The Unconventional Governess

by Jessica Nelson

  “Membership is select. An exception was made for you today.”

  “Why here?”

  “It is conducive to a private conversation.” Dominic tapped the side of his chair. He had often enjoyed White’s in his less than circumspect past, but he had not been there in several months. “Here is the gist of the matter—you and Lady Brandewyne bungled. But it is not all your fault. I have something I must tell you. It is the reason why I can never marry your niece.”

  “Go on.” The doctor folded his hands and leaned forward. Evidently used to secrets.

  Dominic had been counting on that. One did not become renowned by exposing the secret illnesses of the ton. This man was trustworthy when it came to medical issues.

  Dominic took a deep breath, feeling a rush of panic that lightened his head and shook his hands. He had never told anyone but Henrietta. Sharing the secret unnerved him. “I am not a healthy man.”

  At that, Mr. Gordon leaned back in surprise. “A remarkable thing to say, my lord. You appear quite fit.”

  “It is a falsity.” Dominic leaned forward, glancing about to make sure no one heard. “I would prefer this to stay between us, as it could potentially affect my family.”

  Her uncle put his elbows on his knees. “But of course. Discretion is my duty as a physician.”

  “Even if you think I’m insane? If you believe me a menace to society, what then?”

  “That is absurd. Lady Brandewyne has known you since a babe and vouches for your character. I have also observed and interacted with you several times. You’re not insane.”

  “You may change your mind,” Dominic said darkly.

  “Doubtful. I am a man sure of my own opinion.”

  How he sounded like Henrietta. For some reason, that comforted him. The assertion rang with truth.

  “I am an epileptic.”

  The doctor’s face did not even twitch. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I want to be cured. I thought perhaps you might know of some procedure...and I am also telling you so that you can see why, though I care deeply for Henrietta, I can never offer her marriage.” Dominic winced. “In a weak moment, I did offer it, but she wisely refused.”

  “Ah.” Mr. Gordon leaned back, studying Dominic as though he was a new species. “When did your seizures first begin?”

  “A year ago. I was in the accident that killed my brother and his wife. They broke their necks, but all I got was a bump on the head and a lifetime sentence of illness.”

  “Not unusual.”

  “Really?”

  “I’ve a friend who has a theory that with epilepsy, some sort of electrical impulse is triggering in the brain. The fall could have caused a change in humors. Disrupting them perhaps. My friend has not published his thoughts on the subject, as he is still in the throes of research.”

  “Well, you understand why my secret must be contained.”

  “Yes, yes, of course, but epilepsy is no reason not to marry.”

  “I could die at any time.”

  “As could we all, lad. In fact, Henrietta just set me straight this morning. You see, I’ve been trying to keep her safe, but one should never sacrifice a calling for safety. Dreams for status quo.”

  “Status what?” Dominic was trying to follow the doctor’s reasoning, but the events of the days had exhausted him. He shook his head when, for a second, there appeared to be two Mr. Gordons.

  “What I am saying is that Henrietta is on her way to Italy. I couldn’t stop her, though since she’s left, I’ve had an idea.”

  Dominic straightened. “Today?”

  “Her ship departs tomorrow morning,” the doctor amended. “Since you asked me here, it has occurred to me that perhaps you are the man to keep her home. She wants a family, but she fears that she will lose them.”

  Dominic was aware of the blood rushing through his head. “Yesterday I bared my feelings, and she rejected me. Soundly and firmly.” Though he remembered her hands, quivering and unsure, against her skirts. “I have taken her at her word.”

  “Does she know you love her?”

  Did she? He had said might. Henrietta did not deal in halves. Suddenly he realized his mistake. “No, she does not know for certain. But I do. I love her in every way.”

  “Women are emotional creatures. She will stay if you confess your love.”

  “Henrietta?” Even as he scoffed at the notion of his practical, levelheaded governess succumbing to emotion, he recalled her heated tirade against the apothecary. And the way she’d giggled in a field of bubbles while Smiles and Louise rolled around, soaking wet.

  “She hides them well,” Mr. Gordon admitted. “If you are certain you cannot live without her, then I propose we stop her from leaving for Italy.”

  His legs itched to run out and stop her at this very moment. “Where is she?”

  Mr. Gordon stood. “At a reputable boardinghouse near the wharf. Lady Brandewyne will meet us there, to preserve Henrietta’s reputation. She will bring Louise.”

  Dominic’s stomach sank. He had spent his entire life avoiding commitments, quitting whatever did not please him. “I’ve tried to reason with her. What if she says no again?”

  “Then you can assure yourself you did all that you could, and you may move on with your life.”

  He thought of her impassioned words, the way she’d rejected his “I think I might love you.” Perhaps she wanted...no, needed more from him. But was he strong enough?

  All he knew was that he didn’t want to lose her, and if that meant braving the murky waters of the unknown, then that was what he had to do. “Let us take our leave then.”

  “And no more nonsense talk of health. You have many years left in you.” The doctor slapped him on the shoulder, an altogether unexpected gesture of affection.

  Dominic called for his carriage, which was brought swiftly. He and the doctor climbed in.

  Was he really doing this? She had rejected him many times. It was madness to try again, and yet her uncle believed she was saying no due to fear.

  She had kissed him back.

  He remembered clearly the feel of the woman he cared for in his arms, and the emotions he’d sensed in her when they kissed. If she left and he never saw her again... He set his jaw. He couldn’t let that happen.

  His vision wavered again and he blinked. He did not need a seizure right now.

  Gordon gave directions to the driver and as the carriage clomped over the roads, rocking with motion, Dominic finally felt a sense of purpose.

  He closed his eyes and leaned back against the cushioned squabs. As he silently prayed, peace came over him. This was the right thing. At the very least, he would tell her his true feelings.

  It wasn’t just that he might love her.

  He did love her.

  To the dark, terrified depths of himself, he loved her. And if she wanted to give up, to cower in fear of living, then he would challenge her on that. She had made him feel as though he wanted to be a better person. That embracing his life did not mean embracing solitude.

  And now it was time for her to see the same for herself.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Rapid, staccato knocking roused Henrietta from terrible dreams of smoke-clouded skies and unbearable loneliness. Sitting up, she rubbed at her eyes while her head pounded in frightening beats. The room carried a dusky stillness, interrupted only by the rapping on the door. Rapping that mimicked the clomping in her temples.

  A frightful paralysis clutched at her throat. Who could be outside her door at this hour? She had no weapons. Perhaps the scalpel she kept in a side pocket of her reticule would serve to protect her.

  “Henrietta, we know you are in there. Open the door.” Lady Brandewyne, sounding as bossy as always.

  “I’m here, too.” Louise’s voice.

  Sh
e scooted off the bed, wondering if they had come to talk her out of her decision. Which could not happen, she assured herself as she opened the door.

  Immediately Louise flew at her, grabbing her at the waist and squeezing so hard that a soft oomph fluttered from her.

  “I don’t hate you. I don’t,” she declared, her words thick with emotion.

  Smiles pranced in behind them, jumping onto Henrietta’s bed and making himself cozy. Henrietta patted Louise on the back.

  “I know,” she said, although secretly she had worried that the girl did. In fact, she had not been able to get out of her mind the notion that Louise would forever hate her, forever remember her not as a joyful time in her life, but a painful one.

  She pulled Louise closer, savoring the contact, the proof of love.

  And she did love the girl. It was a feeling that once known, could not become unknown.

  “I love you,” she said. Because a child should always know they were loved. In words and in deed.

  “I love you, too,” Louise muttered into the side of her dress.

  “You look positively frightful,” Lady Brandewyne announced, breaking the moment with a critical glare. “What have you been doing, sobbing since you left?” She swept a well-manicured hand upward. “Your eyelids are atrociously swollen. Your nose...why, no powder could disguise that color.”

  Henrietta tried to roll her eyes, but they were sandpaper-raw. “Why are you here?”

  The dowager countess sniffed, managing to shut the door while keeping her nose in the air. “To aid you.”

  “If you have come to try to talk me out of leaving, then I fear you’ve wasted your time.” To her relief, not even a wobble carried in her voice. “I have given my word.”

  “Ah, but what if another equally educated candidate could take your place? What then?”

  Henrietta’s mind blanked. “Pardon me?”

  Lady Brandewyne smiled in a mischievous way. “If I found someone as educated as yourself, and sent him instead, would you stay?”

  “I do not wish to be a governess.” She lifted her chin. “And I’ve no desire to be on the marriage mart. I am too old, anyhow, for such nonsense.”

  “Yes, your age is showing now.”

  Henrietta scowled at the dowager. She may not care overly much for fashion, but that did not mean she wanted her looks publicly maligned.

  “Let us fix you up.” Lady Brandewyne bustled into the room, peering in corners and fiddling with her medicines on the small vanity. “Don’t you have a brush? Where is that maid you claimed you hired?”

  Louise played with the dog on the bed, giggling. Henrietta crossed the room. “She will join me on the ship. She is another reason I must go. I have promised her steady employment and knowledge. She has intimated an interest in learning.”

  “Bah. Let her work for me.”

  “Why are you so insistent? Did you really come all this way to stop me?”

  “I came to tell you I don’t hate you,” Louise said.

  “Thank you,” she said drily. She eyed Lady Brandewyne, who was avoiding direct eye contact quite effectively. “However did you find me? I do hope you do not think showing up will change my mind about anything.”

  The dowager countess snapped around, finally bringing her gaze to focus directly on Henrietta’s face. “You are the most stubborn woman I have ever had the misfortune to meet.”

  From the bed, Louise gasped.

  “That is not my fault,” said Henrietta. “I am simply living my life.”

  “Ruining it is more likely. Look at your face. Miserable. Do you think you will feel any better cavorting off to some strange place? Tell me, do you even speak Italian?”

  “A bit of French.”

  “Which helps you not at all.”

  “Insulting me will not aid in changing my mind. And what do you expect me to do? Sit around London drinking tea and gossiping?”

  “What a narrow way of looking at my world, Miss Gordon. For shame.” Lady Brandewyne assumed a very square stance.

  Henrietta had seen a pugilist stand that way once, right before he pummeled his opponent.

  “I will have you know that I am a charter member of London’s orphan society. We provide for more than fifty homeless children, offering them warm beds and plenty of food. Many women of my acquaintance pursue good deeds, using their money and their influence to better society.”

  A wave of regret engulfed Henrietta, not only because she had so soundly insulted Lady Brandewyne, but also because she did not want to spend her last day in England arguing with those she loved. Or at least had a modicum of affection for, she admitted, for the dowager’s face was growing quite red as she continued listing her accomplishments and contributions to aiding those of less fortune than herself.

  Henrietta held up a hand. The tirade stopped.

  “What I said was a reflection of my own bias, and not knowledge.” She drew a quivering lungful of oxygen. “I apologize, my lady, for my assumptions and rudeness. I do not wish to part on negative terms.”

  “In that case—” the lady shook her shoulders and assumed her usual haughty stance “—let us take you back to your uncle, where you belong.”

  If only she did belong. And it was not just her uncle she was thinking of.

  Lady Brandewyne put a hand on her shoulder. “Dominic will be there.”

  “Will he?” She had rejected him. What man would accept her after such a blow to the ego, and Dominic’s ego was exceptionally large.

  “Miss Gordon, you are living your life afraid because of your past. You accused your uncle of not letting you live due to his fear, but here you are, committing the same mistake. You must move on.” Lady Brandewyne’s unusually gentle tone snuck past her defenses.

  She was right. For all the practicality Henrietta prided herself on, she had not seen the truth in front of her face.

  Perhaps Dominic thought he might love her, but she knew that she loved him. She had been making her decisions based on emotion and fear just as much as Uncle William. “You say my uncle has a man he can send in my place? One willing to apprentice on the Continent instead of beneath my uncle?”

  She nodded. “He has already been asked and merely awaits word.”

  “I shall have to offer the lady’s maid a better position.”

  “We will figure it out, dearest.”

  Smiles barked, his tail thumping hard against the bed, and Louise giggled. Henrietta did not feel she could laugh quite yet. She was giving up a position of surety for a risk.

  Light-headed, she sank into the chair at the vanity.

  A knock sounded. Urgent. Lady Brandewyne, who was nearest to the door, opened it. A footman stood there, twisting his cap in his hands.

  “Bostick, whatever are you doing here?”

  “There’s been a terrible accident, my lady. Lord St. Raven’s carriage overturned and he and Mr. Gordon have been gravely injured. Mr. Gordon requests your presence immediately.”

  “What of Lord St. Raven?”

  Henrietta’s head shot up. Together? She stood, observing Bostick’s expression, the worry in his demeanor.

  “They took him, my lady. He was severely injured, and then he...” The man swallowed, terror evident on his face. “He succumbed to a fit of sorts. Frothing at the mouth. The Viscount Winchester ordered that he be taken to Guy’s Hospital.”

  “And my uncle?” Henrietta snatched her reticule.

  “Mr. Gordon was taken to Lady Brandewyne’s home, as it was closer. We sent for your personal physician.”

  “Well done,” murmured the dowager.

  Henrietta’s head was clearing quickly and anger and purpose centered her. But where should she go? If Dominic was at Guy’s... It was a reputable hospital for learning, but everyone knew that London hospitals were cesspools of disease. If he didn�
��t die of infection, they might try to lock him up in Bedlam.

  “Louise, pick up Smiles. Quickly.” Lady Brandewyne turned to Henrietta. “You must go to the hospital, immediately.”

  She was already moving toward the door, panic and purpose warring within her, sending prickles across her body. “I’m leaving.”

  “I shall go with Bostick,” the countess said to her. “Take my carriage.”

  She vaguely heard her as she pushed past Bostick and hurried down the hall. The French had been studying epilepsy for some time, but in England many still feared the disease, and Henrietta was not sure which type of doctor she might encounter at the hospital. Terror filled her.

  The sooner she reached the hospital, the sooner she could rescue Dominic.

  * * *

  Dominic woke to pain. His body throbbed with it, hot flashes of shock that reverberated out from his rib cage to all his limbs. A metallic taste was in his mouth. Blood. He’d bit himself. Slowly he opened his eyes, several realizations hitting him at once.

  His hands and legs were tethered to the bed. He could not move.

  And his head ached. Bandages draped over his right eye, distorting his view. A smell pervaded this place. An unpleasant odor, coupled with sounds of despair, permeated his senses. Moans from the beds around him. The squeak of shoes on the floor as the place bustled with movement. A man walked past, holding a saw.

  He closed his eyes.

  Tired.

  So tired.

  Was this what God had planned all along? To let a silly accident due to a cat darting in front of the horses land him in the hospital? Or was it a seizure that had led him here? Had his secret been discovered?

  He had not been sent to an asylum yet. Of that he was certain. This place reeked of sour and physical smells. Not to mention that surgeon with the saw. Terrible memories from the other accident saturated him.

  Pain burned through his soul. When he next awoke, it was to a man calling his name.

  He cracked open an eye. He tried to speak, but his mouth felt like it had been filled with cotton, dry and unable to formulate language.