Scandal At The Christmas Ball. Marguerite Kaye
doubt are still. Masters on one side, boys on the other, the one pushing, the other resisting.’
‘You don’t think that a little encouragement, some interest in the subject matter would have helped bridge the gap? How can one expect to imbue a child with enthusiasm for a subject when it is patently obvious to the child that their teacher does not share it?’
‘A good point. Perhaps if my teachers had been more like you I wouldn’t have been so eager to finish school.’
‘I was lucky, I had an excellent example to follow. My father was a botanist as well as a tutor, and taught me to think of pupils as flowers, some blooming easily and showily, some needing to be gently coaxed. I have a weakness for those who need coaxed, I must confess,’ Joanna said with a tender smile. ‘There is nothing quite so rewarding as helping a child to find their own particular talent—and every child is gifted in some way, you know.’
‘That has been my experience too,’ Drummond said, ‘though I’m not too sure any of my raw recruits would have taken to being likened to a flower. I take it, from the way you talk of him, that your father is no longer with us?’
‘He died very peacefully, a few weeks after my twenty-first birthday, almost seven years ago.’ Her eyes were misty with tears, but when Drummond made to apologise, she shook her head. ‘No, you’ve not upset me, I have nothing but lovely memories of our time together.’
‘May I take it that it was the loss of your father which required you to take up teaching for a living?’
‘In a way, that is how I have always earned my crust, as they say, for latterly, I took over the youngest of Papa’s pupils but, yes, his passing changed things. For a start, the house was only a life rent, and though I could have negotiated to take it on...’ Joanna grimaced. ‘A man can command a great deal more fees than a mere woman, no matter how well educated she is. I simply couldn’t afford it.’
‘That seems damned unfair.’
‘So many women would agree with you, and so surprisingly few men,’ Joanna said wryly. ‘Right or wrong, it is how it is, there is no point in getting angry about it.’
‘I’m not angry. Well, yes, I am. To be forced from your home and into—where did you go?’
‘I found a good position as a private governess to two girls. My education and Papa’s reputation made it astonishingly easy—not that my education was much called for. A smattering of French, literature, history, enough to make an adequate conversationalist, was all that was required along with the usual singing and sewing.’ Joanna wrinkled her nose. ‘Young girls who are destined to marry well care little for learning.’ Her brow cleared, and she smiled. ‘You know, I hadn’t thought of my current position in a positive light until now, but there is a great deal to be said for being a school teacher, even when one is not being paid, and is treated as a drudge.’
‘Then what on earth are you doing at such a school, when it is clear...’
‘On the contrary, the situation is far from clear. It is a decidedly complicated matter, and one that I am not in a position to discuss until I have spoken to the Duchess.’
The cold air had brought a rosy flush to her cheeks. Her plain poke bonnet framed her face. Her countenance was heart-shaped, with a most decided chin. Her mouth was set, and her eyes met his unflinchingly. It was not only curiosity which made him want to press her further. He liked her. He had an absurd wish to help her, though what he could do—and besides, it seemed help was already on hand in the form of the Duchess. What’s more, he could hardly press her to talk when he’d so steadfastly refused to confide in her himself.
Drummond sighed, holding up his hands in a gesture of mute acceptance. ‘It is Christmas Day, and we agreed only last night, didn’t we, to forget all about reality and to enjoy ourselves.’
‘We did. We aren’t doing very well are we?’
‘Well, we must remedy that forthwith.’
She smiled with her eyes. A silly phrase, but in this case it was true, her eyes were smiling. The snow was falling thickly now, swirling around them. A snowflake fell on to her cheek. Drummond gently brushed it away. Joanna stood stock-still. Their eyes locked. There was a stillness in the air, a muffled silence enveloping them as the snow fell softly on to the existing carpet of white. He trailed his fingers down her cheek, to rest on the soft wool of her scarf. Her breath formed a wispy white cloud. Another snowflake landed on her cheek, and this time he used his lips to melt it. Her skin was cold, and so very soft. He wanted to kiss her. Her lips were parted so temptingly, and it had been so very long since he had wanted to kiss anyone.
But a gentleman did not go around kissing ladies he was barely acquainted with, no matter how much he wanted to. Making a show of brushing the snow from Joanna’s shoulder, Drummond looked up at the sky, blinking as a flake of icy snow landed on his eyelash. ‘They’ll be sending out a search party for us, if we do not make haste.’
‘Yes,’ Joanna said, making no move.
Her breath was rapid, her cheeks bright. ‘When you look at me like that,’ Drummond said, ‘I find it very hard to think of anything but kissing you.’
‘Only think? I thought you were a man of action.’ She smiled at him, and that smile heated his blood beneath the icy cold of his exposed skin. ‘There is nothing to think about, Drummond, for this is not real, and no one will ever know. Our paths have crossed for a few days, but when we leave Brockmore, we are very unlikely to meet again. Are you afraid I will slap your face?’
A laugh shook him. ‘It would be what I deserved.’
‘Are you prepared to take the risk?’
He wrapped his arms around her, sliding his hand under her scarf to the warm skin at the nape of her neck. ‘I most certainly am,’ he whispered, putting his lips to hers.
* * *
Joanna owned only one serviceable evening gown. Purchased ten years ago, in the days when she had a little spare cash, it had started life as a simple tea gown of pale blue satin. As a governess, she was occasionally required to accompany her charges to soirées, and with no funds to purchase a new gown had been obliged to adapt this one, shortening the sleeves and lowering the neckline. When the invitation to spend Christmas at Brockmore Manor had arrived, she had upgraded her evening dress for the third time, layering panels of sprigged muslin over the skirt, using the same material to put a new trim on the neckline and sleeves.
Standing in front of the long mirror in her bedchamber on Christmas night, she was pleased with the result, though she couldn’t help wishing that she, like the other female guests, had brought a different gown for every night. Which was as silly a wish as ever could be made, for it was highly unlikely that she would ever have an opportunity to wear any of them ever again. Unless she was able, once again, to take up a governess position in another household similar to Lady Christina’s, once her name had been cleared. Perhaps this was the form the amends the Duchess had referred to would take. Eighteen months ago, she would have given anything to be able to do so but now—the conversation with Drummond this afternoon made her question whether that was still what she wanted.
The Duchess had made no attempt to speak to her yet. Until she did, there was no point in her speculating, though she assumed that removing the terrible stain on Joanna’s reputation would be a pre-requisite. Mind you, if the Duchess had seen her this afternoon, kissing Drummond with shocking abandon, she’d have another, very different blot on her copybook. One which, moreover, she’d been very, very careful to avoid, for whether governess or teacher, she could not afford to be branded a brazen hussy. Yet she’d behaved like a hussy this afternoon, and what’s more she’d thoroughly enjoyed it.
The gilded shepherdess on the ornate ormolu clock on the mantel marked the half-hour by raising her crook to strike a goat bell. It was time to assemble for dinner but Joanna, who normally had a horror of being late, sat down on the footstool by the fire. She was not paired with Drummond for dinner tonight, the seating plan had placed him further down the table, between