The Governess by Mary Kingswood

Author:Mary Kingswood [Kingswood, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sutors Publishing
Published: 2018-07-16T16:00:00+00:00

14: Of Mistletoe

He stood, and the movement drew her gaze. She smiled and waved to him, and his heart lurched even more. Oh dear Lord, she was so open and artless and friendly, with not one whit of consciousness in her face as she hurried up the slope towards him. What was his own face displaying? Everything, he supposed, but perhaps she noticed nothing for her smile never faltered.

“I should have guessed it was you,” she said. “The dogs are never so happy when the groom takes them out.”

“Miss Winterton.” He bowed, and belatedly she remembered to curtsy to him. “I need not ask if you are well, for I can see that the summer air suits you. But you are alone — where are my daughters today?”

“The dowager countess has taken them to Chester to obtain materials for gowns for them. Their half mourning gowns are too heavy for this warmer weather.”

“And you did not wish to go with them? You have excellent taste in sartorial matters, and could have advised Mother. She rarely ventures into the higher levels of society these days, so her notions of fashion are rather dated.”

Annabelle smiled but shook her head. “Oh, that would never do! The governess putting forward her opinions against those of a countess? No, indeed, I should not attempt it.” She sat down on the bench, and patted the seat for him to sit too, in the most companionable way. “But tell me of your travels. Was London quite horrid? It is the most miserable place in the world in hot weather, in my opinion.”

They talked of London, and the three men he had brought back with him to undertake the investigation, and then he told her of George and his infatuation with the Lady Grace Bucknell, and she was so sympathetic and understanding that he was overwhelmed by love for her.

“Miss Winterton,” he said, too enthralled to be careful in his speech to her, “I wonder if you know your danger in sitting here with me.”

She tipped her head on one side, smiling. “I am not afraid of you.”

“We are sat beneath the boughs of one of the oldest oak trees on the estate.”

“It is a fine tree indeed,” she said. “No one could say otherwise.”

“Then we are agreed. But this oak tree has one very special peculiarity, very rare in these parts.” He pointed upwards. “It is one of very few whereon grows the mistletoe.” He pointed upwards. “And I am still desirous of that kiss I was so unfortunate as to be deprived of on an earlier occasion.”

She shifted herself a foot or so further from him, but she was laughing, not at all discomfited. “Is it not enough, my lord, that I must endure the dalliance of the persistent Mr Cross without becoming the target of your flirtation also?”

“Why do you suppose I must be flirting with you?” he said, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

“Because the alternatives are worse,” she said at once, the smile wiped from her face.

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