The Vicar's Frozen Heart (9 page)

A roll of warmth traveled through Tremain at the words. Jon was a true friend and Tremain loved him as much as his brothers. “I don’t like asking you to speak falsehoods nor do I like asking it of my family. They are telling everyone in our social circle I am in Italy, basking in the Mediterranean sun to heal all that ails me. The ruse is holding for now. I ask for a little longer, Jon. Have patience with me. I need to work this through.”

“So, we are to become a home for foundlings and indigents, then?” Jon’s eyes twinkled in merriment.

Tremain nodded and gave Jon a brief and all too rare smile. “So it would seem, my dear friend.”

Eliza worked diligently at the pub for the remainder of the week, and while carrying out her duties came to the realization the Tompkinses did not need another barmaid. They had adequate staff before she’d been taken on. Obviously they hired her as a favor to the vicar. How long she could stay at this post was something she thought about a lot. Though she came to appreciate hard work and acquired a new respect for those who labored long hours for little pay, she also came to the conclusion that being a barmaid for the rest of her days did not hold any appeal.

In truth, she enjoyed being a governess--in fact, she loved it, and gained a good deal of satisfaction in shaping and teaching a child. Though St Anne’s Industrial School had its faults, she did gain a solid education. She finished at the top of her class every year and earned the opportunity to train as a governess. The nuns stressed to her the importance of modest dress and deportment, an absolute must along with the ability to melt into the background. Hence the gray skirts, starched blouses fastened to the neck, and her unruly auburn hair pulled tight in a bun hidden under a lace cap. Neither a servant nor a member of the family, a governess existed in a solitary category all her own. Her previous salary of thirty pounds a year had been more than generous for a governess. The Bowater family also made arrangements for the care of her laundry, meals, and the general upkeep of her room.

Yet in her two-year employment she’d hardly saved a farthing. Growing up with nothing meant that having a few pounds in her pocket made her giddy, and she spent a lot of it on books, the quilt, painting, and other little touches and trinkets to personalize her room. She was heartily glad to see the items in her trunk.

Regardless, she’d imagined she had her whole life ahead of her, plenty of time to save money and develop more frugal spending habits. Another lesson well learned. What had she cared about money? After all, sweet Susanna was only six and years of employment lay ahead for Eliza. There were even discussions that she could become Susanna’s chaperone and companion when the girl grew older.

And how did Eliza repay the munificence of the Earl of Bowater? She allowed herself to be seduced by his youngest son, though there was plenty of blame for them both. A stab of regret settled near her heart and she laid her fist against her chest as if to stem the pain.
Foolish girl.

Why had she placed her rosy future in jeopardy for a little warmth in the arms of a willing young man? After plenty of introspection she surmised she’d been lonely and desperate for affection. After growing up with a gaggle of rambunctious young girls and reveling in the friendships, she was thrust into a solitary life of quiet study and repetitive tedium. Losing track of her former friends did not help. Many found positions as servants in far-flung corners of the country and their many duties meant no time for letter writing.

Alone and lonely.
Not an easy thing to admit under most circumstances, but in this case all her hard-won common sense fled her in the face of a handsome son of an earl. They held no deeper emotions for each other, she did not lament their parting, nor did she long for his kisses or attentions again. Their assignation, though a mistake to be sure, did show she possessed a passionate nature. One she longed to explore further.

Yes, she had learned her lesson. No jumping blindly into bed with a man because she ached for a connection. Why, of all men, did she ache for--what did Mrs. Tompkins call him?--the vicar with the frozen heart.

It became hard to ignore the potent attraction between them, especially after that searing kiss in the alley. Because of it, she stayed angry for two days. How dare he trifle with her affections? How dare Tremain lean in and whisper in her ear, kiss her with a fiery desire the honorable Mr. Winters could not deign to measure up to? To then thrust her away and give her his cold, haughty stare. If she possessed any sense at all, she would gather her few earnings and relocate elsewhere. Forget she’d ever met implacable Mr. Colson.

Perhaps she should write to Mrs. Travers and see if she could obtain another copy of the reference, such as it was. At least she could apply for positions for which she was trained. Registering with the Governesses Benevolent Institution would at least put her on a list for any available situations, ones that suited her education. She was well aware there were more governesses than available jobs. Until she received an answer one way or the other she could continue working at the pub.

In light of her revelations and her new plan, she posted her letter to Mrs. Travers, explaining her situation with the robbery and attack along with the loss of her money and reference. She did not ask for more monetary compensation; she would forgo it for a decent and honest appraisal on her work performance that would
not
mention the reason for dismissal. Eliza was not sure how much the vicar relayed in his telegraph to the housekeeper, but she laid herself bare, apologizing again for her weakness of character and the shame she brought on the house, family, staff, and the position itself. She did feel contrite and more than a little ashamed.

Time to admit past blunders and move onward. She no sooner stepped across the threshold of the inn when the young lad, Tommy, informed her that Mr. Colson awaited her in the office. Her heart thumped extra beats. Curse the man for having this effect on her. Hanging her coat and scarf on the hook outside the office, she smoothed her green skirt and pulled the peasant blouse upward, closer to her neck. Tremain had never seen her in her barmaid uniform. She knocked, then entered, closing the door behind her. He stood by the window, staring out into an empty alley.

“You wished to see me, Vicar?” She kept her voice as frosty as she could.

Tremain turned to face her. For a brief moment, the mask slid away from him as his gaze slowly took in what she wore from head to toe. He flushed, an actual show of emotion, and muttered, “My God,” before shaking his head as if to dismiss her appearance and his reaction to it. He liked what he saw. A slow fissure of satisfaction moved through her. By the time he looked her in the eye, the cool facade was back in place. “Yes. I am here on behalf of...”

She held up her hand to silence him. He didn’t like the interruption for the proof lay in his frown. “I have a question and I would appreciate an honest answer. Why did you kiss me in the alley last week?” she asked, her voice clear and steady.

He muttered under his breath and turned away, facing the window again.

“And do not tell me it was merely to feel alive in the face of death, though I understand the reason. There is more. Tell me.” She stepped toward him, laying her hand gently on the sleeve of his wool coat. The muscles tightened under her touch.

“I suppose....” he replied in a gruff voice, “it’s the usual rationale when a man kisses a woman. I desire you.”

Eliza closed her eyes
. Yes. The truth at last.
“Regardless of my confession to you, I’m not a woman of loose morals. I made a mistake, a rather grave one that cost me my position. Believe me, I was under no illusions that the young earl’s son cared for me, nor do I harbor deep feelings for him. I wanted, like you did, to feel. Something. Anything. Warmth. Affection. I was lonely. Perhaps I still am.” She clutched his arm a little tighter. “If you desire me, why are you so...unapproachable? So cold and remote? Are you like this with everyone or just me?”

“You are not making this easy, are you, Miss Winston?”

“When we are alone, call me Eliza. You did before. And no, Tremain, I’m well aware I am not making this easy. If I possessed a lick of common sense, I would ignore what passed between us and leave this village at the earliest convenience. I certainly wouldn’t bring it up in conversation. But apparently I seem to be deficient in any sort of sense at all, especially where you are concerned. Answer me, please. Why are you so cold?”

He turned to face her. For once the icy mask was not in place. Rather he showed confusion and vulnerability. “Perhaps you
should
leave. You disturb me, Eliza. You are shaking the very walls I placed around my heart. Cold? Remote? I suppose I am and have been since....”

“Since when?”

He shook his head in dismissal. “It is of no matter.”

“You’ve told me this much,” she said softly. “Tell me what you were going to say.”

He hesitated. “The war.”

“What war? In Egypt?”

“No. The Anglo-Zulu War. Forget I mentioned it. I am not here to discuss me. I desire you, but I will not act upon it. Rest assured.”

She let her hand drop. It seemed the matter was closed. The war explained the injury to his leg and no doubt his disposition. She read of the returning soldiers’ plights in the newspapers. Many had a difficult time adjusting to life. Was Tremain one of them? Zulus? Wasn’t there a horrible slaughter of British soldiers three years ago? Now wasn’t the time to inquire about his war experiences.

Tempting as it was to express her dubious disdain at his statement that he would not act upon his attraction toward her, she never made any declaration stating she would not pursue what existed between them. Yes, she apparently possessed no sense at all. Though if she did explore what lay between them, she would have to be cautious. That is, if she were even staying in the area.

“I apologize for being less than polite to you. I shall endeavor to act more of a gentleman in the future.” The mask slipped back into place. Fine, she would let it go--for now.

“Thank you. I accept your apology. Now, why are you here, if I may ask?”

Tremain cleared his throat. “I’m here on behalf of Viscount Hawkestone. He instructed me to offer you a position as governess.”

Eliza blinked rapidly in disbelief. Surely she heard incorrectly. Her legs turned to jelly as she struggled to stay upright. “A...a governess? Where?” she whispered.

“To the young lad, Drew Payne. He is now in residence at Hawkestone Estate. If you accept the situation, you will be living there as well.”

What to say? The answer to her, not prayers exactly, but her most fervent wishes and hopes. Honestly, she felt like crying, throwing herself at Tremain in relief. “I...I...” A lone tear trickled down her face. She tried to turn away but Tremain halted her, turning her to face him. They stood close enough that his alluring, masculine scent filled her senses. He laid his cane on the desk, pulled off his gloves and tossed them aside, and with the tip of his finger followed the wet trail down her cheek, leaving flame in its wake.

“It’s all right. Not all is dire. You have another chance at life.” His voice was tender and comforting, which only made a few more tears escape. “Drew will need intense schooling as he has missed many months due to his mother’s illness. He will need to learn deportment and the ways of a gentleman. The viscount has made Drew his special project, so the lad needs to be prepared to enter the echelons of higher education. Are you up for the task, Eliza?”

Damn the tears, her eyes were blurry and a large lump had lodged itself in her throat, making speech close to impossible. Instead of speaking, she gave him a nod. With a last swipe of his finger he gently brushed away her remaining tears.

Tremain turned and then reached for his gloves and cane. By the time he faced her, all vestiges of tender concern were gone. The man was as annoyingly changeable as the January weather. “The viscount will send his carriage in two days’ time, at noon. The Tompkinses are already aware of the offer and will not stand in your way.” He moved to leave.

“Tremain....” she said, her voice trembling. “Thank you.”

“Nonsense.” He dismissed gruffly. “I was merely delivering a message.” He hobbled from the room, banging the door behind him.

Eliza knew deep in her soul he’d arranged all of this. Yes, the viscount had agreed, but she had no doubt the plan was all Tremain’s. A rush of unknown emotions flooded her, clutching her heart tight. No, she could not allow herself to fall for this troubled, damaged man regardless of how much she was attracted to him.

Tremain could not say what possessed him to accompany the carriage to The Rusty Cockerel to fetch Eliza. Perhaps he believed it was his duty to escort her to the Hawkestone Estate and introduce her to the staff and Drew. Or perhaps he ached to see her again.

For two restless nights he tossed and turned, imagining Eliza in her provocative tavern wench garments on her knees in front of him. Or laying her flat on a table with her long, shapely legs spread while he licked and tasted her until she cried out in ecstasy. In his travels he’d seen far more revealing outfits worn by barmaids, but Eliza’s was permanently etched in his mind. Her lush curves were on full display, however modestly, but enough to stoke his lust to fiery and unknown levels.

Not to brag, but he had his share of women through the years; he and Harrison indulged frequently. Since South Africa there’d been no one. It could explain why he was whipped into such a froth over the luscious Miss Winston.

His immediate plans did not include a woman and the complications involved. Working at the Tompkins’ as a barmaid actually made her more accessible for a brief dalliance. Yes, he had seriously considered it. A tumble with her would quiet his lustful and distracting thoughts and he could move forward with his life. Granted, there was a risk it would only inflame his desire further, but surely he acquired enough discipline to be able to push her away. Yet he sat in this carriage because he ached to see her. Touch her however innocently. Speak to her.