The Unconventional Governess

by Jessica Nelson

  If she stayed, she could practice medicine on his estate. He would give her leeway to go to conventions and symposiums, should she so wish. She would have her coveted independence and an income apart from anything she might make with medicine.

  He stopped by Barbara’s, but Louise was not there. The household still slept, the butler told him, looking cross and disapproving, as all butlers were wont to do. He supposed they taught them that at butler school. Dominic left a note for Barbara to call on him later that day.

  Amazing how finding a solution made everything better.

  He did not see Louise at the park. Neither did he encounter any men of ill repute attempting to rob him. He had not had reason to use his special cane in years. In the past, pugilism offered a release from stresses, as well as a fine form of entertainment. Since inheriting his estate, he had not engaged in any pugilistic bouts.

  Perhaps it was time.

  And so it was, ideas and plans racing through his mind, that he arrived home. Jacks immediately informed him that both ladies had arrived. He said so in a low voice, his head dipping.

  Dominic handed him the cane and his top hat. “Is there a problem?”

  Jacks eyes flickered. “Perhaps you should see for yourself.”

  That was when Dominic heard giggles. And then another sound, so out of place and foreign that for a second, he felt like an interloper. As if he’d entered the wrong house.

  Jacks was disguising a smirk now, and failing utterly at it.

  “Is there a dog in my house?” Dominic pointed up. Without waiting for an answer, he sprinted up the stairs, following the sounds to a room next to the old nursery.

  Dogs. He had never liked them since not one, but two, had bitten him as a child. Granted, they were starving mutts that had wandered onto the estate and his brother had mercilessly chased the poor beasts each time.

  Still, his memories of dog encounters did not serve to endear him to the women who had brought one into his home. At least Louise was safe, which brought an immeasurable relief.

  He pushed open the door.

  The sight that greeted him did nothing good for a mood that was quickly disintegrating into annoyance. Deep annoyance. Did they think him easily duped? A soft sap who allowed anything and everything? Mouth grim, he leaned against the door frame, crossing his feet and arms and waiting for acknowledgement.

  Which did not come.

  Henrietta and Louise giggled and grabbed for an animal, which repeatedly escaped their grasps and yipped its way across the room, leaving mud trails and bubbles. They scrabbled after him, their skirts dark with water, their hair coming undone.

  He did not want to laugh. He really didn’t. What he wouldn’t give for one of those miniaturists to be here at this moment to capture the ludicrousness of the scene in oil.

  “I’ve got him,” Louise proclaimed, tackling the animal and hefting him up. But as she stood, her foot slipped out from beneath her and she fell on top of Henrietta, whose face was buried in her arms. Her laughs filled the room, and at his niece’s added weight, the laughter collapsed into breathy giggles.

  The thing ran in circles around them, its tail whipping back and forth in unmanageable swipes.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  The girls’ laughter cut off. Even the dog stopped moving.

  Despite the bubbles on Henrietta’s cheeks and a stubborn one clinging to her forehead, he easily read the guilty look that crossed her face. She scrambled to her feet.

  “I can explain,” she said in a higher voice than usual.

  “You had better.”

  “I didn’t run off, Dom.” Louise didn’t bother standing. Obviously she had no concern for repercussions. He didn’t know if that made her braver or just foolish. The more he looked at the room, and the mongrel who had decided to clean himself on a rug that Dom knew for a fact he’d bought in Italy, the more irritated he became.

  “I went to the back of the house. Through the servant’s entrance.”

  “You are not a servant.”

  “Retta found me and explained everything. We took a walk and Smiles found us. He was starving, Dom. Why, look at his ribs? They are jutting out.” She crossed her arms in an eerily fashion reminiscent of his own stance. “I couldn’t leave him there, not when he so obviously needs a home. It is beastly for you to even suggest such a thing.”

  “I said nothing.”

  “It is in your eyes.”

  Dominic looked at Henrietta, who remained unnaturally quiet. Perhaps she realized how completely she had overstepped her bounds.

  * * *

  Henrietta was trying very hard not to laugh.

  She donned her most serious look, fighting the twitch of her lips and refusing to meet Dominic’s glare since the chastisement in it only made her want to giggle more.

  His boot tapped the floor. Perhaps he was waiting for Louise to say more? She dared not even peek. To see such astonishment upon a man who prided himself on his nonchalance only increased the amusement flipping her stomach.

  She cleared her throat. It still tickled with giggles. She stood slowly, shaking her skirts of clinging bubbles. “Smiles is a sweet addition to your home. He will provide Louise with an outlet for her energy, as well as a way to learn responsibility. It is my suggestion that she be the one to feed the animal. Care for him.”

  He straightened off the door frame. His arms crossed his chest. He legs spread in what Henrietta considered a warlike stance. Surely he was not truly angry. For the first time, it crossed her mind that he might be.

  She had never seen Dominic angry. Annoyed, perhaps. Miffed. Put out and stubborn.

  But angry?

  She examined the jut of his jaw, moving on to the squint about his eyes. The movement of his jugular, very faint but discernible, caught her attention. Perhaps she could count the beats and detect whether or not his heightened heartbeat proved his anger?

  “Are you very angry, Dom?”

  Or she could ask, just as Louise had just done.

  “No, not angry. I have not decided whether you will be able to keep this dog, Louise. You are a young lady of twelve and it’s time for your tantrums to stop.”

  Looking suitably chastened, Louise dropped her chin. “I know.”

  “Very well. Clean this mess and dry off that dog. Miss Gordon?”

  His use of her name brought her head up. “Yes?”

  “My office, if you please.” He spun on his heel and left.

  Any thoughts of laughing faded. How haughty and arrogant he sounded. It made her bristle a bit, though on second thought, perhaps they should have washed the dog in the garden.

  Smiles had fallen asleep near the bed. He let out a little doggy snore, and both Henrietta and Louise looked at each other and smiled.

  “Go,” Louise said. “Dom is miffed and better for you to be reprimanded now. I shall take care of my shaggy mongrel.”

  Henrietta nodded. She made her way to Dom’s office. Louise had accepted the fact that she was going to leave too easily. It bothered her, but she could not pinpoint why.

  The office door was open. Dominic stood near the window, peering out at the busy streets, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders straight and proud.

  A lump rose in Henrietta’s throat.

  “When are you leaving?” he asked, his tone subdued, his voice low and husky.

  She thought of her uncle’s letter wedged beneath her pillows. “I was not able to read Uncle William’s letter yet.”

  “What do you think it says?” He turned then, moving away from the window, putting himself into a shadowed part of the room.

  It was fanciful of her, but for a moment, a quiver of doom darted within her. She could not see his face.

  Wetting her lips, she put her palms up. “Hopefully that he wants me back. That he will provid
e funds for me to join him.”

  “You saw how upset Louise became.”

  “Yes.” She wiped her palms on her skirts, but it didn’t help as they had not dried yet from Smiles’s bath. She felt soggy, suddenly. Unkempt and unsure. It was a foreign, vain feeling that she did not appreciate. “You are concerned she will revert when I leave.”

  “How little you understand of human emotion, Miss Gordon.”

  “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

  “What I said.”

  Now her temper was rising, drowning any sense of self as she understood that he was insulting her. Not her intelligence, but her humanity. “You think me cold?”

  “No.” He left the shadows so quickly she did not process what he was on about until he stood in front of her, his gaze narrowed so tightly on her face that a shiver passed through her.

  “Then what, pray tell, prompts you to so rudely accuse me of—”

  “Of being logical and kind and utterly blind?”

  How had he gotten so close? Her breath suspended and all she could see was the stone emerald of his eyes, and all she could smell was the cologne that invaded her thoughts at the most inopportune times. He dragged his gaze down her face. Her lips tingled. Her muscles clenched and a slow, viscous heat spread through her.

  “I can see you very clearly,” she murmured. How had she never noticed the fullness of his lips before. Awareness skittered up her spine.

  She had never before kissed a man. Never before even been tempted to. Was this what it felt like then, to want to press your lips against another’s, to feel the rasp of his cheek against your own?

  Her uncle’s letter sat upstairs, unopened, containing secrets she longed to read. This might be her only chance to try out a kiss. Her only chance to feel what others spoke about in hushed voices, in the pages of those tiny novels about dim-witted heroines and dashing heroes.

  In the Song of Solomon.

  Heat cascaded through her. She knew what she wanted. And Henrietta Gordon did not let anything keep her from her goals. Let alone societal strictures.

  She closed the gap between them, and put her lips upon his.

  Her mind wanted to process the feelings, to categorize each sensation and label it for future reference, but when his arms went around her, when he pulled her tight against him, her mind stopped working.

  Her arms slid up around his neck and any thoughts fled as her body and emotions took over. A sweet ache flowered in her heart.

  She stopped the kiss, pulling away, feeling the coldness of her parting but unable to articulate why. His cravat hung crookedly and his face had lost that stony look that so alarmed her.

  He was the first to speak.

  “Just like a woman. Using tried and true methods to quiet me.”

  She couldn’t respond. Her heart was beating entirely too fast. Surely that could not be normal. And her stomach...flip-flopping. Her fingers trembling. Is this what kissing did to someone? Or was it the fact that after she left to join her uncle, she might never see Dominic again?

  It was a terrifying thought.

  Dominic touched her cheek, his finger a gentle, warm pressure. “Don’t look so upset. Please.”

  The plea in his voice hooked her, drawing her gaze to his eyes, which were intent and serious. His hand dropped, and she let out a shuddering sigh.

  “What I meant earlier,” he said, “is that Louise will miss you, if you leave.”

  And will you miss me? The words almost left her mouth, but she reined them in. She squared her shoulders. She willed the butterflies and nerves to still. They did not listen.

  “I will miss her, too.”

  His eyes darkened. “It occurred to me, today, that perhaps we could work out a mutually beneficial arrangement. One that even Louise would appreciate.”

  Her thoughts halted. What was he saying? Surely he was not going to propose matrimony. She bit her lip, hard. The sting kept her grounded. “And what would that be?”

  “You stay as governess until she no longer needs you. I will give you leave to attend various medical symposiums and to treat my tenants.”

  She blinked. Her neck hurt from the strain of remaining utterly still. She must be practical about this. He had not said what she expected, and why had she expected more? Because he was an accomplished flirt? Because he seemed to care for her opinions and trusted her?

  It had been a foolish moment.

  She gave him what she hoped was a pragmatic smile. “Your offer is fair and would certainly make Louise happy.” She paused, weighing her next words. “It would be unwise for this to happen again.”

  He tipped his head. In agreement, perhaps?

  “May I have time to carefully consider your offer?” she asked.

  “Of course.” He dipped his head, and her throat seized with emotion. How handsome he looked, with that dark lock of hair falling over his eyes. When he lifted his head, his eyes crinkled in their customary way. “Do not take too long, Henrietta, for I am an impatient man.”

  Chapter Twenty

  They left London the following day. Dominic amused himself by besting Louise at cards, but when the two-day trip ended, he was relieved. He’d been away from the estate too long.

  They rolled into the drive, and he immediately called for his steward. While he waited, he perused the papers on his desk.

  He had not seen Henrietta. She’d been sent ahead, with a different carriage. He supposed she was on the estate somewhere, puttering about. Their kiss seared his memory.

  It changed things.

  He could not kiss her again. One loose-lipped servant who saw them would be all it took to decimate Henrietta’s reputation.

  The responsibility for her welfare weighed on him. Suppose she decided to stay as a governess? He’d been trying to be a better man for Louise’s sake. Perhaps even an attempt to please God, who was becoming more real to him every day.

  He should not have allowed the kiss. He’d seen that look on her face. That open curiosity, the analytical wonder. He smacked the desk with his fist.

  He had to stop thinking about her. Shooting to his feet, he rounded the desk.

  “Where is the steward?” he barked.

  The butler scooted into the room and neatly bowed, then said, “He made a trip to the village, my lord.”

  “Ready my horse.”

  A good solid ride should cure him of this angst, this ill-founded irritation.

  “Dom?” Louise stood at the top of the stairwell. “What is wrong?”

  I kissed your governess, and any honorable man would marry her. But he could not utter such a thing to his niece. He refused to marry. Not with blackmail and disease hanging over his head. He needed to find a cure so that he could live a normal life. Bitterness coated his mouth.

  Beside Louise, the dog whined.

  “I’m fine,” Dominic said abruptly.

  “If you see her, tell her I am home and ready for lessons. Cook said she went to the village because her herbs died.”

  Dominic gave his niece a curt nod, then left the house. If he waited for the steward to get home, he might avoid seeing Henrietta. That kiss...it wasn’t as if he’d never kissed anyone else. But he cared for Henrietta. He admired her.

  He spurred his horse forward. By the time he reached the village, his thoughts had calmed. He found his steward at the livery. After inspecting the horses and asking after Mr. Smith’s family, which had just increased by one, he and his steward spent over an hour touring the estate and the farms.

  As Dominic had suspected, the crops were not doing well. He approved his steward’s request to introduce a new method of farming. After all, if he didn’t do something, he’d have to find another source of income for the estate.

  His own investments had done rather well, but he wanted to keep the incomes separate.
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  “Who is over there?” Mr. Phelps pointed to the next cottage, which sat on the crest of a hill. Two figures stood near one horse.

  “Let’s see.” Dominic pointed his horse in that direction, and they rode over.

  They arrived to see Henrietta mounting her horse.

  “My lord.” The cottage’s mistress dropped into a deep curtsy.

  “We are riding the estate. Is all well here?”

  “Oh, yes.” The space between the woman’s freckles filled with pink. “It is so good of you to allow Miss Gordon to help us.”

  “It was nothing,” said Henrietta. “I am happy to be of service.”

  “Are you sure I cannot offer you something in return?”

  “Quite sure.”

  “Miss Gordon is in my employ. I shall see that she is properly recompensed.” He hated how stiff his voice sounded, but seeing her again was doing uncomfortable things to his composure. Her hair curled in wisps about her flushed face. Vibrancy shone from her features, and with a start of annoyance, he realized Phelps was staring at her.

  “Very good, my lord.” The woman looked at Henrietta. “I change the bandage twice a day?”

  “Yes, and I shall be back in a few days’ time to check the stitches.”

  “I thank ye. More than you know.”

  “You were smart to seek help immediately.”

  “If you hadn’t been there—”

  “But I was,” Henrietta said in a soft, soothing voice. “Do not hesitate to send word to the manor should you need something.”

  They rode back to the estate together.

  “Miss Gordon, this is Phelps, my steward.” Dominic did not miss the interested perusal Phelps gave her. Of course they were close in social stations. Phelps was probably at the age where he was looking for a wife.

  Frowning, he listened as they engaged in small talk.

  When they reached the stables, he sent Phelps on a meaningless quest to search out an invoice in his office. He turned to Henrietta, who was removing her riding gloves with a bemused look on her face.

  “Your steward seems quite knowledgeable.”

  “He is.” Dominic shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back on his heels. “We should talk about that kiss.”