was to have any sort of control over the child. Longworth might not keep her on if she couldn’t manage him. “Well? I am waiting,” she said to the boy’s back.
Monty spun around, his arms folded across his chest. “Make me!” he said, a maddening half-smile spreading across his face.
“Oh, I see,” Tessa said. “So you can bite me like you did your uncle? A very clever demonstration, young man, but I think not. You will find that I am not like your past governesses. You aren’t going to drive me out like you did the others, so you may as well give over trying. I would have liked this to be a pleasant relationship. I am sorry if that cannot be. I am still willing, but we can have it either way. That will be up to you. What will it be?”
The child spun back toward the window in a gesture of dismissal. “You are not the boss of me,” he said. “I will get into bed when I am tired.”
“No, I am not your boss,” Tessa said. “But I know who is.”
Without another word, she stalked out of the chamber and shut the door behind her.
Tessa hadn’t reached the third-floor landing when she caught sight of Foster making his descent from the upper regions. “Foster!” she cried, halting him on the step.
“Yes, miss?” he replied, waiting.
“Where might I find the master at this hour?” she asked.
“Well, he would be in his studio now, miss, but he really does not wish to be disturbed when he’s working.”
“I’m afraid that cannot be helped, Foster,” she said, turning back toward the attic stairs.
“Is there anything I can do?” the valet called after her. “You really shouldn’t—”
“Thank you, no,” Tessa called out.
Foster sprinted after her with the agility of a man half his age. “At least let me light the candle sconces,” he said. “The master doesn’t require them lit, as he carries a candle branch to and fro, so the upper region is dark. You could do yourself a mischief.”
Tessa scurried on ahead of the valet. The last thing she wanted was a witness to what she was about to say to Giles Longworth. “That’s all right, Foster,” she called over her shoulder. “You needn’t trouble. I remember the way.”
The attic region was dark, but enough light filtered up the stairs from the landing below and kept her from misstepping. A sliver of light coming from under the solarium doorsill was all she needed to guide her the rest of the way, and she didn’t slow her pace until she’d reached it and pounded boldly on the door, startled by the sound her tiny fist made on the ancient wood.
Almost at once, the vibration of heavy footfalls moved the floorboards beneath her feet, and the door came open in Longworth’s hand. Tessa swayed at the sight of him. His eyes, dark and riveting, stared down at her with a strange mix of apprehension and excitement. It was almost a disoriented look, as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing. His brandy-laced scent drifted toward her, infused with the musk of his maleness. It floated over her, overriding the musty smell of dust and disuse that hovered about the upper regions of the house, and did strange things to her equilibrium, causing her hand to steady her against the doorjamb.
His fine lawn shirt was open nearly to the waist, givinga glimpse of the muscular chest beneath, and the arrow-straight line of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his breeches. He was a feast for Tessa’s eyes beyond anything suggested by his portrait in the little London gallery. He was flesh and blood and feral magnetism, a living breathing danger to her heart and senses that took her breath away until his deep, sultry voice interrupted the magic that held her spellbound.
“Well, well,” he said. “Have you changed your mind, then?”
It was a moment before Tessa took his meaning, and she bristled. “No, I have not!” she snapped at him—a little too severely, she feared, but lines had to be drawn in all quarters at Longhollow Abbey,
Monty spun around, his arms folded across his chest. “Make me!” he said, a maddening half-smile spreading across his face.
“Oh, I see,” Tessa said. “So you can bite me like you did your uncle? A very clever demonstration, young man, but I think not. You will find that I am not like your past governesses. You aren’t going to drive me out like you did the others, so you may as well give over trying. I would have liked this to be a pleasant relationship. I am sorry if that cannot be. I am still willing, but we can have it either way. That will be up to you. What will it be?”
The child spun back toward the window in a gesture of dismissal. “You are not the boss of me,” he said. “I will get into bed when I am tired.”
“No, I am not your boss,” Tessa said. “But I know who is.”
Without another word, she stalked out of the chamber and shut the door behind her.
Tessa hadn’t reached the third-floor landing when she caught sight of Foster making his descent from the upper regions. “Foster!” she cried, halting him on the step.
“Yes, miss?” he replied, waiting.
“Where might I find the master at this hour?” she asked.
“Well, he would be in his studio now, miss, but he really does not wish to be disturbed when he’s working.”
“I’m afraid that cannot be helped, Foster,” she said, turning back toward the attic stairs.
“Is there anything I can do?” the valet called after her. “You really shouldn’t—”
“Thank you, no,” Tessa called out.
Foster sprinted after her with the agility of a man half his age. “At least let me light the candle sconces,” he said. “The master doesn’t require them lit, as he carries a candle branch to and fro, so the upper region is dark. You could do yourself a mischief.”
Tessa scurried on ahead of the valet. The last thing she wanted was a witness to what she was about to say to Giles Longworth. “That’s all right, Foster,” she called over her shoulder. “You needn’t trouble. I remember the way.”
The attic region was dark, but enough light filtered up the stairs from the landing below and kept her from misstepping. A sliver of light coming from under the solarium doorsill was all she needed to guide her the rest of the way, and she didn’t slow her pace until she’d reached it and pounded boldly on the door, startled by the sound her tiny fist made on the ancient wood.
Almost at once, the vibration of heavy footfalls moved the floorboards beneath her feet, and the door came open in Longworth’s hand. Tessa swayed at the sight of him. His eyes, dark and riveting, stared down at her with a strange mix of apprehension and excitement. It was almost a disoriented look, as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing. His brandy-laced scent drifted toward her, infused with the musk of his maleness. It floated over her, overriding the musty smell of dust and disuse that hovered about the upper regions of the house, and did strange things to her equilibrium, causing her hand to steady her against the doorjamb.
His fine lawn shirt was open nearly to the waist, givinga glimpse of the muscular chest beneath, and the arrow-straight line of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his breeches. He was a feast for Tessa’s eyes beyond anything suggested by his portrait in the little London gallery. He was flesh and blood and feral magnetism, a living breathing danger to her heart and senses that took her breath away until his deep, sultry voice interrupted the magic that held her spellbound.
“Well, well,” he said. “Have you changed your mind, then?”
It was a moment before Tessa took his meaning, and she bristled. “No, I have not!” she snapped at him—a little too severely, she feared, but lines had to be drawn in all quarters at Longhollow Abbey,
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