To Teach A Gentleman Page 4

  Hannah blinked at her. “This has nothing to do with him, nor will I accept any condolences. I paid my dues. Regardless, I say we go buy you some new dresses. They just received some fabric from France that I think is very—”

  “Wait. I don’t need new clothes.” Genevieve’s heart pounded her chest as fear enveloped her. If she spent any funds from her father’s account, he would be sure to beat her. It had taken her years to act in a way to avoid such punishments, and she was successful most days.

  “Nonsense. Don’t you worry about a thing. My husband left me some funds, and I intend to use it to buy us both new gowns.”

  The thought someone would do something like that for her clogged her throat. “But, why? You don’t even know me.”

  “Of course I do. I see the pain I’ve lived with for nearly ten years reflected in your eyes. You may not have many friends by choice, but I’ve never been allowed to keep them. At twenty-seven, I think I’d like to start living my life. I suggest you do the same.”

  Two hours later, they sat, exhausted in the sweetshop. Genevieve couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. Although, she still felt terrible accepting such extravagant gifts, the seamstress was to create two morning dresses and one ball gown—just for her. The idea of having an outfit tailored to fit her without having to adjust it seemed too good to be true.

  At one of Hannah’s humorous comments, Genevieve laughed, taking care to cover her mouth with her hand. It was difficult to remember, but she was becoming better at hiding herself. However, she also never had occasion to laugh or smile so much in all her life.

  “Why do you do that?”

  Alarmed, Genevieve froze. “Do what?”

  “Cover your mouth when you laugh or smile. I noticed you do it frequently.”

  Genevieve swallowed. The fact that her friend always spoke her mind made everything more difficult. And, she wasn’t sure she could answer such a question. It was much too soon.

  Instead of divulging the horrid truth, Genevieve shrugged. “I’ve never thought about it. Just an unconscious gesture I suppose.”

  With an understanding nod, Hannah turned back to her treat and Genevieve let out a sigh of relief. She knew there was probably a rule about lying to one’s friend, but she couldn’t think about that now. However, mentioning her smile brought back thoughts of Lord Andel and her mind wandered back to the kiss she’d shared with him.

  “Hannah,” Genevieve forced out. “Can I ask you an unusual question?”

  “You can ask me anything.” Her friend’s face was open.

  Genevieve swallowed. “Why do men kiss women they don’t like?”

  Her friend let out a musical laugh. “You’re right. That is a very unusual question. Obviously one of those creatures broke your heart, so let me tell you, men don’t always stop to think if they should do something before they do it. And, kissing means nothing to them. Merely a convenient woman at a convenient time.”

  “I see,” Genevieve whispered, barely able to get the words out.

  “Just promise me something. If you do decide to forgive your gentleman, you can, but don’t you ever forget what he did to you. How it made you feel.”

  Not wanting to correct her friend’s mistaken assumption, Genevieve nodded. She had known in her heart that the kiss had meant nothing to Lord Andel, but she had hoped he’d felt something as she had. However, it was probably for the best, after all, at this point, she wasn’t even sure she could face him.

  By the time she’d made it back home, all thoughts of the earl had left her mind. Her mother’s screeching could be heard from the front steps. Apparently, she’d heard about the trip to the seamstress.

  “Misses, Lord Burleson wants to see you immediately.” The sympathy in the housekeeper’s voice could only mean one thing.

  Genevieve lowered her head as she made her way to her father’s study. She had made a mistake and now it was time to pay.

  ~ ~ ~

  Christopher sat in the small room in the House of Reform staring at the door. It had been three days since he’d seen Miss Jubal, but Lady Constance had assured him his lessons would continue today. That being said, he was getting anxious as Miss Jubal typically arrived before him.

  The day following the kiss, which he realized had been a mistake, he’d arrived early to his lesson hoping to speak to Miss Jubal, but he’d been turned away by Lady Constance. She had claimed that Miss Jubal had fallen ill, and she had offered him a replacement instructor. He had refused. After all, he now knew Miss Jubal didn’t live at the House of Reform like the other instructors, so if he’d agreed on a replacement, it was likely he’d never see her again.

  He caught sight of her in the doorway, and he shook off his thoughts as he shot to his feet. Although she didn’t look at him, he could see exhaustion on her face. Perhaps he had been wrong, and she had been ill. On the other hand, what kind of sickness only affects a person when it’s convenient? No. She had been avoiding him.

  “Bonjour,” she greeted emotionlessly as she grabbed the pitcher and poured two glasses of water before settling in her chair. “I’m sorry for my tardiness. Let’s begin.”

  Incensed that she acted as though nothing had happened between them, he crossed his arms. “I think we need to talk first.”

  “We will be talking, Mon seigneur, quite a bit. In French. Now, please take a seat. Did you take any time to study the—”

  “I kissed you, then you disappeared for days, and you have nothing to say?” He stared her down, unwilling to let this go, and further irritated that her eyes didn’t meet his.

  She let out a breath. “We don’t have to do this. You and I both know it shouldn’t have happened. It was a mistake that meant nothing.”

  “Then, why have you missed these past lessons? One would think you’ve been avoiding me.” He lifted an eyebrow, challenging her.

  Her eyes lifted, finally meeting his. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, my lord, but my recent absence had nothing to do with you.”

  The fact she could kiss him and not have a second thought about it bothered him far more than he cared to admit. In all his years, he’d never had one word of complaint about his skill in that regard. Now, he was the one who felt challenged. The thought of trying again brought his attention to her mouth. As if he needed another reason to be obsessed with her lips. No. He needed to keep his mind off her.

  “Very well. Then, we should continue where we left off.”

  Gratitude filled her eyes and the corners of her mouth turned up before her expression abruptly fell. He silently cursed. He hadn’t meant for her to do that. Bloody hell, he was a mess. And, it was all due to this random woman he didn’t even know who would only serve a temporary place in his life. Perhaps that was the key. He didn’t know her. As a man, it was easy to become intrigued by mysteries, and that was all she was. Once he got to know her better, this fascination would fade.

  “Back to my question, did you have time to study the French material I provided you?”

  “That’s the question?” He feigned shock. “The personal question I’ve been waiting days to find out what you could possibly want to know? I find myself greatly disappointed.”

  Her face turned crimson, and he couldn’t help his smile. The life it brought to her cheeks was rather intoxicating. Although, he hated to admit it, Miss Jubal was a beautiful lady.

  “I thought you meant to get back to the lessons, not . . . well, that.”

  “You are mistaken. Typically, I’m a rather private man, so I’ll encourage you to take advantage of this opportunity to ask while I’m offering it.”

  With her lips pursed, she looked as though nothing would give her greater displeasure, but she took a deep breath. “I wondered how your arrangement with your lady came about.”

  Finding it odd that
her question would have nothing to do with why he would make such a decision or about the pitfalls of the language barrier, he frowned. “Her brother is a friend of mine, and suggested the match. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” Her words were easy, but defeat swam in her eyes. Mystery was not a strong enough word to describe this woman. He would triple his efforts to learn French if that’s what it took. After all, she only seemed to want to talk to him in another language. He had been studying the book she’d given him and with his quick memory, he could easily recall a number of the words. It was the pronunciation that lost him. Regardless, he would learn quickly.

  One week later, he’d arrived home after an exhausting and frustrating lesson. Miss Jubal had been impersonal and professional all week, just as he’d expected her to be from the beginning. During that time, she didn’t smile once although he could see pleasure in her face from his continued progress. Still, his attention had been drawn to her lips with her every word.

  “There you are, Christopher. I’d begun to give up hope that you would be coming back at all today.” Philip’s face held amusement.

  “I don’t see the trouble. You knew I was taking lessons today.”

  “Yes, and the last ones were significantly shorter. Did something happened to make this one stand out?”

  Part of him wanted to confide all his troubles to his brother, but he didn’t think that would be a good idea. Not to mention that nothing had happened between him and Miss Jubal in a week. She was clearly highborn and likely had fallen on hard times which had forced her to labor, but that was no reason for him to treat her like a mistress. Regardless of how sensual her every move was.

  “Is there a reason for this interrogation?” Christopher made his way to his study and flipped open his French book as was his routine.

  “Actually, there is.” Philip let himself in and sat in the chair opposite the desk. “You weren’t here, and I had to make a last-minute decision, so I was forced to make it without consulting you. Therefore, you can’t blame me for the outcome.”

  “What are you talking about? Philip, what have you done?”

  “You’ve been in a really bad place lately, and for about a week, you’ve done nothing but stick your nose in that horrible French book. I’ve heard you in here, reciting phrases, and something must be done.”

  “Dis ce que tu veux dire.” Christopher demanded of his brother in his badly broken French. It was a phrase he’d taught himself, and had been on the tip of his tongue to say to Miss Jubal many times. He’d missed those first days when she’d been brutally honest with him and wished she would do so again.

  “Why do you do that when you know I don’t understand you?”

  Christopher laughed. “Just get to your point.”

  “I think you should attend more functions, so I have accepted an invitation for us to attend a picnic tomorrow afternoon. I’m not saying you need to put yourself in a position to try to find a bride, but contact with other humans would be a pleasant change.”

  Wiping a hand over his face, Christopher tried to stave off his natural reaction. After all, his brother had at least been attempting to be supportive.

  “It’s been years since I’ve attended a picnic. I think I will be delighted to join you. Thank you for accepting on my behalf.”

  His brother sat still for a good while before standing. “All right, then. I will head off before you realize you actually agreed and I’m stuck going by myself and making excuses for you.”

  Shaking his head, Christopher watched his brother leave. Honestly, this would be good for him. Considering the majority of his life was spent on French lessons nowadays, he’d been much too wrapped up in Miss Jubal. It would be good for him to do something outside of his lessons for a change.

  ~ ~ ~

  “You’ve had a week, Genevieve. How much more time do you need?” Her mother paced the drawing room. “We even allowed you to have two maids to help you.”

  Genevieve kept her gaze trained on the floor. “I am very grateful, Mother. I am finished except for my gowns that I intend to wear to Lady Constance’s.”

  Abruptly, her mother stopped. “Gowns? No. You may have one. You may change into it before you leave and back out of it when you return home.”

  The shame of being seen in the same garment every day stung her eyes, but she knew better than to argue. She got herself into this position in the first place. She still didn’t know how her mother discovered that Hannah was to pay for her new dresses, but she suspected it didn’t matter.

  Her father had been livid. He’d clearly explained the inappropriateness of accepting gifts from others with every lashing. Then, he forced her to alter each and every one of her original garments to emulate more current styles, and fit her like the new ones.

  When her mother argued that the new gowns would help her find a husband, he merely uttered that she’d better pray that they do. She wasn’t sure what he had meant by that statement, but she was more determined than before to prove to Lady Constance that she could be an asset to the House of Reform.

  “Now, I’m telling your father that you are finished so we can attend the picnic today. Go get ready and ensure that I’m not lying to him.”

  Nodding, Genevieve made her way up the stairs. Although she wasn’t looking forward to the outing, she had to do something to prove to her mother that the classes were working. Knowing she would need the extra boost, she had the maid fix her hair differently. Perhaps soft and feminine would be a more attractive look, albeit impossible to maintain outside. Regardless, she had to try something.

  Once they arrived at the picnic, she could feel her unruly locks escaping almost immediately, and she reached up to try to secure them back into place.

  “Stop it,” her mother scolded. “It’s too late. When you don’t listen to me about your hair, you pay the price. Now, I’m anxious to see if your French lessons and new gowns will make a difference, regardless of how ghastly your hair looks. Frankly, your father is just as determined for results, so stop fussing and get ready to make some progress.”

  Feeling defeated, Genevieve lowered her gaze to trail after her mother’s steps. Of course, the woman was right. No amount of lessons or changing her hair or manner of dress could alter the fact that she was unmarriageable. Her only hope now would be for Lord Andel to speak kindly of her to Lady Constance. She nearly snorted aloud at the thought. That man couldn’t even speak kindly to her.

  “Miss Jubal? Is that you?”

  Genevieve froze, as did her mother. When she turned around, she noticed Lord Callum coming toward them. She hadn’t seen him since the disastrous dinner when she’d embarrassed herself and ran away. Putting her shoulders back, she forced her eyes to meet his. It was time to prove to her mother she could converse with a gentleman.

  “Lord Callum, how wonderful to see you,” she greeted, cringing when her voice wavered. That would never do, but her beating heart made everything more difficult.

  “The feeling is mutual. I haven’t seen you since you fell into my arms.”

  Fire raced up her cheeks, and she couldn’t help but look away. “Heavens. I—I’d hoped you’d forgotten that.”

  “Forgotten my daring rescue? Never.” He laughed. “The Lady Wortham arranged this picnic to show off her garden, would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you.”

  Genevieve looked upon his arm as if it were a snake. Lord Andel had done the same thing when he’d taken her out to the garden at the House of Reform. Would the viscount find her convenient and kiss her, too? Sweat formed on her forehead. She didn’t have a choice.

  “I’d be delighted.” She forced herself to take his arm, exhibiting special care to ensure she make as little contact as possible. A cold sweat drenched her face, and she worried she would swoon. People were staring. Quickly averting h
er eyes, she tried to block them out. Her breathing increased, and her head spun. What was happening?

  “Miss Jubal?” The familiar deep voice calmed her nerves, yet sent a wave of dread slicing over her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Excuse me?” Lord Callum clearly didn’t like the interruption.

  Knowing her duty, she cleared her throat. “Lord Callum, allow me to present the Earl of Andel.” Then, she brought her gaze up to face the earl’s. “Lord Andel, this is Viscount Callum.”

  The gentlemen greeted one another, then Lord Andel’s chocolate gaze was back upon her. “I believe we need to talk.”

  “I’m sorry, but the lady is taking a walk with me.” Lord Callum tightened his grip on her arm.

  “And, from the look of it, she’d rather be anywhere else.” The earl stretched to his full height, which was a few inches over Lord Callum.

  “Fear gripped her. “My lords, please. I would like to continue our walk, Lord Callum. If you would give me just one moment, I promise to return.”

  “For you, I will wait.”

  The viscount released her arm offering her a warm smile, and instinctively she returned it, then quickly put her hand over her mouth in an attempt to appear coy. She wished she didn’t have so many flaws. Beside her, Lord Andel sucked in his breath, but she ignored him. If he hadn’t accosted her, he never would have been subjected to her smile.

  Anger arose within her. How dare he ruin this for her? Tears threatened, but she forced them back as she faced the horrid man. Gone was her shyness. And, she fully intended to tell him exactly how she felt.

  He took her arm, keeping it close, so she had to touch him. Warmth burned into her, but she pushed it aside. As he took them past the couples, she ignored everyone. This was nothing like her walk with the viscount. Once they made it out of hearing distance, but still could be seen, he stopped.