She peered up at him, seeing his crooked smile paired with the sincerity in his gaze. “Your affection for me?”
“You do not think I go about kissing every governess I meet, do you?” he teased. “I assure you, that distinction belongs to you alone. Forgive me for going about a courtship like a bumbling fool. But I have never—and this is the truth, dear Alice—I have never felt the slightest interest in another woman. Not like this.”
“You only like me because I am not afraid of frogs or spiders,” she countered, though a genuine warmth grew in her heart. “And I can color your flowers in better than you can.”
Rupert laughed outright, the sound deep and joyful. Then he rolled onto his elbow to look up at her, his eyes dancing with humor and something else. Something that made Alice’s stomach feel as though any number of beautiful white-winged moths had taken flight inside her.
“All of this is true, but those are not the only reasons.” Rupert narrowed his eyes at her. “I like you, dear Alice, because you speak honestly, always. I like you because you care about little boys who fall from trees. I like you because you rescue frogs. I like you because there is intelligence in your eyes and in your words. I like you because being near you makes me happy, and I find myself wishing to prove, for you and perhaps because of you, that I am a better man today than I was yesterday. Your company is the best I have ever enjoyed. I like you, Alice, because you are you.”
What did a woman say to such things? These were not the compliments she had overheard her cousins’ suitors bestow on their beauty. They were not frivolous remarks upon her appearance, or things that might be said of anyone.
“Have I rendered you speechless?” he asked, teasing her gently. “But you always have something witty to say to me.”
Alice pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes at him. Then she picked up her daisy crown and dropped it upon his head. “You are quite right to like me so much.” Then she bent and kissed his cheek, though he moved as though he wished to catch her before she could withdraw. Alice laughed, pulling away quickly. “Thank you, Rupert. I do not think anyone has ever said so many kind things to me at once.”
“It is customary, I think, for a lady to tell the gentleman who says such nice things that she likes him, too.” He didn’t touch the daisy crown, though it fell a bit over his forehead. He looked up at her rather like a child begging for sweets. “Or shall I work harder to earn your esteem, my lady?”
“I think you know I like you very well. As you do not go about kissing governesses, you ought to realize that I do not go about kissing gentlemen.” Indeed. His kiss was the first she had ever received.
Rupert sat up, brushing off his sleeves. “I had better return you to your schoolroom, dear governess. As much as I wish to keep you to myself, the hour grows late.”
Alice waited for him to stand, then he offered his hand to her. She stood and leaned into his shoulder for a moment, reveling in the feeling of being wanted. Her gaze fell upon the nearby woods and she shuddered.
“Is something wrong? You cannot be cold.” Rupert put his arm around her shoulders, holding her close.
“The woods. I have never liked them. When I was a little girl, no more than six or seven, I played with cousins in the woods near an uncle’s home. They all knew the paths and trees, and they left me there. No one thought to look for me for hours and hours.” Alice still had dreams about being lost in the trees, with night coming on, all alone.
“I wish I could speak my mind to all your horrid relatives,” Rupert murmured against her hair. “I would never forget you, Alice. You are too precious, too wonderful, to be away from my thoughts for even an instant.”
Alice laid her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes, drinking in his words, and hoping very much that they would always prove true.
Chapter 18
The summons from Rupert’s father came only three days after the walk with Alice. Rupert had tried to snatch glimpses of her often, as she had promised to take the children on more walks in the afternoons, he could at least pass by and offer her a smile and wave.
But when he received the letter from Mr. Reginald Gardiner, requiring Rupert come home at once, he could not find Alice anywhere.
Billings packed most of Rupert’s things, and set about loosing the insects in Rupert’s cages from the bedroom window.
“What could Father mean, sending me this?” Rupert asked, not for the first time. He read over the letter again, having just come in from checking the schoolroom for Alice. It had been empty of her and the children both.
Billings made no reply, merely continued to release a damselfly who seemed reluctant to leave her cage.
Rupert read the note aloud, determined to gain a response from someone. Even if it was only his valet.
“Son, I require your presence at home, at once. Make your excuses to His Grace. I will require you to take your leave of his fine home for a week, at least. He will understand. There are matters here that require your attention, and it will be to your benefit to attend your mother and I.”
He dropped the letter inside his open trunk, which Billings filled with clothing. “What can he mean, trying to be mysterious? Why not come out and say what could be so important that he must take me from the castle?”
“I could not say, sir,” Billings said at last, sounding irritated that Rupert required him to give an answer at all. “But he has never sent for you in such a manner before. It must be important.”
Could his father’s reasons be as important as Alice if he left without taking his leave of her? She had never known when she would leave a household, or when someone she cared about would leave her behind. Rupert could not, and would not, do that to her.
“I need to write a letter.” He went to his desk, then turned abruptly to Billings. “Stop packing a moment. Go and see if you can find out where Miss Sharpe and the children have gone. I cannot find her, nor anyone who knows where she must be. But someone in this blasted castle will know.”
Billings started at the frustration in Rupert’s tone, but Rupert did not care. He had other things to worry about. Things like Alice’s trust, her heart, her affection.
But what could he say in a letter that would explain his abrupt departure? How could he make her understand something he did not understand himself?
My Dear Alice—
He tore that off the top of the paper. If anyone else found the letter, he had no wish to put Alice in a difficult position. He groaned. Why could she not be in the schoolroom where she was supposed to be?
Miss Sharpe,
I am afraid the continuation of our project must wait for a time. My father has called me home without delay. I regret that I cannot take leave of you in person, but I hope to return soon.
He stared at the inadequate words, hating them. But what more could he say that would not be misconstrued by prying eyes?
We will finish the catalog together. As I promised.
That was the best he could do. Rupert folded the note and stuck it in the flowers he had gathered earlier that morning. A stack of his sketches were beside the blooms and stems, waiting for her to apply her paint.
Now to take leave of the duke, claiming filial duty as his only excuse for leaving everything near finished, but not near enough.
Alice followed along behind the duke’s three youngest children, listening as Lady Josephine and her companion carried on a conversation at her side.
“I cannot abide most of Simon’s friends. They are all abominably full of themselves,” Lady Josephine complained from beneath her parasol.
“You would not say the same of your brother, and I cannot believe he surrounds himself with men so different from himself.” Emma paused before an attractive display at the grocer—summer fruits were artfully arranged to spill out a tipped basket.
The children had stopped just ahead to speak to a boy about the same age as Lady Isabelle. Even Lord James looked happy to see the youth.
“We ou
ght to bring your mother some cherries,” Emma remarked. “These are the first I have seen this season.”
“Oh, that is a fine idea. Go inside and purchase whatever they have.” Josephine waved her friend and companion inside the shop, then she turned her attention to Alice. “You must think me dreadful, complaining about Simon’s friends this way. My brother is a man of good character, but sometimes I feel as though the men surrounding him are only his friends because of his title.”
“An understandable suspicion,” Alice admitted, keeping watch over the children from the corner of her eye. “A future duke holds nearly as much power as a prince. I am certain he is a discerning gentleman, and your concern for him does you credit, my lady.”
Lady Josephine rested her parasol upon one shoulder. “I feel that I am forever questioning the motives of others. I suppose I have a suspicious nature. For instance, I should dearly like to know what has become of your friendship with Mr. Gardiner.” She narrowed her eyes, an impish gleam to them.
With her cheeks warming, Alice struggled to sound unmoved by the mention of Rupert’s name. “I suppose you could say it is going well. His project continues to be of interest.”
“His project.” Lady Josephine twirled the handle of her umbrella. “I rather wonder if he has not made wooing you his project, Alice.”
“My lady,” Alice protested, feigning a gasp.
“He speaks of you often, though I can tell he does not realize it.” Lady Josephine shaded her eyes to peer into the grocer’s shop, likely checking on Emma’s progress with the cherries. “Only last evening at dinner he said how fortunate my brother and sisters are to have you seeing to their education.”
“He only meant to be kind.” Alice tugged her wrist-length gloves more snuggly beneath the long sleeves of her chocolate colored gown.
Emma returned, the basket on her arm now bearing a smaller container of cherries. “I asked for two pounds of cherries to go to the kitchens, but I brought these to give to your mother now.”
The children were fetched, and they all began the walk back to the castle. Lord James hurried ahead of all of them, intent on taking a purchase of candy up to his room to squirrel it away.
The ladies kept up a conversation on neighbors and cherries, and Alice felt, for the first time in ages, as though she belonged. Yes, her position as governess put her beneath both ladies in her company, but they did not treat her as a lesser person. The children were happy. Her life had purpose.
And, most of all, Rupert had feelings for her. He wished to court her. She smiled to herself, joy in her heart as the castle came into view upon the hill.
Almost, Alice could imagine herself a princess arriving at the grand home, stepping out as a guest rather than an employee.
“We must take the cherries to Mama,” Lady Josephine said when they entered the smaller foyer, a butler and maid taking their things. “Then we shall come have tea with you, Alice.”
Alice followed behind Lady Isabelle and Lady Rosalind. They entered the children’s wing at the same moment Lord James dashed through his door. The girls disappeared into their room to lay aside their own purchases.
When Alice entered the schoolroom, she immediately noted the vases of flowers in the middle of the large circular table. A leather folder, thick with drawings, waited for her, too.
She put her hand on the leather flap and pulled it over, holding her breath in anticipation of a letter or note accompanying the sketches. Though they were hardly love letters, she treasured each word Rupert wrote to her.
But there was nothing written accompanying the sketches.
Alice blinked and moved the pictures, fanning them out, but still saw no note. Hm. Perhaps Rupert wished to give her instruction in person.
Then she examined the flowers, smiling to herself all the while. There were several wild flowers she would need to color in first. They would droop and lose their colors before the more cultivated blooms from the gardens.
Lady Josephine and Emma arrived at nearly the same moment as the maid bearing the tea tray. Alice opened the door wide and stood aside to allow everyone inside.
“Oh, Alice.” Emma stopped beside Alice, eyebrows high upon her forehead. “Do you know why Mr. Gardiner left in such a hurry?”
For the space of a heartbeat, Alice’s world froze. “What do you mean?”
“Mama told us he took his leave of the duke not a quarter hour ago,” Lady Josephine said from where she had already seated herself at the table. “Oh, dear. We assumed you would know the details, so I did not ask Mama for more information.”
“No.” Alice’s body went cold, her mind numb. “But—Mr. Gardiner left? The castle?”
Emma’s expression changed to a deep frown. “He returned home. His father’s estate is sixteen miles west of here.”
“He took his valet, and his things, Mama said.” Lady Josephine started pouring out for them, wearing a frown of her own. “I felt certain he would have told you he was leaving. Perhaps he sent a note?” She looked to the flower sketches.
“Not that I have seen.” Alice walked slowly to the table, lowering herself into a chair, not truly aware of her actions. “The flowers and sketches came without a note. I had no idea he planned to go anywhere. He did not tell me anything.”
After a moment of unsettling quiet, Lady Josephine passed Alice a cup of tea. “I shall ask Papa for you.”
That idea startled Alice into thought at last. “No. Please, do not trouble the duke on my account.” She forced a smile, though she felt how the edges of her mouth trembled. “I am certain there is no cause for concern. Mr. Gardiner must be needed at home.”
But why had he not left her a note? Or some word of his departure? Could he not have waited to take his leave of her? A quarter of an hour meant he had left the house only minutes before she returned from the outing with the children.
Their conversation the day previous, his gentle words and open affection, had given Alice every reason to hope—to hope he meant what he said. But to leave the duke’s home, and their project, with nary a word of instruction or reassurance of his return—
Stop being silly, Alice told herself sternly, hiding her fear behind the rim of her teacup.
Emma’s expression changed from one of curiosity to something more like sympathy. She turned her gaze to the flowers on the table and reached for one, lightly touching an unfurled leaf. “What is this flower called, Alice? I cannot say that I know it.”
Alice cleared away her thoughts, promising herself she would not dwell on a thing she could not know.
Why had Rupert left without so much as a word of farewell? Not even a written one?
Chapter 19
The excellent condition of the roads and lack of summer rain allowed Rupert’s carriage, borrowed from the duke, to arrive well before dinner. Two hours of travel had not at all dampened his curiosity or dimmed his hope that Alice would understand.
Rupert exited the coach, Billings behind him giving directions to the footmen, and he took in his father’s estate with a critical eye. It was not even a quarter of the size of the duke’s castle. But it was more comfortable than the castle would ever be, with a more welcoming air, because it was home. He climbed the steps to enter between the two wide columns that marked the doorway, then stepped into the hall. The floor was finely polished wood instead of marble, the staircase not sweeping but elegant enough for his tastes.
His mother appeared at the top step. “Rupert, darling! Welcome home.” She came down, one hand upon the rail, and he met her halfway with a quick embrace.
“Mother, I have missed you.”
She leaned away and shook a finger at him. “You ought to have come home more, young man. The duke’s house is not so far as to make a visit every fortnight impossible. Or you could have written.”
"I know,” he admitted, one arm around his mother’s shoulders as he turned so they might both walk up the stairs. “I am afraid I have been rather caught up in my work.”
&
nbsp; He had been head and shoulders taller than her since his fourteenth birthday, and walking with her thus was quite natural. Not many English boys could boast of having a mother such as his—a woman of understanding and love who had never felt the need to smother her son with either.
“That is hardly an excuse. I never allowed your father to neglect me in his pursuits of science, and I shall not allow it of you.” She parted from him at the top of the stairs. “Whatever will happen if you find a wife and she thinks you prefer your insects to her company?”
An image of Alice’s amused smile overtook Rupert’s thoughts, and he had to chuckle at his mother’s question. “I will do my utmost to ensure my wife knows the place she holds in my heart.”
Something about his tone appeared to startle his mother, as she folded her hands before her and drew herself up, peering into his eyes. “I think that is the first time you have met the subject of a wife with a smile.”
Rupert cleared his throat and diverted his gaze. “Where is Father hiding today? The urgency of his summons made me believe he would be waiting for me at the gates.”
“You know your father. Anything to do with the Royal Society...” She let her words trail away with a wave. “He is in his study.”
Rupert’s eyebrows lifted, and he turned toward the corridor leading to his father’s sanctum. The Royal Society? His father had mentioned nothing to do with the body of science-minded gentlemen in his note.
“Oh, go on with you. Neither of you are fit company until you have discussed all things genus and species.” She gave Rupert a gentle push on the shoulder. “Have it out, then we can talk of other things at dinner.”
Rupert dropped a quick kiss upon his mother’s cheek. “You are an angel, Mother.” He swept off to his father’s study, his mind turning over the possibilities of scientific news important enough to merit interrupting his stay at Castle Clairvoir. A new discovery, perhaps? Some proclamation made by their greatest patron, the Regent?
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