Mr. Gardiner and the Governess: A Regency Romance (Clairvoir Castle Romances Book 1)

by Sally Britton

  Well then. Perhaps he did care. At least about the flower. As a man interested in entomology, she had not expected his knowledge of botany.

  “Miss Sharpe. These are remarkable renderings of plants. Do you enjoy drawing flora?” He gave her such a look as to make her hesitate in answering. Alice sensed it was not an idle question.

  Though inclined to bite her lip and shrink away from answering, Alice answered quietly. “Yes. I do. Flowers fascinate me.”

  He handed her back her sketchbook. “One moment, please. If you would indulge me, I would like to show you something.” He bolted away, going to the things he had dropped beside the manufactured pond. He shuffled through the pile and drew out a sketchbook not dissimilar to hers. The leather of his cover was green, she saw as he approached.

  He undid the twist of leather meant to keep the covers closed and all loose-leaf paper inside. Opening the book, he held it against one arm while his free hand paged through the individual sheets. Then he pulled one out with a triumphant, “Ah-ha!”

  Mr. Gardiner handed her the paper. “What do you think of this?”

  She took the paper when he offered it and studied the drawing. She tipped the paper to one side to study the colors. The flower was yellow, but only one shade. The leaves about it were oblong, almost pointed on one end, and the stalk tall. But it took her a moment to identify the five-petaled flower. “Is it a primrose?”

  “A common flower.” He pointed to the insect he had drawn next to the flower, a fuzzy bee-fly that appeared so realistic, Alice nearly touched the page to feel the soft tufts on its body. The wings were iridescent, allowing her to see, through them, the shape of the insect’s body. “And a common insect, terribly misunderstood by many gardeners. I have found the bee-fly to be a regular visitor to the primroses. I have chosen to depict them together. But you see that while I have devoted a great deal of attention to the detail of the bee-fly, the flower has been… Hm.”

  “Neglected,” she supplied. “Yes, I see that.” But why, when he was obviously a skilled artist?

  As though he had heard her question, Mr. Gardiner tapped the flower on the page. “Flowers are essential to many insects. They survive on the pollen and nectar, the petals and leaves, they make homes among the roots. And His Grace has commissioned me to compile a scientific catalog of flowers and insects here in the Clairvoir gardens. It is a complicated undertaking, and I find I prefer spending my time on the insects.”

  He grimaced when she glanced up at him. “That will never do, of course. I must properly display both. I only have until the end of August to finish the work, and there are thousands of insects. Hundreds of plants.”

  The enormity of the undertaking made Alice’s shoulders slump, but at the same time she admired Mr. Gardiner. “There is a vast deal for you to accomplish, sir, in a short time.”

  “Indeed. I wonder, perhaps, if you might be interested in helping me.” When Alice’s gaze jerked back to him, he leaned closer to her, speaking quickly. “I do not dare suggest you take on my responsibilities, Miss Sharpe. That would be highly dishonest. But if you could assist me, when your time permits, as a colorist or to help me fill in details, I would be eternally grateful. I will not insult you by offering funds for such work, but I would credit you freely in the finished report and any subsequent publications.”

  Alice’s lips parted and her mouth went dry. Did he mean to suggest that her name would appear in a scientific document? In the report he prepared for the duke, one of the most powerful men in England? Or perhaps, she thought, with a strange burning in her stomach, in a public journal or magazine.

  With her heart racing, Alice pressed the paper into his chest. Then she fairly jumped backward when his hand came up to catch the sketch, covering hers quite by accident. She had removed her gloves to draw, and he wore none. The momentary warmth transferred from his palm to the back of her hand seemed to travel up her arm and into her chest.

  “I—I have duties enough, Mr. Gardiner. Though I thank you for your generous offer.” Alice took another step backward.

  He could not know—How could he?—that she had dreamed of such a thing. Dreamed of being a person of notice, if only for a moment or two. Her name, her drawings, under the eye of anyone of importance gave her a thrill of excitement.

  But bringing such attention to herself would embarrass her family. She was certain of it. They never wanted her to be seen as anything other than part of the furnishings of their houses. She was beneath the notice of anyone of importance.

  And what would the duke say, if he discovered his governess spent any amount of time doing something other than what he paid her to do? She shivered and wrapped both arms around her sketchbook, taking another step back.

  Mr. Gardiner frowned at her, though not in a disapproving way. He appeared confused. “If I have offended you again, Miss Sharpe, please forgive me. I did not mean to upset you.”

  With an abrupt shake of her head she tried to reassure him. “I am not offended.” But she turned away from him to call to her charge. “Lord James, it is time to go inside for your art lesson.” She curtsied to Mr. Gardiner without looking. “Good afternoon, sir. It was pleasant to see you again.”

  Then she fled, in as dignified a manner as possible.

  Lord James scrambled after her, and when they were on the other side of the willow tree he shouted, “Slow down, Miss Sharpe.”

  Chastened, Alice waited for him to draw even with her. Mr. Gardiner was not in pursuit, after all. She needn’t outrun him, or his request for assistance.

  Alice bit the inside of her cheek, holding her sketchbook tighter.

  Here someone had finally taken more than a moment’s interest in her, in something she could do, and she had fled like a rabbit beneath a hawk’s shadow.

  Chapter 6

  Chin in hand, Rupert studied the somewhat fumbling movements of a Carabus violaceus in one of the small wooden cages upon his desk. The bright violet coloring of the beetle put him in mind of the dress Miss Sharpe had worn to dinner two nights previously. Not that he would ever admit such a thing aloud. Even he knew that women did not enjoy being compared to insects. No matter that he thought it a compliment.

  “Billings?”

  His valet, on the other side of the room tidying Rupert’s shaving things, answered. “Yes, sir?”

  “Do you believe women to have inferior intelligence?” He turned to see his valet’s reaction to the question.

  Billings raised both eyebrows but did not even look up from arranging the soap and brushes needed for Rupert’s evening shave. “I have a mother and five sisters, Mr. Gardiner. Not only would they box my ears if I said yes, but they could give any number of arguments and examples to demonstrate the opposite.”

  With a chuckle, Rupert leaned back against the corner of the desk. “My father has said women are less intelligent. He has never made the mistake of saying so in front of my mother, come to think of it.” Rupert considered for a moment, then sighed. “There is a Swiss entomologist who specializes in bees. He is completely blind. But he carries out all his work with the help of his wife. She acts as secretary, or so people say. But I have to wonder if she could do so much, assist him in publishing all his findings and cataloging all his research, without being as intelligent as he.”

  “What of the botanist you met in London last year at your club? Mr. Banks, wasn’t it?” Billings brought a chair from along the wall and moved it before the mirror. “You said he claimed to have been influenced by his sister.”

  “Miss Sarah Banks. Yes. She edited the manuscript he published about his voyage to Newfoundland.” Rupert scrubbed his hands through his hair and immediately intercepted a disapproving glare from Billings. He grinned sheepishly.

  “Sir, please leave your hair, facial and that atop your head, to me.” Billings gestured to the chair. “If you are ready, all is prepared.”

  Settling into the chair, Rupert continued the conversation. “My point, Billings, is that if women have
intelligence equal to men, as several women of note have proven, why are they denied entrance into so many of our societies?”

  Billings put a white cloth around Rupert’s neck, then lifted the soap pot to create lather with a brush. “It is not my place to say, sir.”

  Rupert grunted in dissatisfaction. He remained silent throughout Billings’s ministrations, his thoughts again on Miss Sharpe. Her intelligent eyes, quick wit, and talent with her pencils marked her as a lady he should wish to know.

  Why had she withdrawn with such rapidity, and apparent horror, when he suggested her help with his project?

  Perhaps, like Billings, she did not think it her place. Though she had been born a gentlewoman, made most obvious by her education and mannerisms, she supported herself through employment. Though she claimed to take no offense, she had left far too quickly for any other explanation.

  The situation disturbed him enough that Rupert had mentally rehearsed the scene from the day before more times than he could count. Governess the woman might be, but he needed an answer to the situation. Perhaps he could seek her out again. She had not come to dinner the evening before, as he expected given her status, and would not be present that evening.

  A word alone with Miss Sharpe would clear up the situation. But a word alone with an unwed woman in the duke’s employment might also lead to trouble.

  The valet finished the shave and styled Rupert’s hair swiftly, then his hand lingered on a pair of silver sheers. “Sir, might I suggest a haircut?”

  The fringe falling across Rupert’s forehead bothered the valet more than it did the master. Rupert shook his head and pulled off the cloth protecting his clothing. “Not today.” He scrutinized first his appearance and then his valet in the mirror.

  “Billings, do you think you could discover something for me without raising suspicion from the staff? I should like to know the schedule of a female member of the household, without causing any injury to reputation.”

  Billings reacted as though Rupert had asked the man to arrange an assignation. His jaw went slack, and his eyes bulged. “A woman’s schedule? Sir, in all our years together, you’ve never asked such a thing.” Then the valet narrowed his eyes. “It is not my place to ask why.” But that was exactly what Billings did.

  Rupert had to laugh at the dramatic reaction, and he tried to ignore the heat rising beneath his collar. “Not for any reprehensible reason, Billings. On my honor, I have no intention of behaving poorly. That is my point in asking if it can be done without injury. I merely wish to discover a time when I might have a word with a lady without anyone arriving to the wrong conclusion when we speak together.”

  “I can make inquiries.” Billings stiffened. “Who is the lady in question?”

  “Miss Sharpe. The governess.”

  “The governess.” Billings relaxed. “I suppose you might speak with her anywhere except behind a closed door, sir. No one will much care or notice otherwise.”

  The statement brought Rupert to a pause, midway to standing. “But she is the daughter of a gentleman, and in the duke’s household.”

  Billings’s expression shifted from relaxed to the more formal mask of a servant. “As you say, sir. I believe an open door will be sufficient in this circumstance.”

  Rupert’s thoughts shifted to Miss Sharpe’s interaction with him that morning. Standing as close as he had to examine first her sketches and then his own, he had seen in her eyes an emotion he rarely encountered when he spoke of science, of insects, of botany. It went beyond polite interest. She had been as thrilled with the subjects under discussion as he, despite her reluctance to share her drawings.

  A meeting of the minds had nearly occurred. Rupert knew it. But he had bungled things, somehow. Perhaps if he fixed them, if he only explained to Miss Sharpe, he would see that glimmer again.

  Chapter 7

  Morning lessons included penmanship, French, mathematics for Lord James, and reviewing household accounting books for the young ladies. The general subjects kept Alice on her toes, walking from one of her students to the others, while all three sat around a table in the schoolroom.

  Their mother, an amateur architect, had also assigned the children to study Greek designs. None of the three shared their mother’s passion. In fact, when Alice had suggested they each pick a topic of study that appealed to them, their choices had quite surprised her.

  Lady Isabelle had asked about the study of religion, a curious subject for a girl of fourteen. Lady Rosalind showed an interest in studying the Dutch masters, as her family possessed two Van Dyke paintings. That left Lord James to claim he wanted to build a functioning, miniature catapult. For the sake of sounding more academic than not, Alice termed his studies historical engineering.

  After they accomplished studying the general subjects, and before tea, Alice settled in her favorite chair while the children sat at a table near her. They were each absorbed in books regarding their subject, with even Lord James reading about medieval sieges in an English history book.

  A quarter of an hour passed before the knock on the door disturbed the silence. Alice checked her watch. Miss Arlen had arrived early.

  She rose and went to the door to speak with the lady’s companion, to beg of her to return in half an hour, but when she peeped out of the doorway her eyes met a cleft chin.

  As Alice lifted her gaze upward, a flush of heat seared her cheeks. “Mr. Gardiner.” At least she had not squeaked his name.

  His charming smile answered her less than polite greeting. “Miss Sharpe. Might I have a word with you?”

  Alice looked over her shoulder to see three sets of youthful eyes upon her. Her charges wore varying expressions of curiosity. She looked back to Mr. Gardiner. “I ought to attend to my charges, sir.”

  His gaze was direct, a gleam in his eye, and he stood back from the door with squared shoulders. “This will only take a moment of your time, and it is regarding the duke’s business.”

  She could hardly close the door on him if he invoked the duke. Though she hesitated another moment, Alice nodded her head in agreement. “Very well.” She stepped out of the door and closed it, leaving the children to their curiosity. She folded her hands over one another and attempted to appear as confident as he did.

  Mr. Gardiner tilted his head slightly to the side. “I find I must apologize to you again, Miss Sharpe. In the garden the other day, when we spoke, I did not mean to offer you any slight.”

  “You explained that once already, Mr. Gardiner.” Alice lowered her gaze to the hall carpet, which featured vines twisting and turning upon themselves. She rather felt like her insides must look as the design on the carpet did. But why? He was only a man, a guest in the duke’s house. Mr. Gardiner ought not to make her feel so...so strange.

  He shifted forward and bent so he could peer up into her face, startling her. “And yet you left with such haste that I knew you were fleeing my company.”

  Alice’s eyes narrowed as she backed up a step. “If this is why you have disturbed my time with the children—”

  “It isn’t. Not entirely.” He offered what he likely thought a charming grin. While Alice readily admitted he was attractive, she squelched any desire to give in to him merely due to his looks.

  “Well then.” She lifted her chin, glaring at him through the lenses of her spectacles. “You invoked His Grace a moment ago. What might I do for the duke?”

  His wide grin diminished into a bemused frown. “The project—my catalog of insects and flora in the duke’s gardens—that is the business I meant.”

  Alice suppressed a sigh, reminding herself to be patient. This man was the duke’s guest. She could not simply dismiss him for bringing up the subject. “As I said, sir, I have enough work to do for the duke and duchess through tutoring their children. I cannot spare time to assist you.”

  “What if the duke specifically allowed it?” Mr. Gardiner asked.

  Frost formed along Alice’s spine, making her stiffen with dread. “You hav
e not spoken to him about the idea, surely.”

  Mr. Gardiner misinterpreted her tone as surprised rather than mortified, given the way his smile sprang back into place. “I told him what I saw in your sketchbook. You have a deft hand, and you have the talent of a professional colorist. We spoke after dinner last evening.”

  The man had such confidence in what he had proposed that he went to the duke! Alice clenched her hands together and tightened her jaw. From the moment the position of governess settled upon her, scant days before, Alice wanted only to keep out of sight and out of mind. The duke was powerful, and no one from her expansive family resided nearby. If he cast her off, she doubted anyone would wish to accept her back into their homes.

  Alice loosened her jaw enough to speak. “You spoke to the duke. About me.”

  For the first time, Mr. Gardiner appeared less certain of himself. “I did. Because you have a talent, Miss Sharpe. A talent that I find useful, and that could have your name appear in a scientific publication.”

  She wrapped one arm around her stomach. “Mr. Gardiner, please tell me what was said by you, and by his grace. I need to understand the situation.”

  For the duke’s attention to bear on her for something as simple as her flower drawings—it made that icy feeling in her spine leak through to her limbs.

  People were dismissed from positions like hers with less reason than Mr. Gardiner had given the duke. Her whole focus ought to be the children. The list of rules given to her by the dowager duchess and the Duchess Montfort had included many things. Among them had been fraternizing with male staff members, male neighbors, and any other gentleman with more on his mind than what politeness demanded. They had made it clear her duty was to the children, not advancing her own social position. Not yet.