The Governess Was Wicked Read Online Free Page B

toward him like a flower stretching for the sun. She’d watch him as he administered to the girls, memorizing the way that his hair whorled just at the base of his skull where it looked the softest.
    And then there were late nights in her room. Sometimes, when she couldn’t sleep because her thoughts of him distracted her too much, she’d reach down between the sheets and slip her hands between her legs. She’d touch herself where instinct told her she wanted his fingers, groaning into her pillow as the heat of her desire grew almost unbearable until it broke over her in waves.
    These weren’t the thoughts or actions of a decent woman. They were wanton, foolish, and delicious, and instead of making her ashamed, they made her want to be bold. When she lay blissful in her bed, she’d tell herself that one day she might be able to grab the good doctor by the front of his jacket and press her body to his as she kissed him wildly. That was the truth that burned inside her. That was what no one could know. Not Mrs. Norton, not Crane, not Dr. Fellows. No one.
    “No one is above reproach,” she said quietly. “I simply have to make the world believe that I am.”
    “It’s an unfair burden to ask of anyone,” he said.
    “It comes with being a governess, Dr. Fellows. Now, if you don’t mind the informality, we’ll need to use the servants’ stairs to reach the kitchen.”
    They were nearly silent the rest of the way, with Elizabeth murmuring a thanks only when he would stop to open a door and let her pass through. If life was fair, she would’ve been dressed in her best gown with her hair swept up. Instead she was bundled in her night things, no doubt still smelling faintly of Juliana’s vomit.
    This wasn’t a romantic errand. She and Dr. Fellows were about to go rooting in the kitchen cabinets trying to figure out how a child had made herself sick. There was no reason to believe that he’d whip her around and back her up against the kitchen’s massive table, his hips pinning hers as he pushed his fingers through her hair. And he certainly would not finally well and truly kiss her.
    Still, she was alone with a handsome bachelor, and the very thought of that was thrilling, for governesses were never alone with strange men. Ever . Their reputations mattered too much to ever risk such scandal. This little act of bravery—a direct defiance of Miss Carrington’s wretched book—made her feel very daring.
    In the empty kitchen, she held her candle up to a tall cabinet. “If Miss Norton got into anything, it’s likely in here.”
    “Well then”—he rubbed his hands together—“let’s see what we find.”
    They worked quietly for a few minutes, the nearness of him setting Elizabeth on high alert. More than once she had to remind herself to breathe. Once he moved too close, the sleeve of his jacket brushing her arm. She nearly gasped as heat pooled between her legs with an immediacy that shocked her.
    “My apologies, Miss Porter,” he murmured.
    She peered up at him through her lashes, and she could have sworn she saw his light brown irises darken. She should have been ashamed. Instead she wanted to repeat that little moment of intimacy so she could be sure never to forget it.
    “That’s quite all right, Dr. Fellows.”
    His lips tightened as though he were fighting some sort of internal battle. She could have sworn his fingers twitched as though instinctively reaching for her, but in a flash his attention was on the cabinet again and the moment was lost.
    Years ago, she’d tasted the possibility of adventure. She’d spent the one joyful, carefree month of her debut dancing at the assembly rooms in town while her father stood on the edge of the dance floor with his fellow officers waiting, waiting, waiting for the call to fight that never came. And then, with one trick of fate, all of that disappeared. Her father’s death had deprived her of any hope of a blissful youth. Gone was the chance to be led out