Free The Impossible Governess by Margaret Bennett Page B

hands curled into tight fists, she propped them on her hips.  “How dare you, you rude, arrogant brute!”
    “Brute?”
    “Yes, brute.  The whole idea of these teas was to help you become better acquainted with your niece.  Rather—“
    “Rather, you’ve used the opportunity to your advantage.  You’ve flirted outrageously, batted your lashes at my guest, and completely ignored Marissa and me.”
    “That is sheer balderdash!  I have done none of those things.  Furthermore, Lord Townsend is a gentleman, whose impeccable manners would never allow him to sit like a bump on a log and brood over some imagined slight.  Instead—“
    “Instead, he’s blithely abused our friendship and has made a coxcomb of himself by holding court in my drawing room with one of my ladies.”
    “One of your ladies!”  Georgeanne advanced on Lord Raynor.  “I am not one of your ladies,” she hissed.
    “I stand corrected.  For indeed, you are not.  No lady connected with me would ever dream of flaunting herself so in public.  But, however we may bandy the term about in reference to your behavior, the point is you are residing under my roof and, therefore, come under my protection.”
    “How . . .how dare you, you . . .” Georgeanne stood at a loss for words, with her face burning, whether from fury or humiliation or both, she couldn’t say.
    “Yes, I dare!  You have no right to agree to accompany Townsend with my niece without first ascertaining my permission.”
    Ah ha!  So that was the real heart of the matter, Georgeanne thought.  Lord Raynor resented her assuming authority over Marissa.  Still, his cutting remarks had born some truth.  There was no denying that she had enjoyed Townsend’s attentiveness.  Though she had not openly encouraged him, neither had she made any effort to turn aside his interest.  Yet, even considering this, no man or lord had ever spoken to her in such a boorish manner before. 
    “Are you saying we may not go?” she asked, trying to maintain her composure.  She felt like a volcano about to erupt!
    “No, ‘tis too late now.  Besides, it would never do to disappoint Marissa.”
    “Ah, yes, Marissa . . .”
    “Your sarcasm is out of place, Miss Forsythe.”
    “I do beg your pardon, my lord,” she said.  “Perhaps we ought to stick to addressing the main reason for these teas.  It may have escaped your notice that Marissa has tried her best to talk with you—“
    “Miss Forsythe, if you please.”
    Georgeanne, however, ignored his superior tone and continued in a sweet voice as if she hadn’t been interrupted.  “As have we all, my lord, but your monosyllabic conversation is very difficult for an adult to cope with and doubly so for a young child.  You have had every opportunity to draw out your niece, but instead you have sat in silent judgment on my conduct.  Well, if you are dissatisfied with my services, you need only say so, and I will be gone.”
    Raynor glared down at her, taking note of the glint in her eyes and the contentious thrust of her chin.  There wasn’t a doubt in his mind Miss Georgeanne Forsythe would turn on her heel, march upstairs, pack her belongings, and leave him with a hysterical Marissa.  And worse, she was correct. 
    Only by holding his own anger in check was he able to conquer the fierce urge to grab her slender shoulders and shake some sense into the hot-tempered young woman. Couldn’t she see that Will was unworthy of her?  Didn’t she know that Marissa would suffer if she left?  He’d suffer, for that matter.
    “Damnation!”  As this last thought penetrated his brain, he realized he was mottle d through with jealous madness.  He studied her suspiciously bright eyes along with her defiant stance.  What an adorable passionate widgeon she was!  Oh yes, he still wanted to grab her, but not to throttle her.  Oh no, if he ever held her, he had a far different purpose in mind.  By Jupiter, the woman must be a witch, Raynor