The Impossible Governess (17 page)

He raced down the corridor and burst through the Marissa’
s bedroom door—and rocked back on his heels.  Georgeanne was merrily attacking a laughing Marissa with a pillow.

***  Chapter 11  ***

Catching his breath, Raynor stood in the doorway and stared at Georgeanne, a magnificent sight with her silk wrapper open, exposing an almost sheer night shift, and her honey curls flying about her head as she gleefully pounded his little niece with a pillow.  He shook his head, wondering what mayhem the governess was committing. 
At least he knew no one was in any danger of being killed or maimed, discounting, of course, his own urge to put his hands around Georgeanne’s slender neck and strangle her for scaring the wits out of him.   “What’s going on here!” he growled. 

With their pillows raised high in preparation for new assaults, both combatants suddenly went still as porcelain figurines.  Slowly, they lowered their pillows and turned toward Raynor.

Marissa’s face split in a grin as she cried out, “We are having a pillow fight, Uncle Tony!”

“Do you know what time it is, Miss Forsythe?” he demanded.

“Quite late, I am sure, my lord,” she answered demurely.

“Quite late,” he mimicked, “and too damned late for such silliness.”

“But it is not silliness, my lord.” 

There was that hint of a challenge in her voice again that no other servant would ever consider using with him.  Heaving a sigh of resignation, he dutifully said, “No, I’m sure it’s not.  Pray, explain yourself.”

“Did you never have a pillow fight?” asked Georgeanne, her sparkling eyes fixed on his.

“Yes, often with my brother when we were young,” he acknowledged begrudgingly
.  He was finding it difficult not to stare at her heaving chest.

“Then, you were lucky, my lord,” she said. “I was an only child, just as Marissa.  There was no one to do battle with, except I found it did help to beat off the bog
eymen who threatened me at night.”

“It works, too, Uncle Tony.”  Marissa was bouncing excitedly on the bed with her pillow ready to engage in another battle.

“Here, my lord,” Georgeanne called out challengingly as she tossed a pillow to him.

Raynor had had just enough to drink to make him a bit reckless.  A competitor by nature, the impish devil lurking behind Georgeanne’s green eyes beckoned him to accept the dare.  Mindful of the restrictive cut of his coat, as well as his valet’s disapproving look should he tear it, Raynor removed the double breasted jacket and tossed it carelessly across a white wicker rocker.  The
n he retrieved the pillow from the floor and struck a fencing pose, his fluffy weapon sadly drooping.

“
En garde
, ladies!” he cried out, then launched himself toward the bed, swinging the pillow with all the enthusiasm of a twelve year old. 

The three were soon engaged in a raucous battle.  Since his lordship tended to tower over them, the ladies quickly joined forces to defend themselves against their superior foe with Marissa standing on the bed and Georgeanne kneeling next to her.  Raynor had found it necessary to catch his niece in his arms on several occasions when she was in peril of pitching herself off the bed while exuberantly attacking her uncle where he stood before them, surefooted, valiantly defending his position
.

On one particularly ferocious charge made by the girls, Raynor was forced to step back, and Georgeanne, quite caught up in the moment, made a lunge to pelt him on his right flank, only ending up missing him completely, and tumbled head first for the floor. 

Madly clutching at the air, she suddenly found herself in Raynor’s arms and shamelessly clung to him for dear life.

He’d thought nothing of grabbing for the governess just as he had done his little niece.  Upon contact, however, his senses immediately told him of the difference.  While both of them were breathing heavily from their exertions, he held her close to his chest and was highly aware of the pleasing contours of her soft warm body.  From the surprised expression on her face, he knew she was experiencing similar feelings about him as well.  She glanced up to see his face, unwittingly giving him access to those very kissable lips of hers, now invitingly parted.  His whole being was focused on her, and his mouth slowly descended to hers, hungry for a taste of her sweetness, when a small insistent voice penetrated through his lust.

“Georgie, Georgie, are you all right?” Marissa was shouting.

“Yes, yes, dear,” answered Georgeanne, sounding more than a little flustered.   She brought her hands up and push
ed away from Raynor’s chest.  She did not meet his eyes but instead concentrated on setting to right her wrapper, which had opened to reveal her flimsy muslin night rail, and smoothing her tangled locks. 

Dry mouthed, Raynor watched, particularly noting Georgeanne’s disheveled attire.  He felt deflated by her efforts to tidy her appearance, knowing her actions signaled the end of their mock battle.  It had been a long time since he could remember shedding his familial and social restrictions and having a truly rousing good time.  Regrettably, he considered how improper the situation was. 

“Are you sure you’re not hurt, Miss Forsythe?” While he echoed his niece’s concern for her welfare, his tone was no longer playful.  The fun was over, and the haughty aristocrat returned.

“Yes, I am quite all right, my lord.  And now, Marissa, it is late and you need sleep.”

Taking his cue from Georgeanne, Raynor reached over to give his little niece a quick hug before decorously addressing a good night to her.  He looked at Georgeanne’s flushed face and knew she’d shared his passion.  “Good night, Miss Forsythe,” he said, and then most reluctantly made his exit.   He headed for the library, knowing that sleep would elude him for a good portion of the night.

~~~~~

Many afternoons, Lady Ashbury kept Georgeanne busy with preparations for the upcoming ball.  She wrote out invitations in an elegant flowing script and eagerly volunteered to run errands, especially since this provided a good excuse for Marissa and her to escape the schoolroom.  The weather had turned unseasonably warm, and the flowers and shrubs were in bloom, making that particular part of town with its formal gardens and numerous parks and squares a scenic delight.

One morning, just as Georgeanne and Marissa were preparing to leave on an errand, they encountered Raynor, also headed for the front entrance.  She gave a small smile as a greeting and he checked himself, then returned her smile with one of his own before bending down to give Marissa a hug.  When he stood again, his eyes locked with hers for a long moment.

“Where are you ladies off to so early this morning?” he asked in an unusually affable manner.

“We are going to get ices for Aunt Lillian’s party, Uncle Tony,” supplied Marissa, skipping along beside Georgeanne who was finding it difficult not to stare at Raynor.  His good humor had her pulse racing.

“Ah, Gunther’s.  Do you plan on partaking of a special treat while there?”

“Georgie said I could have one if I am very good,” answered Marissa with a bright smile.

Figuring Raynor had ample ammunition to find fault with their plans, Georgeanne half expected to be ordered back to the schoolroom to resume lessons.  Therefore, she was completely taken aback when he said, “Since my curricle is waiting at the door, I’d be delighted if you’d let me take you to the confectionery shop, Miss Forsythe.”

Trailing behind Mar
issa and her uncle, Georgeanne noted Raynor’s broad shoulders straining the blue riding jacket tapering to his slim waist and the buckskin breeches hugging his muscular thighs.  When he glanced over his shoulder, Georgeanne saw the look in his eyes and knew she’d been caught studying his physique.  As she felt heat rising in her cheeks, he further surprised her when he asked, “Have you done any more sight-seeing lately, Miss Forsythe?”

“I beg pardon, my lord?”

“That is, since your visit to Astley’s Royal Circus?” he inquired with a crooked smile.

They had reached the pavement in front of the house where a groom stood at the head of two perfectly matched chestnuts.  Turning to Marissa, Raynor effortlessly picked up his niece and, with tender care, placed her in the center of the carriage cushion.  Then with the gravest courtesy, he reached for Georgeanne’s hand and assisted her in stepping up to the high perch seat.

She continued to avoid answering him by helping Marissa situate herself while Raynor went around to the other side of the curricle.  After he took the reins from the groom, he turned his questioning gaze on her.

“Surely you won’t have me believe you’ve kept yourselves locked in the schoolroom all this time?”  He gave a chuckle and flicked the reins over the backs of the horses, giving the team its office to pull away from the curb.

“We go to the park almost every day, don’t we, Georgie?” piped up Marissa, ever ready to divulge all to her uncle, much to Georgeanne’s chagrin.

“Sounds rather tame, Marissa,” he said, giving the child a mischievous look.  “What would you say to an excursion to the Menagerie.  Since it’s located in the Tower of London, which reeks of history, we could safely categorize such an outing as educational, don’t you agree, Miss Forsythe?”

“Oh yes, Uncle Tony,” Marissa cried excitedly and turned to Georgeanne.  “Can we go, Georgie?”

“Yes, of course,” Georgeanne replied, laughing with Raynor over the little girl’s enthusiasm as she bounced around on the seat between them.  Meeting Raynor’s eye, Georgeanne tried to swallow some of her own excitement at spending time with him. 

The ride to Gunther’s was exhilarating.  Exhibiting a natural expertise, Raynor tooled his team effortlessly through the crowed streets.  To avoid a traffic jam caused by an overturned rig and a coach that blocked the roadway, he turned down a narrow alley and crossed a busy intersection with the ability and confidence of a member of the Four-in-Hand Club.  All the while, he regaled his passengers with amusing anecdotes of his youth.  Marissa was spellbound by her uncle’s easy manner and at the confectionery shop sat as quiet as a mouse, eating two ices.

When he took time to eat his own treat, and Marissa, staring up at him as though he were some sort of mythical god, said, “Don’t stop, Uncle Tony.  Please tell me more?”

Georgeanne went to lay a restraining hand on Marissa, but Raynor, in turn, told her not to fret.  “Aren’t you always telling me, Miss Forsythe, that it’s only natural for a child to show excitement?”

Since this was said with a laugh, Georgeanne readily agreed, marveling over how different this experience was from the last time they’d visited the confectionery shop.  The affable lord now sharing boyhood stories with them was scarcely like the haughty aristocrat that the polite world of the
ton
saw. 

She remembered once having remarked to Townsend how stern and dour her employer was.  “Why, I doubt the man possesses a friendly bone in his body.” 

Laughing, Townsend shook his head.  “That’s because you’re a female, Georgeanne.  Tony learned long ago when he inherited not to trust any of your sex where a title and money were concerned.”

At the time she’d thought it strange, but now experiencing Raynor’s unrestrained laughter and smiles, Georgeanne wondered what sort of disillusionment he’d suffered.  For her fertile imagination, it was easy to conjure up the image of Raynor as a callow youth in the hands of some grasping, wanton woman who had ruthlessly used the sensitive young peer, leaving him emotionally scared.  Or was it really as Lady Ashbury said?  Had his brother’s death and the responsibilities of the title changed him so markedly?

Still, a certain reserve existed between them, almost as though he were afraid to let the barriers completely down for fear she would get too close.  And there was the blatant absence of any mention of Townsend.  Never once did he mention a time spent with his best friend.

When they arrived at the Tower, Raynor informally acted as their guide, explaining mainly for Marissa’s benefit what each animal was and something of its habitat.  There were lions, tigers, bears and a hyena.  To Georgeanne, these creatures of the wild looked extremely listless and sad.

“Look how small their cages are.  It must be awful being trapped behind bars.  There, my lord,” said Georgeanne, pointing to several eagles tied with thongs to huge tree branches and wooden beams.  “See how they prohibit the birds from taking flight?  Is it not cruel?”

Raynor’s blue eyes studied her for a long moment.  Finally, he said barely above a whisper, “So, too, does life treat some people, Miss Forsythe.”

Before Georgeanne could respond to his enigmatic reply, several young school boys joined them, and Raynor indicated he wished to leave.  They exited the building and started toward the street, where the groom awaited with the curricle.  Suddenly he bent down and scooped Marissa up in his arms, giving her a great bear hug, much to the little girl’s delight.

“You had a good time today?”  His voice had taken on the tenor of the haughty aristocrat again.  Patiently, he listened to Marissa’s ecstatic affirmations before extracting a promise from her to work extra hard at her studies next week.

Turning to Georgeanne, he looked directly in her eyes and said, “To answer your earlier question, Miss Forsythe, it is possible the animals are unhappy because of the loss of their freedom.  But in return, they are well fed and cared for, living what some would call a pampered existence compared to the trials they would have faced if still in the jungle.  So it is the same with people.  Sometimes fate forces us to play a hand we’d rather not have been dealt.”