But for the pain the movement would cause, he’d have paced. The sitting room was large enough to accommodate a good show of tension; at least ten feet separated the paneled door from the mullioned window that overlooked the back terraces. Sanford was due to arrive at any moment, and Lind hadn’t seen his blasted governess for two solid days. Not since she’d made her weekly report along with the other servants, but he hardly counted that particular interview, even if she had shown more cheek in front of his staff than he ought to tolerate. His mind would much rather dwell on an earlier event, when she’d left him on the grounds to make his wearisome way back up to the house step by painful step. He’d had no choice but to send her on. It was that or allow her to help him, but her arm about his waist, her hip to his, the softness of her breast pressed into his ribs would have been too much. Too many lungsful of her fresh, feminine scent and he would have tossed her skirts there on the lawn, and the devil take propriety.
