Free The Governess Club: Bonnie by Ellie Macdonald Page A

comfortable against the cushions. “Are you warm enough? Do you need a shawl or a blanket?”
    “I am fine.”
    Her voice was still too thin. He grabbed the throw from the back of the sofa and tucked it around her legs. Taking care to secure it, he found his hands lingering on her hips. They were soft and supple, filling his hands until they were burning with need to remove her skirts and petticoats and feel her flesh beneath his.
    Stephen tightened his fingers for a brief moment before forcing himself to release her. He stepped back and cleared his throat. “The boys are asleep?” he inquired. “Would you care for tea or something to eat?”
    “I am fine, sir.”
    “You are certain?”
    She gave a small smile. “You are being quite solicitous.”
    “You could have died. You are not yet fully recovered.”
    “We haven’t seen each other in four days. How are you certain I am not yet fully recovered?”
    Was she serious? “You were on the verge of collapsing on the carpet a moment ago. I assume that was from the effort of walking from your room.”
    She smiled again. “I forgot your ability for deduction.”
    Lord, but he could get used to having her smile at him. Even though there was nothing coy, nothing seductive, nothing knowing to it, having that smile directed at him was potent.
    Stephen sat on the opposite sofa, sitting back and crossing his legs. “You said you needed to speak with me.”
    It was fascinating how she could shift into formality so quickly and effortlessly. He appreciated that ability; it made it easier to remember their respective positions.
    “Yes. It has to do with your afternoons with Henry. He tells me that you are educating him in the management of the estate.”
    “Aye.”
    “Do you not think him too young for that?”
    “I do not.”
    “It is merely that I am concerned for him. He is not finding it . . . entertaining is the word he used.”
    Stephen smiled. “Running an estate is a responsibility and a necessity, not entertainment.”
    Bonnie suppressed the warmth that tingled over her skin at his smile. “An eight-year-old boy does not understand that.”
    “He is the viscount. He needs to be prepared for this responsibility. It is too easy to take for granted things inherited and not earned.”
    “I agree but—”
    “Then perhaps you would accord me the respect of knowing what I am doing.”
    Bonnie had never enjoyed being interrupted, let alone condescended to. Her tolerance had increased out of necessity in her line of work, but this was one of the times where her patience ran thin. A handsome face and appealing accent were no excuse for lack of manners.
    “And please sir, accord me the respect of knowing what I am doing as well.”
    Sir Stephen blinked at her sharp tone. “Of course I do.”
    “Then understand that I know eight-year-old boys. I am not disputing the importance of what he needs to learn. What I am questioning is your methodology.”
    “My methodology?”
    Bonnie softened her tone. “I know young boys and I know teaching, sir. Henry is not unaware he is the viscount. He may not fully understand what that entails, but he is not ignorant.”
    “Then what is wrong with my methodology, if he is not ignorant?”
    Bonnie smiled. “He is still only eight years old. Having him sit in a chair and observe conversations between you and Mr. Renard is out of his depth. Using words and ideas he does not understand will only serve to make him resent being viscount.”
    Stephen grimaced. “That is the last thing I want to happen.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It appears I must rely on your expertise here. What do you suggest?”
    Bonnie ignored his inadvertent insult. “He needs to see the relevance of being viscount; he needs to see why it is important. What did your father do to prepare you for your title?”
    His body visibly tensed. “My father?”
    “I assume you inherited your barony, Sir Stephen. How did your father prepare you to run the