Page 5 of A Kiss Of Lies

Belatedly, she recalled where she was and why she was there. “Education is important—even for a woman.”

“Is that so?” he asked.

“I did hope that one of the infamous Libertine Scholars might see the value in a woman having a well-equipped brain.” She gazed into his eyes. “After all, beauty is unreliable. It fades with time—or is snatched away by God’s will. A match of the mind would make for a happier life.”

His eyes darkened and his voice hardened. “My injury was not God’s will. It was a French bitch who showed no mercy when she set fire to the cart I was trapped under.”

His eyes blazed with a similar fire, and his fists curled upon the desk.

She sat in shocked silence, wishing the ground would open up and send her to a real hell. She hadn’t meant to bring up such terrible memories.

A moment later he uttered, “I apologize, Mrs. Cooper. That was uncalled for.” His anger, quick to flare, just as quickly retreated. “You seem to be very well informed about my past. I take it you did not grow up in York.”

She nodded while she tried to find her voice. When constructing her cover story, she’d decided it was safer to stick as close as possible to the truth. Lies were hard to remember.

“I grew up in the household of the Duke of Hastings.” That was no lie. He sat waiting for more. She didn’t care to expand on her answer. But Lord Markham did not appear to be the type of man to be fobbed off or fooled, she thought, swallowing hard.

Even battle-scarred, he commanded attention. Masculine and broad-shouldered, he reflected the trappings of his background—money and breeding. She took note of his high starched shirt collar, a pristine white cravat, and a superbly tailored coat of forest-green superfine cloth that matched his eyes. But it was his aristocratic bearing that lent him an air of unmistakable elegance. Scars or no scars, this man drew attention.

His eyebrows rose. “In what capacity, may I inquire? I have visited the Duke on several occasions. He has a daughter. She would be about your age, if I recall. You are too young to have been her governess.”

Sarah swallowed hard. Fooling Lord Markham was going to take all the skill she had. “Yes, I knew her well. She was an only child, and lacked for company. I was the gardener’s daughter, and her friend. Given my relationship with Lady Serena, I experienced all the advantages she was given, including sharing her governess. Hence, my education.”

He stared at her, his gaze measuring for a moment, before asking, “I take it you haven’t actually worked as a governess. Do you have any experience with children? Do you have children of your own?”

She did not let this bombardment of questions rattle her. She pondered a reply that would be at least half credible. Lies were a slippery trap. One lie often led to many more, until you had no place left to turn.

She gave an impression of ease by relaxing back in her chair, yet she could feel the muscles in her neck tightening. “No. This would be my first position as a governess, and I’ve never been blessed with children of my own.”

“Have you ever spent any time around children?” he probed.

She shook her head, feeling despair inch into her blood. He was not going to employ her. With a resigned sigh, Sarah simply said, “The one qualification I do have, is that I too lost my mother at an early age. I know exactly how Lily is feeling.”

He sat contemplating her, and then slowly smiled. The very same smile that had taken her breath away the first time she saw him, when only a young girl. Even now the smile stirred her insides, and her heart lifted. He was still stunningly gorgeous.

“Perfect. That’s the most important qualification I can imagine. Lily needs someone who can empathize with her. However, before I decide on the person most suitable for the position, I will seek Lily’s opinion.”

Lord Markham moved his left arm to pull the bell beside his desk, and grimaced. Lifting a searching gaze to his face, she detected a pallor to his complexion that she’d missed before. The blood drained from his face, and lines of pain fanned out from his stunning green eyes. It would appear his burns were more extensive than were visible to the eye. The realization aroused the most absurd desire in her. She’d seen far too much suffering during the last eighteen months. She wanted to go to him and offer him comfort.

Sarah shook herself mentally at such an inappropriate impulse. It was the one sure way to ensure she did not get the position. Finding him watching her with an unsettlingly candid gaze, she damped down her impulse to inquire after his health.

She’d master the art of servitude even if she had to bite her tongue in half to do so. She had to learn, and fast, that she was now subservient, and therefore should not engage her betters.

* * *

Christian, meanwhile, had been aware of Mrs. Sarah Cooper as a woman the minute she walked into the room. What man wouldn’t be? He’d always been a connoisseur of all things beautiful, and this woman outshone them all. The round spectacles that were too big for her face, as well as the matronly cap covering hair the color of dried wheat, couldn’t disguise the flawless beauty beneath.

His body hummed with awareness. Such composure and presence in one so young surprised him. She didn’t look a day over twenty, yet she did not appear to be in awe of him at all. Usually his title had women fawning over him while trying to hide the fact they found him repulsive. Women thought that if they pretended to find him appealing, they would get what they wanted from him—namely, his title and money.

Mrs. Cooper looked directly at him with no hint of pretense. Either she was a consummate actress or the scars were really not important. She seemed completely focused on obtaining this position.

She also spoke in cultured tones.Interesting.

Listening to her words, two things struck Christian. One, she knew who he was, and two, she was right. Already during this short conversation, it wasn’t her beauty that had caught and held his interest. It was her intelligence. She had been neither cowered nor flustered by his appearance or questions. It was as if she’d been around nobility all her life. She’d grown up in a duke’s household. Now he understood her composure.

This was the first time since ending up in this hellhole of a backwater that Christian hadn’t minded being stuck in York. Not if it introduced him to the delights of Mrs. Cooper.

He’d been in Canada since November last year. Over the long, frozen winter months, he’d wallowed here, consumed by anger so potent it had eaten him up from the inside. Christian could feel his anger growing stronger as each day passed. To be wrongfully accused of such a crime made him want to throttle something or someone—and that someone was Harriet Penfold.

---