Page 49 of The Governess’s Carnal Temptation

He lingered for a moment, wondering if he should leave them to it. He knew it was the sensible choice. Lydia hadn’t wanted to be near him in weeks now, and he respected her decision. Yet, he could not deny it. He wanted to be with them, soak in their serenity and forget about the world – if only for a little while.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said in as cheerful a way as he could muster. Both turned to him, and Charlotte jumped up. He saw she almost ran to him but stopped herself. While he would have loved to scoop her into his arms, he knew he had to be grateful for even the smallest thawing in their still icy relationship.

“Father! Come,” she called, and he did as instructed. As he neared, he looked at Lydia. She sat upright now, a blanket around her shoulders, but he saw the milky-white skin of her chest exposed. The moonlight illuminated her perfectly, and when she shifted, he saw her long, slender neck. His lips parted, and his pantaloons tightened in a way that made him hate himself. He could not have such lustful thoughts about her. It was wrong.

He was to be married, and he and Lydia could never be. Still, that hadn’t stopped him from dreaming about her night after night. Sometimes his dreams were chaste, and they engaged in nothing unsavory. Instead, they walked side by side, their hands intertwined. Other times, however, his dreams lived out his wildest desires. In them, he covered her body with kisses until she gasped with pleasure and turned her attention to him.

Stop it. He told himself. This was not the time nor the place. He pulled his shoulders back, reminding himself where he was, and smiled at her.

“Good evening, Miss Haddington,” he said cheerfully. “And what have we here?”

“We’re watching the stars, Father,” Charlotte replied in her stead and slipped her little hand into his. It felt good holding his child’s hand, for he knew it meant she was warming up to him. Something had changed in Charlotte’s behavior over the past few weeks, and he knew it was all thanks to Lydia. “Miss Haddington said you watched the stars together in London. Is that true?”

He glanced at her and saw a softening in her lovely eyes as she took thought of those simpler days when their lives had been uncomplicated by society and their station within it.

“We did. Miss Haddington’s father has a little teashop with a flat roof, and we’d sit up there and watch them.”

Charlotte beamed at him. “I should love to see that teashop. Do you still have it?” She looked at Lydia, who nodded.

“Remember what I told you? My father and sister still live there.”

“Oh yes,” she replied but dismissed the subject. “Father, come sit with us. We can watch the stars together.”

“If you and Miss Haddington don’t mind,” he said with care though there was nothing he wanted more than to be near Lydia. Alas, she would not meet his eyes. Instead, he took Charlotte’s lead, and the girl pulled him toward the blanket.

“You sit here, Father, yes?” she asked, but it was an order if ever he’d received one. This time, Lydia smiled, and he winked at her. For a split second, it was as if nothing had gone wrong between them. As if they were engaged in a confederacy of two, put together to please his daughter.

He settled on the blanket beside his daughter and only inches from the woman he now knew he’d always loved – unable to touch her. As they sat, Lydia wrapped her arm around Charlotte, who nestled into the crook of her arm. Nicholas’ heart warmed at the sight, and when he saw how Lydia looked at her, he understood that she had grown to love the girl. And just like him, she’d do anything to make her happy. Even if that meant living in a manor with a man she clearly still loved but could never be with again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“Lady Charlotte. I’ve never been on the ice before,” Lydia called as her breath turned to fog in the freezing cold. A pair of ice skates dangled from her shoulder, weighing her down.

“You look like a dragon!” Charlotte hollered as she burst out into the snowy garden beside her. “Me too. Look.” She exhaled hard, sending a burst of foggy breath into the air. She let out a heartfelt giggle, and Lydia was struck by how far she’d come over these past months. In the spring, Charlotte had been a horrible little girl without manners and a desire to tear down the world due to her anger. Now, in the depth of winter, she’d changed.

She was headstrong, as evidenced by their current activity, but she also showed her softer side. Even her relationship with her father had vastly improved. Although the same could not be said for her future stepmother. Lydia grimaced, not wishing to think about the horrid Lady Evelyn, who now came to call several times a week and always left Charlotte in a terrible mood after she left.

“Come on!” Charlotte bellowed and ran through the snow, kicking up plumes behind her. Lydia groaned but followed her toward the lake. Snow crunched under her feet, and if she hadn’t dreaded Charlotte’s desire to teach her ice skating so much, she might have marveled at the beautiful landscape.

Snow covered every tree and icicles hung from the sloped roofs around the manor house. That morning, she’d awoken to find thick stalactites hanging off her window as though she were in a snow cave.

“Let us build a snowman. Mrs. Funny said there’s plenty of coal and carrots to make eyes and noses,” she shouted after Charlotte, who was already at the edge of what used to be water but presently presented as a silky-smooth layer of thick ice.

Charlotte sat in the snow, her red redingote popping against the white blanket like a burst of light amid the darkness.

“Later,” she replied, impatience coloring her words. “You said if I finish my French lesson book before Christmastide starts, I could choose what I wanted to do. I finished two weeks early, and I chose ice skating.”

Lydia dropped her skates into the snow, regretting her words.

“Perhaps I could watch you, and you can skate with your father. He’s an excellent skater. He used to skate the Serpentine River in London all the time. And Lady Evelyn as well. They skated when they were there last week.”

Talking about the two of them and their shared time hurt more than it ever did because with each day Nicholas spent with her, Lydia lost him a little more. Soon, the old Nicholas would be gone, forever replaced with the man Lady Evelyn molded him to be.

“Not Lady Evelyn,” Charlotte said. “Mr. Hammersmith told me my father skated alone, and Lady Evelyn stood by, scowling the whole time.”

“The coachman should not be sharing things with you,” Lydia replied though she had heard similar tales. Lady Evelyn did not enjoy any of the activities Nicholas did, and the bulk of their time together was spent the way she preferred.

“Perhaps she might like to learn,” she offered. It pained her to encourage Charlotte to keep company with Lady Evelyn, but she felt it was her duty. One day, she’d be her stepmother and had to encourage a connection though it was the last thing she wanted.