Chapter Eleven
“I will count to three, and if you have not come down from there, you will regret it.”
Trevor paused on his way to the library. He crinkled his forehead and listened closer, wondering who could be saying that…and why?
He glanced up the hallway then down from whence he came. The female voice echoed through the silence he had requested his servants keep during the morning hours while he worked in his study. So who could be ignoring his wish?
“I mean it. Blast it all, get down. Now.” The voice lowered into a grumble. “Spooks, you are the Devil’s own animal.”
Trevor took soft steps toward the library, hoping not to alert his servant, although he had a sneaky suspicion who disrupted his quiet morning, anyway. Louisa . She seemed to disrupt a lot of things in his life lately.
When he reached the door, he stopped and peeked inside. Standing on a stool, Louisa teetered as she reached the top shelf on tiptoes. What was the foolish woman trying to accomplish besides tempting fate and perhaps breaking her neck?
Wearing her maid’s black dress and white apron, he realized he’d have to instruct Mrs. Smythe to find her another dress…one that wouldn’t fit her body so well. The material stretched across her back and tiny waist, reminding him she was not the young girl he’d thought he’d ran over with his carriage, but a woman full grown. From this vantage point, her slender ankles and calves flashed at him.
Louisa growled and stretched farther. The stool tipped and she gasped. Arms failing about as she searched for something to grab hold of. He rushed to her side just as she slipped off. Before she hit the floor, he caught her.
A whoosh of air escaped her throat, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed the moment, even if it was only for a few seconds. The scent of roses drifted around her and he held himself back from burying his face in her neck and inhaling deeply.
“Oh, heavens.”
She gripped his shoulders and looked at him. Her gaze touched every inch of his face, resting a mite longer on his lips than necessary. How could he look away when she tempted him so? He’d admired her lips yesterday afternoon in his study before almost kissing her. Indeed, he should have had better restraint. She was off limits. Yet, even in his dreams, she tormented him.
Once again, the urge to follow through with what he’d started yesterday became strong. He wouldn’t mind feeling her lips rub against his in a passionate kiss. He longed to have her arms wrapped around his neck as she leaned into him, participating fully.
Bringing his thoughts to a screeching halt, he reminded himself of her status in life—a servant. He steeled himself. I am not my father.
She inhaled sharply and scrambled out of his arms and curtsied. “Oh, good heavens. My apologies, Your Grace. I—I didn’t see you.”
He chuckled. “How could you when you were not looking my way?”
Moving another step back, she fidgeted restlessly.
“What I would like to know,” he said, pulling his thoughts away from the desire stirring inside of him, “is why you were talking to my books? More importantly, I fear for your frame of mind because you spoke as if you expected an answer.”
Her eyes widened then she giggled. “Oh, no. I was not speaking to your books. I was trying to coerce the cat down from the shelf.” She pointed to the bookcase. “Spooks did not want to come down, so I was convincing him otherwise.”
“Spooks?”
“Yes, sir. He’s the cat I gave the twins yesterday.”
Trevor nodded. “And what is he doing in my library?”
She shrugged. “He’s either trying to further his education by reading, or he’s hiding from me.”
He chuckled again. Louisa certainly had a quick wit. Lately, he found himself laughing more than he had before when she was around. He also realized he’d begun to desire a woman. Gwen had somehow taken that ability away from him since he married her, but slowly, Louisa was bringing it back.
He glanced to the top shelf. “It appears as if your attempts of coercing him down have failed. I suppose I should try.”
“Oh, no, Your Grace. Let me do that.”
He ran his gaze over her petite frame. “You, my dear, do not have arms long enough.” Trevor’s gaze slid playfully toward the stool. “Obviously.”
Carefully, he climbed on the stool and peeked on the top shelf. Spooks curled in a ball and slept like a baby, which made it easier to slip his hand under the animal and carry him down. Once Trevor’s feet were firmly on the floor, he handed the bundle to Louisa.
“Honestly, Louisa, I don’t know why you thought this animal belonged to the Devil. I had no problem with him.”
Grinning, she shook her head. “Then Spooks must appreciate your gentle hand more than mine.”
Without thinking, he cupped her fingers and caressed them. “Actually, your hands are considerably softer.” He winked. “I think the cat didn’t like the names you called him.”
She laughed. “Perhaps. I don’t know what I would have done if you had not happened by. I would probably be chasing that animal all afternoon.”
How he wanted to lift her fingers to his lips and rub her softness against him. The urge to take her in his arms became overpowering, and he knew she’d somehow enchanted him. Her smoldering eyes nearly had him on his knees begging for her affection.
Heavens, what’s wrong with me? He wasn’t desperate like Lord Hawthorne. So why did Trevor feel he must have Louisa?
He released her hand and stepped back. Being this close wasn’t wise or healthy. Hooking his hands behind his back, he wished he’d stop thinking about her in such a personal way. Yet it was such a pleasant change to have his thoughts wander in her direction, which always made him smile.
“So what does Mrs. Smythe have you doing today?” he quickly asked.
“I’m tidying up in the rooms.” She took the feather duster out of her apron pocket. “Until she finds me something else to do, this is what will keep me busy.”
“Seems like an easy enough task.”
“I certainly hope so, Your Grace. I would hate to think I mucked up another position.”
“Rest assured, Louisa, Mrs. Smythe will find the right fit for you.”
She shrugged as her hand petted the sleeping kitten in her arms. “The housekeeper will not allow me into the kitchen. Neither will Francois. And Mrs. Fitzwilliam refuses to give me anymore rose clippers.” Louisa took a deep breath. “I fear at this rate, Mrs. Smythe will run out of things for me to do before too long.”
He leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms. “Do you remember anything about your past?”
“Well, I have had a few visions. I believe I had worked for a wealthy family before. The other day when I looked into your ballroom, I saw one in my mind. It was crowded with people, and there was a little girl who wanted to dance, so her father picked her up in his arms and swung her around. And then, of course, I remembered the things I did in the kitchen about the footman and the butler.” She smiled. “I also believe this family I worked for might have taught me French.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You speak the language?”
“Yes. When Francois made a rude comment to me the other day, I replied back in French. It surprised everyone in the kitchen, especially me.”
Trevor couldn’t stop watching the way her hand moved across the animal’s fur in soft strokes. And for the life of him, he wanted to feel her tender touch. “That is very interesting.” Before he could stop himself, he reached over and petted the animal curled against her. When the tip of his fingers brushed her fingers, fire shot through him. Although he didn’t want the incredible feeling to leave, out of propriety, he withdrew.
“Indeed it is, Your Grace.”
He cleared his throat—and hopefully his mind as well—and stepped back. “Well, I shall leave you to your duties. What are you going to do about the cat?”
“I need to return Spooks to the nursery… unless you would like to do it.”
He blinked, surprised. Why would she think he’d want the chore?
“You could check on the children,” she continued innocently.
Their eyes locked and Trevor stilled. Those huge, round green eyes peered straight through him—right into his soul. Did she know? Could she actually see his insecurities regarding the children? Impossible. Yet, there was something all too intuitive—worldly—in her arresting gaze. This woman was a mystery, and not just in regard to her memory. No, something innate drew him to her. Something carnal and deep. It would behoove him to be wary.
“I would not wish Mrs. Smythe to think I’m shirking my duties.” She smiled and gently dropped the kitten into his arms. Grudgingly he took the animal. “Would you do this for me, please?”
Staring into her lustrous eyes, he knew he couldn’t possibly turn her away. Not with her pleading gaze locked to his. “No, we… um… do not wish Mrs. Smythe to think that about you when, um… it’s far from the truth.” His heart pounded crazily the longer he looked at her, and he couldn’t believe how tongue-tied she made him.
A smile stretched across her mouth and her lovely eyes twinkled. Slowly, she curtsied, holding his stare the whole time. When she turned to continue tidying up the room, it took all of his willpower to pull away and leave.
Strange to think, but she had bewitched him.
He hurried up the stairs toward the nursery. He opened the door to the children’s room and walked inside. The twins stopped playing and looked up at him with wide eyes. When their gazes fell to the cat, they cheered and jumped to their feet. His heart melted as they came to him holding out their hands to take the animal. Even Amanda didn’t seem frightened of him. How he prayed the children were his and not another man’s offspring.
Mrs. Jacobs waddled toward him, smiling. “I see Miss Louisa found the kitten.”
“Yes, she did.”
The older woman clucked. “I almost wish she hadn’t. Having the animal in the nursery distracts the children.”
“From what, Mrs. Jacobs?”
“Well…from their studies, of course.”
The conversation he’d had with Louisa the other day about the children resurfaced. He frowned. “Considering the twins are only two,” he said sternly, “I do not see how a cat is going to distract them from their studies when they should not be studying at all. And if they do, it should only be at limited times during the day.”
Mrs. Jacob’s narrowed eyes laced with malice, and as she opened her stiff lips to speak when a crash shook the walls. The mysterious boom had come from downstairs. His heart dropped. He darted out of the nursery and down the stairs. Servants filtered from the other rooms to see what had caused the sound.
Then came Mrs. Smythe’s shriek. “Louisa!”
Fear lodged in his throat, and he ran faster. Had something terrible happened to her? Yet the closer he came to the library and could hear the housekeeper’s irate grumbles, a different fear took over. What did Louisa do this time? He almost didn’t want to know.