The Governess Was Wicked Read online

  “Mine,” he moaned in her ear as she clung to him, the waves of her orgasm rolling off her. “Mine at last.”

  Before she could figure out the meaning of his words through the fog of her pleasure, he reared back and groaned long and hard. Then he collapsed onto her, taking the weight of his body on his elbows so as not to crush her.

  It was some time before their bodies settled into the steady, easy rhythm of two exhausted, satiated people. When he nuzzled her neck and kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear, she realized that this was the happiest she’d ever been. It was true that this could be nothing more than a short-term arrangement, but no matter how long he’d give himself to her she’d cherish it. For the first time in her life she knew what it meant to be a woman who had been fully loved.

  “I can see why everyone tries to convince us that intercourse outside of marriage is a sin,” she said.

  He popped up on an elbow. “Do you feel like you’ve just sinned?”

  She stretched out. “Yes, and I would gladly do it again.”

  A grin split his face. “Why, Miss Porter, you’re becoming quite insatiable.”

  “I had a good teacher,” she said, feeling as though she might burst with happiness.

  He kissed her soft and sweet. “You’re a good teacher yourself. Unfortunately, I worry what we risk if we remain like this any longer.”

  She heaved a sigh. “I don’t want to move from this spot.”

  That wolfish smile she loved slid over his face. “We could barricade the door and make a fort out of the cushions and blankets just as I used to when I was a little boy.”

  “It’s tempting, but unfortunately I must get back to the girls.”

  He nodded. “You love them.”

  Her heart clenched. Governesses weren’t supposed to love their charges, but she didn’t know how else to feel about them. “They’re all I have.”

  Through dark eyelashes, he stole a glance at her. “You have me.”

  Yes, but for how long? she wanted to ask, but instead kissed him and then pushed at his chest. “Go find your clothes.”

  He rolled off the sofa and pulled her to her feet, taking advantage of the opportunity to smooth his hand over the swell of her backside. “I like it when you order me around.”

  She shot him a sardonic look that just made him chuckle.

  He helped her into her clothes, his competent fingers doing up all the hooks and eyes that she normally struggled with herself. Then they turned their attention to his clothing.

  “It is so much easier for you to dress,” she said.

  He leaned in to kiss her. “It just makes it easier for you to undress me whenever you want.”

  She let the softness of his lips tempt her for a moment before stepping away. “If we start again, we might not stop.”

  “The blanket fort is still on the table,” he said with mock seriousness.

  “But who would feed us?” she asked, her lips curving.

  “We would have to recruit Miss Norton and Miss Cassandra to our scheme.”

  She chuckled and swept up the soiled chemise off the couch, bundling it under her arm. Looking around, no one would know that something earth-shattering had just happened in this very room.

  “You know I’m to sail for America.”

  When she glanced at him, she found Edward’s expression somber. So that was where this was going. She dipped her chin, barely acknowledging him with a nod. She would not let him see her pain when he laid out the terms of this misguided flirtation.

  He shot the arms of his jacket and set about fixing his cuffs, his eyes on the ground rather than her. “I was thinking—”

  Just then the door to the library flew open. Elizabeth gasped and clutched her hands against her stomach, for Mr. Norton stood in the doorway, red-faced and murderous.

  She was ruined.

  Edward’s heart jumped to his throat at the sight of Mr. Norton. He and Elizabeth were completely, utterly, and unquestionably caught, and while all it would bring him was embarrassment, the consequences would be so much worse for her.

  “Harlot,” Norton spat out as he advanced on Elizabeth.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Norton, but—”

  “Hussy,” the man raged, each insult churning a dangerous anger in the pit of Edward’s stomach. “Dolly-mop.”

  “You will stop calling her those things.” His voice boomed through the room as the instinct to protect the woman he cared for kicked in before he even had time to think.

  Mr. Norton turned on him slowly, his expression twisted with disgust and menace. “I’ll speak to her however I like. Miss Porter is a member of my household.”

  Edward’s knuckles cracked as his fists clenched into tight balls. Elizabeth was a better person than either of them, and he wouldn’t stand back and watch her name dragged through the mud. Not now. Not ever.

  “What you call her is very much my concern,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

  Norton’s eyes narrowed. “I understand a man wanting a quick fuck now and then, but not under the same roof where my children sleep!”

  “You will not use that language around a lady,” he said at the same time that Elizabeth said, “I would never do anything to harm your daughters.”

  Their eyes met, and he grasped for a way to say the words he didn’t quite know how to articulate. She could fight this battle on her own—he had no doubt as to her strength—but he wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone. It wasn’t just obligation or a sense of duty that would keep him by her side. He wanted to be there in case she faced dragons that were too large for even her to slay.

  Instead of leaning into him for help, however, Elizabeth drew herself up to her full height like a goddess ready to hurl her thunderbolts from the heavens.

  “I have served faithful as your daughters’ governess for years, Mr. Norton,” she said. “You must believe me that my intention has always been to put them before everything else.”

  “And I should believe the word of a lying slut?” Norton sneered.

  “Enough!” Edward shouted.

  “And what are you going to do about it?” asked Mr. Norton incredulously. “I can dismiss her whenever I find cause, and being alone in the library with a gentleman is enough cause for me. It’s what I’d do with any servant.”

  “Miss Porter is not your servant.”

  “She’s not a lady either, and you’d do well to remember that, Dr. Fellows.”

  “I could call you out for this,” he growled.

  “Stop this!” Elizabeth’s voice cut through the air, halting both men this time.

  “Edward,” she said, her hand resting lightly on his arm. “This isn’t your fight.”

  Except that it was. It had been since the moment she’d kissed him in the kitchen. That simple touch had been like a dam breaking—all the pent-up hopes and desires he’d hidden away over the years had come unleashed all at once. He’d thought he could gather them back—and maybe he had in the two months he’d had to cool off—but that night had only confirmed what he already knew. There was no walking away from her. She was everything, and now that he’d had her he’d be damned if he didn’t fight for her.

  His hand slipped into hers, and he could’ve sworn he felt the connection of their beating hearts through his palm. “You don’t have to listen to this.”

  “No, she doesn’t,” said Mr. Norton. “Get out, Miss Porter.”

  Her head whipped around, and she broke their grasp. “What?”

  “I would have thought that even you’d be able to understand that command. Leave and return to your room. Dr. Fellows and I have unfinished business.”

  “What are you going to do?” Elizabeth asked, a tremble of fear audible in her voice for the first time since her employer had burst into the room.

  “Leave this room o
r I will have you dragged out by your hair,” said Mr. Norton, taking a step toward her.

  In a flash, Edward had rounded the sofa and was twisting the man’s overstarched collar in his fist. He brought his face close to Norton’s. “Do not threaten her.”

  “Edward, no,” he heard from behind. “Don’t hurt him.”

  “Why not?” he seethed. He wanted to hurt the man. Badly. Didn’t she see that he’d insulted her—the woman he loved?

  Oh, God, he loved her. The emotion twisted tight as a vise in his chest until the intensity of it was almost unbearable. What a time for a realization. He would have kicked something if he wasn’t concentrating so hard on resisting the urge to throttle the man.

  “I can fight my own battles,” she said.

  “But you shouldn’t have to. Let me in.”

  All he wanted was to show her that she didn’t need to always be the strong one. He could help her, support her, love her.

  He needed to tell her all of these things, but how could he when they were standing in the middle of this mess? The best he could hope for was to get her out of this situation unscathed and give them some time to work this all out. After all, he’d only just realized that the woman he’d spent years pining after was finally really and truly within his reach. She was the one. For him there was no woman before or after. There was only her, but he needed time to show her that he could be the man who was worthy of her.

  “I can’t do that,” she whispered.

  No. This wasn’t supposed to end like this—not when finally for the first time in his life he’d found the one person who mattered more than all the medicine, the patients, everything.

  “It isn’t worth it, Edward,” she said, placing a calming hand on his arm. “Let him go.”

  She was worth it, but he loosened his grip on Norton’s collar nonetheless.

  When he turned he found her standing with her hands clutched in front of her. There was a distance that hadn’t been there before—as though she’d receded into herself—and sure enough ice had crept into her eyes. All the warmth he’d felt when he’d held her in his arms was gone. She was once again untouchable and distant—and he hated that. The woman wasn’t meant for perfection. She was vital, passionate, and beautiful. That was the woman who delighted in the simple gift of a book and who cared so deeply for two children who were not her own that she ran herself almost to exhaustion. And she was also the one who’d murmured his name over and over as she pleaded for her release. He wanted that version of his Elizabeth back, with all of her hopes and disappointments and faults.

  “Elizabeth,” said Edward softly, stunned that she was pulling away when he was so sure.

  “I’m sorry, Edward.” She lifted her chin a little and addressed her employer. “I’ll be in the nursery. All I ask is that you be fair to Dr. Fellows. None of this is his fault.”

  Mr. Norton scoffed. “I shouldn’t think so.”

  Instead of a sharp retort to put the man soundly in his place, she narrowed her eyes and froze him with the coldest glare Edward had ever seen. It was enough. Mr. Norton dropped his gaze first and began to rub at a spot where his shirt had pulled against his skin.

  Elizabeth glided out of the room with a regal dignity, not even sparing him a glance back. She needed no man taking care of her—that much he knew—but he’d be damned if he didn’t show her he would be there if she wanted him to be.

  “Now,” said Norton as soon as they were alone, “we can settle this as gentlemen. Have a seat.”

  “I’ll stand,” he said, folding his arms over his chest while the other man sank into an overstuffed chair and opened a humidor that sat on a side table.

  Edward watched Mr. Norton go through the ritual of picking out a cigar, snipping the end, and lighting it. The mere act of puffing out an aromatic cloud of smoke seemed to calm the man, and sure enough his tone was markedly different when he spoke next.

  “Dr. Fellows, you’ve put me in a peculiar position.” Mr. Norton rolled the cigar between his fingers, examining the glow of the tip as it smoldered in the darkened library. “It’s not that I don’t understand the charms of Miss Porter. I do, and daresay I’ve thought about—”

  “I would have you choose your next words very carefully,” he warned.

  Mr. Norton blanched but then chuckled. “Loyalty’s only natural with a new mistress. I’ve certainly had my share.”

  It took everything he had not to lunge at the man again. “Miss Porter is not my mistress.”

  The man waved his hand as though to signify that it was neither here nor there. “Call it whatever you like. Now, if you’re to continue in this house—”

  “No.” His word came out clipped and hard.

  “What? Of course,” said the man as realization dawned on his face, “you sail for America.”

  “You misunderstand me. I quit. I can’t stand the thought of being around you or your wife any longer.”

  “Now look here.” Mr. Norton sat up, his tone darkening. “You can’t quit.”

  “I can and I just did.” Edward looked down his nose at the man he’d barely tolerated for the last three years as he sputtered—no doubt unused to the idea of someone not going along with his every whim.

  Mr. Norton shot to his feet. “Get out of this house.”

  “Gladly, but only on the condition that Miss Porter’s position is secure.”

  He knew in his heart of hearts that Elizabeth was the woman for him, but he needed time to make arrangements and melt the ice he’d seen in her eyes as she walked out of the room. He had only the vaguest of plans swirling in his head like smoke, but he was going to win her back. He owed it to both of them to ask for another chance to repair all the damage that Mr. Norton had wrought.

  “Miss Porter won’t last the night.” Mr. Norton’s playacting at being the debonair, carefree gentleman about town was falling away. The man was beginning to tremble with rage again.

  “Miss Porter stays,” he said.

  “Or what?” scoffed Mr. Norton.

  “I’m sure your wife would be happy to hear about your expertise in mistresses. I doubt it would take more than a few questions to the right lady patients of mine to find out who they are. Society matrons have a way of gossiping with their physicians. Of course, if they don’t know, that would be more than enough to set them on the chase.”

  All the blood drained from the man’s face, but he tried to keep his bluster up. “I’m hardly the first man to have dalliances.”

  Edward leaned in. “Yes, but those men haven’t got a wife with ambitions like yours. Do you think the queen will receive a woman whose husband’s affairs are so scandalously public?”

  Mr. Norton gaped at him. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me,” said Edward. “Miss Porter stays.”

  Then he buttoned his jacket and, with a nod, turned on his heel and strode out of the room to figure out a way back to Elizabeth.

  Mr. Norton allowed her to pack her things. That was the kindest thing she could say about the man.

  He’d called her to his study and hemmed and hawed, but then he’d set his jaw and dismissed her. Even through her shock she wondered what Edward had said to make him act as though he were signing his death warrant.

  It was pitiful how little time it took to stuff the contents of her room into two valises. The one thing she didn’t pack was Miss Carrington’s Guide for Governesses. Instead, she took it over to the nursery’s fireplace and dropped it in among the coals. Never before had she thought to burn a book—the act seemed barbarous—but she didn’t want that one with its harsh judgments and uncaring rules governing her life any longer.

  When she was done, she went back to her room for her bags, stopping only to look around the sad space with its plain white walls and simple, pale blue quilt, half relieved she’d never have to see it again and half desperate with wo
rry as she wondered what she was going to do for work. She’d survived once before, but that had been when she was going from gently raised young lady to governess. Now there would be questions. Questions about why she’d been let go. Questions about why she didn’t have a letter of reference.

  Crane hovered at the door to the nursery, watching her. When she made for the girls’ room, he rushed to block her path. “Mr. Norton says you’re to go.”

  A lump settled in her throat. She would no longer be able to hear Juliana’s joyful voice or watch Cassandra’s brow crease as she tried to work out complicated words in books. “Can’t I at least say good-bye?”

  The butler’s lip actually curled. “Mr. Norton doesn’t want your filth around the children.”

  Her head snapped up, and she hissed, “What I did was not filth.”

  The man snorted a laugh. If she had the skill to throw a punch, she’d have hit him straight in the nose.

  Instead, she peered up at him. “I wonder what Mr. Norton would do if one day he received a letter detailing how his butler of many years has a rather light hand with the wine cellar.”

  Crane blanched. “You wouldn’t.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe not today, but if I were you I’d consider the security of my job very tenuous indeed.”

  Then she picked up her valises and swept out of the room.

  Her boldness lasted until she got down to the street. Then the front door shut behind her with a loud bang, and the full impact of what had transpired hit. In the library, she’d felt strangely detached, as though she were watching the scene unfold through layers and layers of gauze. The argument seemed unreal.

  It wasn’t until she heard Edward defending her that she snapped out of it. Everything focused into sharp precision and she finally understood what was happening. The man whom she’d let make love to her was trying with all his might to fight for her. It should have made her happy—overjoyed even—but instead it left her cold. He was pushing for her to keep her position, for her to remain a governess. He wasn’t dropping to his knees to propose. That wasn’t going to happen. Edward might insist with all of his might that she was a lady, but she knew that part of her life had died long ago.