Page 23 of The Earl's Forbidden Governess
“My Lord,” the butler said with a slight bow of his head. “Forgive my interruption. I have come to tell you—as you asked me to do—that Miss Winslow and Lady Emily have concluded their last lesson for the morning.”
Edward nodded, the lines between his brows increasing. “Thank you, Harper,” he said after a long, brooding silence. “Please send Miss Winslow to me at once. I need to speak with her privately.”
If Samuel were surprised at this, he did not show it—instead, he merely nodded as though the request was not at all out of the ordinary. Edward took a deep breath and pressed his palms flat against his desk. He knew rather well that what he had planned in the back of his mind was rather unorthodox. Perhaps even foolish. And still, once he had allowed himself to entertain the idea it seemed like a quite logical one.
Perhaps, as he had attempted to convince himself, it was not weakness to admit that an ally could be helpful. And for some reason, he found himself trusting Catherine Winslow—not by any means an easy feat for him.
When a faint knock sounded at the door, he looked up quickly, then moved to sit behind his desk. “Enter.”
His voice boomed through the small study and after mere seconds, Catherine’s pale face glanced in, her eyes wide.
“You… you sent for me, My Lord?”
Though he could hear that she was trying to sound rather brave, it failed dismally. Instead, her voice was small, and ittrembled as though she was nervous. Edward bit back a smile at this.
So he made her nervous then?
“Miss Winslow,” he said firmly, his voice surprisingly neutral. “Thank you for attending to my call so quickly. Please—do sit.”
He could not help but notice the slight tremble of her hand and the shallow movement of her chest as she took a seat across from him. She crossed and uncrossed her ankles, then landed her fluttering hands in her lap before facing him.
“What… what is it that you wanted to discuss, My Lord?”
To his own mild surprise, Edward rose from his seat and moved around the desk, leaning against it as he gazed down at her. Suddenly, he was overly aware of her presence: the soft scent of lavender that clung to her hair, the graceful curve of her neck—not to mention, of course, the other soft curves that kept drawing his gaze to them.
“How is Emily faring?” he asked at last, directing his attention back to what was truly important. “With the preparations for the ball, I mean.”
Catherine’s face lit up at the question and a smile broke out over her face. For the first time, he noticed the slight dimplesin her cheeks when she smiled—and the way her eyes lit up made her look, if possible, even more virtuous. Of course, the thought of her virtue sent his mind rushing back to the kiss they had shared, and his chest warmed at the thought.
Catherine raised her hands, moving them about her chest wildly as she spoke—her eyes wide and alive with joy. “Oh, she is looking forward to all of it,” she exclaimed eagerly. “The dress, the dancing, the food… and of course, she is most of all looking forward to having you there as her chaperone.”
Her rosy lips parted slightly in excitement, and then she grinned brightly. Edward hesitated—it was, after all, the idea of his being there as chaperone that he had wanted to discuss with her.
“I am glad that she is looking forward to it,” he said, careful to keep his voice neutral. Catherine leaned forward at that, and once again the dimples appeared in her cheeks.
“Why, of course!” she insisted now. “You are her brother, and I do not believe you realize the extent to which she idolizes you… My Lord.”
Her face flushed and she looked down, pressing her hands tightly onto her lap once more. She tugged at her dress when she did this and for a few glorious seconds the material clung tightly to the curve of her breasts.
“I do believe,” he said, his gaze traveling over her form before finding her eyes again, “that she is quite satisfied with you as well?”
“Oh!” Catherine looked rather taken aback at this, though she flashed him a smile. “I should hope so, My Lord. I do like her.”
Edward nodded slowly. “Good,” he let out at last. “I have decided that you will attend the ball with us.”
“What?”
He watched with a subtle smile as absolute shock took hold of her features, her eyes widening, her skin flushing and her mouth falling open. “My Lord,” she let out, though it seemed that the words hurt to say. “I… certainly you cannot… it is not proper!”
Edward flashed her a stiff smile. “Of course not,” he explained in a rather reasonable fashion. “We will explain to them that you are a distant cousin, Lady Catherine Montague.”
“A distant… lady… My Lord, I fear I cannot…”
“And yet you shall.” Though his words were rather firm, Edward at least made an attempt to keep his tone light.
“But…” Catherine, it seemed, was not comforted by his lightened tone. “But… My Lord, forgive me… why?” Her eyes were wide with shock and her face was pale. “I mean… what purpose could it possibly serve?”
Edward’s jaw tightened and he looked down. How on earth did he explain to her why her presence would be somewhat of a comfort to him if he himself did not fully understand the reason for it?
