another person’s pain.

Nicholas had let his daughter get away with everything due to his negligence, and her over-indulgent nurses and maids had allowed the child to grow into a monster. Yes. A monster.

With her mind clouded by pain and fury, Lydia got up. She marched toward the house, and each step sent waves of pain through her because her legs were swollen where a few stray bees had managed to sting her ankles, but she was determined.

Charlotte would not get away with this.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Nicholas stretched and inhaled the fresh air. It was springtime, and he always enjoyed that season more than any other. Usually, he was ambivalent about his country estate. It was where he spent most of his time when not in London for parliament, but he had no great love for the property.

This feeling often changed in spring when flowers bloomed everywhere, and the air was filled with promise and hope, as it had when he first arrived here so long ago.

These past couple of weeks had been peculiar. On the one hand, nothing much had changed. His daughter ignored him when possible, his servants fell silent whenever he walked past, leaving only Mrs. Funny to keep him company. And yet, there was a different atmosphere around, a lightness. It was Lydia; he knew it.

While she did not seek his company, and they were merely polite around one another during mealtimes, or when she updated him on Charlotte's progress, she'd infused his estate with her spirit. He'd spotted her in the garden, talking animatedly with the cook as they bent over the herb fields; he'd seen her jest with the maids and even knew she'd been helping in the wash house. She'd made herself a part of the household, and his servants adored her.

Nicholas wished he could make her a part of his life again rather than being condemned to watch her from the sidelines. He’d tried. He mentioned their shared past, their friendship. He’d asked after her father and sister, yet each time he was alone with her and looked her in the eyes, he was taken back to that afternoon in the alley. To the day he’d promised her he would come back for her, that he’d always love her. Instead, he’d broken that promise, one of many.

He shook his head, determined not to let his dark thoughts rob him of the day’s beauty, when he spotted a rather peculiar shape coming up from the lake. He stepped forward, hands on the stone banister before him, and squinted.

“Lydia?” he exclaimed. Could it be? She hurried forward, but he saw her limping as she did, and at times, she staggered as if in pain. When she came closer, he gasped, for she was drenched to the bone. Her red hair hung limply over her shoulders, and her face – oh, her lovely face! It was red, even from a distance.

He ran toward her, alarmed by her state. “Lydia, wait!” he shouted as his footsteps crunched on the gravel walkway. When he caught up to her, he grabbed her shoulder, stopping her. Lydia rounded on him at once, her eyes wide and wild though they almost disappeared between the horrible swelling that had popped around her eyes and cheeks.

“Let me go. I must find your daughter, for I’ve had quite enough,” she said in a tone that was a lashing in and of itself.

“Charlotte?” he asked, befogged. “What happened? Why are you soaking? And your face?” He looked her up and down and saw the swelling wasn’t confined to her face. Her hands, arms, and even her chest were covered in red welts.

“Your daughter tricked me. She lured me beneath the maple tree and threw rocks against a bee’s nest. It fell, and I was assaulted,” Lydia said, her words tumbling one over the other. “I ran into the water to save myself; otherwise, I might have died. She could have killed me.”

Nicholas took a step back, and his heart dropped as he clawed at his cravat. Had Charlotte done this? His Charlotte? He couldn’t take his eyes off Lydia, who shivered and shook as much from anger as from obvious pain and cold. Instantly, he removed his jacket and wrapped it around her, unable to comprehend the sheer wickedness it had taken to do something like this.

He knew Lydia was right. If she’d been allergic, this so-called prank could have killed her. Nicholas closed his eyes, sorting his thoughts. He had to speak to Charlotte to put her in her place once and for all, but Lydia first needed to be taken care of.

She quivered, water pooled around her feet where she stood, and her face swelled up more by the moment. Nicholas stepped forward, determined to care for her as he should have. He placed his hands on her shoulders, feeling her shiver.

“Lydia, I will deal with Charlotte. She won’t get away with this, but please let me ensure you’re taken care of. You cannot stay like this; you’ll catch your death. Come, let me take you inside.”

He half expected her to decline his offer, but to his relief, Lydia simply nodded and let him place one arm around her as he led her to the door. His heart pounded when she quietly wept and shook in his arms.

“Faith, Your Grace,” Mrs. Funny gasped when they entered the music room. "What has happened?"

“Bees. Bring me vinegar, a clean cloth, and a basin to my study. Now, Mrs. Funny,” he barked, and the housekeeper dashed away.