Page 23 of The Defiant Governess
“Oh, well played, milord,” she exclaimed in admiration. When she realized what she had said, another blush rose to her face. It was shocking to have spoken to him in such a friendly, familiar manner.
But instead of the set-down she expected, a genuine smile appeared fleetingly on Saybrook’s face, the first she had ever seen.
“Approval from Miss Langley,” he murmured. “Now that is high praise indeed!”
Jane averted her eyes, His tone had been light, bantering, but she chose to misunderstand it.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” she said stiffly. “I deserve your sarcasm for speaking to you in such a manner. I assure you I will endeavor to keep a rein on my tongue.”
He shot her a penetrating look, as if trying to fathom her feelings. “It was not …” he began, then stopped abruptly. His features hardened. The moment was past.
“Where did you learn to play? You have some skill. It is not something I would expect from someone of your background.”
Jane’s spine stiffened. So he was back to insulting her.Odious man!
“No, of course you wouldn’t. You have made it quite clear what you think of governesses.” She noted he had the grace to color slightly at having his own bad manners flung back at him. “I became childhood friends with a squire’s daughter, an only child, and was fortunate enough to be invited to share lessonswith her. Her father taught us both to play, but only I had the inclination to continue. I dare say I learned a few things from him.”
“I see. And what family was that?”
Jane had decided on the story of the squire’s family to answer any questions about her background. It was safest to stay close to the truth, and the story was true for Miss Langley. However, she hadn’t expected any real probing.
“A minor member of the gentry,” she said quickly. “Younger son … never goes to London.” She quickly rose. “And now, if you will excuse me, sir, I would like to retire.”
He raised an eyebrow but made no comment. He merely gave a short nod.
Saybrook poredhimself another brandy after Jane had left, then settled into a comfortable armchair near the fire. Stretching out his long legs, he stared into the flames while letting the amber spirits warm his insides.Why was it that he always seemed to feel so cold here?He looked at his glass. He was drinking more than was good for him, he mused. He should have a care—but it seemed to be the only thing that dulled the pain.
The marquess let his mind wander back over the day’s events. What had possessed him to allow that impertinent slip of a governess to stay on rather than sending her packing without references? He shook his head. He had been furious, but had also felt a grudging admiration for the spirit and courage it took for her to speak, knowing full well that it meant instant dismissal. He had also known that her anger had stemmed from concern for Peter.
For that he was sincerely grateful.
And she had been right, he told himself with brutal honesty. He had been behaving dismally, no matter that there were …
He quaffed another long swallow of brandy.
In any case, he wouldn’t dismiss a servant for speaking the truth, no matter how much it stung. And then suddenly, he nearly shouted with laughter—she had threatened to horsewhip him, the impudent chit! It was truly outside of enough.
Miss Jane Langley.Her story explained why her bearing and demeanor were unlike that of a simple farm girl. Still, he had the feeling there was more to the story than she had let on. His eyes fell half-closed as he regarded the flames. But why was he even thinking of a sharp-tongued governess, one who seemed to make sparks fly whenever he got near her.
It was well enough to know that Peter was in good hands. He could leave Highwood with a clear conscience.
Glavin entered the room, then stopped short when he saw Saybrook sprawled in the chair. “Your pardon, milord. I didn’t realize you were still up. Shall I stoke the fire for you?”
“No, Glavin. You may retire. I shall see to things myself.”
“But sir,” remonstrated the butler.
“I am perfectly capable of banking a fire and carrying my own candle upstairs.” Saybrook smiled at the old retainer. “Off to bed with you, and that is an order.”
“Yes, Mister Edward,” replied Glavin fondly. “Though I daresay you should sleep yourself.” He looked with concern at the glass in Saybrook’s hand, making the marquess feel as if he were eight years old again.
“I will,” he replied though it was another few hours and glasses of brandy before he headed to his own chambers.
Five
Jane slipped into the stables and smiled a greeting at the young groom mucking out stalls.
“Mister Henry ‘as ‘er all saddled up fer ye, Miss,” he piped.
