The Governess Club: Louisa Read Online Free PDF

feeling as though he had taken an unexpected punch to the kidney. He didn’t know what to do: respond to her words— what was it she said anyway? —or marvel at the ferocity on her face. He doubted she knew what she looked like: eyes snapping, brows lowered, face red—even her golden hair seemed to resonate. Gone was the harpy and in her place was this woman caught up in a passion. He recognized that it was anger driving her, but there was a fine line between anger and lust and he knew which one was driving him now. He took a breath to ensure control over his body.
    His mind belatedly processed some of her words. His brow lowered in confusion and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you saying that you want to get hurt?”
    For some reason that made her angrier. “No,” she snapped. “I don’t want to get hurt. I want the respect afforded to men that I know what I can and cannot do and make decisions accordingly.”
    “But you didn’t,” he pointed out. “You were about to fall from the chair. You could have been seriously injured.”
    “Oh, and you never made a mistake once in your life? Never so close to accomplishing something that a little risk is worth it?”
    “I highly doubt a pot is worth the risk.” He was still confused.
    “Oh!” He wondered if she would stamp her foot, but she restrained herself. John watched as she took a deep breath, her breasts straining against her dress. She closed her eyes, her lips pressed together into an almost invisible line, and she was clenching her hands into fists and then relaxing them. When she spoke again, her voice was calm and flat. “Pray excuse me. Mr. Packard needs assistance.”
    John automatically stepped out of her way, the woman sweeping by him in a regal swish of skirts. The hairs on his arms stood up as she passed him, every nerve wishing to touch her in some way. Yea gods, she was a firecracker. One of the world’s worst maids, but a firecracker nonetheless. Her anger had turned her brown eyes to an alluring dark mahogany, snapping with fire. Her pale cheeks had flushed with red, contrasting with her wheat colored hair that taunted him with its tempting softness. Her bosom had heaved with her furious breathing; his eyes were torn with where to look: at the rise and fall of her breasts, her delicate cheeks flaming with fury, her lips rounding on each word with deliberation or her eyes, the fire drawing him in with its promise of passion.
    This was a woman who would do well in bed. In his bed.
    Her pause at the door was infinitesimal. “And it is not about the pot, sir.” She finalized her parting shot with a sniff and disappeared from the office.
    A large grin burst out on his face. Oh yes, she would do very well in his bed.

 

C HAPTER F IVE
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    “M rs. Brock?”
    Louisa turned her head at the young voice that called her name. “Yes, Timothy?” Suds were up to his elbows as he scrubbed the pots from the morning’s cooking.
    “Kin I asks ye a question?”
    She closed her eyes briefly at his grammar. “Of course.”
    “Yer smart, right? Me mam’s day is coming up and I been saving bits of me wages to git her somethin’ pretty. Kin ye tell me what mams like?”
    Louisa looked up from the tray she was preparing for Mr. Taylor. She had taken to bringing him a board of cheese and bread along with a pint. He worked in his office every afternoon and invariably grew hungry when he did.
    And it always happened when Mr. Packard was out of the kitchen.
    “You want to buy your mother a birthday gift?” Louisa asked. “That is very sweet of you, Timothy.”
    He blushed and scratched his cheek, leaving some suds on his skin. “T’aint nothing. I only gots a few pennies.”
    “Well, what ideas have you been thinking of?”
    “Mebee some flowers, buts she kin get those in any field ’round here. Mebee a pretty dress? Or one them bonnets that them ladies wear. Buts I can’t go into one of them girl stores.”
    “Are you asking me to go