To Teach A Gentleman Page 2

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  “Absolutely not! I forbid it!”

  Genevieve cowered as her mother bellowed at Lady Constance. The missive to return so soon after her mother had made them leave so abruptly yesterday had been unexpected, but nothing had prepared Genevieve for this. And, judging from her mother’s reaction, she hadn’t considered the possibility of Lady Constance’s suggestion either.

  “Please, calm down, my lady.” The stern tone of Lady Constance’s voice earned a glare from her mother. “I would appreciate you listening to my plan before you pass judgment upon it.”

  “Genevieve is the daughter of a viscount. She was born to privilege and deserves respect, not to be working like a servant.”

  Lady Constance narrowed her eyes as her back straightened. “Do you believe my title is honorary? My father is a marquis, and I was born to a ridiculous amount of opulence. That means nothing here. I’m trying to help Miss Jubal, not demean her or her worth.”

  “I meant no disrespect to you. Perhaps I know your father?”

  Resisting the urge to cringe as embarrassment overtook her was difficult. Genevieve’s mother had been nosey and the fact had made for a rather embarrassing childhood. It was quite sad to say not much had changed when it came to her mother. Luckily Lady Constance didn’t appear to be angered by her mother’s curiosity.

  “Perhaps. Now, as I said, I believe it would be a significant help for Miss Jubal to honor Lord Andel’s request and teach him French.”

  “I heard you the first time, and I disagree.”

  “Lady Burleson, you heard her just as I did. When she spoke French, she did not appear shy or anything like you described. I believe this can help her become accustomed to speaking with gentlemen within this controlled environment. Then, when she is out in society, it will become more natural to her.”

  “What about rumors? No man would want to marry her if it got out that she worked as an instructor. This whole situation is wrong. I came here so someone would teach my daughter to speak to gentlemen, not so that you would hire her.”

  Apparently unperturbed, Lady Constance then turned to face Genevieve. “What do you think?”

  “It’s not her decision,” her mother sputtered.

  As the two women argued, Genevieve couldn’t hear them over the pounding of her own heart. What did she think? Honestly, she wasn’t sure she could sit across from that handsome man and teach him French. She’d never done anything like that before.

  Then, she thought about his crooked smile, and something inside her melted. If she were being honest with herself, she’d admit to wanting to see him again. Not to mention, that their interaction would be controlled as Lady Constance assured. She’d never see him in a social setting. What harm could there be?

  “And, what do you think will happen when he encounters my daughter at a ball or other gatherings?” Her mother’s voice declared her only concern.

  “Should that happen, which is unlikely given the amount of people in town for the season, I suggest you tell him the truth. You are a client here just as he is. You may also remind him that he is the one who insisted upon Miss Jubal instructing him.”

  Prickles of awareness lit her skin. Had he asked for her specifically? Although she knew he only wanted her for her knowledge, no man had ever wanted her for anything before. How could she pass up this chance?

  “I–I’d like to do this,” Genevieve interrupted, her voice weak.

  Both sets of eyes turned to her, Lady Constance’s proud, and her mother’s furious. Although Genevieve knew she would pay for it later, she needed to do this. As Miss Shepherd had told her, this was her life, no one else’s.

  “That’s wonderful.” Lady Constance stood. “I’ll set everything up. I suspect the earl will be anxious to begin, so if you will follow me, Lady Regina can give you some advice and explain how matters work around here.”

  The remainder of the day, her mother hardly spoke to her. And, when they received a message from Lady Constance that evening informing them her first lesson would be the following day, Genevieve heard her mother’s loud complaints to her father. As was his typical fashion, he didn’t seem to be concerned as this didn’t affect him.

  Once her mother had dropped her off at the House of Reform the next day, the woman had promptly left. Genevieve wasn’t surprised as her mother was still angry, but it would have been nice to know she’d had support.

  Glancing at the door of the drawing room, Genevieve concentrated on trying to remember every word Lady Regina had told her yesterday. The woman was very friendly, and it was clear she cared a great deal about the success of this business. Genevieve only hoped she would be able to add to that.

  Footsteps in the hallway set her heart pounding erratically. Why did she think she could actually do this? Her face grew cold and the room began to spin. Dear God, she was going to swoon. She swallowed convulsively. This couldn’t be happening. She had to prove that she could do this. Otherwise, she would never be able to find a husband, and that was her only goal in life.

  “Miss Jubal,” Marvin, the graying butler, said from the doorway. “The Earl of Andel is here to see you.”

  She nodded and forced herself to her feet. No introductions? How was she supposed to converse with him if nothing was done properly? Then, she recalled how easily she talked to him two days ago. That’s the person she needed to be.

  Her hands shook when he appeared in the doorway, his muscular build filling every ounce of space. Her breath caught in her throat. Why did he have to look like a Greek god? Surely this would be easier if he were a gangly fop. Or, perhaps someone with an obvious flaw.

  “Good morning, Miss Jubal,” he greeted as if they’d known each other for years.

  “Bonjour, mon seigneur,” she returned his greeting.

  His twitching lips called her attention. They were beautiful, and if speaking French would get her a smile, she would oblige him every chance she got. Besides, it once again gave her a confidence she’d never had before.

  “Is that going to be how this is going to work? You speak French, and I am to guess what you said until I am fluent?” His tone was teasing.

  “If that is your preferred learning style, je vais vous obliger.” She shrugged. For once, she actually believed she could do this.

  “In my experience, I will do better if I know what I’m saying first.” He raised an eyebrow. “May we sit?”

  Heat rushed up her cheeks. She was already doing this wrong. “Of course. Please, make yourself comfortable while I pour some water.”

  “That’s not necessary for me. I’m not thirsty.”

  She clicked her tongue the way her mother always did when she was displeased. “I highly recommend a glass. You will need it as we will be using our mouths quite a bit during these lessons.”

  His eyes widened, then he laughed. “Really? I wasn’t aware that was part of the services offered with the French class. I guess I should have known better.”

  Fire blazed up her face as her eyes shot to his, her mortification complete to see his absolute amusement. “Talking, my lord. I mean we will be talking. I’m sorry. I-I’m not used to it, apparently. I would never . . . I mean, someone will be checking in on our classes upon occasion. You’re safe with me. Dear God.”

  Realizing she was rambling and had made a total fool of herself, she spun around. Tears clogged her throat. Normally, she couldn’t get out two words to a gentleman, and with this one, she couldn’t seem to shut up. She covered her face with her hands, this couldn’t possibly have gone worse.

  She jumped when she felt his hand on her shoulder. Her breathing tripled. Never before had a man touched her without the intent to dance with her, or punish her. Turning back toward him, she put a respectable distance between them while keeping her eyes downcast.

  “A
re you all right?” His low voice was full of concern. “It was a simple jest, nothing more. I don’t feel threatened in your presence. Trust me.”

  Biting on her bottom lip, she nodded. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Can’t you look at me? I’d like to begin anew, and I can’t do it if you intend to avoid eye contact.”

  Forcing herself to draw her gaze up, Genevieve met his liquid, chocolate eyes. The sincerity in their depths made breathing difficult. Exactly like the other day, all his attention was solely focused on her, and, although unnerving, she enjoyed it.

  Lord Andel was unlike anyone she’d ever met, and she feared she should be the one to feel threatened by his presence.

  Chapter 2

  Christopher let himself out of his mistress’s house. That had definitely been an unusual experience. Ever since the loss of his wife, he’d kept a woman and his time in London was no different. However, for some reason, visiting her after his French lessons had been a bad idea. One he would not be repeating.

  Yesterday, after his uncharacteristic flirting with Miss Jubal had almost put the lady in tears, he had insisted they begin the lesson. She’d been a little unorganized and clearly nervous, but he could only blame himself and his uncontrollable tongue for that. At this point, he should count himself lucky if she agreed to give him another lesson. On the other hand, he couldn’t forget how pleased she’d been by the end of their session.

  She’d given him a smile that had shown her perfect teeth and accentuated her plump lips. It was that smile that had haunted him. The one that had plagued him even as he had lain with his mistress. That would never do. It was unacceptable, and he wouldn’t allow it to happen again. Miss Jubal should only be teaching him and therefore had no business smiling at him like that.

  Irritated with himself, Christopher pushed the woman from his mind and made his way over to visit Jacques. His brother’s words from the other day returned and although he was loathe to admit it, there was a small amount of truth to them. He knew next to nothing about Miss Auclair. Although that had no bearing regarding his future plans, he suspected it would be wise to make an attempt to change that truth.

  “Mon amie, come in. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Jacques’s easy greeting came from inside the study, but the man rounded the desk and met Christopher in the hall. He couldn’t help but note his friend’s heavy accent sounded nothing like Miss Jubal’s more practice tone, but still it made him think of her.

  With a frown, Christopher bit down on his back teeth. “I thought it would be good for you and I to talk.”

  The man let out a heavy sigh. “A shame you feel this way. The day is bright, the birds are singing, and no good has ever followed that phrase.”

  Forcing a smile, Christopher followed the man who had become his closest friend through the corridor and out to the garden. That was one of the things that had struck him about Jacques. The man disliked handling matters inside. He had a love of life that was unrivaled and drove him to use every moment to the fullest. That very quality was something Christopher was sorely lacking.

  Once they arrived at a pleasant spot, he took a deep breath of the fresh air and tried to clear his head. Jacques put one foot on the bench and leaned his elbow on his bent knee, watching him intently. The man seemed to have a reason for his every action.

  “Better?” Jacques didn’t hide his triumphant smile.

  Shaking his head at his friend, Christopher let his breath out slowly. “Your garden—here or in the country—doesn’t hold miraculous properties.”

  “You’ve made that claim before, but do you feel better?”

  Not wanting to admit it, Christopher glared. “I didn’t come here to smell your flowers. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?”

  Jacques laughed. “Of course, the stern Earl of Andel can’t possibly accept that fresh air can clear the mind and the serenity of the garden can offer order to chaotic thoughts.”

  “No. I truly can’t.”

  Tossing his hands in the air, Jacques looked to the sky as if for guidance. “Then, I have failed you. Now, mon amie, tell me of your troubles.”

  Hating to do this, Christopher sat down on the bench. “I started taking French lessons.”

  “Très bien. My language has so much passion, and I am certain you shall enjoy expressing yourself through new words.”

  “My instructor assured me that if I attend daily classes and spend hours each day reading the recommended books, I should have a decent comprehension in four to six months.”

  Jacques grimaced. “It is a labor of love as I assure you the effort shall be far worth the task.”

  “Are you referring to knowing the language or marrying your sister?”

  “Ah, that is simple for it is both.” His friend grinned. “French is a reward in-and-of itself, and you will find French women to be as passionate as the language. That is something you clearly are lacking in your own life.”

  A thought hit him, and Christopher studied the pleased look on his friend’s face. “Is that why you want me to marry Miss Auclair?”

  “In part.” Jacques shrugged. “There are reasons for her as well.”

  “I see. Well, your sister is the reason why I have come to talk to you today. I know she isn’t ready to leave France, as I am in no condition to make an offer for her at present, but in any case, I think I should become better acquainted with her over the next few months.”

  “That is sound reasoning, but as my sister doesn’t know English, how do you propose to accomplish this? I would be happy to tell you what I can, but I can’t speak to a lady’s heart.”

  Christopher nodded and took a deep breath. “I know. I thought quite a bit on the subject, and I’d like to begin writing letters. Through my lessons, I should be able to muddle through creating one, and my instructor can translate Miss Auclair’s responses.”

  With a raised eyebrow, Jacques didn’t look convinced. “This instructor, are we referring to a male or a female?”

  “Female,” Christopher responded, keeping his expression neutral.

  Jacques coughed. “Wait a minute, you wish to have another woman reading your letters from your soon-to-be wife? Are you certain this is a wise decision?”

  “Yes. I don’t see this person as a woman. I pay her to instruct me. Why shouldn’t I obtain her assistance?”

  “As I mentioned, my sister has all the passion of a French lady. Surely, her letters will portray that, and I don’t imagine you, nor the instructor in question, would like the result.”

  Laughing away his friend’s concern, Christopher clapped the man on the back. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing, and I fully intend to let Miss Auclair know exactly who shall be seeing her letters. Then, once I am able to read them without assistance, I shall let her know that as well.”

  Seemingly satisfied, Jacques nodded. That small movement gave Christopher a sigh of relief. He trusted the man. As a matter of fact, it was Jacques’s suggestions that had saved his estate when the heavy rains they’d endured had negative effects on the tenant’s harvests. During the time of their friendship, Christopher had learned to heed the Frenchman’s words.

  The idea of allowing Miss Jubal to read his letters from his future wife originally bothered him for some unknown reason, but after what had just occurred with his mistress, it was necessary. The very next lesson, he needed to let Miss Jubal know exactly why he was taking lessons. Then, he would have a continued reminder of it at future times. Perhaps after that he would be able to stop having thoughts about her inappropriately sensual mouth.

  ~ ~ ~

  Genevieve winced inwardly when her mother nodded with a forced smile at an acquaintance who moved past them in the drawing room.

  “This is not working at all. Tomorrow I’m going to tell Lady Constance we are
done.”

  Shocked, Genevieve’s gaze shot to her mother’s. “I’ve only had one class, Mother. You can’t expect it to happen so quickly.”

  Genevieve fanned her face with her handkerchief as the room suddenly felt stifling. It was true that she hadn’t felt any different at this dinner party than she’d felt at the last, but she wasn’t about to tell her mother that.

  The lesson with Lord Andel had begun uncomfortably, but she believed it ended in a positive place. Although, she’d never quite felt at ease with him, she had certainly felt an improvement had taken place. That momentum wasn’t something she was prepared to lose.

  “I can expect whatever I wish. I watched you at dinner. You never lifted your eyes to meet another person’s in the room. Did you speak to anyone this time?” Her mother’s voice was full of disgust.

  Shame heated her cheeks. “We exchanged greetings.”

  “Lady Constance shall hear about this.” Her mother let out an exasperated sigh.

  Feeling desperate, Genevieve took in a deep breath. “You can’t blame me for what happened today. I believe everyone is so used to not seeing me, they have no idea that I have changed. And, I have. The new me would have returned their conversations. I promise.”

  A skeptical eyebrow told Genevieve exactly what her mother thought about that. “Is that so? Such a comment needs proof. When the men join us, I expect you to have an honest conversation with one of them. If you can manage that, I’ll allow your charade of French lessons to continue, for now.”

  Sweat beaded on Genevieve’s forehead as her heart raced. “Very well.”

  To prepare herself, Genevieve thought about the earl and their conversations. Why was it so easy with him, yet the idea of speaking with another man nearly sent her into a panic? If it was the safety of speaking French, she couldn’t exactly use that here.