The Unconventional Governess

by Jessica Nelson

Mr. Hodges took the jar and then paused, his gaze shifting past her. “My lord,” he said smartly, and bowed before leaving.

  Henrietta turned to find Dominic standing behind her, his clothing impeccably tailored. He looked every ounce an earl. She curtsied, her mind in a flurry, her heart pounding hard and rapid beats. Why was he here? Had something happened to Louise?

  He wore a glower almost as dark as his hair.

  She found her voice. “My lord, how good to see you.”

  “And you,” he said, sounding very stiff and formal.

  She contained her wince. “How do you fare?”

  “I heard that you are staying with Lady Brandewyne,” he said, completely ignoring her question.

  She dropped any pretense of lightheartedness as it was obvious he had some sort of purpose for coming here. Most likely to beg her to governess again. “Not much longer. My uncle comes into town tomorrow.”

  “Does he know that you are coming to see him yet?”

  “Really, Dominic. We’ve discussed this.” She fanned herself, looking away from his eyes that saw too much. That challenged her. She would not entertain the thought that Uncle William might turn her away. She’d begged Lady Brandewyne not to say anything to him, and she had to believe the lady kept her word.

  Still, a nefarious heat cut through her body.

  “You are risking all,” he said softly. His breath feathered across the back of her neck, eliciting a shiver.

  How had he moved so close? She stepped nearer to the punch bowl. Just to get more, she assured herself, not to escape his cologne or compelling presence. “I’m risking nothing. I’m merely returning to the life I’ve always known and loved.”

  “Would you be interested in a new life?”

  His words trickled to her, low and gentle. Promising. “What kind of life?”

  But he did not answer, for Lady Brandewyne had spotted them. “My dear Lord St. Raven, how good of you to come to my ball. I’ve missed your adorable face. I see you’ve found Miss Gordon. Do not try to steal her back, young man.” She tittered, then rapped him on the arm with her fan.

  The music started, but she grasped both of them by the elbows and rather forcibly steered them to the other side of the room, where it was quieter. A game of whist had been set up in the adjoining room, but Lady Brandewyne plopped down in a chair near the opening, tugging them down with her.

  “It is quite a crush, is it not?” She fanned herself, releasing a self-satisfied sigh that shook her frame.

  Henrietta exchanged a look with Dominic, who was not bothering to hide his amusement.

  “Fit for the prince himself.” The earl’s gallant tone prompted a smirk to Henrietta’s face.

  “That’s exactly what I thought. What a marvelous thing if he simply showed up, resplendent in the finest silks from Paris.”

  Henrietta rose an eyebrow. “The Prince Regent wears French clothing?”

  “We all do.” Lady Brandewyne eyed Henrietta pointedly. “Perhaps not you.”

  She had no response to that, seeing as she couldn’t care less who made her clothing.

  “Now, my dears,” the lady said, patting their knees simultaneously, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

  Immediate stomach clench. She forced a smile. “Yes?”

  “I’m asking it of St. Raven, really. You see, I’m having a bit of carriage trouble, and my head has been aching.” She put a hand to her brow, as if to emphasize the pain. “Would you be so kind as to escort Miss Gordon to her uncle’s symposium tomorrow? I believe you own an open carriage, do you not?”

  “Oh, no, I can’t impose,” Henrietta blurted out. Just the thought of being alone with him hurt. How could she move on with her life if she allowed her feelings to tether her to a life that just wasn’t going to fulfill her? “I shall take a hackney.”

  “Nonsense.” Dominic’s grin faded. “I’d be happy to escort her. What time shall I arrive?”

  “Five o’clock sharp.” She clapped her hands. “This is a huge help, my lord. My thanks to you.”

  Henrietta grimaced. So now she was to endure an evening with his lordship, forcing herself to forget all his finer qualities while attempting to woo her uncle into letting her join him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Dr. William Gordon saw them at once.

  Dominic folded his body into a small, uncomfortable chair while noting exactly when the esteemed doctor’s gaze lit upon them. He was older than Dominic had expected, with silver hair and leathery skin that denoted his time spent outside. He did not carry the falsity of London physicians, nor did he wear their customary hat and use their customary cane.

  Dominic watched him closely, intrigued. They were early, but the man did not come down to greet them.

  The symposium had only been about ten minutes from Lady Brandewyne’s. Henrietta had been nervous the entire trip, twitching and fiddling with her skirts. Prattling on about surgical methods and how her uncle wanted to overcome the barbarity of amputations on the field.

  He had simply soaked in the sound of her voice, that husky flavored drink that poured in a flawless flow of melodic syllables. A fortnight without Henrietta. He still could not fathom how he had borne the boredom.

  Already she had made him laugh with her concrete opinions and her resistance to his invariable charms. That brought to mind the reason they were here. He was not sure how he’d gotten roped into this event, except that refusing Lady Brandewyne was akin to agreeing to ongoing torture. Her ladyship did not readily take no for an answer.

  As though hearing his thoughts, Henrietta leaned over. “I’m surprised how easily you capitulated to Lady Brandewyne.”

  Rustles ensued as more people arrived and took their seats.

  “She is a fearsome lady when she does not get her way. I told her no once.”

  Henrietta gave him an approving smile. “Well, once is something.”

  “I was ten,” he continued, “and never have I been so terrified. She pinched me by the ear and marched me to her carriage. The entire way back to my estate she did not cease talking. And then for thirty minutes more the tirade continued. So not only did my earlobe ache from the trauma she inflicted, but my brain has never recovered from the sound of her voice when thwarted.”

  Henrietta laughed. Several people turned to glare at her but she paid them no heed. “And what were you doing at her estate in the first place?”

  “I snuck in.” He gave her a grin that brought pink to her cheeks, which in turn brought a strong sense of satisfaction to him. “She threw huge parties for her children several times a year. My brother was always invited, as he was their age. I was too young, they said. So I took matters into my own hands.”

  “How very enterprising.”

  At that moment, her uncle began speaking. Dominic yawned and suffered through the boring lecture. All because of a woman. He could have just dropped her off, but he had a sneaking suspicion that things weren’t going to go well with her uncle. Henrietta had been supportive of him. At the very least, he should be at her side when her uncle told her no.

  A sharp nudge in his arm jolted him.

  “Wake up,” Henrietta snapped. “It’s over.”

  Indeed, people began clapping. Dominic stretched, then yawned. “Did you learn anything new?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t look so smug, Miss Gordon.” He winked at her, and that lovely rose flush suffused her cheeks again. He did not think he would ever tire of seeing that shade on her. “One should never presume to know everything.”

  “I have attended this symposium before, and he taught nothing I have not already heard.” Her attention shifted to the front.

  Dominic watched through hooded eyes. He had not decided yet what he thought of this man who dragged his niece away from society, exposing her to war and disease, and then abandoned her
on a friend’s doorstep to be wed off.

  Eventually the doctor was left alone, his admirers and fellow physicians seeping away with their spectacles and tweed coats and auspicious hats. The old Dominic might have smirked at them, making fun at their assumed intellectual superiority.

  He had changed. Perhaps they were different than him, and certainly more boring, but that did not mean he should not show them the respect due to their position. He had learned that, being an earl. The importance of deference to those in different circumstances.

  Henrietta stood to her feet, walking quickly to her uncle. Interesting that she’d waited for others to leave, even though she had not seen her uncle in months. She adored him. Why would she exercise such caution?

  He unfolded himself, stretching again and ignoring the dirty look Henrietta gave him. Perhaps it was time to meet this enigmatic fountain of virtue. Determine for himself if he was as worthy of Henrietta’s devotion as she believed.

  The introductions were quick.

  “Lady Brandewyne has told me of your unfortunate circumstances.” Mr. Gordon looked over his spectacles. “I know the vagaries of raising a young girl into womanhood. How are you faring?”

  Dominic held very still, determining how to best respond. “It has been challenging, certainly, but Henrietta was a huge help.”

  “Henrietta?”

  “Yes, she is a natural teacher.” Too late he realized he’d referred to her by her given name, rather than as Miss Gordon.

  Mr. Gordon was trying to hide his surprise, but Dominic saw an alertness enter his face. “You two must see each other often.”

  “She was my niece’s governess.”

  “Governess, you say.” Mr. Gordon’s eyes widened. He swiveled to her. “You didn’t mention that you had taken a position in your letters.”

  This was quite intriguing. So her uncle did not know? He lifted his eyebrows at her, noting the tightened lips and flashing look in her eyes.

  “Yes, that is what I’ve come to speak to you about.” She wet her lips, and Dominic felt a surge of amusement. It was a rare thing indeed to see Henrietta Gordon fidgeting.

  “I have been waiting quite a bit of time, you see, for you to send for me.”

  Mr. Gordon was regarding her with a soberness that reflected his intellectual meanderings. “I was quite clear that I expect you to marry.”

  A quick flash of surprise blinked across her face. She hid it beneath a stiff smile. “Your expectations were clear, but they are not what I want for my life.”

  Mr. Gordon shot a glance at Dominic, as if questioning his part in all this. In fact, he felt as if he was an interloper suddenly, listening in on a conversation best said in private.

  “I think I shall excuse myself,” he said, avoiding looking at Henrietta. “You will take her back to Lady Brandewyne’s?”

  “Ah, yes, Lady Brandewyne. I had quite forgotten that she has invited us all to supper. Come, we shall discuss your future there.” He grasped Henrietta’s shoulder, and Dominic realized that they had not hugged nor exchanged endearments when first seeing each other.

  Henrietta’s chin lifted but surprisingly, she did not disagree. How very unlike her.

  “You, too, my lad.” Mr. Gordon gestured to Dominic. “She instructed that I insist you join us.”

  He stifled his groan. Though he wanted to be near Henrietta, the thought of wading through a long, drawn-out dinner made his skin crawl. He gave an acquiescent nod, however, and followed them out the door.

  * * *

  She had been duped.

  Henrietta sat through dinner, her jaw aching from clenching it so tightly. How very difficult to hold back expressing her opinions, or from just leaving, but she hadn’t seen Louise in so long and the girl was clinging to her.

  She and Dominic were the only reasons Henrietta tempered her behavior.

  The dinner had started out pleasantly enough, although she had already been fighting an annoyance at the way Uncle William cut her off at the symposium. Nevertheless, when she saw that Louise was at the house, her annoyance simmered beneath a great joy at seeing the girl.

  She’d brought Smiles and so they spent some time playing in the garden with the dog. Henrietta hadn’t realized how much she missed hugs until Louise gave her the first one. A huge, lung-popping embrace that unexpectedly made her throat clutch.

  Then they sat down to dinner.

  And indulged in the most inane conversations centering around marriage.

  “I think every woman ought to get married,” Louise said, before popping a delicate piece of Chateaubriand into her mouth.

  “Manners,” said Henrietta automatically. “Otherwise you shall eat in your room as usual.”

  “You are so strict, Retta.” But she grinned while she said it and picked up her fork.

  “Retta?” Uncle William’s head tilted.

  “Oh, yes, it’s my pet name for Henrietta. Doesn’t she just look like a Retta?”

  “No,” the adults said in unison.

  Louise’s face fell. “I think it makes her sound quite beautiful.”

  “Beauty is a mere positioning of symmetry of the facial bones and features.” Henrietta picked at her food, which was growing cold. She was not one to lose appetite, but the way her uncle was avoiding her was distressing, to say the least.

  The rest of the meal passed, and she contributed little to the conversation. When it was over, she excused herself, received another jubilant hug from Louise and wound her way outside.

  Or rather, to the small garden behind Lady Brandewyne’s townhome.

  She had not been sitting long before Dominic came out. She smelled him first, that familiar, rich scent. Then he moved out of the shadowed doorway and into the moonlight. The blue-hued light caressed his face, avoiding his eyes, turning them into dark holes in his face.

  He settled beside her, maintaining an appropriate distance.

  “Is all well, my lord?” What other reason could he have for coming out here, joining her in the dark.

  “Well enough. Your uncle and Lady Brandewyne have retired for the evening. Louise is in her room, spying on us.” He pointed behind them, to a window on the second floor.

  Surely enough, Louise’s face was a white moon against the window. She gave no indication that she noticed their perusal.

  Henrietta chuckled, hands clasped in her lap. “She will challenge you greatly.”

  “Will? She already does. Are you saying it gets worse?”

  “Perhaps not. She has a strong mind, though. You should respect her independence.”

  She heard his indrawn breath, as though preparing to say something deep and meaningful. At the moment, she did not want to hear it.

  She held up a hand. “There is no need to have a discussion.”

  “Presumptuous again, my dear governess.”

  “I am not your dear anything.” Would he never stop flirting? She sighed.

  “Very well. I merely meant to tell you how lovely you looked this evening. A new gown?”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “From the clothing Lady Brandewyne bought months ago. It was stagnating in her closet.”

  He shifted, and in that movement, she felt a change in his demeanor. He was going to go ahead and say something she would not like. She braced herself. This day had gone from terrible to worse than terrible, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. Tomorrow she’d confront her uncle. Make him see reason. After all, no good could come of him allowing his emotions to make his decisions.

  “Henrietta...”

  “Yes?” She willed herself to patience.

  “I noticed when you saw your uncle, that he did not greet you in a warm manner.”

  She had not expected this comment. More along the lines of “Henrietta, you should have told your uncle that you took a governess position.”


  “I don’t understand your meaning.” She positioned her body to face him, searching his eyes, noting that they were no longer dark shadowed orbs, but glinting moon-kissed emeralds.

  “He saw us when we came in. He gave no recognition.”

  She fluttered her fingers through the aromatic night air. “Oh, that is nothing. One cannot give in to familial affection at a professional event.”

  “You deserved a greeting.”

  “Are you chastising my uncle?” Her skin prickled. The scents of honeysuckle and lilac drifted on the breeze. They were not as comforting as one read in poems. “You are out of line, St. Raven.”

  “I’m not chastising him,” he said softly, as soft as the aromas teasing her senses. “I was surprised. It made me wonder how often you’ve been touched or shown affection.”

  Henrietta bristled. “Not every family is like yours. We show affection in a different way. An intellectual way.”

  Even to her ears, the words sounded snobbish and elitist, but she could not take them back, for they were true. Her uncle had always stressed the importance of mental connection, of the exchanging of ideas and thoughts and facts. Her parents had been similar. She did not remember if her mother and father had ever hugged her. No recollection of physical expressions of love existed, but she had the faintest sense that her mother had sometimes smelled of violets, her father of tobacco.

  Her breath tugged within her throat as she fought to calm herself. “It is inappropriate for you to be out here with me. You will start rumors. Why are you insinuating...what are you insinuating?”

  He grimaced. “I suppose I don’t know. It bothered me, somehow. I wanted to make sure you were happy.”

  “I’m fine. Happiness is the least of my concerns.” She bolted up. What did he know? He had just now began the long process of respectability. Uncharitable thoughts ached to burst through her lips in accusation. She withheld them. He did not deserve vitriol. Though her blood strummed with the temptation to be unkind, to blame him for her frustration.

  She stood up, feeling her nails digging into her palms, her toes curling into the stone path. Slippers were another complaint of society. In the Americas, she’d owned sturdy boots.