An Improper Governess: An Improper Liaisons Novella, Book 2 by Amy Rose Bennett
Authors: Amy Rose Bennett
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her right mind, should want.
“Miss Adams, where would you like me to put these?” The young footman Sir Nicholas had assigned to assist her with retrieving any out-of-reach or heavy books, was balancing a teetering stack of Shakespeare’s plays in his arms. The man was sweating profusely—sweat stained the underarms of his butter yellow tailcoat and a drop trickled from beneath his periwig. He must be melting in his livery, poor man.
“Ah, just add it to the English literature pile, thank you, Colin.” Abigail wiped her damp palms down her skirts and glanced at the longcase clock beside the door to the study. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of this room for the moment. It’s almost noon and I think we deserve some fresh air before our dinner hour. Let’s say we meet back here in an hour and a half.”
Colin placed the books where she’d indicated and flashed her a grin as he straightened. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Miss Adams. But I expect Mr. Lawson will want me for one thing or another.”
Abigail smiled back. Colin was a good-natured young fellow and she quite liked him. “Well, be sure to pass by the kitchen and have a small beer. I’m sure Mr. Lawson wouldn’t begrudge you that.”
Abigail was in no mood for small beer or even food for that matter; it was too hot to eat. Tea would be lovely but she’d best wait until it was time to go to the servants’ hall lest she incur the wrath of Mrs. Graham yet again. A walk by the lake and a rest in the cool marbled shade of the Doric temple was just the tonic she needed.
Ten minutes later, her new bonnet in place and Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility in hand, Abigail braved the midday sun and crossed the lawn toward the lakeside path leading to the folly. The relentless heat beat down upon her like a hammer upon a blacksmith’s anvil and she worried that the bare skin upon her arms might burn. By the time she reached the shaded section of the path by the willow copse, she was panting and sticky with sweat. She couldn’t even bear wearing her bonnet so she tugged at the ivory silk ribbons and pulled it off.
She had just begun to traverse the section of path that ran beside the rhododendron hedge when she heard a splash—a very loud splash—and she stumbled to a halt, frozen.
Oh, good Lord. Could it be...? Why hadn’t she even thought...?
Abigail’s heart skittered then took off at a gallop as she realized Sir Nicholas was probably but a few yards away. Bathing.
Naked.
She should turn around and go straight back to the Hall. How appalling to think she had almost invaded her employer’s privacy.
A few more moments passed and aside from the thundering of her heart in her ears, all Abigail could hear was the melodious warble of a blackbird in the leafy oak canopy above her head. From where she stood, she could see the temple steps and the grassy bank leading down to the water, but there wasn’t anything to suggest a human presence in the area. Perhaps she had been mistaken. Perhaps she had only heard a mallard duck as it entered the water or the splash of a leaping fish. Or even a mute swan.
She couldn’t be certain it was Sir Nicholas she’d heard. She’d walked all this way in the heat of the day; surely it couldn’t hurt to investigate. Take a small peek.
What is the worst thing that could happen?
Of course, she might catch a glimpse of Sir Nicholas in the water. Shocking, yes, but hadn’t she already seen him in a flagrant state of undress on more than one occasion? A gentleman wearing only his shirtsleeves was definitely guilty of breaching the dictates of sartorial etiquette and Sir Nicholas hadn’t seemed to give a fig about that.
Besides, what did it matter if she did see him dishabille ? He’d already seen her in a vulnerable state of undress. Had blatantly ogled her naked legs and Lord knew what other parts of her person.
Abigail raised her chin and squared her shoulders. It served Sir Nicholas
“Miss Adams, where would you like me to put these?” The young footman Sir Nicholas had assigned to assist her with retrieving any out-of-reach or heavy books, was balancing a teetering stack of Shakespeare’s plays in his arms. The man was sweating profusely—sweat stained the underarms of his butter yellow tailcoat and a drop trickled from beneath his periwig. He must be melting in his livery, poor man.
“Ah, just add it to the English literature pile, thank you, Colin.” Abigail wiped her damp palms down her skirts and glanced at the longcase clock beside the door to the study. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of this room for the moment. It’s almost noon and I think we deserve some fresh air before our dinner hour. Let’s say we meet back here in an hour and a half.”
Colin placed the books where she’d indicated and flashed her a grin as he straightened. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Miss Adams. But I expect Mr. Lawson will want me for one thing or another.”
Abigail smiled back. Colin was a good-natured young fellow and she quite liked him. “Well, be sure to pass by the kitchen and have a small beer. I’m sure Mr. Lawson wouldn’t begrudge you that.”
Abigail was in no mood for small beer or even food for that matter; it was too hot to eat. Tea would be lovely but she’d best wait until it was time to go to the servants’ hall lest she incur the wrath of Mrs. Graham yet again. A walk by the lake and a rest in the cool marbled shade of the Doric temple was just the tonic she needed.
Ten minutes later, her new bonnet in place and Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility in hand, Abigail braved the midday sun and crossed the lawn toward the lakeside path leading to the folly. The relentless heat beat down upon her like a hammer upon a blacksmith’s anvil and she worried that the bare skin upon her arms might burn. By the time she reached the shaded section of the path by the willow copse, she was panting and sticky with sweat. She couldn’t even bear wearing her bonnet so she tugged at the ivory silk ribbons and pulled it off.
She had just begun to traverse the section of path that ran beside the rhododendron hedge when she heard a splash—a very loud splash—and she stumbled to a halt, frozen.
Oh, good Lord. Could it be...? Why hadn’t she even thought...?
Abigail’s heart skittered then took off at a gallop as she realized Sir Nicholas was probably but a few yards away. Bathing.
Naked.
She should turn around and go straight back to the Hall. How appalling to think she had almost invaded her employer’s privacy.
A few more moments passed and aside from the thundering of her heart in her ears, all Abigail could hear was the melodious warble of a blackbird in the leafy oak canopy above her head. From where she stood, she could see the temple steps and the grassy bank leading down to the water, but there wasn’t anything to suggest a human presence in the area. Perhaps she had been mistaken. Perhaps she had only heard a mallard duck as it entered the water or the splash of a leaping fish. Or even a mute swan.
She couldn’t be certain it was Sir Nicholas she’d heard. She’d walked all this way in the heat of the day; surely it couldn’t hurt to investigate. Take a small peek.
What is the worst thing that could happen?
Of course, she might catch a glimpse of Sir Nicholas in the water. Shocking, yes, but hadn’t she already seen him in a flagrant state of undress on more than one occasion? A gentleman wearing only his shirtsleeves was definitely guilty of breaching the dictates of sartorial etiquette and Sir Nicholas hadn’t seemed to give a fig about that.
Besides, what did it matter if she did see him dishabille ? He’d already seen her in a vulnerable state of undress. Had blatantly ogled her naked legs and Lord knew what other parts of her person.
Abigail raised her chin and squared her shoulders. It served Sir Nicholas
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