The Governess Was Wanton Read Online Free PDF Page B

in the room. Lady Laughlin was something of a force of nature, an enthusiastic woman who was used to getting her way. He’d warned Miss Woodward’s predecessors that shopping trips with Lady Laughlin were to be kept well away from school hours, but a few times he’d come home from Westminster to find Eleanora’s maid making her way into the house bearing an armful of packages. Now that he thought about it, it was never Miss Bigelow or Miss Masters with her, but Lady Laughlin flanked by her two daughters.
    Asten cast an appraising eye over Lady Laughlin. Perhaps he’d been too enthusiastic about rekindling the friendship between his family and hers, but she’d been such good friends with his wife and seemed taken with the idea of bringing out Lucinda’s daughter. He’d overlooked the woman’s raw, unfettered ambition that no amount of grace could completely hide because it’d been the right thing to do for Eleanora. It was the right thing.
    Still, he was secretly glad that this new governess seemed disinclined to give in to Lady Laughlin’s whims.
    But would she give in to me?
    He crushed the dirty, exciting thought as soon as it shot through his head. This was becoming absurd. He’d hardly seen the woman more than ten minutes between this day and the last, and yet he’d spent more than a little time preoccupied with her while Lord Derby droned on about an agricultural bill that had just cleared the House of Commons.
    Yesterday evening in his box at the opera, he’d closed his eyes and fixated on the memory of the smooth, creamy skin of Miss Woodward’s neck. He remembered the intelligent flash of her eyes and the way her mouth curved up a little more on the left side than the right. He’d imagined flicking his tongue over that corner, kissing it before working his tongue between her lips and teeth.
    But all of this had to stop. Lascivious thoughts about his daughter’s governess were not acceptable.
    â€œWill you stay for tea, ladies?” he asked, attempting to swing his attention back to a safe subject.
    â€œOh,” Lady Laughlin said, “dear Eleanora ordered some, but I’m afraid that we’re on our way to the modiste this morning. Una and Cordelia have naturally been thinking of nothing but the Marquis de Lancey’s masque in two weeks’ time.”
    â€œNo one will know who anyone is. It’ll be so romantic,” Miss Cordelia said.
    â€œAnd I have it on good authority that no one else is going to be dressed as we are,” said Miss Laughlin with relish.
    The baroness rose, and his years of good breeding automatically sent him into a bow. “Lady Laughlin, it’s been a pleasure to see you and your daughters as always. I hope that your shopping is successful.”
    The woman extended her hand for him to kiss—an old-fashioned gesture but one she still seemed to favor. “You will remind Lady Eleanora that we have high expectations for her costume at the masque. All eyes will be on the debutantes, of course.”
    â€œI thought the point of a masked ball was that no one knows the identity of anyone else,” he said. “A footman can dance with a duchess and none would be the wiser.”
    â€œWhat a scandalous thought, my lord!” Lady Laughlin laughed in her pretty little way. “Of course everyone knows who is who. No one’s identity stays hidden for long in London.”
    He let out a breath as the woman glided out of the room, reminding himself he was grateful that his wife’s old friend had resurfaced in their lives. Maybe Lady Laughlin was a little too used to getting whatever she asked for, but he didn’t really see the harm in it. She had a natural talent for navigating the ton and, even though her sister had brought the Laughlin girls out all last year, knew what events a girl must attend and whom she must talk to. He did what he could to shepherd his daughter through