Hunting the Hero (The Wild Randalls 4)

Although she did nothing to be noticed, Rothwell couldn’t take his eyes from her. To distract him, Constantine all but threw Poppy into his arms. “Say hello to Rothwell, sweetheart.”

His friend appeared startled by the child in his arms but made a passable attempt to speak with her before quickly handing her back. He cast one last look at Miss Clark before bowing to Willow. “Lady Willow, a pleasure to see you again. Do you remember me?”

Willow dipped a much-improved curtsy and smiled up at Rothwell. “Yes, sir. You used to spin me around till I was dizzy. Will you do it again?”

“Anything for you, Lady Willow.”

Willow hadn’t spoken to Rothwell very much on his last visit, yet now she was confidently conversing and even making demands. Constantine threw a quick, grateful smile at Miss Clark as Rothwell clasped Willow’s hands to spin her around. Miss Clark had exceeded his expectations and he intended to show his appreciation later. There was a garnet bracelet burning a hole in his coat pocket.

Greeting Maisy took a little more effort. She’d retreated beneath the well of his desk, ensuring that Rothwell had to bend upside down to see her, looking quite ridiculous in the process. “Lady Maisy,” Rothwell said from the same position, “so good to see you.”

When he was upright again, a giggle sounded behind him. Miss Clark, and then Willow, began to laugh at Rothwell. Neither of them could stop even when Rothwell glared at the noise.

Constantine probably should stop them, but he rather enjoyed their antics. “Laughing at Rothwell’s expense is rather unbecoming for ladies.”

Miss Clark struggled valiantly to keep a straight face but failed terribly. “Forgive me, my lord, but I was not laughing at His Lordship.” She glanced at Willow as his daughter drew close against her side. “I was simply amazed at what Lady Maisy can accomplish at the tender age of four. Her coming out should prove to be remarkably memorable.”

A warm thrill filled him that Miss Clark was imagining the future too. At least he wasn’t the only one considering possibilities. “If you were to write down her antics, I doubt anyone would believe you.”

Miss Clark’s eyes glowed when she looked upon him. “We would know the truth.”

Constantine’s heart skipped a beat and he took a pace toward her. But then Maisy latched on to his leg, halting his plans to touch his governess. Thank God she had. Rothwell was already looking between them, suspicion clear in his eyes.

The smile on Miss Clark’s face dimmed and she glanced down. Was she embarrassed that he was attracted to her still?

He glanced at his children. “T

hank you for bringing them.”

“Of course, my lord. Ladies, let us leave the gentlemen to their pursuits.” Miss Clark gathered up the girls and quickly departed.

“Governess, my arse,” Rothwell muttered. “At least you are no longer moping.”

Constantine poured another drink. “Don’t be simple.”

Miss Clark was exactly that. A governess. But the lover was always there behind the wire-rimmed spectacles when she looked upon him.

Rothwell leaned against his desk. “It’s about time you found a distraction. She’s a fine-looking woman.”

Constantine tossed back his drink and refilled it. “It’s not like that.”

“But was it ever? You’ve a proprietary eye when you look at her. Same expression you used to cast upon your wife when any scoundrel got too close.”

There wasn’t much to dispute in Rothwell’s statement, so he remained silent. It seemed the best way to avoid admitting he lusted after a servant.

Rothwell only laughed. “I’m sure you can lure the woman back into your bed. You just have to find the right incentive. Jewels usually work.”

That might be so, but Constantine wasn’t sure he wanted her there under those terms anymore. He liked to think their attraction was mutual. He’d give her jewels if they pleased her, but that wasn’t all he wanted.

Seeing her with his daughters, how she encouraged them to laugh, to be close sisters, and how she cared for them made one thing very clear. He wanted Miss Clark to stay for as long as she would for their sake. He didn’t want to risk driving her away just because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Meredith Clark deserved better. She deserved to be respected.

CHAPTER 17

MEREDITH GLANCED OUT the window at the fine white powder falling from the sky and gnawed at her lower lip. Very soon she would be trapped inside Stanton Harold Hall with three very energetic children and one sinfully handsome widower. The girls had blossomed in the past few weeks with the servants’ help. Mealtimes and bedtimes were full of chatter, stories, and contented smiles; the days were full of energetic games. It was a pity the activities did not meet all of Meredith’s needs, especially the ones filling her mind at night.

She missed Grayling. She missed being held in his arms. After his friend Rothwell’s visit, he’d become even more withdrawn. That brief moment of possessiveness he’d shown after Rothwell had inspected her from head to toe had brought back the reminders of how pleasant, exciting, his company could be. Perhaps their bargain had been a mistake. Meredith had never been celibate, either by choice or by need.

A male throat cleared nearby, and when she glanced up, she noticed the butler had come to spy on her work again. She groaned under her breath but managed to smile. “Mr. Cunningham. What a pleasure.”