The Unconventional Governess

by Jessica Nelson

  It became clear, very quickly, that Mr. Hodges was wry and amusing, his personality as rumpled and interesting as his clothing was not. Every so often she felt Dominic’s eyes upon her, like a hot spot in the middle of her back, but when she looked at him, he’d merely dip his head in acknowledgment.

  Mr. Hodges regaled her with tales of his travels with the East India Company when he was younger, and she laughed when he described an unfortunate fiasco with a monkey.

  “My uncle has a pet monkey,” she said. “He takes Cheepers with us everywhere.”

  Mr. Hodges’s finely plucked blond eyebrow rose. “Indeed? Where is your uncle now?”

  And so it was that they began the most intriguing conversation on medical advances, technology and the vagaries of pet monkeys. Their engagement lasted through dessert and into the drawing room, where they immediately found an alcove to chat about telescopes.

  A young lady played a rousing melody upon the pianoforte and several card tables had been set up. Dominic stood at the opposite of the room. She gave him a tiny finger wave for his eyebrows were lowered and his lips flat.

  She turned to Mr. Hodges, who watched her in a strange way. He was very attentive, even going so far as to bring her a drink. “It is my opinion that if an instrument can be designed to search out the stars and make them clearer, then surely we as a society must find a way to look inside the human body. Current microscopes are not sufficient. They must be improved.”

  “Have you ever read the book Micrographia?” he asked.

  “Unfortunately not.”

  “Stunning illustrations. I shall lend you a copy.”

  “That is most kind of you.” She could not help her widening smile. “I shall enjoy such a book immensely.”

  “Miss Gordon. Mr. Hodges.” Dominic appeared, bowing and scowling, though it seemed as though he was trying to hide his ill humor beneath a tight grimace of a smile.

  “St. Raven. It’s been ages, man. Where have you been hiding?”

  “Inherited an earldom and realized it was time to grow up and be responsible.”

  “How utterly boring,” Mr. Hodges drawled.

  Barbara sauntered over just then, the lift of her jaw indicating displeasure. Henrietta bit back a grin. She was not so inured to societal snobbery that she didn’t recognize when her time was up.

  “Miss Gordon, it is customary for the governess to retire to her room after dinner. You are no longer needed.”

  “Ah, the lovely Lady Winthrop. What a delightful dinner party. I am in absolutely awe of your splendid table.” Mr. Hodges spoke in a rather foppish way that made Henrietta rethink her initial pique with Dominic’s superficial humor. His could not compare to this silliness.

  A woman with shining brunette ringlets that cascaded over perfect skin glided over.

  “Do introduce me, Lord St. Raven?” She studied Henrietta, a calculating gleam in her eye and a possessive lean in her position toward Dominic.

  Henrietta shifted, suddenly feeling her first nerves, for while Mr. Hodges felt harmless enough, the way both ladies looked at her rather made her feel like their meal for the night.

  “This is his governess.” Barbara tittered. “Miss Gordon,” she added as an afterthought.

  “I see.” The lady cut her chin to the side, dismissing Henrietta as one would a servant.

  And that was what she was, but she did not like the feeling at all. As a woman working with her uncle, she had been treated like this often. Slighted. She stiffened her shoulders, prepared to advise the snobby lady that if she was using arsenic to attain such a perfect complexion, then she should beware of the chemical’s toxicity.

  Dominic spoke, however, surprising her.

  “Miss Gordon is not a mere governess. She has assisted the physician Mr. William Gordon in his practice for many years.”

  “Mr. Gordon?” Barbara turned an astonished gaze to Henrietta, as though just seeing her. “You are related?”

  “He is my uncle.”

  “She is only governessing as a favor. Louise took a shine to her when she stayed with Lady Brandewyne. An old family friend,” he added for good measure.

  Henrietta relaxed when Barbara’s features softened. The woman beside her, who had not been introduced, pinched her lips together.

  “You were raised as a lady, then?”

  “My parents died before my Season,” Henrietta said shortly. “Thus, my gentility was lost with my wealth and my home and my family.”

  “What a varied experience you’ve had,” Mr. Hodges pronounced gaily. “You’ve gone from riches to rags, from ladyhood to physicianhood. A romantic tragedy fit for a Byron poem.” He sighed in such a comical way that all members of the party laughed.

  “Miss Gordon has provided excellent medical advice to many of my tenants. She is certainly an asset to my estate,” said Dominic, and her heart warmed at his praise.

  “Certainly an unconventional governess.” Barbara gave her one last, tight-lipped look and, taking the other woman’s arm, wandered off.

  “Well, then, I should hobnob with other beautiful women before people begin talking about us.” Mr. Hodges granted her a long, exaggerated wink before spinning around to thread his way to the other side of the room.

  “Interesting man.” She sipped her drink. Maybe it was time to leave. Lady Winthrop had made it clear that she didn’t belong. No matter who her parents had been.

  “He’s a true dandy.”

  “Indeed?”

  “You have made fun of my admittedly dashing cravats, but I can assure you that Mr. Hodges spent at least two hours on his toilette. And his clothing? Eight hundred pounds a year, at the minimum.”

  It took all her willpower to keep her jaw from unhinging at that fact. “Are you sure you’re not spouting out unverified information? Otherwise known as gossip.”

  “My dear Retta, I only repeat information from the verified source of Lady Hupperdink, a bastion of the beau monde and keeper of all our misdeeds. She is often found at Almack’s, gathering new information to share with worthy listeners.”

  “You are quite ridiculous, my lord.” She fought her smile and her blush. He had called her “dear Retta.” It was deliciously inappropriate, but she had no desire to correct him. She scanned the room. “Is Lady Hupperdink the one with the hat?”

  “Ah, yes, her hats. She makes a statement with them, don’t you think?”

  Henrietta squinted. Was that a nest perched upon her brim?

  “Real bird feathers, I’m told.” Dominic’s eyes crinkled in suppressed mirth, and a hot shudder rippled through her. How very handsome and elegant he looked tonight. Eyes like shining emeralds and his jaw a clean, firm line that suggested strength.

  She must ignore this feeling moving through her, gathering momentum. She simply must.

  There was nothing to be gained in having an attraction to this earl.

  Nothing but heartbreak.

  * * *

  Henrietta spent the next day roaming London with Louise. Their maid lagged behind them, carrying their bags of trinkets. Or rather, Louise’s. Her aunt had given her pin money, which she was determined to spend.

  The sheer waste of it bothered Henrietta, but she kept her mouth closed. After all, if Mr. Hodges spent eight hundred pounds a year on clothing...the very idea flabbergasted her. While traipsing down Piccadilly Street, Louise talking about Lady Winthrop’s upcoming ball and Henrietta partially listening, they passed a window where she saw books.

  Books everywhere.

  And people reading.

  She jerked to a stop, surprising Louise into silence. “We are going in here.”

  Before her young charge could protest, she marched into number 187 Piccadilly Street. Better known as Hatchards, a store she had often heard of in her uncle’s circles. A renowned place of learning and education.


  The scents of leather, paper and ink welcomed her.

  “What is this?” Louise spoke in a whisper, as aware as Henrietta of the sanctity of such a bookstore. Men lounged in the corners, their deep conversations hushed and sacred lullabies.

  “A bookstore.” One that might carry information about epilepsy.

  Though she wanted to spend hours within the confines of this happy and safe place, the hour was growing late and Dominic expected them home. She spoke with a man at the counter, who found her a dusty book of rare medical conditions. Without bothering to glance through it, she bought it.

  “Why are you buying that?” asked Louise as they walked to their carriage.

  “Research. Books are a veritable fount of information.”

  “Is it because of Dom’s illness?”

  Henrietta stuttered to a stop, causing a few glares from passing ladies in flouncy dresses and overwrought hats. The green of Louise’s eyes glittered up at her. Knowing. Challenging.

  “What do you know of that?” She began walking again, aware of the maid behind them, and wondered if she could hear their conversation.

  “I saw him once, when he did not know. I was quite terrified.”

  “Why did you not say something?”

  She shrugged. “He seemed fine afterward, just tired. I felt it better left unmentioned.”

  “His illness is best kept private for now.” She clutched the book to her chest. “I hope to find a cure for him.”

  Louise’s eyes narrowed. They reached the carriage, and the footman opened the door for them. The girl slid in first, shoulders sharp-edged squares against the velvet backdrop of an earl’s carriage. Henrietta followed, nerves twisting.

  The maid did not join them, sitting up with the coachman instead. One more difference in stations, Henrietta noted. The carriage jostled to a start.

  “Does it bother you that I want to help your uncle?” she asked Louise.

  The girl shrugged, a mulish expression creeping upon her face. Was there to be a tense silence the entire ride? She hoped not. There’d been great strides made with Louise. She seemed happier and Henrietta did not want to see that end.

  “I just don’t want him to die,” she blurted out.

  Henrietta blinked. That had not been what she expected to hear. She set the book on the seat beside her and leaned forward, holding Louise’s worried eyes with a calm expression. “Your uncle has very little chance of dying from his illness so long as it does not strike him unawares.”

  Louise blanched.

  Perhaps that had not been quite the right thing to say. Taking the girl’s hand, small and tiny in hers, she gently squeezed. “We shall look out for him. If he looks pale or faint, we must make sure he lies down somewhere safe. The nature of his illness is a loss of bodily control. It can be very scary, but it will pass quickly and he will be fine again.” She forced a soft smile. “This must be kept secret because his illness is rare and misunderstood.”

  “I understand.” Louise pulled her hand away, frowning. “Aunt Barbara is having a ball in two days’ time. She said I might watch from an upper room that is hidden from view. Will you join me?”

  “Of course,” she said with more assertion than she felt.

  “I want to keep an eye on Uncle Dominic. You know all the women want to marry him now.”

  “Because he’s an earl?”

  Louise nodded sagely. “I have come to a conclusion.”

  Henrietta raised her eyebrows, even as Louise’s tone warned her that she might not like what was coming next.

  “Uncle Dominic does not want to be married. It is up to us to protect him from fortune hunters.”

  “And how do you suggest we do such a thing?” Especially when she did not plan to be here much longer.

  “It is simple.” Louise grinned a puckish smile laden with intent. “We sabotage.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sabotage.

  Barbara’s words echoed in Dominic’s ears.

  He scanned his sister’s crowded ballroom with a long, lazy perusal. She had outdone herself this Season, heaping within the room a maddening crush of bored peerage and flittering debutantes. He had been introduced to so many he’d lost count. Their names escaped him, his memory filled instead with eager eyes and white dresses.

  All eager to wed an earl.

  Word had spread quickly of his new wealth and holdings. Since he’d been out of London, he’d forgotten the predaceous nature of society. He felt it now. Each gaze a talon tugging him toward the altar.

  “Sabotage,” he said aloud.

  “Yes.” Barbara stood next to him, her posture neatly positioned to denote a gracious and benevolent host. “My maid told me this morning of Louise’s plan. Really, Dominic, what has gotten into that girl? Marriage is the best possible choice for you. You can add funds to your coffer. Lord Winthrop tells me that profits from farming are on the downswing.”

  “Your husband is right about the crops, but I’ll be fine,” he replied absently, his gaze roving the room. “I’ve investments beyond the estate. How did your maid hear of Louise’s shenanigans?”

  “She was discussing them with that governess of yours.” Barbara sniffed. “Why don’t you send Louise to that school I told you about?”

  “Your concern is noted,” he said drily. “I suppose your husband will watch the estate for me?”

  “Do not make it sound as though he is a greedy relative.”

  “Forgive me.” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly eager to leave the crush of her ballroom. “I’ll speak to Louise.”

  He moved to exit, but his sister’s hand on his arm stayed him.

  “There is no need to leave. Our niece is in a bedroom upstairs, overlooking the ballroom. When we constructed it, we wished to have a place to watch unknown.”

  “That is very forward thinking of you.”

  “Yes, Lord Winthrop is an intelligent and experienced man.” She made no indication that she’d heard his sarcasm. He barely refrained from wrinkling his nose. Lord Winthrop was a stuffy bore thirty years his sister’s senior and wealthy enough to create a ballroom large enough for London’s elite.

  Dominic ran his fingers through his hair. Months ago he would have enjoyed the dancing and flirtations. The promise of nothing more serious than a smile and a dance.

  His perspective had changed.

  “I’ll check on her, at the least.”

  “Do remind her that sabotaging your marital prospects is not only unladylike, but her attempts to thwart the natural order of things will not succeed.” She pointed upward, to a balcony he had not noticed jutting out above the ballroom entrance. “Don’t forget we have a day party this week. We’ve been invited to Lord Waverly’s country estate. It is only an hour’s journey south of London. I’ve accepted on your behalf, as he has an eligible daughter.”

  He dipped his head in acknowledgment of her words, if not acceptance, and spun to leave. He found the room easily enough. A quick jaunt up a circular staircase, veer to the left and a tap on the closed door.

  Before anyone could answer, he opened it.

  Louise turned from the balcony, her surprise quickly changing to delight. “You came!”

  “You expected a visit?”

  Her face took on a secretive cast. Lips a furtive line and eyes averted.

  “Louise has been scheming.”

  Dominic pivoted at the sound of Henrietta’s voice. She sat on the edge of the bed, her face cloaked in darkness. There was one candelabra lit, its flickering flames dancing shadows in the room. Light from the ballroom only spilled in so far.

  “That is what I’ve been told.” He injected censure into his voice.

  “All those silly women trying to interfere with our life.” Louise skipped forward, placing her hand on his arm. “You understand, don’t
you?”

  “How exactly are you planning to stop them?” He patted the careful upsweep of her hair. “Spreading nasty rumors of my vicious temper? Or perhaps that my fortune is a ruse.”

  “I was thinking of ripping up any calling cards and perhaps engaging in a tantrum or two. Strewing cookies across the parlor furniture.” She shrugged. “Any number of things to convince them you’re not a good marital prospect.”

  A sound issued from the dark confines where Henrietta sat. Something that sounded curiously close to a snort.

  “And did you make sure that your aunt’s maid would hear of your plans?”

  “I might have.” She passed a censorious glance toward Henrietta. “She refuses to help me. I was forced to resort to more obvious methods.”

  For a moment, he was taken aback. Louise sounded like an adult. Unsettled, he allowed his gaze to fall on Henrietta. “Perhaps it is time for Louise to return home? A reminder that she is but a child?”

  Her harrumph was so dramatic and heartfelt that it coaxed his lips into a wide curve.

  Strains of a waltz began, and Louise rushed to the balcony window. “Oh, Dom, look at them all dancing! How romantic. I should like to learn to waltz.” She grasped imaginary hands and weaved back and forth. “He will be taller than me, of course, and so very handsome. Perhaps he will wear a long, black mustachio and swirl about in a pirate’s coat.”

  She spun around, locking a forceful look on Dominic so intense he felt quite frozen by it. “You must dance with Henrietta.” Upon seeing his surprise, she crossed her arms. “Please. I want to see how it is done.”

  Henrietta was shaking her head. Dominic could see the movement dusting the air.

  Now that Louise had said something, however, he realized how much he’d enjoy sharing a dance with his prideful and not quite proper governess. He held out his hand.

  There was hesitation. It was almost as though he could feel her waiting, denying herself what she might enjoy. “Come now, Retta, we have danced before.”

  That was apparently all she needed to hear. She stood and stepped toward him, emerging from the shadowed bedside. His breath locked in his throat. Her hair had been curled up and the candlelight played against the caramel colors. A flush softened her features and light glistened in the chocolate depths of her eyes.