Read Online Dark Surrender by Erica Ridley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Erica Ridley
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just like all the rest? By all rights, that should be her precise fear. But it wasn’t.
Her fear was that he wasn’t acting at all. He wasn’t waiting, biding his time for the perfect time to pounce. That he was actually . . . nice. That she would want to stay. That she would want him . To be part of his home. To be part of a family.
She hoped he did not detect her studying him surreptitiously. Staring at the shadow of his cheekbone, the curve of his lip, the way he gazed off over his cup of tea as if the world about him had disappeared and in their place he was building a brand new future.
If only she dared dream about her own. If only the threat of a hangman’s noose was not just outside every corner. If only . . . if only she were not servant class and he, a gentleman. She could not stop herself from watching him. The hard planes in his face, the easy grace in his movements, the light, soundless way he settled a priceless teacup atop an equally fragile china plate. Those were not hands that would bring pain or violence. Those were hands that would bring a soft touch, despite their strength. Lips that would gentle as they—
Cheeks steaming hotly, she nearly choked on her tea at the direction of her thoughts. She, who suffered nightmares about the advances of men, had actually just fantasized about kissing?
Involuntarily, her gaze flicked back toward the lines of his closed mouth. What would it be like? To have the heat of lips against her throat, the sensation of a mouth brushing against her own?
Violet shifted in her seat and wished for a fan to cool her face. If she was going to survive in Waldegrave Abbey, she had to think about something else. Anything else.
“Thank you for taking me in.” She reached for the butter with shaking hands. “Many in your position would have sent me away without a thought.”
“Thank you for agreeing to help Lillian,” he returned. Having his eyes focused directly upon her only strengthened Violet’s wayward thoughts. His gaze did not falter. “I have learnt not to raise my hopes prematurely, but this interest in art and music is unprecedented. I trust you will do all that you can to foster a love of learning.”
“Of course,” she murmured, chagrined. She had been thinking about kissing, and he had been thinking about her duties as governess. “I will do my best.”
His smile was rueful. “I suppose my daughter is not what you anticipated?”
“I’m not sure what I anticipated,” she answered diplomatically. Her fork trembled at the slight lift to his brow. Of course he would see through such an obvious platitude. “I suppose I expected a spoiled rich girl with no greater concerns than the cut of her gown. That is clearly not the case.”
He inclined his head as if he appreciated her honesty. “Lillian’s wealth is both factual and immaterial, as it cannot be used to spoil her in the ways a parent might wish. She can have any gown she desires, but no matter how many plates I buy her, she cannot comprehend the pull of ‘fashion’ without context. I shower her with playthings, so I imagine in that respect, she is somewhat spoiled. But since I cannot allow the thing she wants most, what else am I to do but give her everything I can?”
Violet chewed her bread slowly as she debated whether—and how—to respond. Clearly the last question had been rhetorical. On the other hand, being shuttered in an abbey for years on end would make a person eager for conversational partners. Lillian was not the only one suffering in solitude. Perhaps Mr. Waldegrave would come to enjoy Violet’s company as well.
Luckily for them all, she understood little girls very well indeed. “I think Lillian needs something more fulfilling to occupy her time.”
“Exactly.” He beamed at her in satisfaction. “ Books . I have read to her for years, but it will be splendid to have someone else to champion my cause.”
She smiled back. “Books are delightful. As is art, and dance,
Her fear was that he wasn’t acting at all. He wasn’t waiting, biding his time for the perfect time to pounce. That he was actually . . . nice. That she would want to stay. That she would want him . To be part of his home. To be part of a family.
She hoped he did not detect her studying him surreptitiously. Staring at the shadow of his cheekbone, the curve of his lip, the way he gazed off over his cup of tea as if the world about him had disappeared and in their place he was building a brand new future.
If only she dared dream about her own. If only the threat of a hangman’s noose was not just outside every corner. If only . . . if only she were not servant class and he, a gentleman. She could not stop herself from watching him. The hard planes in his face, the easy grace in his movements, the light, soundless way he settled a priceless teacup atop an equally fragile china plate. Those were not hands that would bring pain or violence. Those were hands that would bring a soft touch, despite their strength. Lips that would gentle as they—
Cheeks steaming hotly, she nearly choked on her tea at the direction of her thoughts. She, who suffered nightmares about the advances of men, had actually just fantasized about kissing?
Involuntarily, her gaze flicked back toward the lines of his closed mouth. What would it be like? To have the heat of lips against her throat, the sensation of a mouth brushing against her own?
Violet shifted in her seat and wished for a fan to cool her face. If she was going to survive in Waldegrave Abbey, she had to think about something else. Anything else.
“Thank you for taking me in.” She reached for the butter with shaking hands. “Many in your position would have sent me away without a thought.”
“Thank you for agreeing to help Lillian,” he returned. Having his eyes focused directly upon her only strengthened Violet’s wayward thoughts. His gaze did not falter. “I have learnt not to raise my hopes prematurely, but this interest in art and music is unprecedented. I trust you will do all that you can to foster a love of learning.”
“Of course,” she murmured, chagrined. She had been thinking about kissing, and he had been thinking about her duties as governess. “I will do my best.”
His smile was rueful. “I suppose my daughter is not what you anticipated?”
“I’m not sure what I anticipated,” she answered diplomatically. Her fork trembled at the slight lift to his brow. Of course he would see through such an obvious platitude. “I suppose I expected a spoiled rich girl with no greater concerns than the cut of her gown. That is clearly not the case.”
He inclined his head as if he appreciated her honesty. “Lillian’s wealth is both factual and immaterial, as it cannot be used to spoil her in the ways a parent might wish. She can have any gown she desires, but no matter how many plates I buy her, she cannot comprehend the pull of ‘fashion’ without context. I shower her with playthings, so I imagine in that respect, she is somewhat spoiled. But since I cannot allow the thing she wants most, what else am I to do but give her everything I can?”
Violet chewed her bread slowly as she debated whether—and how—to respond. Clearly the last question had been rhetorical. On the other hand, being shuttered in an abbey for years on end would make a person eager for conversational partners. Lillian was not the only one suffering in solitude. Perhaps Mr. Waldegrave would come to enjoy Violet’s company as well.
Luckily for them all, she understood little girls very well indeed. “I think Lillian needs something more fulfilling to occupy her time.”
“Exactly.” He beamed at her in satisfaction. “ Books . I have read to her for years, but it will be splendid to have someone else to champion my cause.”
She smiled back. “Books are delightful. As is art, and dance,
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