Page 9 of A Kiss Of Lies

Lily was right. He was still a very attractive man. A man in the prime of life. Heat prickled over her skin.

She hadn’t expected her body’s heated reaction to the pure raw masculinity of him. His burnt face—well, half-burnt face—seemed to add to his persona. The brooding, hooded look in his eyes and the disdainful tilt of his chin, as if daring the world to pity him, made for a potent mix of power and vulnerability.

When Lord Markham looked at her, it was almost as if he were regarding a piece of art hanging upon a gallery wall . . . impersonally. Perhaps her disguise was working well. Perhaps she did not appeal to a man of his experience and discrimination. Why did she suddenly feel disappointed? What woman would not wish for his attentions, even with the scars?

It would have been impossible to take on the role of governess, stuck away in his country estate, if he was looking for her to fulfill another, more inappropriate role, that of his bed partner. It would complicate her situation, which was already too complicated for her liking.

She needed this job.

The main appeal for her was living quietly in the country. Such a location suited her needs too. But she thought it sad he chose to hide himself away. His injuries must be more extensive than he revealed. She’d noted his left arm looked stiff and painful when he moved it.

“What is England like? Will I like living there?”

Lily’s question roused her from her thoughts, and she paused before answering. She looked around the room of this modest home. How did she tell this little girl her life was about to change dramatically? “Well, being the ward of the Earl will mean you will be mixing within high society. There will be loads of rules and formalities for you to learn. On the other hand, you’ll live in a grand house, with your own maid, and probably your own pony.”

“But I’ll still be alone.”

“You’ll have me, and Lord Markham, and loads of servants. I don’t think you’ll feel alone for very long.”

“That’s not the same as having a brother or sister.” She looked at Sarah with a serious expression on her face. “Lord Markham isn’t married. Papa told me once that Lord Markham has to marry because he’s the heir, and he must have a son. So, I’ll eventually have other children to play with. I won’t be alone then.”

Sarah’s chest contracted. “Yes. The Earl will marry—someday.”

Sarah wondered why he was yet to marry. Before his burns it would have been easy to find a wife. Women couldn’t seem to get enough of the handsome rake then. But now . . .

Her heart swelled with pity for the Earl. At one of her father’s balls, when she’d been fifteen and too young to attend, she’d slipped up the backstairs and hidden herself so that she could peer over the banister, watching everyone below.

He’d arrived with a group of other young bucks. All were very striking, but Lord Markham stood out, even within such an illustrious ensemble. He seemed taller and broader then any other of the male guests, and his gruff laugh had made her spine tingle. He was dashing in his officer’s uniform, and when he smiled, every woman there went weak at the knees, their fans fluttering wildly.

He had been the most sought-after man at the ball. It had annoyed her immensely to see her father’s latest mistress, Lady Sophie Campbell, try to seduce him. Lord Markham rose significantly in her esteem when he skillfully swept her simpering attempts aside.

Sarah sighed. It was a shame, really. If he hadn’t originally been so Adonis-like, with hair so thick and black and with long-lashed eyes a spectacular shade of pine-tree green, then perhaps one would not notice the hideous disfigurement as much. It stood in stark contrast to the beauty on the left side of his face.

She watched Lily take another bite of her scone. Her face was pinched in concentration, trying to keep the crumbs on her plate. She had copied every move Sarah had made since they had sat down to have their tea.

“How did your husband die?”

The question startled Sarah, and for a moment she could not speak.

“My mama and papa died because they got caught in a snowstorm. Lord Markham says they didn’t suffer. They simply fell asleep. Did your husband suffer?” Lily’s smile died, and her face was solemn. “No one should have to suffer.”

Oh, the innocence of the young! Some people deserved to suffer. Personally, Sarah hoped her husband was in hell, suffering greatly. She crossed her fingers behind her back and hoped God would understand. She lied to ease the child’s pain.

“My husband was very old. He died in his sleep.”

Lily nodded. A small tear slipped down her cheek. “Mrs. Hobson says there is no point in tears, but I miss my parents.” She looked up at Sarah, anguish marking her young face. Sarah opened her arms, and Lily flew into them.

Sarah cuddled her close and let her cry. And cry. And cry, until slowly the tears dried up.

“Do you know that you can still talk to your parents? They mightn’t be able to answer back, but they will hear you.” She gently swept Lily’s fringe of bangs out of her eyes.

“Even if I’m in a faraway country such as England? I have to go there soon with Lord Markham.”

“Oh, honey, they are with you wherever you go.”

“Truly?”

“They are up in heaven, but you will never be alone, because you carry them in your heart. You can talk to them wherever you are in the world.”