Hunting the Hero (The Wild Randalls 4)

Cunningham widened the door and a small, dainty body followed, clutching a bag and a lace-trimm

ed bonnet. Prim, respectable. She was everything a governess should appear to be. Yet Miss Clark, like Calista before her, set fire to a gloomy day. Her gaze flickered to his from behind a pair of ridiculous spectacles—only worn as part of her latest disguise, he suspected—before her lids fell demurely over her expressive eyes. The dull brown dress covered every inch of her delectable skin. Outwardly, she looked nothing like the lover he couldn’t get out of his mind. If he didn’t know better, he’d think her a virginal spinster. Yet his body’s stirrings proved he wanted her no matter how she looked to others.

“Miss Clark, my lord.” Cunningham’s thoughtful glance in her direction told him full well that the butler suspected her character to be somewhat in question already. If the stodgy fool scared the woman away in the first week, he’d get his marching orders.

Constantine got to his feet and bowed. “Miss Clark, so good to see you again. I am very grateful you were available for the position on such short notice.”

Let the old stick-in-the-mud stew on that. It was about time Stanton Harold Hall employed someone with younger blood and shimmering vitality than the relics Cunningham had thrust before him for the governess position.

Calista, Miss Clark, dipped a graceful curtsy. “Good morning, my lord. It’s a pleasure to be here.”

He struggled to hide a smile. It was a relief that she’d finally arrived. He’d spent the morning debating what to do if she never appeared. “Did Lady Farnsworth get underway without incident this morning?”

“Yes, her carriage departed at the same time I did. She looked to be in excellent spirits and health for the journey.”

Constantine flicked his head, dismissing Cunningham. When the door closed, Constantine gestured to a chair set before his desk. “Won’t you sit?”

Her lips quirked up at the corners and he remembered he’d said that very same thing on the last night they were together. However, in this instance he wasn’t inviting her to mount him. The condom was returned to a drawer in his bedchamber and there it would remain.

When she passed him to sit where he indicated, Constantine inhaled sharply. Damn, she smelled good. He quickly sat behind his desk before he forgot his own rules. He would treat her as any other servant applying to enter his employ. They would talk, discuss her past and any references, and determine her wage. He would ignore the thickening length in his trousers and hope the desk hid his reaction to her presence. “Was your journey pleasant?”

“Yes, my lord. The light rain last night didn’t make the travel so bad as to be impossible.” She dug into her bag and thrust a wad of papers at him. “Lady Farnsworth asked me to pass along her best wishes and these letters. She apologizes for not delivering them in person, but she thought you might like to have a letter of reference from her. It’s the uppermost one. I’m not sure what the others might be.”

In all honesty, Constantine couldn’t care less about references, but their existence would lend credence to her claim of experience in educating young girls. He peeled open the missive she mentioned and read the short message it contained.

Don’t let her push you away. She needs you as much as you need her. She’d make you an excellent wife.

Bella

Constantine shuffled in his chair. “Did Arabella mention what she relates in this letter?”

“No.”

Constantine grunted and folded the letter. So Arabella thought she could manage him from London, did she? Admittedly, she’d done a spectacular job of reuniting him with his lover, albeit in a respectable guise this time. But a marriage between them was hardly likely.

A man with three daughters had to consider their futures and happiness, too. Calista, or Miss Clark, was a liar and the ultimate dissembler. Constantine had no idea who she really was beneath the superficial identity she showed the world, and that changed almost daily. It was true that one day he would have to bury his fear of putting a woman in peril and marry again. He needed a son to carry on after him. Yet he couldn’t consider any woman for a wife unless they were completely honest with him. That certainly wasn’t part of Miss Clark’s nature today.

He pushed the notion aside to contemplate on another day. He wouldn’t consider a second marriage for a long time, not until he had his daughter’s happiness in hand. Miss Clark had met the girls briefly, but she had a long way to go in gaining their trust. He would wait until he was sure of their contentment and they were showing signs of improvement with their new governess’s help before he turned his mind to his own needs. Their happiness was his first consideration.

His gaze fell to where Miss Clark twisted her gloved hands in her lap. Was she cold? He glanced toward the fire and considered adding more fuel to heat the room, but that was what he’d have done with Calista. With Miss Clark he shouldn’t be so obviously solicitous of her comfort. He clenched his hands before him on the desk and tried not to think of dragging her into his lap and wrapping her tight in his arms to warm her up personally.

Miss Clark cleared her throat. “Perhaps you might share with me your requirements regarding my duties here.”

An image of Miss Clark spread over his desk, legs wide as he tasted her, filled his mind. He shook his head to clear the image away. Miss Clark was only for his daughters now. He shouldn’t think of her any other way, but curse it, he was going to struggle not to. “My children require a firm but gentle hand. They are not unruly but are prone to tears. They have a nurse on hand at all times, as well as a maid, but they miss their mother. She had a way of bringing out the best in them and making them laugh. Their best hasn’t been seen in a very long time and your predecessors failed to make a lasting impression. You face a difficult challenge.”

“They are just children and seemed very shy. May I ask their exact ages?”

“Willow is five, Maisy four, and Poppy is nearing two years of age. Far too young to be motherless.”

Miss Clark smiled, a hint of dimple appearing on one cheek. How had he never noticed a dimple before? Yet when Miss Clark pursed her lips tightly, the dimple disappeared as if it had never been. “Well, I’ll leave it to you to procure a mother for them in due time, but for the present, can you tell me of any important events that should be celebrated?”

“I hardly think a party should be planned for. The girls need routine and order and stability. Their environment has been a disruptive two years.”

“That’s to be expected. The loss of a girl’s mother is a pain that never goes away.” Her eyes grew unfocused. “But a forgotten birthday, an event that should be at least marked by those closest to her, is never truly forgotten, no matter how many years have passed.”

Constantine leaned forward eagerly. Was that a chink in her armor, or was he simply hoping to finally see one? “I take it you’ve missed a few birthdays with your family?”

“Enough to regret each and every one.” She shook her head. “Whose birthday is next?”