Read Online An Improper Governess: An Improper Liaisons Novella, Book 2 by Amy Rose Bennett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amy Rose Bennett
Ads: Link
invitation to ruin hovered so close, Abigail could feel it. Nevertheless, she felt compelled to whisper, “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“Oh, I think you do. Become my mis—”
Resounding thunder crashed around them, making Abigail jump, and a gust of wind whipped the crimson damask curtains by the open window all about. The storm had at last descended. Feeling like a doe escaping a wolf, Abigail leapt to her feet and dashed to the window to close it; a squall of rain hit her as she struggled to close the casement. And then Sir Nicholas was beside her and within moments the window was shut tight.
Abigail was breathing raggedly, but whether it was from the physical effort she’d exerted to close the window, the shock of being doused with icy rain or the close proximity of Sir Nicholas, she couldn’t have said. She leaned back against the windowsill and looked up into his indecently handsome face.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the dark sweep of damp hair over his brow and the deep blue of his eyes as he stared down at her.
She trembled and licked dry lips and Sir Nicholas’s attention immediately dropped to her mouth. A sensible, virtuous woman would make her excuses and leave right now.
But it seemed Abigail was neither sensible nor virtuous. Instead, she found herself murmuring, “My apologies for interrupting you. You... you were about to ask me...” She inhaled deeply and to her relief, Sir Nicholas raised his gaze to hers again. With a wince, she asked, “I don’t suppose you were about to suggest I give up my position as governess to become your librarian on a more permanent basis?”
Sir Nicholas’s mouth twitched with a fleeting smile. “No, I was not.” He propped one wide shoulder against the window frame and crossed his arms; it was a deceptively casual stance considering the level gaze he fixed on her. “There’s no point in beating about the bush any longer, Miss Adams. I want you to be my mistress. The question is,” he cocked an eyebrow, “will you accept my offer?”
Even though she had known this was coming, Abigail’s face burned. She turned around and gripped the windowsill with both hands and stared out onto the wind and rain lashed grounds. Her thoughts and emotions were just as wild and storm-tossed. Her heart beat hard and fast and her stays felt far too tight. Could she do this? Could she willingly throw all of her scruples to the wind and become a courtesan? Live a life in the shadows, unfit for decent society? A life of decadence and excitement and pleasure. And sin.
Wonderful, delicious sin.
She thrust the wicked thought aside. In the grey, rain-veiled distance, beyond the woods, she could just make out the dark spire of Hedgecombe Priory. How ironic that only two days ago, Mr. Wentworth had offered for her hand in marriage.
And now Sir Nicholas wanted her to be his doxy. A Cyprian. A lightskirt.
A whore.
She should be insulted. She should be angry.
She would be mad to even consider such an offer.
Perhaps sensing her turmoil, Sir Nicholas continued in a low tone, “Of course, if you agree, I will provide you with a most generous contract. A London townhouse with servants, your own carriage and horses, a wardrobe of the finest clothes, jewels, an allowance... Even though I will make every effort to prevent conception, generous provisions will be made for any progeny that may result.”
“Yes.” The word tumbled out of Abigail in a breathless, nervous rush. Oh, dear God. She bit her lip. Did she really just agree? “I mean... I suppose I could... It’s just that...”
Sir Nicholas’s brow lowered into a deep frown. “You are not sure, Miss Adams. If you need more time to consider... Oh, hell.” He raked a hand through his hair and blew out a sigh. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve never done this before. Propositioned a member of my staff. And I should make it clear that you are not obliged to accept my offer. Despite everything that happened
“Oh, I think you do. Become my mis—”
Resounding thunder crashed around them, making Abigail jump, and a gust of wind whipped the crimson damask curtains by the open window all about. The storm had at last descended. Feeling like a doe escaping a wolf, Abigail leapt to her feet and dashed to the window to close it; a squall of rain hit her as she struggled to close the casement. And then Sir Nicholas was beside her and within moments the window was shut tight.
Abigail was breathing raggedly, but whether it was from the physical effort she’d exerted to close the window, the shock of being doused with icy rain or the close proximity of Sir Nicholas, she couldn’t have said. She leaned back against the windowsill and looked up into his indecently handsome face.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the dark sweep of damp hair over his brow and the deep blue of his eyes as he stared down at her.
She trembled and licked dry lips and Sir Nicholas’s attention immediately dropped to her mouth. A sensible, virtuous woman would make her excuses and leave right now.
But it seemed Abigail was neither sensible nor virtuous. Instead, she found herself murmuring, “My apologies for interrupting you. You... you were about to ask me...” She inhaled deeply and to her relief, Sir Nicholas raised his gaze to hers again. With a wince, she asked, “I don’t suppose you were about to suggest I give up my position as governess to become your librarian on a more permanent basis?”
Sir Nicholas’s mouth twitched with a fleeting smile. “No, I was not.” He propped one wide shoulder against the window frame and crossed his arms; it was a deceptively casual stance considering the level gaze he fixed on her. “There’s no point in beating about the bush any longer, Miss Adams. I want you to be my mistress. The question is,” he cocked an eyebrow, “will you accept my offer?”
Even though she had known this was coming, Abigail’s face burned. She turned around and gripped the windowsill with both hands and stared out onto the wind and rain lashed grounds. Her thoughts and emotions were just as wild and storm-tossed. Her heart beat hard and fast and her stays felt far too tight. Could she do this? Could she willingly throw all of her scruples to the wind and become a courtesan? Live a life in the shadows, unfit for decent society? A life of decadence and excitement and pleasure. And sin.
Wonderful, delicious sin.
She thrust the wicked thought aside. In the grey, rain-veiled distance, beyond the woods, she could just make out the dark spire of Hedgecombe Priory. How ironic that only two days ago, Mr. Wentworth had offered for her hand in marriage.
And now Sir Nicholas wanted her to be his doxy. A Cyprian. A lightskirt.
A whore.
She should be insulted. She should be angry.
She would be mad to even consider such an offer.
Perhaps sensing her turmoil, Sir Nicholas continued in a low tone, “Of course, if you agree, I will provide you with a most generous contract. A London townhouse with servants, your own carriage and horses, a wardrobe of the finest clothes, jewels, an allowance... Even though I will make every effort to prevent conception, generous provisions will be made for any progeny that may result.”
“Yes.” The word tumbled out of Abigail in a breathless, nervous rush. Oh, dear God. She bit her lip. Did she really just agree? “I mean... I suppose I could... It’s just that...”
Sir Nicholas’s brow lowered into a deep frown. “You are not sure, Miss Adams. If you need more time to consider... Oh, hell.” He raked a hand through his hair and blew out a sigh. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve never done this before. Propositioned a member of my staff. And I should make it clear that you are not obliged to accept my offer. Despite everything that happened
Similar Books
