Chapter 8
His plan to keep his distance from Miss Bellamy was not working. Even in thoughts, he tried not to use her name intimately. Hovering in the doorway of the nursery, he listened to her tell the girls a story. Their little faces were a study of rapt delight, as she wove some tale about a magical kingdom and a cat who could transform magically into a little boy rescuing a magical lion from some dastardly people. Robert shook his head, amused at the silliness of the tale.
What took his breath was how Sarah…Miss Bellamy…acted for the girls. Using the lanterns and shadows on the wall to make images, even changing her tone of voice to reflect the different characters. It struck him then this was more than a job to her. She loved children. And he suspected she might already love his girls. Something tender tumbled over inside his chest, shocking him.
She turned in the middle of a pantomime, and the light caressed lovingly over her features. Her hair had come loose from its chignon, and wisps of tendrils danced over her forehead, which held a sheen of sweat. Her face was flushed, and her laughter…sweet mercy. It was so full of life and joy. It was rather provoking, this damnable attraction. He noticed his girls mimicking the way she tilted back her head when they chortled their own delight; no longer did they press their hands over their mouths as Esther had taught them.
“Papa,” Charlotte called out, pushing herself off the sofa and running over to him.
He scooped her up into his arms and walked over. Sarah appeared flustered before a cloak of indifference settled on her face.
“Your Grace,” she greeted him with a curtsy.
He stared at her mouth, unable to take his eyes off her sensual lips. Gritting his teeth, he allowed his gaze upward. “Esther is hosting a small dinner party, Miss Bellamy. I am here to invite you.”
She drew a deep breath and expelled it audibly. “Thank you, Your Grace; please convey my regrets, but I’d plan to have my supper with the girls here in the nursery.”
The girls beamed, and their sighs of relief echoed in the large room. They wanted her with them, and she truly preferred to dine with the children.
Robert stared at her. “If you ladies will have me, I will join you.”
She was gazing at him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. “You are to have dinner with us, Your Grace?”
“Yes.”
Her smile was at first tentative, then it bloomed and filled her whole face. Her utter loveliness pierced him, and he quickly directed his attention to his girls.
* * *
The duke waskite flying with the girls. She watched him with his daughters, and she felt confused by the breathless sensations plummeting through her heart. Sarah, at times, could feel the duke staring, but whenever their gazes met, his expression shuttered, and he became unfailingly polite. She tried her best to forget that one night in the garden, but it was the only source of discomfort between them. There were days she saw the memory laid naked in his eyes, and she would step toward him with instinctive want before catching herself. She could conceive of no worse fate than falling in love with a man that was indifferent to her.
But Sarah was plunging in with no means to stop it, and she had started her fall that night in the garden. Sarah closed her eyes and felt suddenly that she was back at the gardens. How she wished they could be like that still.
Closing the book she had been attempting to read, she strolled over so she could watch their play. He held Caroline in his arms, helping her clasp the string, allowing the wind to pull them forward. She shrieked her joy while Charlotte waited wistfully for her turn.
There was a second kite. Sarah stared at it and lifted her face to the sky, allowing the wind to caress over her face. She had not flown a kite since she was a child with her papa. A surge of missing them went through her heart. Her mama and papa had gone on to their rewards eight and six years ago, respectively, and she still missed them daily.
“Miss Sarah,” Charlotte called, gaily skipping over, her dark ringlets bouncing about her cherubic face. “Will you fly with us?”
The desire was reckless and more than foolhardy. A governess. Little above that of a servant.
“Will you join us, Miss Bellamy?”
Her breath hitched. When had he come over? “Yes, I will.”
He flashed her a grin that did peculiar things to her inside; she warmed all over. She and Charlotte managed their kite flying together, while the duke paired with Caroline. There was a neatly manicured slope they could run down which gave the kites a little more speed and lift, and the brightly colored kites danced in the air with their beribboned tails streaming out behind them. Then when they reached the bottom of the hill, they would trudge back up together and do it all again, whooping with joy as they ran. That the top of the hill had a spectacular panoramic view of the countryside only added to the experience. The entire affair was exhausting and great fun. Almost an hour later, the girls were sent inside for a light repast. Sarah watched their little legs pumping as they ran in front of the maid who guided them inside. The footmen had collected their kites and were packing up their picnic hampers and blankets.
“Thank you for having me at your picnic, Your Grace.”
“The girls loved having you there. Thank you, Sarah,” the duke said gruffly.
Surprised, she turned around to measure his regard. She wasn’t certain what he thanked her for, but she replied, “You are welcome, Your Grace.”
After bidding him a polite adieu, terribly conscious of him, she hurried away.
“Miss Bellamy,” he called.
She closed her eyes briefly before spinning around. He was holding up her book. She hastened to him and reached for it. “Oh, thank you.”