The Unconventional Governess

by Jessica Nelson

  Chapter Fifteen

  Henrietta grabbed the jar of chamomile and shook it until her forearms ached. She moved on to the next jar, until all of her tinctures had been shaken. Only a few more weeks and they’d be ready to mix into ointments, balms and other remedies.

  “Do you have to shake them every day?” Louise sat propped on a stool, her legs swinging.

  “If you want to do it right, yes.” Henrietta lined the jars neatly on the shelf. Cook had let Henrietta use the small room off the side of the kitchen as a place to mix and store her herbs. Many recipes required weeks of sitting in airtight jars before being ready for use.

  “Dom said we shall be visiting London soon.”

  “Yes, I meant to inform you of that,” Henrietta murmured, touching the feverfew she’d laid out on a cloth for drying. The plant bent beneath her fingertip, suggesting more time needed for adequate dryness. It had been several days since she’d seen the earl, and she was glad for it. Never had she felt so unsteady as when she’d left his office.

  Apologize.

  She did not want to. His challenge echoed within, stirring emotions she’d rather ignore. While she admired the way he’d seized control and demanded the apology, being on the receiving end of his authoritativeness rankled.

  “Do you think I shall be able to attend a ball?” The uncertain waver in Louise’s voice pulled Henrietta from her thoughts. She crossed the room and sat down next to her.

  “You are too young, as of yet, but perhaps in a few years. Your aunt may have a room above the ballroom, where you can watch the attendees.”

  “Will you sit with me, if she does?”

  Henrietta’s heart twisted at the somber loneliness in Louise’s voice. “I shall do my best,” she said quietly. “Shall we go search out new blossoms? Perhaps we will find a few caterpillars before they’ve all gone into metamorphosis.”

  They headed to the gardens, which thanks to the added staff, appeared more manicured than when Henrietta had first arrived. Despite the changes, a lush wildness still remained. It was to the wildness that she and Louise traipsed in search of caterpillars.

  “We will look for a guide to insects when in London,” she said, peering beneath a fuzzy green leaf. No caterpillar, but the striations on the leaf reminded her of veins in a human heart. “Look, Louise.”

  The girl pattered over, dropping to her knees and dipping her head to peer at the underside of the foliage. Henrietta, on her knees also and propped on one hand, motioned Louise to adopt the same pose. “Do you see these lines here?” She drew her finger gently across the skin of the leaf, and Louise followed her movement. “When on the field, I met a surgeon who had previously performed...” She paused. The subject might not be suitable for a young girl. “That is to say, he had some experience with studying human hearts, and he showed me one. It was quite remarkable.”

  “Where was the person the heart belonged to?”

  Henrietta grimaced, edging out from beneath the plant while wracking her mind for an acceptable answer.

  “Yes, Miss Gordon, where exactly is that person?”

  She stood, brushing dirt off her petticoat whilst formulating a response. Louise shuffled out as well, and then jumped to her feet.

  “Dom,” she cried, throwing her arms around him with little heed to the soil clinging to the folds of her dress. “I am so happy to see you.”

  “As I am to see you,” he said, his voice lowering in a gruff way that touched Henrietta.

  How very much his love for Louise reminded her of Uncle William. She brushed the dirt from her skirts while the two chatted. She blinked because her eyes stung a bit at the remembrance of her uncle.

  She should write him again. Find out exactly where he’d be in two months’ time. By her calculations, she should have enough saved by then to join him.

  “Could I speak to you, Henrietta?”

  “You’re supposed to call her Retta.” Louise crossed her arms, but she smiled as she spoke.

  “Of course. Now?” A bout of nerves jangled within. She wet her lips.

  “Louise, could you please ask Cook for a few tarts? I wish to join you on your...is it a caterpillar hunt or a discussion of human hearts?”

  “Both,” they replied in unison.

  And then they all laughed, glittering chuckles in a flower-scented garden, and something deep inside Henrietta loosened. Like the lid on her herbs, kept tightly sealed until ready for opening. Was this what it was to feel like family?

  She stuffed away the thought, for it brought to the surface both terror and longing.

  Their laughter faded, and Louise ran off to find Cook. Which left Henrietta and Dominic in a dappled spot of sunlight. A tight band of emotion encircled her chest, pressuring her to speak, to break the silent camaraderie, but she pressed her lips together.

  She had said quite enough at their last meeting.

  And yet not enough. She owed him an apology, at least, but the words would not cross her lips.

  “I have heard from my sister.”

  Not what she had expected to hear. Her tension seeped away. “Is that good or bad?”

  He pushed his fingers through his hair. “It’s unfortunate. She wants me to bring Louise to London for a visit.”

  “Which we are planning anyway.”

  “Yes, but I was not planning on seeing Barbara.”

  “Why?”

  “Ah, the straightforwardness of your mind. It is one of the very first things I noticed about you.”

  A curl of pleasure unfurled within. “And what were the others?”

  He squinted against the sunlight, smiling. “Your voice. Your hair. Your lips, especially.”

  Unbidden, she touched her mouth.

  As though remembering himself, he cleared his throat. “I wanted to ask you to keep an eye on me during any visits we have with her. If you notice any oddness in my visage, or if I go into a seizure, I will need your help.”

  “I promised I would help you,” she said gently. “I meant it.”

  “Thank you.” He paused. “I have not been to London since the accident.”

  “I see. All will be well, my lord. I shall be praying wholeheartedly.”

  He inclined his head, and her heart squeezed painfully. Already she felt too much for him. What would happen when she left? She could only foresee the pain of parting, and she felt powerless to stop it.

  * * *

  Dominic was never so glad for Henrietta’s presence as when they arrived at his sister’s house. In a way he had not anticipated, having a governess sufficiently diverted Barbara’s attention from chastising him.

  After a two-day ride from St. Raven, in which he’d spent more time than he liked losing to Louise at Wit, he was exhausted. To be fair, he had not honed rhyming in years, while she admitted to practicing before their London trip so that she could best him. A few times he had wondered how Miss Gordon might fare at wordplay.

  She had the intelligence, but did she have the imagination? Either way, he had no doubt she’d make them laugh. The perplexing lady had ridden in the other carriage with a female servant and it had been disconcerting to realize he missed her acidic take on his humor. Nevertheless, he and Louise kept themselves occupied and before he knew it, their carriage was rolling down the well-kept streets of Mayfair.

  Despite the hour being before noon, servants bustled in the streets. Very few of the peerage were to be seen. Most still lay in their beds, recovering from the merriment of the night before. Resting for more tonight.

  It was a well-laid rhythm that had also been his life until the accident. He had attended university, went on the requisite Grand Tour and then spent his days gallivanting about without a thought or a responsibility. He’d collected an appreciation for the aesthetic qualities of other cultures and histories.

  He’d even gone so far a
s to commission a portrait, which hung in his house at the other side of Mayfair.

  Their carriages pulled up to Barbara’s home a little before noon. It was a fine-looking townhome. She’d married well. A viscount, if Dominic recalled, though he had not paid particular attention to the match. Edmund had arranged the relationship.

  A familiar clutch of grief gripped him and for a moment he did not realize that his valet held open the carriage door. Louise exited first. Her yip of delight trailed her, and as he stepped from the carriage, he saw Henrietta doing the same from the other.

  Their eyes met. She looked attractive in a pale yellow muslin and quiet bonnet. Her reticule hung from her wrist and had anyone not known her true situation, she might’ve been called a lady.

  He gave instructions to his drivers to take the carriages and servants to his own London house. No doubt Barbara would send him and Louise home in a stylish curricle later. Bracing himself for his sister’s wagging tongue, he went up the steps and came to a halt in the hallway. Louise stood at Barbara’s side, listening in rapt attention as Henrietta described a medical procedure that involved...gruesome details.

  His sister’s wide eyes and complete stillness lent Dominic a sense of worry.

  Barbara waited for a pause in Henrietta’s speech before turning to him. “St. Raven, darling brother. An introduction, please?”

  Ah. That look. It usually made him cringe because it was inevitably followed by questions about his life. The most notable being, when did he plan to marry? That had been her preaccident ritual, at least.

  He swept Barbara an overdone bow designed to spark her irritation. “Good evening to you, too.” Louise giggled behind a hand. “Shall I present the ever lovely Miss Stanford? She hails from the verdant region of—”

  “Cease your antics.” Barbara held up a hand. In the months since he’d seen her last, she’d grown more stuffy. “The governess, I presume.”

  “Ah, yes, Miss Gordon. Meet my sister, Lady Winthrop.”

  Henrietta performed a wobbly curtsy.

  Barbara pulled a jewel-encrusted chained quizzing glass from her pocket and put it to her eye. Presumably to examine Henrietta more closely, but the appendage made her look ten years older. And so very pretentious. “Is there a reason, Miss Gordon, why you are standing in my hallway rather than in the servants’ hall?”

  Henrietta’s face suffused immediately with color. Louise’s wiggling stilled and a tense silence ensued.

  How often Barbara had employed that tone with him. He truly disliked it. He had thought to be relieved with her attention focused on Henrietta, but sympathy overrode his own survival instincts. That and the knowledge that the intelligence of his governess, combined with her world experiences, would not allow her to suffer his sister’s superiority complex for long.

  He could not predict what Henrietta would say, but undoubtedly, it would be atypical for someone of her station.

  “She goes with me,” Louise said, stealing her aunt’s attention and Dominic’s thoughts. “I need her.”

  Barbara lowered her glass. “Need?” She glanced around, ascertaining that the servants were not visible or within earshot.

  Louise nodded vigorously, looking too worried. He stepped forward, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I did not instruct Miss Gordon where to go as she often accompanies us and provides educational commentary. She is well-traveled.”

  Barbara’s eyes flickered. She leaned forward and said quietly, “She is the governess, Dominic.”

  He inclined his head. “Miss Gordon, one of Lady Winthrop’s maids shall show you below stairs. We will be leaving for my townhome this evening. I shall arrange a carriage to take you there sooner so that you might prepare a schoolroom.”

  A maid appeared and, without words, the two left. Barbara linked her arm to Dominic’s and led him toward the parlor. “I have recently acquired a barouche. It is quite comfortable and charming. Louise, would you enjoy a ride after some refreshments? There is much to see. All the ladies in their finery shall be out.”

  “That sounds interesting,” his niece said wanly. A perplexed air hung about her, as though she could not process that Henrietta was indeed of a different class than her family. His jaw clenched. Never had he paid an overt amount of attention to how the servantry was treated, but he found that Barbara’s dismissal of Henrietta irritated him.

  Barbara tugged on his arm, slowing their walk until they stopped outside the parlor. Louise had already gone in to investigate. “Do you have feelings for the governess?”

  Startled, Dominic pulled his arm from hers.

  “Don’t look so put out,” she said with censure. “You have behaved beyond the pale in the past. I do not need to remind you of your antics, I’m sure. I have no idea why Edmund left you in charge of Louise. She needs stability. Propriety. What do you know of this Miss Gordon?”

  “I know that she is highly educated and provides Louise with all that she needs. Stay out of this, Barbara.”

  She harrumphed, sounding like a dowager rather than a twenty-four-year-old viscountess. “It is my duty to make sure all is as it should be. Do not think I won’t consult a higher authority, should you prove unfit.”

  “Is this because you have not provided an heir?”

  Barbara gasped, looking quickly about to make sure no one had heard his reference. “That has nothing to do with it.” But two bright spots of color stained her cheeks, and Dominic knew he was right.

  “Everything will be fine,” he said. But her threat hung over him the rest of the day. When he stopped paying Old John, she would discover the truth. If her husband agreed that he was not a fit guardian, then Dominic was in trouble.

  Thankfully he had Henrietta as a governess for a little while.

  But he would need to make plans, and quickly, before Louise’s life was forced into another, unwelcome change.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Henrietta enjoyed teasing Dominic about being a dandy, but quite unexpectedly she discovered that he was not truly one.

  Friday started out regularly enough for a governess, she supposed. Ignored by the staff. Left to her own devices. Which suited her perfectly.

  She planned lessons in the morning because Dominic did not wake up until noon, and then he took Louise out, leaving Henrietta to explore London on her own.

  After quite a bit of inquiry, in which she discovered that most servants did not like to read, she found a wonderful little shop in Covent Garden on Tavistock Street filled with book lovers. Though the store did not have any medical texts about epilepsy, the owner directed her to a few gentlemen who specialized in that sort of knowledge.

  She returned to Dominic’s house with two books and a clearer understanding of London’s streets. The maid she’d brought along was only too glad to be home and disappeared immediately. And so it was that Dominic found her in the library that afternoon, bent over an especially interesting commentary on surgical practices throughout the world.

  “Reading about rogues and maidens in distress?” He settled in the chair across from her, his cologne a distracting scent.

  Sighing, she looked up from her studies. “If you are referring to those novels in which the heroine always needs rescuing, I do not indulge in that drivel. I am, in fact, trying to find out more about your epi—” She cut herself off as he held up a finger, signaling to keep silent.

  “Secrets should not be spoken aloud,” he said, but his eyes were sparkling.

  She closed the book. He evidently was in one of his lighthearted teasing moods, which for some unfathomable reason made her feel more lighthearted, too. Even though she’d just been reading a most gruesome account of a surgeon removing the wrong leg because he had not looked beneath the sheet before using the saw.

  “Is Louise available for lessons? She has not mastered her reading.”

  “My spitfire of a niece
is shopping with Barbara today. As for tonight, there is a dinner party. Barbara had a cancellation and has asked that you fill in to keep our numbers even.” He held up a finger. “Now, now, don’t shake your head at me.”

  “I have nothing to wear.”

  “Barbara has already taken care of that. It’s simply to keep the numbers even. You eat, converse and then it will be over.”

  Henrietta pressed her lips together, contemplating. She knew that it was not uncommon for a hostess to seek evenly numbered guests, but she did not have to like it. Furthermore, to tell him no would be to discredit him in front of his sister.

  She could not possibly do such a thing.

  And that was how she discovered the fashion trend of wearing elaborate and expensive clothing inspired by Beau Brummell, one of London’s most expensively dressed men and arbiter of all things stylish.

  Lady Winthrop had sat her between an elderly man with alert eyes and a soft-faced man with a cravat so snowy white and impeccable that she felt she must excuse Dominic for his own cravat sensitivities. Henrietta promptly decided that she’d try to engage the older man in conversation. Style, after all, was not her forte.

  * * *

  During the second round of food, the dandy talked to her. At first she did not realize he was speaking to her, but soon his voice intruded and she was forced by good manners to look at him.

  “Madam, I must tell you how much I admire the cut of your gown.”

  “Thank you, but it is borrowed.”

  His hand flew to his neck cloth. His eyes widened in what she could only imagine was horror. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dominic smirking at them. Setting her jaw, she forked another mouthful of butter-soaked vegetables into her mouth.

  “You have uttered words that are unusually frank, Miss...?”

  She swallowed. “Miss Gordon. I am simply the governess, here to even out the numbers.”

  “An honest woman,” he murmured.

  She eyed him, wondering in which direction he planned to direct conversation and if she should develop a sudden megrim. But she did not want to miss dessert.