Hunting the Hero (The Wild Randalls 4)

“Poppy’s, but we don’t celebrate it.” Gray glanced at the tabletop, guilt and grief filling him. Eventually, he glanced up. “It is the day my wife died.”

“Of course.” Miss Clark glanced over her shoulder toward the door. “Would you excuse me a moment? There is something I must attend to.”

She got up quietly, removing her scarf as she walked to the door and then tied it about the handle. Puzzled, he studied her handiwork, not understanding until she stood at his side that she’d blocked the view from the keyhole. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve never enjoyed the sensation of grown men spying through keyholes at me,” she murmured softly.

“Clever girl,” he whispered back. “You might just be a match for Cunningham one day.”

“I should think I already am,” she whispered back with a cheeky grin. Her smile broadened and then she did the unthinkable. She cupped his face between her hands and stared deeply into his eyes. “You mustn’t punish the child. It’s not her fault.”

Constantine closed his eyes as the touch and scent of Calista filled his senses and ran amok with his resolve. “I know.”

When her fingers tangled in his hair, he opened his eyes. The same mesmerizing stare that he’d grown to admire peered from behind the spectacles. A warm, urgent longing to hold her and touch her everywhere surged within him. If she remained close, he would break his word.

He didn’t want to behave dishonorably while she was under his roof. He couldn’t ask her to on her first day of employment. He’d made a promise not to expect her presence in his bed, or on any other piece of furniture, but he had the feeling he’d be hard pressed to keep his hands from wandering over her delectable body if she touched him like this again.

“I’m not sure how to do this,” he whispered.

Her gloved fingers caressed his face and then she drew back. “You’re making excellent progress, my lord. But rather than subject you to further temptation, perhaps I should begin my duties with the children. The rest of the details can be discussed later. The children are the reason I’m here, after all.”

Her brow rose, challenging him to deny he hadn’t brought her here for his pleasure. He’d brought her here to keep her away from Lord Squires and other gentlemen callers visiting the brothel. Purely selfish reasons, of course, yet he harbored no regrets whatsoever.

He did need help with the children, especially as the anniversary of his wife’s death drew closer. He hoped Miss Clark might have the power to distract them all from their maudlin thoughts. She backed away slowly with an amused glance for the state of his bulging trousers, then retrieved her scarf from the door handle. While she slipped it around her neck again, he soaked in her every move. She collected hat and bag and offered a sunny smile when she faced him. “Ready.”

Constantine willed his desire to ebb quickly. He stood and walked to the d

oor slowly with his hands clenched behind his back. This was it. Time to act like the gentleman he aspired to be. He did not molest the help, no matter the sorry aroused state they left him in. He would do nothing to lure the pretty, wickedly talented, and energetic governess into his bed. He would behave.

He grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the door, hopefully out of sight of the keyhole. “What did Arabella tell you yesterday?”

Miss Clark grinned. “Worried for your reputation?” she whispered.

“Terrified.” He released her and folded his arms across his chest. “Now, out with it.”

“I have to give the lady credit, she has completely bamboozled you, and it only took a moment of conversation.” Her hand rose to squeeze his arm. “I never divulge a secret, but in all honesty, we spoke a great deal but of you only a very little.”

Constantine was actually disappointed. Given the contents of the note, he’d assumed Arabella had regaled Miss Clark with a list of his better qualities and faults. “What could Arabella need to talk to you about in private? You barely know each other. I’m her friend. She could have confided in me.”

Miss Clark’s lips pressed together as if holding back laughter. She took a moment to collect her thoughts. “It wasn’t so much confiding as asking a woman’s point of view on a delicate subject.”

The world wobbled again. Miss Clark’s skills in the bedroom were exceptional. If she’d shared even a tenth of her experience in the bedroom, Arabella was bound for trouble. He glanced toward the door nervously. “About what?”

“To tell you would be betraying her trust.” She wrinkled her nose. “I cannot do that, even for you.”

Constantine rubbed a hand over his face. Hell and damnation. He couldn’t write to ask Arabella what the conversation had been about. Farnsworth might open her letter. Constantine would have to go to London before the season started to warn her off acting on Miss Clark’s advice.

Miss Clark rubbed his arm again. “You really are the worrying sort, aren’t you? Trust me. Lady Farnsworth knows exactly what she’s doing. I would never provide answers to questions that were not in her best interests to know.”

“What the devil do you mean by that?”

“Gray, there are some matters that only a woman can give an opinion on. If your wife had lived, I’m sure Arabella would have posed her questions to her instead of me.”

“Then I would have learned them,” he grumbled. “Augusta did not keep secrets from me.”

She reached up to brush her gloved fingers over his cheek. “Arabella is counting on my silence, so it is just as well that I’m not bound to you.”

He set his hands on his hips rather than crushing the woman in his arms and never letting her go. “You really are the most confounding woman I’ve ever met.”

“And you have a singularly rare gift for compliments,” she murmured. “As much as I’m sure you’d like to argue the matter all day, we had better end this discussion before your butler finds a reason to burst through the door.”