The Unconventional Governess

by Jessica Nelson

  Her heart pounded in her chest—quick, rhythmic movements that matched her footsteps. She paused outside Dominic’s door, steeled herself and knocked.

  His faint reply encouraged her to open the door. How often she saw him bent over the desk. Surely the man she’d first met at Lady Brandewyne’s had changed. Perhaps due to her meddling? Pride filled her, but quickly seeped away when she remembered her reason for being here.

  She had nothing to be prideful about.

  It had been a slow reckoning, but last night had sealed the feeling for her. Watching Dominic be so serious, so alert to what she needed done, had shown her how he cared. Perhaps he had lived a superficial lifestyle in the past, but that had been his way of avoiding failure.

  Not only that, but the dinner at his sister’s had also proven that he was simply a product of conditioning. He had been told it was okay to behave in the manner he had. Now that he knew differently, he changed accordingly.

  She squared her shoulders, walked to him and sat in that familiar and uncomfortable chair again. She was not here about his shortcomings. She was here about hers.

  He looked up, his signature dimple present. “You may put your list of items for me to fix on the desk.”

  “Your townhouse is run more efficiently than your estate, therefore I have no list.”

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence then?”

  “I have been thinking—”

  “As you often do,” he said, dimple deepening.

  A hot flush zipped through her. Suddenly she was remembering their waltz, the placement of his hand on hers, the steadiness of his gaze as he guided her through the steps. Her pulse thrummed. “You were right.”

  Oh, how difficult to speak those words. They pushed through lips frozen with pride and self-worth.

  His eyebrows shot up. He leaned back into his chair, tapping one long finger against the paperwork on his desk.

  “It is to my sorrow that I must confess that I acted like a priggish, overinflated buffoon.”

  “You’re being a bit hard on yourself.”

  There was a delicious purr to the rasp of his voice that only worsened the heat flooding through her. She shifted on her seat, interlocking her fingers to keep from fidgeting.

  “I am seeing myself as you must have seen me.” She hesitated, swallowing hard. “The thing is, my lord, I have never had to apologize for anything. My uncle valued my input and often praised me for my perspicacity. We worked together in perfect harmony, and it was not until I contracted rheumatic fever that our partnership crumbled.”

  “I see.” He steepled his fingers beneath his chin. The dimple eased, but she detected a sparkle in his eyes that gave her pause. “To which instance are you referring to regarding your buffoonish behavior then?”

  “Whatever do you mean, ‘which instance’?”

  He shrugged, and now she was certain that he was laughing at her, because it seemed that his shrug had a bit of wiggle to it. As though containing the most improper urge to laugh.

  “I wish I could find the humor that is so easily available to you,” she said testily, “but alas, I am too overcome with mortification over my behavior.”

  “Behavior that I remain unclear on.”

  She released a long-suffering sigh. “Very well, I shall spell it out. I am not referring to my opinion of your quack apothecary.”

  That got a reaction. Only a frown, but for a man like St. Raven, it indicated deep displeasure. It was wrong, but she felt a smidge of satisfaction that she could upset him when he was finding such great joy in teasing her.

  “My opinion of you has changed,” she continued primly. “I was wrong to have judged you as a superficial coward hiding from responsibilities. As a careless flirt. You are so much more than that. A good man who must deal with a strange malady while juggling new responsibilities. You are kind and helpful. It is not your fault that you grew up thinking you could live however you like without consequence.”

  His gaze flickered. “Do you have any idea how arrogant you sound?”

  “Arrogant? I’m trying to apologize.” Her voice almost quavered. She managed to put a bit of iron into it. “I judged you wrongly.”

  “No, you judged correctly. I was exactly who you thought I was, and if you think I’m different now, it is because I am.”

  Stymied, she could only stare. How fierce he looked. Even, dare she think it, stern.

  “I will be honest, Henrietta. I had hoped you planned to apologize about your behavior at my estate.” Though humbleness flavored his voice, his emerald eyes cut sharp.

  She drew back, his words unexpected. “I was right to behave so. We both know that man is not a good person.”

  “He certainly is not. Yet, you are filled with pride. Doesn’t the Bible admonish us against that?”

  Her mouth dropped open even as a terrible schism of pain invaded her. “I hardly expect you to be an expert in such matters.”

  Oh, how could she have been entertaining tender feelings toward this egotistical, rude man. She folded her arms, pressing them in a snug little circle about her body.

  “You have already decided who I am. Why don’t you just tell me who you are.” He bit off the words.

  “For two months more I am a governess.”

  “Only two months?” He sounded shocked, which rang a little alarm at the back of her mind. She continued, ignoring it. “After that, assistant to a renowned physician.”

  “Who has no idea of what you’re planning.”

  “That is not relevant to this conversation.”

  He dipped his head in a mocking manner. “By all means, then, what is relevant?”

  They locked eyes, and though she burned at his censure, there was now a little voice inside insisting that she listen to him. That she take a clear view of herself and how she treated others. She had marched through the village like a soldier instead of going to him and trusting him with the problem. She had emasculated his authority to the people who relied on him for income and protection. Realization dawned.

  They needed to have confidence in him the same way a patient should trust his or her physician.

  “You are very right.” Cheeks on fire, she looked down at her hands, which were still clasped and beginning to cramp. She released them, stretching her fingers before looking up at him. She expected to see triumph. Instead, he looked tired. Handsome, but weary. “It was not my place to confront your apothecary. Nor to make a spectacle in the village. I should have come to you with my concerns, and I am very sorry for rushing off like a hotheaded fool.”

  Perhaps this was how it felt to be humbled. A curious mix of pain and relief, much like the sensation in lancing a boil. Perhaps one could get used to being wrong. Or at least admitting to it.

  As though hearing her thoughts, Dominic edged closer to his desk, quirking a smile in her direction. “Was that so hard?”

  “Yes,” she said in a tone that was almost petulant, but not quite. Because she had never been petulant in her life, and she was not about to start now.

  “Your honesty is refreshing.” He rose from his desk, walking over to a small table on the other side of the room, where a pile of papers was stacked. “Admittedly, your actions were inappropriate to the situation, yet I cannot help but admire your resolve and bravery.”

  “Bravery?” Unexpected words, and reassuring. “I do not presume to know what you mean.”

  “That’s a first.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Haven’t you already? One beg per week is quite enough, Miss Gordon.”

  He was flirting with her now, resorting to his previous persona. He took a folded paper from the stack. Vellum, she saw as he neared, sealed with an expensive wax seal. “You don’t care what others think. Your sense of justice is impressive. That is very brave of you.” He held out the paper
. “This came for you.”

  She took it, recognizing at once her uncle’s initials in the scarlet seal. The stiff vellum beneath the pads of her fingers reminded her of his life. Strong. Rich. Unique.

  That was the life she wanted, wasn’t it?

  But it was hard to think clearly with Dominic standing so close, shaping her thoughts with his opinions, as atrocious as she sometimes found them to be. He wore that expensive cologne, too. A scent she should chide him for due to its obvious cost. The luxury he took for granted. She could not bring herself to criticize him, though, not after last night.

  “I saw you,” she blurted out.

  “Saw me?” A tiny crinkled appeared in his brow, a ripple in his laughing exterior.

  “Yes.” She pressed the vellum to her bosom. Reading it could wait. “You gave money to that man’s family.”

  His brow lifted. The crinkle deepened. “And?”

  “I thought I had you figured out, but you keep surprising me.”

  “My goal in life, madam.” He swept her a large, entirely ridiculous bow reminiscent of Mr. Hodges.

  Despite herself, she smiled. “Very well. I have apologized and we have reached an impasse, if you will?”

  “I shall let you decide which words to use, as you are the governess.” His gaze cut to the letter in her hands. “Only two months,” he murmured. “How much longer do you suppose before I’ll need to put word out for a new one?”

  “A new what?” Louise bopped into the room, a heavy book in one hand and a tart in the other. “I finished my math. Whatever is the purpose? You know that I shall not be doing sums. I will have a steward for that. Or a housekeeper. Or someone who enjoys trying to fit numbers together like a puzzle. A mismatched puzzle.”

  “Every lady of breeding must know basic sums. If you plan to run your own household—”

  “But what if I don’t?”

  Henrietta looked at Dominic, trying to ascertain if he intended her to answer the girl. She would be the worst example, she supposed. She didn’t run households or manage daily tasks. She had no desire to do such a thing.

  “You don’t want to get married?” she asked carefully.

  “Of course I’m getting married. It will be terribly romantic.” Unexpectedly, she began spinning around the two of them in a silly, young-girl way that brought memories to the forefront. Once upon a time, Henrietta had dreamed of having a love like the one her parents had shared.

  “But I shan’t be keeping his house,” continued Louise. “We will be having adventures, discovering new species. Drinking tea in exotic places like those that exist in Arabian Nights.”

  Henrietta held up her hands in mock surrender. “I did not put these ideas into her head, my lord.”

  “We shall blame fiction.” Dominic was laughing, though. “Just do not let your Aunt Barbara hear you speak thus. It will send her into a fit of apoplexy. I believe she already has a standing order for your first Season, and a list of prospective grooms.”

  “Psssh.” Louise’s eyes were alight. “It will be our secret. Just between Dom and Retta and Lou.”

  Henrietta groaned at the nicknames. “It is time for another lesson. This conversation is senseless.”

  “I find it rather entertaining, and there is sense in that.” Dominic sat on the edge of his desk. Very un-earl-like.

  “It is not useful.”

  “Surely there is a part of the brain that requires entertainment for growth and stimulation? We are not designed to be automatons.”

  “Oh, very well.” She didn’t have time to argue with him, and he made a good point. It was just so very hard to indulge in senseless entertainment when she could see no practical value to it. “According to some fringe scientists, laughter is a medicine in and of itself.”

  “The Bible says that, does it not?”

  Henrietta nodded, then said to Louise, “We must finish your lessons before our tea.”

  “But what are we getting that’s new?” She plunked on one of the chairs, ignoring Henrietta in favor of nibbling on her tart. “And I want to go to Gunter’s for ices this afternoon.”

  “We shall check your sums first.”

  “And the new item? What is it? A puppy perhaps?”

  Dominic made a sound in the back of his throat. “A what?”

  “There is the most adorable mongrel in the park and it follows me about every day. I bring him ham, of course.”

  “No, most definitely not an animal,” said Dominic, his voice panicked. He shot Henrietta a pleading look, but she only shrugged.

  A puppy was not a bad idea. “The idea has merit, my lord.”

  Louise jumped and clapped her hands. “I can’t wait. I love new things.”

  “Well, that is not what your uncle and I were discussing. When you get a new governess you will need—”

  “What?” She stopped jumping. The book dropped from her hands to the ground.

  “Yes, I cannot stay forever.”

  “But...” Her gaze whipped between them. “Governesses do stay. They stay until they’re no longer needed. I have been good.” There was emotion building on her face, the same kind Henrietta had seen before, right before Louise ran away.

  A hard lump settled in her throat. “You must have known this was temporary?”

  Dominic was suspiciously quiet. She didn’t dare look at him. If she took her gaze from Louise’s bright, shocked eyes, she felt certain the tenuous, invisible thread between them would snap.

  It was a fanciful notion that could not be upheld by scientific theory, nor by logic, but nevertheless, her heart pumped hard and desperate beats against her sternum. She did not want to disappoint Louise.

  She did not want to hurt her.

  Yet the vellum letter remained clutched in her hand, its sharp corner digging into her palm, a painful reminder that her life could not remain as it was now.

  “Louise...” Dominic’s voice trailed off.

  Startled at the sudden intrusion of his voice in the voided silence, she looked at him. And then Louise ran. Her footsteps echoed as she raced out of the study and into the hall, then the front door slammed.

  Pulse racing like a jackrabbit in her throat, Henrietta sprung forward. Louise could not roam London alone. Too many pickpockets, thieves, murderers. It wasn’t safe.

  This was her fault.

  And only she could fix it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dominic hurried after Henrietta. She was already out of the house.

  “Jacks,” he yelled, swiping his cane from the corner of the room, where he kept it for London walks. Obsidian-black, it looked the epitome of a gentleman’s accessory, but the polished handle hid a sharp point. He’d bought it in Turkey, after a band of ruffians had nearly killed him and his friends during his Grand Tour. He set his top hat upon his head.

  “I’m going out,” he told the valet. “If Louise or Miss Gordon return, see that they do not leave this house until I come back.”

  He stepped out into blinding sunlight. Walking to find them would be best. Right or left? Where would Louise go? Hyde Park? Gunter’s?

  He’d try Gunter’s first, since she’d mentioned wanting ices. Barbara may have given her pin money that she hadn’t spent yet. He strode quickly, passing others out for leisure walks. He ignored most of their looks to avoid conversation.

  By the time he reached Gunter’s, he was in need of an ice himself. The day was hot, bothersome. He had almost rounded the lawn where customers brought out blankets to sit in the sunshine while enjoying their treats, when a high trill stopped him.

  “Oh, my lord, my lord, so very good to see you.” A woman he did not recognize fluttered in front of him. The type he used to ignore quite easily. In fact, every instinct demanded he run. And fast.

  A better man did not run from irksome women. He nodded, r
eturned the greeting.

  “Have you met Miss Penelope? My second daughter, just out for the Season.” The woman batted strangely long eyelashes at him while pushing a wisp of a girl in front of her. He wracked his brain, searching for some memory of the mother’s name. Any idea to which family they belonged.

  Most likely friends of Barbara’s. Since the girl was not speaking and it seemed the mother was waiting for him to say something, he inclined his head. “Lovely day for ices.”

  “Yes, yes,” the mother gushed. Miss Penelope, bride-to-be no thanks to her mother, said nothing. She had pale blue eyes. Striking on their own, but bland with no personality present.

  He thought of Henrietta’s chocolate eyes then, while the ice began melting and the mother melted and the daughter remained speechless.

  Henrietta would not endure a conversation about weather. She would be bored. She would be moving or looking or thinking.

  These two obviously expected something he had no intention offering. His card, perhaps. A promise to call. A marriage proposal.

  He drew out his watch fob. “Ah, look at the time. I must be off. Farewell, ladies.” He pivoted and walked straight out of the park. Thankfully no one else tried to stop him. The entire walk home he brooded. He had not felt so on edge since he was a young man.

  No matter how much Henrietta made him laugh, he also blamed her for her demands, expecting more than he felt capable of giving. And yet he had risen to the challenge.

  But for what? She planned to leave. Not just him. But also Louise. He had not thought of how her abandonment would affect his niece. On the walk home, it was all he thought of. Well, almost all. He also thought much of his own self. He had come to rely on Henrietta’s wit, sharp comments and truthfulness.

  Where was Louise? A terrible, sharp-edged worry cut into his senses, propelling his legs forward. He had to ask Henrietta to stay.

  For Louise’s sake.

  The idea relieved the tension snaking across his chest. Barbara would eventually leave him alone about the school, if Louise had Henrietta. And if Old John decided to open his mouth about Dominic’s epilepsy, Henrietta had said it wouldn’t matter.