Page 2 of The Governess’s Absolutely Impossible Wish (The Notorious Briarwoods #8)

The Duke of Westleigh’s Castle

Some months later

H andsome?

Handsome was not the word to describe the Briarwoods, not a single one of them. They were all forces of nature, and more beautiful than any mortals she’d ever met. Even one of the twin sisters, Lady Hermia, who seemed insistent that she was plain and not anything like her sister, Lady Juliet, the diamond, was beautiful. At least, in Giselle’s opinion.

Lady Hermia and her husband, the Earl of Drexel, had taken up residence at the Duke of Westleigh’s castle, which was quite shocking to Giselle. She had a good enough understanding of society that, generally speaking, earls had many estates of their own, and yet the Briarwoods were so entirely odd that they all liked to live together. Surely, each brother had some small estate of their own. And the men the ladies married surely had estates of their own too.

And yet none of them chose to live apart.

It was completely unlike the families she was accustomed to hearing of in England. Of all the girls she went to school with, none of them seemed to enjoy family as much as the Briarwoods did.

It was astonishing and wonderful and yet… Handsome ?

Giselle wanted to laugh. The word handsome had not prepared her for the true magnificent nature of the Briarwood men. Each one was a glorious god, whether they be golden-haired or had locks dark as pitch.

Their eyes, dear heaven, were all arresting. Their chins were all chiseled. Their shoulders were of varying degrees of breath-catching broadness. And each one was a specimen that any man would aspire to.

As a matter of fact, she rather thought that most men might weep in the hopes that they could one day look like or have the charm of a Briarwood.

It was quite a lot to take in, if she was honest. And she had not needed to initially, for when she had arrived at the Duke of Westleigh’s estate, most of the Briarwoods had been in town. It had been early fall when she had taken up residence and met a few of the children. Since then, she’d enjoyed herself quite a good deal, learning to live upon the estate and figuring out her role as the guide of the small humans who were now her charges.

But Christmas, that Yuletide state of affairs that some people seemed to get a great deal of joy out of, had descended upon the estate. As had the entire Briarwood clan.

With guests.

Well, not many guests. The Earl of Hythe had come, a rather interesting fellow, and of course the duke’s grandmother, and his aunt Estella, who was an actress. And Estella had made it very clear that Giselle was to call her nothing but Estella, which was quite odd because she was accustomed to calling people Miss or Mrs. or Lady. Estella seemed to think that they were both working women and therefore should address each other with equal compliment.

She had grown up around performers, of course, but she had not been around one in some time. Despite her certainty that she’d take no enjoyment from the world of the arts again, she found she rather liked Estella, which was a little bit alarming, just like the handsome nature of the men.

Miss Abelard had tried to give her some warning. She had not warned her enough. Well, the truth was that she wasn’t particularly intrigued by the duke, Lord Ajax, Lord Hector, Lord Achilles, or their cousin Jean-Luc. The first four were married men, in any case.

But she could not tear her eyes away from Lord Zephyr. He was a rather striking gentleman. The word striking did not even begin to do him justice, and she had a rather large vocabulary.

As she headed down one of the long, ornate halls, desperate to retrieve her lesson plan book, she kept trying to shove the blighter out of her head. She had caught sight of him as all the Briarwoods had come upon the house, returning from London in one great cacophony of coaches.

And her heart had begun to slam quite inexplicably against her ribs. The world had gone impossibly quiet, her skin had tingled most shockingly, and her lips… Well, her lips had ached, which had never happened to her before. She thought it quite shocking.

She had rushed away as quickly as possible to try to calm her nerves. She’d never needed to calm her nerves before, at least not since she was small and her entire world had been dashed apart by her mother’s death. And those had been nerves of a very different kind.

No, she knew exactly what she needed to do. She would throw herself into being a governess and taking care of her charges, and she would not need to be worried about the gentleman at all. Her reaction to the sight of Lord Zephyr was merely a moment’s oddity. It would vanish. She slipped into the long library, a room that was so full of books one might be overwhelmed, except she loved books so well that she never would be.

And she headed back to where she’d been late that afternoon, when she’d been with the children, reading stories to them.

Some people might not wish to bring children into such a room. After all, books were extremely valuable and very expensive, and it was quite possible that a child could easily make a muck of one. But Giselle wanted the children to have a love of books and a respect for them early in their years. And the only way to do that was to surround the children with them.

So, they had sat before the fire in a circle that was more of an oval and she had read book after book, and they had also looked at diagrams and pictures. The children had done very well for a short period of time, whereupon she had stood them up, marched them about the room, sang a few songs, did a few dances, and then they had sat down to read again.

She tried to never make the children sit for very long. It was a terrible idea to force them to be still. Children were creatures of movement.

She was a creature of movement at present. She bustled about the library, looking for the leather binding of her errant book.

She had made notes for the next several days about what she was going to do with the children. After all, they were all full of excitement, and it was more challenging than usual to hold their interest. Christmas was almost here.

The house was full of merriment, and the Briarwood brothers were the merriest of all as they played with their nieces and nephews and children.

It caused her heart to ache, for she had never known such love.

She and Lord Zephyr had locked gazes at one rather wild moment during a game of hunt the slipper, in which Lord Zephyr had the slipper behind his back and was clearly awaiting the pandemonium that would happen when he was discovered. For he kept giving the most shocking looks to one of his nephews, indicating that he had the slipper by trying to look like he did not have the slipper.

She’d been so bloody touched by the way he was with the children. He wasn’t like the distant, superior aristocrats she’d known. She’d felt completely disarmed and then their eyes had met…

It was dangerous. Very dangerous indeed. So, when she turned and caught sight of the man, as if she had somehow conjured him with her thoughts, she all but jumped.

“Forgive me,” he said, with that gravelly voice of his, from his towering height. “I did not mean to cause alarm, Miss Abbot.”

Her formal name upon his lips should not have been seductive. It was. It was extremely irritating that his voice could say “Miss Abbot” with such tones that made her wish to melt into the carpet. Even as she longed to lick her lips, she whispered, “Forgive me. I thought I was alone.”

“In this house?” he teased. “Impossible. No one is alone here.”

Much to her shock, she laughed at that. She could not stop herself. “How very accurate, my lord.”

“You may call me Zephyr.”

“No, I may not,” she replied immediately, with a surprisingly tart edge. “You are Lord Zephyr, and I am Miss Abbot. It is a pleasure to speak with you. I must find my book and then go upstairs to the children.”

“Do you not take time away from them?” he asked softly.

“Am I not taking time away from them at present?” she pointed out.

“Is this informal or formal time away from the children?” he asked.

She was surprised that he would care if she had time away from the children. Most people did not have such consideration for governesses.

“How very kind of you to inquire. But if I am honest, it doesn’t really work like that when you’re a governess and live in someone’s house. I suppose I could try to take formal time to myself, but I don’t really wish it. I’m such a part of the children’s lives, and they mine, that it all interweaves, you see.”

He listened to her, apparently captivated as she rambled.

And she was rambling. She was worried she wasn’t making sense at all, but his mere presence, his scent of juniper and soap, was doing the most mystifying things to her brain.

“I do get time alone,” she continued. “Your mother ensures that.”

He smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“As do all the ladies of the house,” she added, not certain as to why.

He laughed. “I like how you say that.”

“What?” she queried.

“ All the ladies of the house , as if you understand that the duchess and my mother are not the only ones in charge here.”

She blinked. It was rather odd. As she understood, the lady of the house was always the wife of the person who owned the house. But not here. It seemed that the duchess, Mercy, was in charge of a great deal, but everyone had their say, and they all talked about things a great deal. They also included Giselle in many of those conversations, which she admired.

But sometimes she was also overwhelmed because the Briarwoods’ conversations were…overwhelming.

He took a step forward. “You seem to be fitting in quite well.”

“Thank you,” she replied, determined that the conversation would go no further. She began scanning the room for her book.

“You are very skilled with children,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said again, tersely.

“Perhaps you are not much of a conversationalist with adults,” he mused, “though I have seen you speaking with my French cousins.”

“Yes, I speak excellent French,” she replied.

He cocked his head to the side. “I see, but I am clearly annoying.”

Her lips tightened.

His eyes flared. “Oh dear, I am annoying.”

How could she explain that she could not continue to indulge in conversation with him. “You are not annoying, my lord. But it is not a good idea that we converse.”

“Is it not?” he asked.

“Not alone, not in the library.”

“Oh,” he said, looking about as if he had not even considered that they were so very alone. Or that there could be consequences to that. “Excuse me. I did not mean to cause you discomfort.”

He took a step back.

She smiled at him, quite relieved that he was so good-humored about it. “Thank you. I’m glad you’ve realized that our situation together could be misconstrued.”

“Not here,” he said swiftly and easily. “No one’s told you?”

“Told me what?” she asked.

“We all behave as we want to here.”

“Ah,” she replied softly. “All of you behave as you wish to, but I am not one of you, you see? I am the governess.”

That step that he’d taken back? Well, he took a step forward now instead. And then another. “No,” he replied, his gaze crackling now with some indescribable emotion. “You’re correct. You aren’t one of us. You are better, Miss Abbot.”

She blinked at that. And he said it with such sincerity that it was hard to be suspicious.

“How so?” she challenged, folding her arms under her breasts.

To his credit, he kept his gaze upon her face as he said, “I can tell by the way you manage the children. You are a superior person. You have patience, you have kindness, and you know how to spark their curiosity.”

She hesitated, her defenses beginning to lower. “You’ve observed all that, have you, in the brief time that you’ve been here?”

He laughed softly, but not in mockery. “Oh, we Briarwoods are good at observing things quickly.”

She narrowed her eyes. He was very sure of himself. She actually liked that. But given their circumstances, she couldn’t afford to like him. She needed to go. And yet…talking with him was thrilling.

“What did you forget?” he asked gently.

“My plans.”

“Your plans?” he asked.

“Yes, for the children.”

“Do you plan carefully?”

“Of course I do,” she said, as if it was quite obvious. Though to most, she admitted, it was not. “It is important to introduce young minds to things in the correct order.”

“Is there a correct order?” he asked, clearly quite interested.

“Of course there is,” she began, unable to stop herself from taking the opportunity to explain her work. “If you introduce things too early, the children will not be ready for the lesson, and they won’t take any interest in it. So, one must be very careful,” she said, “with children’s minds. Children must be guided, not forced to learn. If one but awakens their natural curiosity, they shall wish to explore the world and learn all they can. One does not need to force them into a desk and insist they recite words over and over without even understanding the meaning of them. Children are of nature, and in nature they learn. Rousseau taught us that.”

His godlike face transformed into one of admiration. “You know, that is a singular way of looking at things, and I’m very glad you’re here.”

She wished she could stop her smile, but she could not. Her dratted lips insisted on curving, and just at that moment, she spotted her notebook. “I’m very glad I’m here too. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

And with that, she began to stride past him to the table that bore her plans. And then much to her shock, quite accidentally, she walked close enough to him that her skirts brushed his boots.

She had not meant to do that. Not at all. And she gasped at his nearness, at the power and confidence that emanated from his perfect physique, dressed in his perfectly tailored clothes.

“Miss Abbot,” he whispered. For a single moment, the back of his fingers brushed the back of hers.

She tilted her head up so that she might look at him as her breaths became shallow.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he promised. “I won’t do you any harm.”

“Of course you won’t,” she said gently, “because I won’t let you.”

She held his gaze, determined that he should understand her. But in that moment, an understanding launched between them. One that was unspoken, without reason, without rhyme.

She sucked in a soft breath. Her skirts were still dancing against his boots, and he gazed down upon her, swaying ever so slightly towards her.

And for a single moment, mad as it was, she was caught up in the magic of this house and him. In the powerful feeling traveling between them, she felt herself swaying towards Lord Zephyr.

But she could not allow such a thing. No, not even for a moment. And so, in the light of the fire and the promise of the excitement of the holiday, she knew exactly what she had to do. She had to stay away from him. So, she pulled herself back, an action far harder than it should have been.

She gave a quick curtsy, rushed to her notebook, grabbed it, and, much to her horror, fled.