Page 26 of The Moonstone Governess
To his surprise, he saw Brenna seated alone on one of the garden benches, staring up at the milky stars and a moon that was big and silver against a clear, dark sky. “You’re here,” he said, not bothering to mask his surprise. “I thought you had gone home.”
She turned to him in shock, her features beautifully illuminated by the flame of a nearby torch, and cast him a hesitant smile. “And I thought… Well, you know what I must have been thinking.”
“Which is exactly the impression Lady Dowling hoped to give you, but all I ever intended to do was walk her home. Not that I offered, but she trapped me earlier with the request, and there was no way for me to politely decline. Even though you think quite little of me, I am a gentleman most of the time.”
She gave a light snort.
“I am, Brenna. If I weren’t, I would be kissing every delectable inch of you right now.”
“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “I had better go inside.”
“Yes, I suppose it is wisest, considering my reputation. Are we all right, little dove?” He took her hand and gently held her back when she started to walk away. “By the way, you look beautiful tonight. I ought to have mentioned it earlier.”
“Thank you.” The amber glow of firelight from the torch mingled with her own soft blush, stirring the fire within him. “Yes, we are fine. I really must go before anyone sees us together.”
“And reports it to Albert?” He groaned. “Never mind. Forget I said that. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He released her hand, and she flitted away like a butterfly in cream silk.
He remained outdoors a while longer, listening to the strains of a lively reel while sipping his champagne and breathing in the scent of roses and the salt of the sea.
This place.
He wanted to settle here.
He wanted to get to know Brenna better and perhaps make her a permanent part of his life. But that thought came out of nowhere. One did not think of permanence upon one day’s acquaintance with an opinionated young woman. Besides, she was nowhere near ready to trust him. Nor was he quite ready to be trusted. He was the first to admit he was not by nature a nice man.
He still had much to work through before he would ever consider himself reliable when it came to women.
Could he ever be faithful to one woman for all of his life?
He thought he could with someone like Brenna.
Dear heaven.
All this talk of permanence. He certainly was surprising himself.
The more immediate problem was to make certain Brenna remained here long enough to get to know him and develop an unshakeable faith in him.
He had not thought to ask before, but now it was important for him to know when she planned to return to Oxford. She valued her teaching position at the elite girls’ school and did not seem ready to give it up, even if she held on to Stoningham Manor.
And what of this Albert character who was eager to marry her? This troubled him most of all. What was Albert’s true motive?
It could not be love, because the man had never properly kissed Brenna, who was irresistibly kissable. Any beau in his right mind would have had his lips on hers at every possible opportunity.
Nor could Albert’s motive involve Brenna’s wealth, because she had little to speak of beyond this charming manor house that was too far from Oxford to be of any use to him. If Brenna ever sold it, the proceeds would allow her to live out the rest of her days in modest comfort if she chose not work again.
Perhaps this was enough of a lure for her Oxford professor. A wife to mend his stockings, embroider initials on his handkerchiefs, and bear him children. In addition, he would gain control of the tidy sum from her sale of Stoningham Manor, to be used for his purposes.
Daire shook his head.
Something did not feel right about this beau of hers.
He was still thinking of Brenna by the time he retired to his suite. In truth, he left the assembly ball well before it ended because nothing more interested him. As he undressed, he could hear the orchestra playing a waltz. A smile escaped his lips, for he caught Brenna’s subtle lavender scent upon his jacket.
Her warm skin.
That delightful body of hers.
