Miss Saunders considered. Benjamin thanked Providence that she looked interested now, not bewildered. “Active, not old,” she said.
“Kind, but firm,” he said.
“Intelligent and curious, to keep up with Geoffrey’s precocious mind.”
“Tolerant,” said Benjamin. “I want him guided, not stifled.”
“With a strong sense of humor,” his companion put in.
“An ability to laugh is indispensable,” he agreed.
She smiled. “I’m not sure where you’ll find such a paragon.”
He might have said that she was standing right in front of him, but he refrained. He didn’t want this delectable woman as his son’snanny. “Will you help me find her?” he asked instead.
“I’m not sure how I can.”
“By giving me your opinion on the candidates,” he replied promptly. “And on how Geoffrey seems to like them as well. You notice all sorts of things that I do not.”
She looked flattered, which was good, though the compliment was honest. “I learned careful observation very young,” she answered.
The sadness that never seemed far from her reappeared in her face. He needed to know the full story behind that expression, Benjamin realized. Things wouldn’t be right until he did. But this was not the moment to press her.
“All right.” She nodded. “I’ll help you search for this marvelous creature. I’m glad to help.”
Benjamin felt an unexpected rush of joy. She wasn’t leaving! When he met her eyes, he thought he saw a similar emotion there. Or perhaps he only hoped so.
Fourteen
As Sarah brushed out Jean’s obdurate hair that night, wrestling it into a braid for sleep, Jean couldn’t keep her mind from drifting back to kisses. She’d felt so utterly…marvelous when Benjamin was kissing her—marvelous through her whole body in a quite unprecedented way. She wanted to be back in his arms, this minute and every minute. She would gladly have offered more than kisses there in the arbor, in full view of anyone who passed by. Propriety be damned.
With a profound shock, Jean realized that she could almost understand her mother’s disastrous slip those many years ago. If Mama had felt like this… But she couldn’t have, because she’d never cared for Papa, had scarcely known him, in fact, at the time of their indiscretion. Later, she’d positively hated him. Jean’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Did she care for Lord Furness then?
“Are you all right, miss?” asked Sarah. She fastened the end of the braid with a bit of ribbon.
“Yes. Of course.”
“You looked so worried for a moment there.” The maid placed a hand on Jean’s shoulder.
“I’m fine.” All right, perhaps she did care for him, Jean thought. Somewhat. In a way. She would still do just as she pleased.
“Is there anything else?”
“No, thank you, Sarah. Good night.”
“Good night, miss.” Taking garments for the laundry, the maid went out.
Did she care, or did she simplywant, Jean wondered. Strong sensations—delirious kisses—seemed to overwhelm reason. How was she to know the difference?
She rose from the dressing table and went over to climb into bed. Tab jumped up to curl on his customary corner of the coverlet. People made such a mystery of physical passion, Jean thought. For young ladies, at least. Based on her parents’ lives, Jean had assumed that it was crude and perilous. Rutting like one saw in the barnyard. But Benjamin’s kisses suggested something far sweeter. She wanted to know more, wanted it very, very much.
And why not? Jean sat straight up as the astonishing idea expanded in her consciousness. Why not indulge these dizzying new desires? Hadn’t she vowed to make her own decisions for the rest of her life, and never to beshut inby anything ever again? And didn’t that include the bonds of convention?
Her mother’s shrill protests tried to rise in her mind—deriding, threatening catastrophe. Jean fought them down, a struggle she’d mastered with so much effort and pain. She’d do as she wished, and she’d manage the consequences on her own terms. She wasn’t seventeen and under the sway of a tyrannical father. No one could make her marry. No one could make her do anything. That was the point of her life now. And if she indulged—Jean shivered at the luscious word—Lord Furness wouldn’t tell what she’d done. He was an honorable man.
A beguiling man, a dizzyingly attractive man. He valued her opinion and abilities; he’d said so. Marriage might even be possible.Probably not, declared an immediate inner commentator.Most likely not.Marriage still seemed like a trap, and Jean would never be trapped again. She would evade all traps.
Tab was sitting up, tail curled around his front paws, staring at her.