Page 7 of The Governess’s Carnal Temptation

Could this be her? Lydia? No. There was no way. She’d be married by now, surely. She’d have children of her own. Lydia wouldn’t be looking after another person’s children. And yet, there was no denying it. It was her name, her address. This was Lydia. His Lydia.

His heart fluttered as the gentle scent of jasmine penetrated his nose though the windows were closed, and he kept no flowers in his study. No, it wasn’t a flower that generated this scent; it was his memory of her. That sweet jasmine-tinged aroma always hovered around her no matter what she did. He’d associated with her all these years. Whenever it wafted into his nose, no matter how unexpectedly he’d think of her and her striking red hair. Her cheerful green eyes and that smile. Oh, that smile that was so bright even the sun paled in comparison.

He recalled Mrs. Funny’s words about the brightness he’d emitted. It was true, he’d been full of positivity and energy, but even his sparkle always paled in comparison to Lydia’s. She was like the sun itself. She, he thought, could brighten even the darkest hears. Could she perhaps do what he could not? Could Lydia draw Charlotte out of the dark abyss and rip her away from the anger that had clawed into her young soul and refused to let go?

Yes, he decided. If anyone could, it was her. However, he knew she would never come. And with good reason. He’d treated her horribly. He’d abandoned her, left her behind just as she feared he would.

Still, stumbling on her advertisement could be no coincidence. It had to mean something, and it had to be the answer to his prayers... hadn’t it? Before he could doubt himself, Nicholas pulled the bell to summon Mrs. Funny.

If he wanted to make his latest plan a success, he would need her help, for Lydia would never come if he wrote to her. Never. Not for a pouch full of gold. But if Mrs. Funny wrote to her? If she came without knowing he was the one calling?

Yes, Nicholas thought, perhaps, just perhaps, he could persuade her to do the one thing he couldn’t do all those years ago. Stay.

CHAPTER THREE

Lydia dabbed her eyes as tears streamed down her hot cheeks, mixing with the sweat trickling down her eyebrows. She grabbed a handkerchief, but it did little good. Steam from the pot on their old woodburning stove filled the tiny kitchen, and the open door and windows would not relieve the sweltering heat.

Lydia sniffed so loudly that Caroline jumped up from her crouched position and stared at her tear-stained face and then at the onions on the chopping board in front of her.

“Faith, what are you doing?” she demanded and snatched the long knife from Lydia’s hands. The metal reflected in the light which poured through the windows, and Lydia caught her reflection in the steel. She looked like a proper mess. Her red hair clung to her hot cheeks, her face looked so red she might not have been out of place in a barrel full of tomatoes, and her eyes were already puffy.

“Chopping onions,” she said haltingly.

“Chopping onions?” Caroline parroted as if Lydia had announced plans to move to the Canadas. “For pea soup?”

Lydia blinked before she shrugged. “Yes, is that not right?”

Rising to form, Caroline rubbed her thin lips and wagged her head.

“You do not put chopped onions in pea soup. Instead, you peel them and then add them in the soup whole, along with the herbs, meat, and celery.” Caroline huffed as she bustled Lydia out of the kitchen. She pushed her down onto the steps that led up to their living quarters. “Let me do it. Having all your meals cooked for you all these years has robbed you of any skill you had.”

Despite her serious tone, Caroline’s eyes glistened, delighted with teasing her sister. Lydia crossed her arms and dipped her head to one side.

“I will have you know that I worked hard in exchange for room and board.”

“And how glorious it must have been to live a life where you were served only the best of the best,” Caroline teased. “Now you must make do with your little sister’s pea soup. Perhaps I should serve it all on the good plates to make you feel you were back at your manor?”

Lydia knew her sister meant nothing by the comment; she was speaking in jest, the way they always did when they were together. Caroline’s gentle mockery never carried any malice, but that didn’t stop the words from stinging. This time, her ribbing hurt because, unlike the many times she’d come to visit her sister and father before, Lydia would not return to her position as a young lady’s governess.

Sensing her dismay, Caroline rushed around the stove where their dinner bubbled and wrapped an arm around her sister.

“I beg your pardon. I did not mean to upset you, dearest sister.”

“I know you meant no harm. I can’t deny that I worry for the future more than ever.” She propped her elbows up on her knees.

“You’ve left postings before and always found another position in no time at all,” Caroline assured her and squatted in front of her. Like Lydia, Caroline’s face sparkled with sweat.

“I have left places before, but it was of my own volition. I chose to leave when my charges could no longer benefit from my teaching. This time I was let go without so much as a letter of recommendation,” she said as tension ate into her shoulder blades. “Without a reference, it is near impossible to find another placement.”

“You have old letters,” Caroline replied, but Lydia shook her head.

“I was employed at Lord Morton’s for three years. I cannot explain why there is such a gap in my history. Besides, he said he would ensure all his friends knew I attempted to corrupt his daughter’s mind. He and his wife are notorious gabsters,” she said and sat up.

The rich scent of beef bubbling amid the herbs carried the promise of a hearty dinner, but Lydia felt no desire to eat. Her appetite had decreased as her worry for the future grew.

“I’ve had not as a single reply to my advertisement, Caroline. It’s been posted for a fortnight. I must believe it is because they kept their promise. They told all the ton that I taught their child things a little lady ought not to know. It is foolish, this thinking,” she complained and slammed her palm against the wall in frustration. “And so unfair. I did nothing wrong.”

Caroline pressed her lips together and wagged her head. “Your mistake was forgetting that not everyone believes a young lady ought to have an education equal to a lad. Mother and father might have raised us with access to the same education, but many do not share such views. Especially those who think of themselves as above us. They do not want a merchant’s daughter teaching math and science.”