The Bride of Time Read Online Free PDF

she had never had the privilege of a lady’s maid, and she was adept at dressing her hair herself.
    He cocked his head in a curious attitude. “Another ‘height of fashion’ where you come from?” he asked her.
    “You might say that, yes.”
    He studied her thoughtfully. “It’s been a long time since I’ve visited Town,” he observed, half to himself. “Too long, if things have changed this much in my absence. The coiffure is…quite becoming. I cannot say as much for the frock, though.” He was looking at her with the eyes of an artist now, and Tessa wasn’t quite sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.
    “Yes, well, that hardly signifies,” she said, giving the frock a punishing twist. “Has the position been filled?”
    For a moment he brightened, his eyes flashing toward the unfinished canvas on the easel.
    “The governess position,” she put in, for it was clear he had quite something else in mind.
    “Ah, yes,” he said, his posture deflating. He clouded suddenly, and seemed distracted. The moon had shifted in the sky. It had broken through the clouds, and was clearly visible now through the glass ceiling. It threw a shaft of silvery light between them, and he jumped back as if it were a lightning bolt.
    “Well, it either is or it isn’t,” Tessa snapped.

    He was standing so close she could feel his body heat again, and smell his scent. The most peculiar expression had darkened his face despite the moonlight streaming down. It was almost as if he was struggling with those inner demons she’d detected in him. Was it the alcohol? Tessa wasn’t accustomed to being in the company of drunken men. He wasn’t falling-down drunk; that would have been safe enough. He was under the influence, but not enough to render him harmless, just enough to make him dangerous, judging from his behavior thus far. This fine display gave rise to new opinions about the temperance movement, but she wouldn’t mention that. He was having enough difficulty becoming accustomed to twentieth-century hairstyles and women’s attire.
    “The position is still open,” he said at last, “but…”
    “But what, sir?”
    Again he hesitated. “Nothing. I’m just amazed that you will still consider taking a position at Longhollow Abbey.”
    “Well, I won’t be governing you , now will I?”
    He winced. “Touché,” he said. “I deserved that. When could you begin?”
    “I should like to begin at once, if that’s convenient,” Tessa said, amazed at her command of the situation, though she had a gut-wrenching feeling that this was all terribly wrong.
    His demeanor softened suddenly, and he strolled to the canvas, running his thumb along the edge. It came away stained with green paint, the color of the patchwork hills. He rubbed it away with his index finger. “In addition,” he drawled, “might you possibly consider—”
    “Certainly not!” she cried, eyeing the naked woman outlined on the canvas.
    He raised both hands in a gesture of defeat. “I had toask,” he said. “You can see the resemblance yourself, and that hair …”
    Tessa marched toward the door. Her position had to be made unequivocally clear at the outset.
    “All right,” Longworth said, intercepting her. “If you should change your mind, you have only to say so. It would mean a substantial increase in your salary, of course, should you decide to model for me in your spare time.” He didn’t give her time to respond. “My ward, Monty, will be your charge. He is nine. I shan’t deceive you, he’s a difficult child. We’ll settle you in and you’ll meet him tomorrow. Did you have bags in the coach?”
    “N-no, Mr. Longworth. I left in rather a hurry, just as I will leave here if you persist about that painting.”
    “No matter,” he said, ignoring the last. “Dorcas, my house keeper, will outfit you with some of my wife’s old things. You cannot go about in that costume. It isn’t suitable.”
    Tessa nodded. “If your wife