Page 4 of The Governess’ Unlikely Suitor (The Dashworth Brothers #2)

E dward stared at the closed door, waiting in silence until he could no longer hear the voices of those who had just left. When he was sure they were not about to be interrupted, he turned slowly to look at Freddie, who had the nerve not to look scared for his life. ‘You absolute bastard.’

Freddie pressed a hand to his chest as though gravely wounded. ‘What have I done to deserve such censure from my beloved brother?’

Next to the traitor, Christopher grinned broadly. Tobias turned away, gazing out of the window either to hide his own amusement or because his brothers’ antics were beneath him. It was hard to tell.

‘You know exactly what you have done. “My wife needs a companion. Oh, do say your sister can come and live with us.” You are a damned…’ Edward paused, trying to come up with a curse word that truly summed up his fury.

‘I take deep exception to you imitating my voice at such a high-pitched level. I sound nothing like that,’ Freddie, the devil incarnate, responded as he adopted a ridiculously wounded expression.

‘You asked Freddie to help you,’ Christopher, the traitor, weighed in.

‘You have been trying to get Simon Hornel to meet with us for months and today he is here in our house after Freddie suggested an excellent solution to their problem. They will not find fault with the rooms. Emily and Freddie spent almost all of yesterday getting them ready. The signs are pointing to him being willing to help us. You should be thanking Freddie, not glowering at him like you are moments from ripping off his head.’

Freddie leaned forward, hand to chin, a fake frown across his forehead. ‘What exactly is the problem, Edward?’

‘You know damned well, so do not pretend otherwise.’

He and his brothers had never been close, although their forced proximity over the last few months was gradually changing that.

Even so, they would have noticed his taste in women.

It was like Miss Hornel had stepped out of his favourite Botticelli painting with her dark red hair and generous curves.

If he’d seen her across a ballroom, he would have charged over to her not caring whom he shoved out of the way to reach her side.

He would have begged her for a dance and delighted in getting to know her.

He would have wanted to know how she got that tiny scar at the base of her neck, to find out what was causing the tightness in her eyes.

But this was not a ballroom. This was his house.

The one he could not leave because to do so would break the terms of the will his late brother created.

He would rather burn in a thousand Hells than let his beloved niece go and live with Miss Dunn. So, he was stuck here.

If he were a cad who did not care, he would still set out to woo Miss Hornel, or Kate as she preferred to be called, but she would be living under his protection and that made the dynamic wrong.

When he’d been young and desperately green, he’d fancied himself in love with a maid.

The details were blurry with the time that had passed, but he remembered he had been convinced that Bridget welcomed his attention.

One magical day, they’d shared a kiss. The first time he’d ever been close to a woman.

Even the clashing of teeth hadn’t taken away from the marvel of it.

Like a fool, he’d pictured them running away together, had imagined a life of happiness despite their vastly different backgrounds.

Sometime later, he’d heard her discussing the kiss with another maid.

They’d been laughing at his clumsy eagerness until his beloved had uttered words that had changed him, voicing the belief that a dalliance with him might get her a few trinkets and some more coins in her pocket.

The devastation had been as awful as the humiliation he had experienced when, shortly afterwards, Tobias had spoken with him about the vast imbalance of power the Dashworths had with those who worked for them.

It was not a line Edward had crossed since.

Not only that, Edward understood what it was like to live under a strong, domineering presence that could control your life, and he would not subject anyone to that.

Living in such close proximity to a woman who looked as though he had just conjured her from his favourite dream and unable to do anything about it was going to be a living hell.

Freddie would have realised that when he made his proposition.

That was what had made his eyes glitter with amusement yesterday after his visit to the kitchen; Edward should have guessed what was happening before being blindsided by her appearance in the Blue Lounge.

A cushion had toppled over when Emily stood to lead their guests out of the room.

Edward straightened it, moving methodically along the settee, arranging everything so that it was neat.

‘This room is a hideous abomination. What possessed someone to make it so blue?’ The colour had complemented Kate.

He’d tried not to look, he really had, but his eyes kept returning to her like she was his loadstone.

The blue had shown off the red streaks that burned like fire in her hair.

‘I like this room,’ said Freddie, determined to become Edward’s least favourite brother.

‘That is only because you and your wife enjoy spending time together in here.’ Christopher waggled his eyebrows.

Edward groaned. ‘That is disgusting. You should keep that sort of goings-on to your bedrooms. You have two between you and a water closet. There is no need for you to be doing anything other than sitting and talking in here.’ He reached the place where Kate had been sitting, her shawl folded on her lap, staring at her long fingers.

Hopefully, she would prove to have a horrible personality and he would not wonder what she sounded like when she laughed. He would not think about her at all.

‘Since when were you such a prude, Edward?’ asked Christopher, crossing one leg over the other. ‘I remember a time when you…’

Edward threw a cushion at his brother’s head.

Christopher laughed, dodging it easily and throwing it back.

Edward arranged it carefully back in its place.

Christopher had a point; he had been more adventurous in the past, but living back with his brothers had put paid to that, or perhaps it was discovering his adorable niece.

Somehow, a fling no longer seemed right.

There was no good way to end a relationship, no matter how short.

At least one person would end up getting hurt.

He didn’t want it to be him, but he equally did not want to cause another person pain. It was easier to be alone.

He should probably find someone to marry, but the idea of tying himself to one woman did not appeal to him either.

Freddie told him that would change when he found the right person, but he could not imagine ever knowing for sure whether he truly wanted to bind himself to one person for the rest of his life.

What if he met someone who pretended to be perfectly lovely until they were married, only to turn into someone like Miss Dunn?

People were unpredictable and he hated that.

He ran his hand over the smooth cushion seat; there were no wrinkles in the fabric, which was how he liked it: calm and still.