“Are you ever lonely?” he asked.

  Julia swallowed, a soft curse escaping her lips.

  Lord Devin chuckled again. “My, I have never known any governesses who swore. I rather like that.”

  She pursed her lips. “You have most likely only known your own governess. And me.” She paused. “You truly do not know me at all, my lord.”

  “I never had a governess,” he replied. “As for getting to know you? I would like to do so. Very much.”

  She was tempted to open her eyes. If she did, though, this situation would become real instead of surreal.

  “Please leave, my lord. I am immersing myself in the solitude the gardens have to offer. I prefer not to converse.”

  He did not reply—but he did not leave. Julia could still feel the heat of him nearby. She refused to open her eyes, believing that would encourage him.

  Finally, he spoke. “I prefer not to converse either, Miss Birmingham. What I would rather do is this.”

  His lips brushed against hers, so softly it was like someone ran a feather along hers. Slowly, he continued the motion, causing a deep yearning to rise within her.

  Then his hands framed her face and he pressed his mouth to hers.

  She was being kissed. For the first time.

  Butterflies erupted in her belly, soaring, madly flapping their wings, causing a sweet euphoria to pour through her.

  His thumbs began to stroke her cheeks. One hand slid from her face to her nape. His fingers were strong, yet somehow gentle.

  He broke the kiss, his mouth hovering just above hers. Julia could feel his warm breath.

  “Should I continue?” he asked.

  Afraid to open her eyes and break the spell, she whispered, “Yes.”

  His mouth covered hers, hot and firm, his hand moving down her neck and gliding along her arm. He stopped at her elbow and slipped the arm around her waist, drawing her close to him. Her own hands wrapped around his waist, the need to move closer to him overwhelming her as his scent filled her.

  He nibbled gently on her lower lip, causing need to shoot through her. She heard a noise and realized it came from her as he chuckled low in his throat. He continued nipping at her lip, frissons running through her. She opened her mouth to protest that it was too much, too overwhelming.

  But before she could speak, he took it as some unspoken invitation, slipping his tongue inside her mouth.

  Shock ran through her even as his tongue glided like velvet along hers, causing her to shiver. A whimper escaped.

  He deepened the kiss, if that was what this was, searching, exploring, filling her. Her arms tightened around him, her breasts now pressed against the hard wall of his muscled chest. They ached and grew heavy, longing for his touch. She recalled how she had wanted him to touch her and would have said so now if she ever had a chance to speak.

  The kiss drove all rational thought from her, though. It went on and on, causing her body to heat. The shawl had drooped, leaving her exposed, but the night air no longer affected her. Her body felt on fire now, flames licking her as he continued to kiss her. If he hadn’t been holding on to her, she feared she would melt, bones and all, into a puddle. No one would ever know what had become of her. She would be a boneless mess.

  He broke the kiss and she started to protest. His lips moved along the column of her throat and she kept quiet, wanting—no, needing—for him to explore her. His arms were banded about her now. Even if she had wanted to escape, it would have been impossible.

  Escape was the last thing on her mind, though. All she wanted was his kiss. His touch. His nearness.

  He found where her pulse beat rapidly and nipped there, causing her to gasp. Then his tongue licked the spot, soothing it. He did it again, causing her to whimper. The place between her legs tightened in response. He soothed it again and then continued kissing her throat.

  He paused, as if he hesitated for a moment. She bit her lip, ashamed that she would beg him to continue if she spoke. Then he kissed his way back up her throat and to her mouth, taking it again greedily, kissing the very life from her.

  Julia lost track of time and place, living in a moment so richly, so deeply, as never before. She could spend eternity like this.

  Then he slowed. She could feel the passion cooling. He covered her mouth with his and pressed a final kiss on her lips before drawing away.

  She refused to open her eyes. She couldn’t look at him. Not after all that had passed between them. She would think it a dream she had conjured up.

  “Goodnight, my sweet,” he whispered as he stood and then brushed his lips against her brow.

  Julia sat still, unmoving, listening as his booted feet sounded along the path, the noise receding. Only then did she open her eyes.

  She felt like a different person. He had exposed her to something she had never known existed. Longing filled her. She wished to dash after him. Call him back. Start all over again.

  Pride kept her from doing so. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Gathered her shawl about her. Took several deep breaths. Finally, she stood, a bit shakily but still able to do so.

  She reached for the lantern and slowly returned to the entrance of the gardens. She did not see his lantern before her so she knew he was already gone. Setting hers on the bench, she extinguished it and then moved toward the house as if in a dream.

  Julia returned to her room and rang for Sara. Reluctantly, Julia washed her face and neck before the maid arrived, afraid the girl would smell Lord Devin. She removed her gown and put it aside for the same reason.

  “You’re a bit late this evening, Miss Birmingham,” Sara said brightly as she entered the room.

  “I actually fell asleep while I was reading,” she lied, turning her back to allow Sara to unlace the corset.

  Once the girl removed it, Julia stepped away. “I can do the rest. Thank you, Sara. I am sorry I troubled you so late.”

  “No trouble at all, Miss.”

  Julia removed her remaining garments and slipped into her night rail. Then she collected the gown she had worn and buried her face in it. Yes, she could still smell Lord Devin on it, a mixture of his cologne and the man himself. Involuntarily, the place between her legs tightened and her body grew warm.

  She smoothed the gown, laying it over a chair as was her habit to help air it out. Then she turned back the bedclothes and slipped under them.

  In bed, she relived every moment of their kisses, over and over, until she finally fell fast asleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  Devin awoke for the second day in a row, feeling refreshed from a good night’s sleep even though he did have trouble falling asleep the previous night—thanks to thoughts of finally sharing a kiss with Miss Birmingham, which constantly danced in his head.

  He told himself their kisses had been like those he had shared with dozens of other women, going back to when he was thirteen years of age, when he had kissed one of their tenant’s daughters behind the stables. The girl had been three years older than he was and well versed in kissing, teaching Devin quite a bit during that afternoon they’d spent together. Yes, Miss Birmingham was arresting. Some might even call her an unusual beauty. But she was no different from these other women he had kissed.

  He tamped down the frustration that begin to rise within him, slightly frustrated with his growing obsession with her despite having shared a kiss. Many of them, in fact. Devin thought one kiss would do the trick. That one kiss would let him see this governess was the same as every other female and he could go about his business.

  Exactly what that business was, though, he was not yet certain.

  He was intrigued by the offer to become the Woodbridge estate manager. Though he had no experience in estate management, he was intelligent and as Win pointed out, Devin always had caught on quickly to new things. If he allowed this Kepler to take him in hand, he was certain he could learn the ins and outs of how to run Woodbridge in a short amount of time. Though it might have been nicer to start on a smaller estate, he would not let the size of Woodbridge intimidate him.

  It seems as if he were truly considering taking the post. Two things would have to happen first. He would need to meet with Kepler and get more of an overview of what was involved in the position. The day-to-day tasks, as well as how to plan for an entire year.

  Most importantly, though, he must learn how to write again. He recalled the vast number of estate records at Easton Ridge when he was growing up. He remembered going in once to give his father’s steward a message and seeing numerous volumes scattered across the man’s desk. Others lined shelf after shelf in the room.

  He told himself that it was time to put aside his bitterness and move on. Could he teach himself to write with three fingers or would he have to start all over as a child in the schoolroom, such as Freddie and Charlie, and learn to use his left hand? Not only to write but to do other things. He was already using his left hand to hold his fork and spoon. He was having to do so now that he was in polite company and a guest at Woodbridge. It hadn’t mattered when he lived in an army camp. Rough manners were expected. He had lifted bowls of soup or stew to his lips and even picked up chicken legs and ate with his fingers.

  There were other tasks he must master, as well. That would include shaving himself. If he chose to stay on at Woodbridge, he could not continue to use Win’s valet as his own. He would need to perform personal tasks—dressing, bathing, shaving—himself, with no help.

  He rose and rang for hot water. Today, the same servant brought it to him, accompanied once again by Larson.

  “Good morning, my lord,” the valet said. “How are you this fine day?”

  Devin had thought he would be fine if he could get kissing Miss Birmingham out of the way. Now that he had done so, however, he didn’t think he was fine at all.

  Instead, he made polite conversation with Larson as the valet prepared Devin for the day. Knowing where the breakfast room was, he made his way downstairs and to it, surprised to find the duchess dining with her duke. She looked a bit pale, however, and he assumed she was nauseated by the food sitting on the plate in front of her. Devin could see how good she had been for his friend. She was a bit soft spoken and slightly shy but she had welcomed Devin with open arms to Woodbridge.

  “Good morning,” he told the pair and took a seat at the table. “I hope you are feeling well this morning, Your Grace.”

  She frowned slightly. “If you don’t mind, I would much prefer that you call me Sera. After all, you are a close friend of my husband’s and a guest in our home.”

  He was torn and said, “I will address you as Sera—for now—if you will call me Devin, in return. My status at Woodbridge might change, however. If it does, then I will be more comfortable using Your Grace.”

  Her eyes lit with interest. “Are you suggesting that you will take over for Mr. Kepler?”

  “I am considering it,” he said cautiously. “I would like to see all of the estate. I saw a good portion of it yesterday on my ride with Miss Birmingham and the boys. It is most impressive.”

  “Remember you are to meet with Kepler this afternoon,” Win said. “You will need to hear firsthand from him what is involved in managing an estate the size of Woodbridge”

  “Thank you, Win. In the meantime, I thought I would go into Marston this morning and see the local tailor.”

  “Now that I think about it,” Sera said, “Freddie and Charlie also could use some new clothes for themselves. They are already outgrowing what we had made up for them only three months ago.”

  Win chuckled. “That’s the role of young boys in a household. To grow fast and eat plenty.” He paused. “Are you certain you should go into Marston, my love? You do look a bit tired this morning. And you haven’t eaten much at all.”

  “Minta says you simply have to push through, Win,” the duchess said. “I am not truly ill although it may seem as if I am.”

  “I do not want you overtaxing yourself, dearest.”

  “I will be fine,” she assured her husband. “You don’t need to worry about me.” She grinned. “And I will try not to lose what breakfast I have eaten on Devin’s boots.”

  They all laughed and Sera added, “I will go to the schoolroom now. Miss Birmingham should just be starting lessons. Whatever she has planned for the boys can be accomplished this afternoon.” She paused and looked to Devin. “We can meet you at the carriage in a quarter-hour if that is convenient with you.”

  “That will be fine,” he said.

  A footman helped her rise from her seat and she exited the room, asking the butler to have the carriage readied as she did so.

  Immediately, Win looked to him. “I can’t help but worry about her, Dev.”

  “I suppose it comes with the territory,” he replied. “A good reason for me to never enter a state of matrimony.”

  “I hope your meeting today with Kepler goes well. Once again, I am not pressing you for a quick decision, Dev. I know it is something you wish to give much thought to.”

  “I think after visiting with your steward today, I will have a much better idea what the position entails. I most likely will give it a couple of days of consideration but I won’t leave you hanging for long, Win.”

  “I appreciate that,” his friend said. “If you aren’t interested in replacing Kepler and staying on, then I will have to seriously begin a search.”

  They spoke for several more minutes and then Win said, “It is time you joined my wife and nephews. I have other things to attend to. Enjoy your outing in Marston.”

  Devin left the breakfast room and went outside to the front of the house. The carriage had just pulled up and he decided to wait for the rest of his traveling party before he entered it. Sera had said nothing about inviting Miss Birmingham along. Still, he hoped that might be the case. Then he mentally chastised himself for being so foolish.

  He had kissed the governess. Repeatedly. He hoped there would be no awkwardness between them, especially because she had promised to help him in his endeavors to learn to write with his left hand.

  The front door opened and Devin swallowed, preparing himself for the remainder of his day.

  *

  Julia knew she had been distracted throughout breakfast. Twice, Freddie had asked her a question a second time and she had forced herself to pay attention to the boys’ conversation.

  When all she wanted to do was go back to last night in the garden.

  What had happened between her and Lord Devin Hunt had been a huge mistake. Julia realized that now. She had hoped to have her curiosity sated by exchanging a single kiss with the handsome lord. Instead, they had exchanged too many kisses to count. One kiss had turned into a multitude, stirring feelings within her that she refused to name. The situation would be most difficult now, especially since she had volunteered to help the man learn to write once again. She would have to do her utmost to keep things cordial between them and yet not reveal how she was enamored with him.

  She decided to change things about today’s lessons and read to the boys first, which she had planned for later. By doing so, she would be forced to pay attention to the story she read and think of questions to ask her pupils as she stopped periodically. She liked to test their comprehension in that manner and also get them thinking a bit, predicting what might lie ahead in the tale. She also liked for them to discuss the characters as she went along, and was always interested in why they chose a certain character as their favorite and their reasons behind that choice.

  “We are going to begin with oral reading this morning,” she told them.

  “Who is doing the reading?” Freddie asked.

  “Why, I thought I would begin. I have a new story to read to you.”

  “Good,” said Charlie with enthusiasm. “I like stories a lot.”

  “Who knows?” she asked, looking at the small boy. “You might even write your own stories someday. Years from now, there might be a little boy or girl sitting at this very table, reading a story written by their relative—you!”

  Joy filled Charlie’s face. “Do you really think I might become a writer, Miss Birmingham?”

  “Remember, Uncle Win says we can do whatever we wish,” Freddie reminded his brother. “I think you would be good at writing stories, Charlie. You are already good at reading them. Maybe you should practice and start making some up now.”

  “But I’d only know simple words,” Charlie protested.

  “Then you can dictate your story to me,” Julia offered. “I can set them down on paper for you until you learn all the words yourself.”

  Charlie clapped his hands in glee. “When can we start, Miss Birmingham?”

  “You will need to think of your story first,” she advised. “I think it best if you come up with your characters. You will need to name them and decide what they are like. Are they silly—or serious? Good . . . or bad? Once you have your characters, you can invent your story around them.”

  “Oh, I like this idea, Miss Birmingham,” Charlie declared.

  Julia herself was excited at helping the boy accomplish this. Freddie was so gifted when it came to numbers and was already leaving his brother behind. She truly believed Freddie would work on one of his uncle’s estates someday as its steward. Or perhaps in some business, where he could keep the ledgers and pay salaries to employees. It would be good for Charlie to also have a future goal in mind as to what he wished to do with his life.

  Julia picked up the book in the center of the table and opened it to the first page just as the duchess entered the schoolroom.

  “Good morning,” Her Grace said, smiling.

  “Good morning, Sera,” the boys greeted.

  Charlie said, “I think I’m going to be a writer, Sera.”

  Her Grace came and took a seat beside the small boy. “Is that so?”

  “You know how good Freddie is with maths,” Charlie said earnestly. “Well, I am good at reading and writing. I am going to write a story and . . .” He looked to Julia. “What are we doing again?”

  “You are going to dictate it to me, Charlie. That means you will speak the words of your story and I will write them down for you.”