Read Online The Reluctant Governess by Maggie Robinson - Free Book Online Page B

nothing but his photographs, and those are . . . shocking.” Eliza knew she sounded like a Puritan, but she couldn’t help it. She
was
a Puritan, if not by religion, then inclination. She was a sober, respectable woman and intended to remain that way, nude portraits be damned.
    â€œWell, dear, I’ll give you a few minutes to eat and get dressed, and then I really must leave. Mr. Daughtry will want his supper.”
    Poor Mrs. Daughtry. She had arrived here before dawn, worked all day, and was still expected to put a hot meal on the table for her husband. Why wasn’t Mr. Daughtry cooking for her after the day she’d had? It was unfair, but then marriage often was.
    Eliza reflected on the conversation she’d had about the wedded state with her employer. If a wife was supposed to jump through hoops for her husband, catering to his every whim and bestial appetite, he’d better be faithful or he deserved to be hit on the head with a roasting pan.
    Goodness. She was not generally so violent. A day spent in the company of the argumentative Nicholas Raeburn had corrupted her.
    Eliza chewed her bread and swallowed the scalding tea as quickly as she was able, finished dressing, then scraped her hair back into a tight bun. She wasn’t vain, nor did she wish to appear attractive to someone as wicked as Nicholas Raeburn undoubtedly was. He would have to take her as she was, sleep wrinkles and all.
    He was sitting up in bed, holding an ice pack to the back of his head. Competing with his pallor were bruises of epic size and color. Somehow he still managed to look handsome, even with his scruffy red beard and black sutures. Mrs. Daughtry had found him a nightshirt, and he was more dressed than she had seen him in the scant two days she’d been here.
    â€œAh. There you are. I trust you had a restful day. I’m afraid mine wasn’t restful at all.” He looked past her shoulder. “Is that horrible woman gone?” he whispered.
    â€œIf you mean Mrs. Daughtry, I’m sure she’s a saint for putting up with you.”
    â€œI swear, every time I shut my eyes she stuck me with a pin, and then she talked my ear off in that nurse voice. ‘How are
we
feeling?’ I can’t know how she’s feeling, can I? We don’t share the same skin.”
    â€œShe was just doing her job. You should be grateful,” Eliza said, sitting in the chair by the bed. “Can I get you anything before I get too comfortable?”
    Mr. Raeburn shuddered. “If I have another cup of tea, I’ll drown. No more soup or liquids of any kind unless we’re talking about Raeburn’s Special Reserve, and I’ve been told that desire is premature.” He gave her a rueful grin. “That doctor of yours came back this afternoon and lectured me. I felt as if I were back in the nursery.”
    Eliza felt a stab of guilt. She
never
slept in the daytime. “I’m sorry to have missed him. What did he say?”
    â€œThat despite my lack of abstinence, I have a hard head and the luck of the devil. Tell that to my innards.”
    Eliza rolled her eyes. She didn’t wish to contemplate Nicholas Raeburn’s digestive system. If she had wanted to train as a nurse, she would not have taken secretarial classes.
    In a just world, she could have inherited her father’s place in his accounting firm. She’d have the vote, too, and not be hobbled by a so-called health corset. Eliza was ready to foment revolution right here and now, but Mr. Raeburn probably had even more advanced ideas than she and would take all the fun out of it.
    She smoothed her skirt, wishing she had something to do with her hands. Knitting, perhaps, although all she did was make wooly lumps that unraveled at the slightest provocation. “I’m sure you’ll feel better soon. Things are improving downstairs.”
    â€œI’m glad to hear it. I’ve worried about Sunny—the