Not Just a Governess (15 page)

Besides which, Neville’s actions two months ago had ensured that in future she could never ask, or expect, anything more than desire from any man! ‘I believe it is.’ She settled more comfortably against him.

Adam breathed in deeply through his nose, his normal iron control far more tenuous than he would have wished it to be as Elena snuggled against the warmth of his chest, knowing he should insist that she go, that she leave him, but for the moment unable to find the words, or the willpower, to insist she do so.

‘Why were you so aloof during luncheon today?’

Adam flinched. His intention earlier today, of distancing himself from Elena, in an effort to put their relationship back on an acceptable footing, had been rendered completely redundant in light of her revelations this afternoon.

He no longer had any choice in the matter; he had to remain aloof from her, for Elena’s own benefit as much as his own.

He dug deep inside himself to add the necessary steel to that resolve as he grasped hold of Elena’s arms and raised her to her feet before standing up himself and moving away from her. ‘I should have thought that was obvious.’

‘Not to me.’ She looked utterly bewildered.

Adam’s mouth firmed. He had to be cruel to be kind and force her away from him before he kissed her again and they were both lost. ‘Because I had decided you are not a woman I wish to become involved with, either as Mrs Elena Leighton or Miss Magdelena Matthews.’

Elena drew into herself as if struck, as Adam’s complete rejection of her hit with the force of a blow, bringing a return of those stinging tears to her eyes. Tears she could not allow Adam to see fall for a second time. ‘I am sorry if I—I shall do as you suggest and return upstairs to my bedchamber.’

He nodded. ‘Amanda and I will accompany the two of you to London tomorrow. I really cannot allow my grandmother to go haring about the English countryside alone in the
company of a young woman who has been accused of murder!’

Elena gave a pained gasp even as her face paled once again.

Causing Adam to clench his hands at his sides in an effort to prevent himself from going to her and taking her in his arms once more; he dared not allow himself to so much as touch Elena again until this situation had been sorted out once and for all. Her safety came first. She was in such terrible danger from that villainous cousin of hers.

He had every intention of ensuring that she would be safe, and as soon as possible.

‘T
his has just arrived for you.’ Lady Cicely smiled warmly as she bustled into the bedchamber Elena had occupied this past four days and nights at the lady’s London house in Grosvenor Square, her arms occupied with carrying a large oblong box.

Since she’d been here Elena had not so much as set eyes upon that lady’s grandson. Nor had he spoken a single word to her during their two-day journey back to town, Adam having ridden on horseback whilst the three ladies travelled in the carriage, and his parting had been brusque in the extreme once they reached Lady Cicely’s home. Elena had been left in a constant state of nerves as to
what he intended doing with the information he now had as to her real identity.

‘For me…?’ Elena now eyed the older woman doubtfully as Lady Cicely placed the large box down upon the bedcovers.

She nodded. ‘Open it up and let us take a look inside.’

‘But who can it be from?’ Elena eyed the box as if were a snake about to strike.

‘Who else should it be from but Adam, of course,’ Lady Cicely said impatiently. ‘I do so hope that for once he paid heed to my instructions…’ she added worriedly.

Elena felt her heart sink to the black boots she wore with one of the black gowns she had once again donned before travelling back to London, the pretty new gowns and bonnets Adam had purchased for her seeming entirely inappropriate to her present situation. ‘Adam? I mean, Lord Hawthorne has sent me a gift?’

She was even less inclined to open the box now that she knew who it came from.

Lady Cicely made herself comfortable on the side of the bed. ‘Are you not curious to see what is inside?’ she encouraged.

It would be very rude of her, in view of this lady’s kindness to her, to reply as she wished to, with ‘not in the least’! For Elena could not
think of anything that Adam might wish to send to her which in the least warranted Lady Cicely’s present air of expectation.

‘I do not understand…’ Several minutes later she stared down nonplussed at the beautiful gown of white silk and lace that had been revealed nestled within the tissue paper inside the box, a turquoise ribbon sewn beneath the bodice, several matching ribbons accompanying it obviously intended to adorn her hair.

‘He did listen!’ Lady Cicely nodded approvingly. ‘And the ribbon is a nice touch.’ She held up one of the hair ribbons. ‘An exact match in colour with your eyes. Perhaps there is hope for my grandson, after all,’ she added speculatively.

Elena looked dazed. ‘Why would Lord Hawthorne order an evening gown made and be delivered to me here…?’

‘So that you may wear it when Adam escorts us to dinner this evening, of course.’ Lady Cicely stood up briskly. ‘I shall send my own maid to attend you, for you must look your very best—does the gown not meet with your approval, my dear?’ She frowned as Elena simply continued to stare down at the gown.

‘It is a beautiful gown.’ She nodded distractedly.

‘But?’

‘But you must know, as must Lord Hawthorne, that I cannot be seen out and about with you in London, this evening or any other. Not only have I not been presented at Court, but for obvious reasons I am like to be arrested if I so much as show my face in society.’ She had not even stepped outside of this house since arriving back in London. Indeed, Elena had spent those same four days constantly waiting for the sound of the knock upon the door, which would herald the arrival of the authorities, come to arrest her and lock her away in a prison cell.

‘You will not be seen out and about in town, and you are allowed to attend a private dinner party without being presented,’ Lady Cicely assured her.

Elena made no attempt to hide her bewilderment at this plan. ‘As what? I would not be invited to a private dinner party as Mrs Elena Leighton and I certainly cannot attend as Miss Magdelena Matthews.’

Lady Cicely grasped both Elena’s hands in her own, her expression intense. ‘Do you trust
me not to do anything which would bring you further unhappiness?’

‘Of course.’

The older woman nodded her satisfaction with the swiftness of her answer. ‘And do you trust Adam to do the same?’

Elena hesitated, unsure of her feelings towards Adam Hawthorne since the evening he had stated his own lack of interest in continuing any sort of relationship, even friendship, with her. ‘I trust him not to do anything which would bring
you
unhappiness,’ she finally answered guardedly.

Lady Cicely smiled ruefully. ‘Your manners do you great credit, my dear,’ she said. ‘And I will admit that Adam has been irritating in his absence recently, but—’

‘I expected nothing less,’ Elena assured hastily. ‘He has already been more than kind in allowing me to remain here with you for this amount of time.’

‘Nevertheless, he could have been a little less…elusive.’ Lady Cicely pursed her lips disapprovingly. ‘But, he did make the arrangements for the dinner party this evening, so I expect I shall forgive him for—’

‘We are dining at Lord Hawthorne’s home tonight?’ Elena gasped.

‘Oh, no, my dear Elena.’ Lady Cicely beamed. ‘Tonight we are to dine at the home of my dear friend, Edith St Just, the Dowager Duchess of Royston!’

‘Is it Lord Hawthorne’s intention to publicly humiliate me by having me arrested in front of witnesses?’ Elena backed away, from both Lady Cicely and the box containing that beautiful silk evening gown, tears now glistening in the deep and pained blue-green of her eyes.

Lady Cicely looked shocked. ‘How could you think I would ever allow such a thing to happen? Or that Adam would ever do something so callously unfeeling?’

Elena had no idea what Adam was capable of anymore, as she no longer felt as if she knew him at all; certainly the man who had dismissed her so coldly that last evening at Hawthorne Hall had not been the same caring and sensitive man who had made love to her the evening before.

She shook her head. ‘Then I do not understand the purpose of my inclusion in this private dinner party this evening.’

Lady Cicely wrinkled her nose. ‘And, for the moment, I am not at liberty to tell you, I am afraid.’

Elena looked vexed. ‘In that case I believe I would rather not accept the dowager duchess’s invitation.’

‘That will not do at all, my dear Elena,’ Lady Cicely tutted. ‘Indeed, there would be no purpose in the dinner taking place at all if you were not present.’

‘But—’

‘I believe, by insisting you be allowed to stay here with her, that my grandmother has given you her trust, unconditionally,’ Adam Hawthorne said from across the room. ‘Is it too much for her to ask that you now do the same for her?’

Elena had spun round at the first sound of his voice, a guilty blush colouring her cheeks before she paled, as she wondered how much of their conversation he had overheard.

Her breath stilled in her throat, as she now took in his appearance in black evening clothes and snowy-white linen, the darkness of his hair fashionably dishevelled about his ears and across his brow, the eyes beneath of a chilling grey as he returned her gaze with his usual haughty arrogance.

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue before speaking. ‘I did not in the least
mean to cast doubts upon Lady Cicely’s good intentions.’

‘Only my own?’ Adam guessed drily as he easily took in the scene before him: the evening gown revealed inside the open box placed atop the bed, the pallor of Elena’s face against the black gown she presently wore, his grandmother’s expression of exasperation as she looked across the bedchamber at him. ‘Would you leave us alone for a moment, Grandmama?’

She frowned her disapproval. ‘Is that wise, Adam?’

‘I am sure it is not,’ he allowed ruefully. ‘But Miss Matthews’s present demeanour makes it necessary.’

‘Very well.’ His grandmother gave Elena’s hand a reassuring squeeze before she crossed the room with a swish of her taffeta skirts. ‘Five minutes and I shall be sending my maid to attend Elena,’ she warned softly.

His gaze remained steadily fixed on Elena as he gave his grandmother an acknowledging inclination of his head, waiting only until they were alone before speaking again. ‘Do you not like the gown?’

‘The gown is…lovely, as I am sure you are
aware,’ she dismissed agitatedly. ‘It is the reason it’s here that I find so…unacceptable.’

His mouth tightened. ‘The dowager duchess does you a great honour by inviting you into her home.’

Elena may have spent most of her life hidden away in the country, but even there she had heard of how coveted invitations were to the Dowager Duchess of Royston’s rare private dinner parties—making her own invitation this evening all the more extraordinary. ‘Is she aware of
whom
she is inviting?’

‘Yes.’

She spread her hands. ‘I am not even acquainted with the lady.’

‘But I am. As is my grandmother. And you are currently a guest in my grandmother’s home…’

‘And I understand from your grandmother that you are the one who instigated the dowager duchess’s invitation—’

‘That is something she should not have told you!’ He scowled darkly.

‘Why are you doing this?’ Elena groaned. ‘Is it as punishment for the deception I practised upon you when I took up employment in your household?’

His mouth tightened. ‘If there was time I
would put you over my knee for the insult you have just given me,’ he growled. ‘As it is, you have precisely one hour to bathe, change into the gown in that box and arrange the ribbons in your hair, all in readiness for dining out this evening.’

‘You cannot make me go.’ Her chin rose in challenge as she met his gaze defiantly.

‘No?’

Elena felt a cold shiver down her spine at the soft menace she detected in his tone. ‘Can you not understand that I do not wish to embarrass the dowager duchess, let alone myself, by appearing as a guest in her home?’

It had taken Adam the whole of the past four days to make arrangements for this evening’s dinner party and he did not intend to allow Elena’s stubbornness to jeopardise all that he had put in place. Nor could he tell her of those arrangements, for if he did, he knew she would certainly refuse to attend.

‘How is Amanda?’ Elena enquired. ‘I have sorely missed her company recently.’

‘As she has missed yours,’ he said. ‘And do not change the subject, Elena.’ He crossed the room in long, predatory strides, until he stood only inches away from her, not quite touching, but close enough that he could feel
the heat of her body. As Elena could no doubt feel his. ‘Do you trust me?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Your grandmother has just asked me that very same question.’

He reached out to smooth the frown from her brow, fingers lingering on the warmth of that silky-smooth skin. ‘And what answer did you give?’

Her gaze lowered. ‘That I believed you could be trusted not to cause Lady Cicely any unhappiness or embarrassment.’

His mouth twisted wryly. ‘That is something, I suppose.’ His hand fell back to his side as a knock sounded on the bedchamber door. ‘That will be my grandmother’s maid come to attend you. You have one hour to make yourself ready, Elena,’ he repeated. ‘And I should warn you that I will not appreciate it if you put me to the trouble of having to come back up here and button you into that gown myself!’

‘You would not dare!’ She gasped indignantly.

‘I think you know that I would.’

Elena glared at him, knowing by the implacability of that unblinking silver gaze that Adam meant exactly what he said.

She drew in a ragged breath. ‘Very well, I shall be ready to leave in one hour. But—’

‘Pity,’ he drawled. ‘I believe I should, after all, have enjoyed helping you into your gown. Not as much as I would enjoy helping you out of it, of course, but that is perhaps something for another time…’ Adam sketched her a mocking bow as she gasped again, his gaze lingering on those parted lips for several long seconds before he turned to cross the room and open the door to admit the maid.

Elena studied her appearance critically in the mirror once Lady Cicely’s maid had left to attend her mistress. The ivory of her skin appeared almost translucent against the white-silk gown, the turquoise ribbons, beneath the low bodice of the gown and threaded through the darkness of her simply styled curls, enlarging and emphasising the colour of her eyes framed by stunningly long lashes.

She looked…innocently virginal, Elena realised with a choked sob. A young lady poised on the brink of womanhood. Something she was not now, nor ever could be again.

‘You look very beautiful.’

Elena turned slowly to face Adam as he stood in the open doorway, no longer surprised
at the manner in which he walked in and out of her bedchamber as though he had the right to do so. ‘Thank you, my lord.’ She gave an elegant curtsy, silky dark lashes lowered so that he should not see the tears still glittering in her eyes.

To say that Adam had been rendered breathless by the beauty of Elena’s appearance would be an understatement. This evening, in the white silk gown, she looked every inch the duke’s granddaughter that she undoubtedly was: cool, delicately elegant, innocently ravishing.

‘I have something for you. There is no need for you to look so alarmed, Elena,’ he soothed as he quickly crossed the room to her side.

She kept her lashes lowered. ‘You have been kind enough already in giving me this gown.’

Not nearly kind enough, Adam groaned inwardly, wishing he might shower her with all the kindnesses that had been absent from her life recently, as she was forced to run, and then hide, from the man who had made her life so unbearable after the death of her grandfather.

His gaze hardened, mouth thinning, as he thought of the things he would like to do to
that man for daring to harm so much as one dark curl upon Elena’s head. ‘I wish you to wear this single strand of pearls—they were my mother’s,’ he explained as she raised startled lashes to look at the pearl necklace he had withdrawn from the pocket of his evening jacket. ‘She wore them on the evening of her début into society.’

Elena shook her head in denial. ‘Then I could not possibly wear them.’

‘Of course you can.’