The Governess Club: Claire (7 page)

“I fail to see what is interesting about stars,” Sophie said, her nose tilted at the angle only eleven-year-olds could manage.

How little she knows
, Claire thought to herself. Her thoughts went back to that kiss she and Mr. Knightly shared outside her window. Days later, it still made her body tingle. Then later, standing beside him in the darkness, his coat keeping her warm and his arm a comforting weight across her shoulders as he pointed out the names of different stars. If he asked her now, she wouldn’t be able to recall any of those names, but describing the sensation of being held by him? She could write a whole book on that. His arm had been draped lazily, but possessively, warming her . . .

“MISS BANNISTER!”

Good heavens, she must get hold of herself. “My apologies again, ladies.” Taking a deep breath, she thought of how to distract them. “It appears that this is meant to be a leisure day. Shall we spend the afternoon at the lake?”

Squeals followed her suggestion, and skirts flurried around small legs. With a smile, Claire rose to her feet and addressed the maid waiting in the corner. “Lucy, could you fetch towels please?”

“Of course, Miss Bannister.”

“Would you like to join us?” Claire asked as Lucy made her way to the door.

“Thanks fer the offer, Miss, but if ye don’t mind, I’d be takin’ this time ta tidy up in a ways I can’t when the children are underfoot.”

“I understand. Could you bring a picnic basket out in a couple of hours? I am sure the girls would enjoy a cold luncheon this afternoon. It is so gorgeous out today.” Claire moved to her room to change into her swimming dress.

“Of course, Miss,” Lucy replied. “And fer the young masters?”

“I don’t know where Mr. Knightly has taken them,” Claire said. “We will simply have to wait for their return.” She was unsure of how to interpret what his absence made her feel.

An hour later, Claire sat on the grass, sunning herself as she watched the girls play in the water. Her hair was beginning to dry and frizzle around her head, but she didn’t care; being out of doors on such a day was a treat. She could always wash and brush her hair later. She tilted her head back to catch more of the sun’s rays, smiling at the playful shrieks coming from the water.

A call from the direction of the house captured her attention. Shielding her eyes from the sun, Claire saw Jacob walking toward the lake with the two boys, swinging a picnic basket at his side. Peter and Michael were already pulling off their coats and shoes, their eyes eagerly on the play in the lake. With barely a greeting to her, they discarded their shirts and pants, rushing to the shore in only their smalls, their shrieks as high-pitched as their sisters’.

Jacob grinned at her as he stopped close to her side. Gazing down at her tilted face and outstretched legs, a bolt of lust rushed through his body. Since that night on the roof, his dreams had been haunted by the memory of her lips and body against his, causing him to wake in uncomfortable states. One night he even embarrassed himself when he saw the stain on the sheets. “We intercepted Lucy on her way from the nursery,” he said, indicating the basket. “A leisure day seems well in order.” He dropped the basket on the ground and knelt down, his head cocked to the side. “To think, I have never actually seen a bird with its feathers ruffled; now I have no need to.”

Claire frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

He reached out and tugged her frizzy hair. “Just that, birdie.” He grinned as she swatted his hand away. “Coming for a swim?” He straightened and started pulling off his clothing.

The ability to think deserted her. Claire stared as his physique was revealed, one piece of clothing at a time. When he began to pull his shirt out of his pantaloons, breathing was forgotten. Good heavens, had she actually pressed herself against that? Did all men’s chests look like that? Claire could not stop herself from staring at the muscles dancing across his torso and abdomen as he finished stripping off his shirt. Light curly hair carpeted his chest, tapering down until it disappeared beneath his . . .

Heavens, was he going to remove his pantaloons as well? Claire felt faint but could not move, could not swallow, could not breathe. All she could do was stare and silently beg him to not stop at his pantaloons.

“Are you going to swim?” His repeated question jerked her out of her trance. Claire felt her face burn with embarrassment at her thoughts.

“Miss Bannister.” Claire was grateful for young Allison’s interruption. Not only did it keep her from having to speak to Jacob before she had composed herself, it gave her something to look at other than his magnificent chest. A chest that would put Michelangelo’s
David
to shame, a chest that all the gods on Olympus would envy, a chest that . . .

Dear heavens, there she went again, writing a book about the man.

“Yes, Miss Allison?” she asked.

“I don’t want to swim no more.”

“I suppose that answers my question,” Jacob said. He gave her a half-smile and let his gaze linger appreciatively on her legs before heading to the water to join the other children.

Claire watched as he walked away, knowing she should feel ashamed for taking such pleasure in the sight, but she felt no such thing. Heavens, but his backside was glorious.

L
ucy had a secretive smile on her face as she slid into her seat for tea. Claire looked at her with a raised brow as she handed Jacob his cup. “Don’t you look like a cat that has been in the cream,” she teased. “What is it?” She poured the maid a tea, adding the extras she liked.

Lucy just grinned some more. “Somethin’ I know yer gonna like,” she said in a singsong voice.

Claire smiled back, the maid’s excitement infectious. “What is it?” she asked again.

Lucy took a generous sip of her tea. “What is something’ ye enjoy mightily but canna do very often?”

Claire let out a laugh. “There are many things that fall into that category, Lucy.” She stole a look at Jacob sitting back in his chair, watching the two friends.
And many new things that fall into that category as well.
Jacob glanced her way, and the look he gave her made Claire think he could read her very thoughts. A flush of heat stole across her face, and she turned her attention back to Lucy.

“But this is somethin’ that none of us gets to do lots, not if yer not part of the toffs. You’ve told me lots of stories about these.”

Suspicious comprehension blossomed in her mind. Claire studied her friend’s excitement, difficult to suppress. “You mean . . .”

“Yes,” Lucy burst out, unable to contain herself anymore. She slipped a parchment from her bosom where it had been folded up and handed it to Claire. She unfolded it and read it. “A servant’s assembly, in just three days’ time,” the maid practically sang. “It took some sweet talkin’, but Mr. Fosters and Mrs. Morrison finally said the younger staff can go. That includes you two,” she finished, with a smiling nod toward Jacob.

Jacob straightened in his chair, interest plain on his face. “An assembly? With dancing and such?”

Claire smiled at him. “Yes, we do know how to dance here in the country,” she teased.

He smiled back, leaning toward her. “I never assumed otherwise, my lady. I am merely overcome with the thought of seeing you traipse across the floor.”

Claire couldn’t stop the flush from covering her face. She watched as Jacob followed the flush as it disappeared below her neckline, causing the blush to deepen even more. He chuckled deeply.

Claire looked back at Lucy, noticing the maid watching them with barely concealed interest. She cleared her throat and sat up straighter. “Have you heard of any other households attending, Lucy?”

With a knowing smile, Lucy replied, “Not yet, Miss, but I’m sure there’s lots of excitement. I’m to the market tomorrow, and I’ll see what I can pick up.”

“And I’ll be sure to have my dancing shoes polished,” Jacob said. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve had the pleasure of a country assembly.”

Claire looked at him. “Are there none in Oxford or Cambridge?”

Jacob shrugged. “How would I know? I’m from London. Haven’t spent much time outside of the city for years.”

Claire was confused. “Then where did you study?”

Jacob stared at her. How could he have let such a simple mistake slip? Of course a tutor would have some university training in him. And he did attend Oxford, on paper at least.

He cleared his throat. “Oxford, briefly, but most of my education was from my uncle. He is a rector and took a sabbatical for several years from his parish at my father’s behest. It was cheaper than university.” That, and he had been sent down so many times they refused to let him return. It was his father’s youngest brother who had taken him on and engendered a decent respect for certain studies. “And while I was there, country assemblies weren’t an activity that garnered my interest.”

“And now they are?” Claire asked with a raised brow.

“It’s been an age since we’ve danced at an assembly,” Lucy said. With a giggle, she grabbed Claire’s hands and pulled her up. Without hesitating, Claire bowed to Lucy’s curtsey and they began to dance a Scottish reel. Unable to resist their excitement, Jacob began to whistle a tune and slap his knees, providing music and a rhythm.

The women laughed their way around the room, their skirts whirling with their movements. Jacob was mesmerized by the sight of Claire’s face, giddy and flushed, her eyes sparkling with delight. It was not as though she was? an unhappy person, but Jacob had yet to see her experience this kind of pleasure. It radiated off her, the waves nearly visible as they filled the room. He could feel them move around him; the hairs on his arms tingled.

Good Lord, but he needed her. Needed to bed her. It had become more than just a spot of fun; it had grown into an obsession. He wanted her . . . presence, for lack of a better word. He was honest with himself to recognize his selfishness. He wanted it in his life to bring him happiness, to possibly bring him the fulfillment he knew was lacking in his life. If he could somehow . . . learn it from her . . . perhaps he would finally be able to begin being his own man.

If he could somehow tie her to him, somehow guarantee that she would remain in his life, then even if he couldn’t learn it her presence would continue to enrich his life. It would mean more than just bedding her, of course. It meant marriage. Surprisingly, the thought of such a thing didn’t send chills down his spine as it had in the past. Rather, the primitive male side of him rejoiced at that thought, for it meant multiple and repeated beddings with such an amazing woman.

And given how much she enjoyed dancing, the servants’ assembly was the time to make his move.

“O
oee, miss, ye’ve done gone and made me look lovely.” Lucy turned her head and lightly fingered the upswept arrangement Claire had set her hair in. Dressed in a simple green dress, Lucy did indeed look lovely.

Claire smiled at Lucy in the mirror. “Lovely enough to perhaps catch Alfred’s eye even.” She laughed as a light blush stole over Lucy’s cheeks.

“Do ye really think so?” Lucy looked hopeful.

“If he doesn’t,” Claire said, “then he doesn’t deserve you, dear.”

“Oh, but miss, he’s so handsome,” Lucy protested, turning around and looking at Claire. “And he’s been lookin’ and talkin’ so sweet to me these past weeks. He even tol’ me that he’d not like seeing me dance wit’ other blokes tonight.”

Claire sat on Lucy’s bed and looked at her friend. She knew that servants were held to a different code than the nobility; the strictures between men and women were more lax. Claire thought of Jacob and felt a stab of envy hit her stomach. “Lucy, if you aren’t sure about his intentions, do not let him talk you into anything you feel uncomfortable with.”

Lucy smiled at her. “This ain’t my first time with a gent, miss. If we does it right, I’ll be getting’ jes’ as much out of it as Alfie. I don’t have ideas for anythin’ more.”

Claire had difficulty fathoming such an attitude. “But do you not want more?”

“Maybe.” Lucy shrugged. She looked back in the mirror and tucked a stray tendril behind her ear. “I don’t say I’d not like a man and wee ones of me own. But I’ve got time yet, so I figger I can have me some fun while waitin’.” She gave Claire a cheeky smile before sobering again. “And I don’t see nothin’ wrong with a gent and a girl doin’ somethin’ if they both want it. We ain’t special, miss; we ain’t like the toffs. I see the way you and Mr. Knightly be lookin’ at each other. I say that if ye be feelin’ anything for Mr. Knightly like what I feels for Alfie, then I says ye need to stop thinkin’ like the squire’s daughter ye was raised as.”

Claire stared down at her hands. Here she thought to give Lucy advice regarding Alfred, but instead her friend imparted some wisdom to her. It was true; she was no longer a squire’s daughter, no longer special. Perhaps it was time she stopped to holding to such illusions. Not give up everything completely, but merely alter her viewpoint slightly.

All her life she had been raised to believe that purity was the highest commodity a woman could have. Yet as Lucy just pointed out, she was no longer in the class of people who held firmly to that value. Was this possible? Could she actually do this? What would she be risking?

Her job. Her reputation. Even if she acknowledged that it was not as precious as it used to be, risking her reputation could have detrimental effects on the Governess Club’s future. She wasn’t naïve; she knew the risks. Becoming with child would seriously jeopardize the Club’s plans. She would not be able to remain with her friends, not if they were to have any chance of success. Could she risk the hopes, the ambitions, the future of her friends?

“Miss,” Lucy caught her attention. “Yer thinkin’ too much about it.”

Claire raised her eyes to Lucy’s. “There is so much at risk.”

Lucy smiled sympathetically and shrugged. “Only in yer head, Miss. And if somethin’ does happen, well, ye figger it out then.”

Claire bit her lips, still uncertain.

Lucy patted her hands. “I knows some ways to help his seed from catchin’ ye, if ye’d like me ta tell ye. They may not be perfect, but they help.”