“I cannot say I ever had a governess clever enough to know such things,” Miss Finchley said with a sniff. She cut a cold glance toward Miss Sharpe, an obvious attempt to put the governess in her place.
Rupert resisted the desire to run. He had seen enough women begin verbal attacks to sense one coming. He could not come to her defense without making the moment more awkward, having already praised her.
Miss Sharpe blushed and dropped her gaze to her lap again.
Rupert rather wished to throttle Miss Finchley.
Lady Josephine snapped her fan open with the same air with which a man might draw his sword. “We are most fortunate that Mother and Grandmama discovered Miss Sharpe. Every time I visit the nursery, I am delighted by what I learn in my conversations with her.”
The duke’s daughter had drawn a line in the sand with those words. Marking Miss Sharpe as an above-average person in both her career and the lady’s esteem.
“I quite agree,” Rupert said firmly. He stood. “But if you do not mind, Lady Josephine, I should like to steal Miss Sharpe away for a moment. I must show her some variation in one of the flowers I am studying to get her opinion for the catalog. Excuse us, ladies.”
He bowed, at the same moment holding his hand out to Miss Sharpe. There was no room for argument, and if they moved swiftly enough, no one else might invite themselves along.
“Of course, Mr. Gardiner.” Miss Sharpe put her gloved hand in his, and with a quick tug he helped her up to her feet. “Good day, Lady Josephine. Ladies.”
Miss Sharpe curtsied, then beat him to scooping up his butterfly nets.
Rupert recovered the rest of his equipment, then gestured with a tip of his head across the meadow. “That way, Miss Sharpe. Toward the forest, if you will.”
She fell into step beside him, easily keeping pace with his long strides, even though she was nearly a head shorter than he.
She waited until they were nearly to the trees, a small orchard of chestnut trees, before she spoke softly. “I thank you for the rescue, Mr. Gardiner.”
“I cannot accept your thanks for that. I think your need for rescue was my fault.” He directed her to a path between the trees, leading to the edge of the forest upon the duke’s lands. “The moment I sat down, the ladies began sharpening their knives.”
“Not Lady Josephine. Nor Miss Arlen,” she corrected him, that near-smile appearing again as she puffed out a laugh. “But yes, I do believe Miss Finchley and either Miss Hapsworth would happily set their caps for you.”
Her open assessment surprised a laugh from Rupert. “There now, Miss Sharpe. Didn’t that feel wonderful to say?”
She laughed again, with more energy, and it faded away to reveal the same wide smile he had seen the first time they met. Before she knew he wasn’t a gardener in the duke’s employment.
Rupert relaxed at once, relieved beyond words that she had become comfortable around him once more. When she let her guard down, their conversation always proved much more enlightening. And diverting.
“Do you really have a flower to show me, Mr. Gardiner, or was it all a ruse to make sure my escape?” she asked, those lovely blue eyes twinkling at him.
Rupert’s heart hummed in an approximation of the sound of a bee, happily at work at a flower.
He cleared his throat. “Actually, I wonder if you might like to see the bees I found yesterday. His Grace’s beekeeper intends to tempt them with a hive this afternoon, so this will be my last chance to study them as they swarm.”
Her fingers went to her throat. “Do we need to wear any netting?”
A practical question rather than a fearful one.
“We will not disturb them, only view their actions from afar.” His free hand reached out, grasping her elbow for a moment in reassurance.
Miss Sharpe was an absolute marvel, and when she looked up at him with her confident smile and dancing eyes, Rupert found himself entirely entranced.
“Lead the way, Mr. Gardiner.” She nodded to the forest. “I trust you to keep me safe.”
Alice followed Mr. Gardiner through the stand of chestnut trees, around an open field, and to the edge of the forest. The closer the trees loomed, the closer she drew to the gentleman’s side. She had no love for the closed-in woods and had not since becoming lost in a similar forest near her great-uncle’s home.
Thankfully, Mr. Gardiner stopped several feet from the first tree with its gnarled, grasping branches.
“Here. Stand quiet and still. You will hear them.” He put down his things, and Alice lowered his net to the pile he made. Then she held her sketchbook to her chest and listened.
At first she heard nothing but the wind and the rustle of the grass.
Then she heard the heavy buzz of hundreds of bees. Narrowing her eyes, she searched the tree line until she saw them, darting above the branches, flying in tight circles around one another. Her mouth fell open. “They sound as though they are rather angry. Are you certain it is safe to be this close?”
Mr. Gardiner moved closer, their shoulders nearly brushing, as he gazed in the same direction she did. “Quite certain. Yesterday, I stood directly beneath them and they paid me no heed.” He sighed rather deeply. “The beekeeper hasn’t the first idea where they are from. No one has reported their bees missing, he said. So these are likely wild, hunting for a place to begin a new colony with a young queen.”
Alice looked up again, the bonnet shading her eyes from the afternoon sun. “It is an impressive sight. How will the beekeeper capture them?”
“Mr. Badger—that is his proper name, you needn’t raise your eyebrows at me like that—will bring an empty hive-box beneath the tree. He will bait it with honeycomb from another hive. If they come inside and find they like it, they do most of his work for him. He need only wait until dusk to put them to sleep with a little smoke, then he can carry them back to where the rest of His Grace’s bees are kept.”
The process fascinated Alice, and Mr. Gardiner obviously took a great interest in it. “I did not even know the duke kept bees until today.”
“Most grand houses keep their own bees, unless there is an accomplished beekeeper nearby to do the task.” Mr. Gardiner shifted his stance, turning more toward her. His hand found her elbow again, touching her lightly. “I know you have your own work to see to today, Miss Sharpe, but I wanted to ask if I might send you more flowers to study. A third grouping. I planned to gather them today.” He gestured to the basket on the ground.
“Oh. Of course.” Alice tried to ignore his hand, alarmed as she was by her awareness of exactly where his fingertips lingered. Despite his glove, despite her long-sleeved gown, heat simmered there upon her skin and crept throughout the rest of her.
“Thank you.” His hand fell back to his side, and his gaze lowered to the ground. “I meant what I said before.”
Alice studied the line of his jaw, the way his eyebrows pulled together far too seriously. “What you said before?” she repeated, trying to calm her racing pulse.
“To the ladies. You have a wonderful gift, Miss Sharpe, and I am grateful for it. You have lifted part of the burden from my shoulders. I only wish I knew how to thank you properly.” He raised those dark eyes, meeting her stare squarely. Catching her studying him.
Alice’s mouth dried and her throat momentarily closed, and all thought fled as his gaze captured hers.
When had anyone given her such undivided attention? She could not recall a time when someone looked at her as though she meant something to them, as though she were important in her own right.
“You have already thanked me, when I was less than gracious about the responsibility.” She was nearly ashamed to admit as much, though logically she still knew she had been justified in her frustration with him.
Somehow, it no longer mattered that she must give up her own time for his project.
His expression softened, the look in his eyes gentle and almost admiring. He tilted his head closer, and Alice realized she had begun to lean t
oward him.
Abruptly she stepped back, raising her sketchbook higher as though it could shield her from—from whatever it was that had almost happened.
“Tomorrow is my half day, after the children have breakfast,” she blurted. “I can work more upon the illustrations then.”
Mr. Gardiner’s expression changed to bemusement, then slowly he shook his head. “I cannot allow that, Miss Sharpe. You must have some time for yourself. Even I must take breaks from this work, to clear my mind and let it rest. When one works until they are overtired of a subject, they are more likely to make mistakes.”
He turned back to studying the swarming bees at the edge of the wood. He crossed his arms over his chest and relaxed.
“But I could spend the entire day on your sketches,” Alice protested, canting her head to the side. “I might accomplish much without interruption.”
Mr. Gardiner chuckled, still facing the trees.
“Absolutely not. I will not hear of it.” He spoke with a friendliness she had not expected, despite issuing his suggestion as a command. “Come now, Miss Sharpe. There must be something else you would rather do. What plans did you have for your half days before I appeared, confounding you and claiming all your free moments for my own?”
Alice considered the question, sorting through her thoughts and trying to remember if she had ever had any plans. A short walk would take her to the village supporting Castle Clairvoir. Lambsthorpe’s main street boasted little more than a grocer and millinery, with a public house and inn should she wish to find a bite of food.
Then she looked back the way they had come, knowing the gardens would be overrun if the next day proved pleasant. That left her with little to do outside of the castle.
Perhaps she might enter the library—but then, since the duke and duchess had guests, she might be unwanted in the public rooms.
When she peered up at Mr. Gardiner again, and somewhat sheepishly lifted one shoulder in a shrug, she had to admit the truth of her situation. “I honestly cannot think of another way to spend my time. Perhaps reading. Or preparing lessons for the coming week.”
His eyes stayed upon the trees and bees, and the muscles of his jaw worked a moment before he spoke in a way that sounded off-hand.
“Perhaps you might spend part of your time with me.” He still did not look at her as he extended the invitation. “You might tell me more about your interest in flora. Or we might walk through the statue gardens—you were in such a hurry that first time, you may have missed some things.”
Could she believe her own ears? Had Mr. Gardiner, a gentleman and guest to the Duke of Montfort, invited her on an unchaperoned outing?
Of course, as a governess, no one really expected her to ever need a chaperone.
But no one expected a governess to be courted.
Was he attempting to court her?
No, of course not. She was merely overthinking things.
But what if—?
She had waited too long to speak, as his reddening cheeks accompanied his next words.
“If you would rather not, I understand—”
She hastened to interrupt him before she quite knew what she was doing. “I would be delighted, Mr. Gardiner. What time would you like to meet for a walk?”
Finally he turned to face her, a smile upon his face which lit up his entire countenance. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, arching an eyebrow at her. “If it is agreeable to you, perhaps we might meet before tea? I may be able to procure us something from the kitchens, to further enjoy the afternoon.”
Her heartbeat sped up rather alarmingly. “That is most agreeable.” Oh dear. Those words came out more breathless than she expected. “Two o’clock, then?”
“Yes. That will do nicely.”
At that time of day, most of the ladies would likely retire to their rooms to rest before the evening meal. Children would be forced into quieter indoor activities to keep them out of the heat of the day, too. No one would see them, which meant no one would gossip about why a gentleman and a governess wandered through the gardens together.
Alice had to force away her own delighted smile. “Wonderful. I look forward to it. But for now, I must go. I have left my charges in the care of others too long.”
“Of course.” He bowed but kept his gaze upon her. “Until tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” she repeated with her curtsy. Then she hurried away, only glancing back once she was safely beneath the chestnut trees.
Mr. Gardiner watched and raised his hand in a final wave.
Alice hoped her blush had faded when she reached the meadow, even though her grin was far more difficult to hide.
Chapter 12
“Billings!” Rupert crawled on his hands and knees beneath his bed, searching for his missing boots. “Where are my Hessians?”
His valet cleared his throat loudly enough that Rupert sat up to glare at him, only to see both boots in the man’s grasp.
“Oh.”
“Yes, sir.” Billings lowered the boots and glanced over Rupert’s hasty efforts to dress himself. “Might I inquire as to the occasion for changing your clothes from what you decided upon this morning?” The valet cast a meaningful glance at the coat and cravat already discarded over the desk.
Rupert stood, trying to appear as though crawling about in his room was quite normal. “Ah. That. Well. This morning I was working in the gardens.”
Billings arched an eyebrow. “Yes, sir.”
“And this afternoon—I am not.”
“You are not.” Billings appeared somewhat concerned.
“Not working in the gardens.” Rupert touched the knotted cravat somewhat self-consciously. “Would you fix this dashed piece of sailcloth?”
Billings put the boots upon the ground, carefully standing them up to avoid creasing the leather, then came to the rescue of Rupert’s half-strangled throat. “Sir, your neckcloths are always of the finest linen. To imply that I would procure anything but the best for your use is somewhat insulting.”
His valet’s dry sense of humor had always amused Rupert more than louder sorts of jests. It also put him at ease. His valet was not put out with him. “I am aware of your efforts to make me appear presentable, and I thank you for them. I suppose I am something of a trial for you.”
“Not at all, sir.” The valet removed the crumpled cloth and went in search of a fresh strip of white linen. “You intend to be out of doors this afternoon, but not working.” It was an observation, but Rupert recognized the question, too. Hessians were not appropriate footwear to wander about a castle. But they were acceptable for riding or the outdoors.
The only reason to hide what Rupert was about would be his own uncertainty. The exposure of his plans to another might cause future embarrassment if they came to naught.
Rupert cast a glance at the shelves against the wall without books or baubles, instead full of his cages of specimens. A cricket chirped, the sound calming to Rupert’s tightened nerves. He turned back to his valet and tried to smile.
“I am meeting Miss Sharpe for a walk in the gardens.” The admission, once made, caused his chest to tighten. What if she did not come? What if she came only to avoid offering him insult? Or what if they had nothing to say to one another once together?
Somewhat impossibly, Billings changed posture. His shoulders squared, his chin lifted, and a knowing gleam appeared in his eyes. “Miss Sharpe. Of course. Here, sir. Not the blue coat, the green. And you mustn’t wear the broad-brimmed hat. Something more elegant—ah, the brown beaver. It lends height to your stature.” The valet went about the room like a whirlwind caught indoors, but with efficiency rather than destruction.
Rupert watched in some confusion but obeyed when Billings instructed him to hold out arms for his coat and lift his chin for a fresh cravat. Then Billings forced Rupert into a chair in order to fuss with his hair. After lamenting the lack of time for a trim, Billings took up the Hessians and shoved them—without ceremony—onto Rupert
’s feet.
“What else do you need, sir?” Billings asked, eyeing Rupert’s clothing critically.
“I thought I would go to the kitchens for a basket?” Rupert did not mean to make the statement into a question, but given the valet’s reaction to Rupert’s plans, he found himself rather uncertain.
“An excellent idea. I will go for you, and I will leave the basket somewhere in the gardens. You have no wish to carry the thing everywhere with you. What would be the most convenient location?”
The valet had a point. Rupert laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had thought to tour the statue garden with Miss Sharpe.”
“Excellent. I will leave the basket at the foot of Apollo.”
Rupert raised his eyebrows. “You know the gardens?”
“Of course, sir. I enjoy a turn out of doors on occasion.” Billings smiled, almost secretively. Perhaps he had escorted his own fair guest through the gardens. Though the idea of his valet offering courtship to any young lady proved hard to picture.
“I will see to the basket at once,” Billings said, standing back to take in Rupert’s appearance one more time. “There you are, sir. I will clean up this mess after I have settled matters with the basket.” He gestured to the disorder in the room. “Good luck to you, Mr. Gardiner.” Then he vanished out the door with only the slightest, most hurried of bows.
Rupert turned to the mirror hanging above the chest of drawers, then grinned to himself. “I think Billings approves of Miss Sharpe.”
For some reason, that made his heart lighter. Perhaps he was not such a fool in seeking out her company.
Despite her initial misgivings—Mr. Gardiner could not really wish to spend his time with her, could he?—excitement rose in Alice’s breast with each passing hour of the morning. She sat in the schoolroom with the other governesses and children, a book open in her lap. But she could not concentrate enough to read more than a single line without drifting away in thought.
“I cannot believe they give you your half-day even when the family has guests.” Miss Felton had proven sourer by the day, especially after Alice and Mr. Gardiner had taken charge of young Geoffrey. “One would think your duty to the family more important than wasting time.”
Mr. Gardiner and the Governess: A Regency Romance (Clairvoir Castle Romances Book 1) Page 10
