Page 35 of The Defiant Governess
The two horses kicked up a cloud of dust, leaving Jane to settle her own swirling emotions as she made her own way towards the crumbling stone ruins.
Saybrook tetheredtheir horses on a grassy knoll and took up both baskets.
“I should like to show Peter the Abbey before luncheon, if you don’t mind, sir,” said Jane. “It is his history lesson for the day.”
“Of course.”
They had entered an open courtyard, and though the walls were now no taller than an average man’s chest they formed a shelter from the breeze. The sun had warmed the grass and grey stone, making it feel quite pleasant. Saybrook placed both the large hamper and his smaller basket down and unfolded a large blanket that had been tucked on top of Cook’s repast.
“This seems a perfect spot.” He turned a questioning look to Jane and she nodded her approval.
“Now Peter, let us start with the main building. There is a fascinating story about it ….” She took the boy’s hand and led him away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Saybrook take something from his basket and walk in an opposite direction. She thought she heard the sound of running water coming from somewhere close by, but as Peter was tugging at her hand, she quickly returned her attention to showing him around.
To her surprise, Saybrook joined them shortly thereafter. She hadn’t expected him to show any interest in a tour of the ruins, but he fell in step with them, his hands clasped behind his back, his head slightly cocked as if attentive to her every word. In fact, she was acutely aware of his gaze, even with her back turned, as she explained to Peter the design of the buttresses in the transept of the ancient church.
As they strolled to examine some of the outbuildings Jane began to tell him about the part the abbey had played in the battle between Henry III and Simon de Montfort.
“Henry’s son, Edward, had moved his men here to camp right alongside the abbey,” began Jane.
“Edward was called Longshanks, you know, because he was so tall,” interrupted Saybrook. “He was a superb horseman—in fact, that is how he escaped from de Montfort in the first place. Do you know that story?”
Peter shook his head, and Saybrook gave a brief but very lucid explanation of the conflict between the King of England and his brother-in-law, Simon de Montfort. The boy listened in rapt attention.
“Sorry,” apologized Saybrook as he finished and looked over at Jane. “I interrupted you.” The surprise must have been so evident on her face that he added,” I did manage to learn a few things while at Oxford. History was a favorite subject of mine.”
“Please,” she smiled. “Do go on.”
As she listened to him regale Peter with the exploits of long-ago heroes, she couldn’t help but think of how he constantly surprised her. In moments such as these, it was hard to believe there was a cold and unbearably proud side to him—which appeared to be the face that he wished the world to see. It seemed to her that when the mask slipped—which was occurring with increasing frequency over the past few weeks—it revealed a sensitive, caring person.
Even now, as he spoke to his ward, his features were alive with good spirits and his eyes held the warmth of summer rain. With his hair tousled by the wind and curling softly around his ears and neck he looked rather boyish and vulnerable. And even more handsome than ever.
Saybrook looked up to find her staring at him.
“Have I said something with which you disagree? You must not hesitate to correct my facts. It has been a long time since I have been in a schoolroom.”
Jane quickly lowered her eyes. “Not at all, milord. I, too, have been entranced by your story. I feel that I’ve been given a holiday from my duties. You had best beware, else I ask you to consider adding tutoring history to your other responsibilities at Highwood.” She kept her tone light and bantering, hoping that he would never guess her true thoughts.
They had walked on beyond the ruins of the buttery and sheds to where a stream flowed through a small copse of oaks.
“Oh, look,” cried Peter and dashed to the edge of the water where he began launching small sticks into the current.
“Mind your feet,” called Jane. “I don’t want you to catch a chill.” She turned to Saybrook. “What is it about water and mud that attracts little boys like a flame does moths?” She laughed. “It will be a wonder if there is a clean spot of linen on his shirt when he is finished.”
Saybrook chuckled. “I seem to remember doing exactly the same thing at his age.”
“I can’t imagine.”
A look of genuine surprise came over his face. “Why is that?”
“Well, it’s hard to imagine you unbending and having fun, milord,” she answered just to tease him.
“You think I’m stuffy?”
“Mmmm. High in the instep might be another way of putting it.”
“Hmmph,” snorted the marquess. “You are being impertinent, Miss Langley.”
“And you are being—how did you put it?—stuffy, my lord. If you intend to tease me, as you did earlier, you must expect to get it back.”
