Page 38 of The Governess’s Carnal Temptation

“Husband?” Lord Barnwell gasped while his companion took a step back.

“Indeed. Very soon, I shall be Duchess of Queensberry, and I will find it difficult to find favor for people who insulted my husband and his hard work. Especially since your friend, his grandfather, was the true villain here. Let us not forget why His Grace was forced to live in the gutter. It was your friend who made it happen, was it not?”

The two men looked at one another, their faces red. Around them, a small circle had formed, and the eyes of everyone in their vicinity were upon them.

“It was,” Nicholas said, finding his voice. “I am the rightful heir to this dukedom. My grandfather left it in shambles and if not for me, there would be not one tenant, the house would be falling apart, and his precious legacy would be destroyed. Let me ask you, where were you when he forced an innocent woman into the streets and her infant with her?”

The men had nothing to say. “Let me tell you what, gentlemen,” Lady Evelyn added, “I am not the only one who would look down upon people who seek to tarnish a little girl’s birthday out of spite. My father would, too, as would his associates. So if I were you, I’d take my leave.”

She pulled her shoulders back and watched as the two men looked at one another and then slunk away. She turned her head up with a triumphant smile.

“You see, dear, that is how it is done. Now, come, I wish to introduce you to some true gentlemen.” She turned and walked a couple of steps before looking over her shoulder. She moved her chin just enough to let him know he’d been summoned – not unlike a master summoned a dog – and he followed. Though as he did, the vile men’s words echoed in his mind. Even more so were Lady Evelyn’s. Had she said it wasn’t his fault he lived in the gutter? Was that what his life before the dukedom was to her? The gutter? Was that how she saw him, like a stray dog that needed to be sheltered and brought to heel?

Visions of their future materialized before his mind’s eye. With Lady Evelyn, respect would be paid to him – but at what cost? His brethren would not pay mind to him because of his station or character but because, just like his grandfather’s old friends, they were afraid of the power wielded by Lady Evelyn and her family.

Now that he’d seen a glimpse of what life would be like, he had to admit he didn’t care for it. Although the truth was, if his life had not been so fundamentally changed over the past few weeks by the arrival of Lydia, he might have made his peace with this. After all, marriage to Lady Evelyn would not only benefit him. It would help Charlotte immensely.

As he followed the woman he’d planned to marry toward a group of ladies and gentlemen, he could not help but look over his shoulder at the other woman in his life and ache to be with her instead. Alas, he did not see Lydia. She’d gone, presumably with her new paramour.

He swallowed hard, then snapped his fingers at a passing servant. Nicholas snatched a glass of wine from the silver platter and, under the scrutinizing eye of his servant, drank the whole glass down in three big swallows.

Then, as he grabbed a second glass, he did the one thing he wanted least of all: He followed Lady Evelyn toward his new life.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lydia stared into the moonless night, the pillow crinkling beneath her ear. An owl hooted somewhere, and a dog barked in response, as if they were having a conversation only they could understand. She closed her eyes and pushed her folded hands underneath the the feather pillow, but it didn't work. Sleep had eluded her for hours and would continue to do so. She swung her legs out of bed and sat up. The weather had started shifting and a chill lingered in the air.

To counteract this, she wrapped her wool shawl around herself and slipped into her slippers. She could not sleep. The events of the previous night would not let her. When she closed her eyes, she saw Nicholas with the lovely Lady Evelyn. The honorable Mr. Gilbert had informed her of the lady's name and the connection between Nicholas and her. A ping emitted from her stomach and vibrated through her body as she remembered the first time she'd taken in this information.

Since Nicholas had failed to tell her the truth yet again, the betrayal remained fresh in her mind and heart. Why had he kept her existence hidden from her? Why hadn't he even hinted that he had a woman in his life? Lydia scoffed. Why would he? He showed no regard for her. He'd cast her aside as if she were nothing when they were in love, without a word or an explanation. Back when he supposedly loved her. He had no reason to tell her anything about his life now that they were nothing more than two people linked by a little girl in need of guidance.

And yet, it hurt. Deep inside, the pain had been reignited, fueled now by this fresh duplicity.

And on top of it, he’d spoken to her as if she were a child! As she wrapped her shawl around her and rose, irritation flashed anew at the audacity. Not only had he lied again, but he presumed to somehow exact control over her life.

Her nostrils flared as she made her way to the door and stepped into the dark hall. She took a deep breath, smelling the remnants of the ball. A mixture of perfumes, sweat, and myriad aromas left behind by dinner danced in the air as she went to the stairs. Her stomach rumbled, and her throat was so dry it hurt to swallow. She needed a cup of strong tea and something to eat. Perhaps a roll with some of the Honorable Mr. Gilbert’s lemon curd.

A sad smile washed over her lips. He’d been a blessing. Without Elliot, as she’d come to think of him already, her evening would have been ruined entirely. She was determined to take him up on his offer to see his telescope and help him with his plans. Even more so now that she knew Nicholas didn’t want her to.

Lydia got to the bottom of the stairs and went down the narrow walkway to the servant staircase. When she opened the door, the unmistakable strong smell of tallow candles that had long since burnt out greeted her. She passed the servant hall, where a fire still roared though nobody was there. The doors along the long hall were all shut, the servants asleep at this early hour. Lydia took a deep breath and dipped into the kitchen at the left, surprised to see a three-pronged candle holder sitting on the table. Wax had dripped down the side and pooled on the table, indicating it had been here for some time.

“Hello?” she called out, not wishing to surprise whoever the owner was.

“Hello?” A voice sounded from somewhere below. Lydia frowned and walked around the large kitchen counter in the middle of the room and toward the hearse. She stopped, snatched up the candle holder, and held it in front of her.

“’pon my word!” she exclaimed and took several steps back until she banged into the table. There, sticking out from inside the pantry, was a pair of legs. She noted the lack of a match as one foot was exposed to the elements with neither shoe nor sock in sight. She hesitated. She was about to summon the underbutler, who would be awake at his station upstairs, but then, her eyes settled on the figure’s attire. Aside from the missing shoe, he was dressed rather finely in a pair of pantaloons. This was no servant, and surely no nobleman could have gotten lost in…

“Hello? Mrs. F…unny?”

“Nicholas?” she exclaimed and stood ramrod straight. The voice! It was unmistakable. Lydia dashed forward and flashed the light into the pantry. She clasped her free hand in front of her mouth as the full scope of what lay before her revealed itself. Nicholas lay back, his upper body partially held upright by a sack of potatoes that had slipped open. Potatoes surrounded him, and he clutched them in his hand for reasons unknown. His hair stood up on ends, and he’d drooled. Red wine stained his white shirt, and when she stepped closer, her toes connected with an empty bottle that rolled lazily across the uneven kitchen floor.

“Ma… Mrs. F… I… I… I’m tired,” he slurred.

“I am not your ma nor Mrs. Funny, Nicholas,” she said sternly. “And I’m sure if either saw you, they’d ring a right peal over your head, if not worse.” She squatted to examine him further but was driven back by the absolute stench on his breath. A mixture of wine, whiskey, and some sour beverage she could not identify filled the air between them, and she shivered.

“Why are you in the pantry?” she demanded but he only looked up and raised the hand clutching his potato.

“I wanted… I’m tired. I took a wrong turn and… the… light… so warm…Do you know what I found? A gem!” he declared and raised his hand.