too, stayed silent, concentrating on keeping her horse steady and keeping up with him on the busy streets of Preston. They rode past Horrock’s Mill and eventually reached the countryside.
Rebecca began this journey feeling shame about her behaviour and fear that she had lost any good opinion Lord Brookmore might have had of her. By the time the roads cleared, she felt angry. How dare he not even address what happened between them, not even acknowledge her presence? That kiss had not solely been her fault. She might have acted like a hoyden, but Lord Brookmore had not behaved as a gentleman, had he?
In any event, this silence was intolerable.
Her father might have blocked her out of his life and treated her as if she did not exist, but Rebecca would not take such treatment from anyone else.
She quickened her horse’s pace until she reached his side. ‘You must speak to me some time, sir.’
He darted a glance at her, but said nothing.
‘I did not know you would kiss me,’ she snapped.
His gaze was again fixed on the road. ‘It will not happen again.’
He spoke this like an order, in a tone he might have used with his soldiers. He did not have to order her not to kiss him again. As if she would! Her anger was escalating and she was not sure if its source was his icy treatment of her or if it was her disappointment that he’d turned out to be just as thoughtless and cruel as other men in her life.
‘It is unfair to blame me for it,’ she retorted. ‘You kissed me, after all.’
He actually looked at her. ‘Blame you?’
She lifted her chin. ‘I fear you are trying to discharge me. Or perhaps you have already discharged me by giving me the cut direct.’
A day ago she would not have believed him capable of such thoughtlessness.
He gaped at her. ‘I am not discharging you.’
Her voice rose again. ‘Then why pretend I do not exist? Why refuse to speak to me? I am left to guess you wish me gone.’ As her father had done.
He stopped his horse. His jaw flexed. ‘Is that what you think?’
‘What else am I to think?’
He turned his horse and came directly next to her, leaning towards her. The space between them was only a few inches more than when they’d kissed. ‘Think that I behaved abominably towards you. Think that I do not know what to say to you.’
He thought he’d behaved abominably? She almost softened towards him. ‘Did you also think boorishness was preferable to a simple apology?’
‘A simple apology seemed inadequate.’ He frowned.
He turned his horse and rode on. This time she held back a little.
He had not discharged her! She could still pretend to be Claire.
Her cheeks burned with shame. She had called him a boor and here she was, nothing but an imposter.
* * *
Garret had even more reason to chastise himself. He’d assumed she would know he regretted what he’d done to her—and what he’d almost done. He’d simply made matters worse by not speaking of it.
They stopped at an inn to change horses.
He dismounted and turned to assist her. ‘Let us get some refreshment.’
She looked down at him with a haughty expression. ‘As you wish.’
She slid off the saddle, landing nearly as close as when he’d kissed her the night before. He must keep more distance.
The ostlers took charge of the horses and Garret escorted Miss Tilson into the tavern. At this morning hour, the public room was nearly empty and Garret thought better of a private room. Best not to be private with her.
He chose a table some distance away from the other diners, helped her sit and chose the chair across from hers. He ordered tea and biscuits for them which came quickly, accommodating those patrons who needed to be quickly on their way.
She poured the tea for him.
He knew they must discuss what had transpired between them. He searched for a way to begin.
She spoke first. ‘I want you to know that I did not intentionally entice you, sir. I have been accused of such wiles before, but, I assure you, I do not know precisely what one does to entice.’
Who was it who’d accused her? he wondered in a surge of jealousy.
Jealousy? He had not the right.
He leaned towards her and spoke quietly. ‘What transpired last night was entirely my fault.’
She raised her eyes to his. ‘I must have seemed too willing. That is what disgusted you, I am sure.’
She had been willing, he remembered. She’d kissed him back and resisted nothing. She’d kissed him back with a fervour matching his own.
‘You did not disgust me,’ he told her.
She persisted. ‘But you left so angrily.’
‘Anger at me, not you.’ Let her be clear about that. ‘It was wrong of me to kiss you.’
Her gaze did not waver. ‘Then why did you?’
Why? Because she was a fascinating combination of vulnerability and strength. Because her animated features fascinated him. Because she’d been game enough to ride a whole day and never complained. He admired courage, even in small matters. She’d even been courageous enough to talk to him about the kiss when he could not think of a word to say. Because she was the first woman he’d truly wanted to kiss in a long, long time.
‘You were enticing,’ he admitted.
‘I did not mean to be!’ she cried.
He placed his hands on the table. ‘I know, Miss Tilson. I placed you in an intolerable position.’
She straightened in her chair. ‘I refuse to allow you to take all the blame.’ She touched his hand.
It made him remember her eager response to him. The attraction was strong between them, which only made it more difficult for him.
He withdrew his hand. ‘You are in my employ. A governess is at the mercy of her employer. I will not take advantage of you again.’
Something akin to self-reproach crossed her face. ‘Then how are we to go along?’ she asked, her voice nearly a whisper.
‘I will behave correctly from now on.’ He took a sip of his tea, lukewarm now. ‘And I will not stay at Brookmore for very long.’
She looked more disappointed than relieved. Even more reason why he should only stay long enough to be certain his nieces accepted this enticing governess.
*
