He knocked on the sturdy oak door, the same he had approached day after day in his childhood to proudly show his father some new thing found in the grove of trees near their home. Bird feathers his father always knew the origin of, acorn tops, and any number of insects.
Thankfully, though his father thought the most of birds, he never discouraged Rupert’s curiosity of the world around him.
“Enter,” came the command from the other side of the door.
Rupert stepped into the study, posture correct and grin wide. “Greetings, Father.”
Reginald Gardiner rose from behind his desk and came around the corner of the impressive piece of furniture. “Rupert, my boy. You are here with such speed. Thank you for that.” He extended his hand in welcome, and Rupert took it in a firm shake.
“You raised me a dutiful son, Father. When you asked that I come with all speed, I obeyed.” Despite what it meant to take his leave of Alice in such a shoddy way. Rupert tried to ignore his guilt—he had left the note, after all. That would be enough. “Though your summons was distressingly vague. Are you in good health?”
“The best.” Father stood back and thumped a fist against his chest, over his heart. Only twenty-three years separated father and son, as his parents had married young. Rupert had the privilege of inheriting his father’s fine features and stature, the two of them close enough in appearance that people could not help connecting them. “I trust His Grace was not too reluctant to let you leave him?”
Rupert shrugged, remembering the perplexed frown of the duke. “His Grace understands familial duty.”
“Of course, of course. Here, sit down. I need you to read something.” He went to his desk and opened the top drawer while Rupert lowered himself into one of the comfortable chairs on the other side. “I just received this letter from the clerk of the Royal Society yesterday.”
Rupert accepted the creased paper, giving it his full attention as he read.
To Mr. Reginald Gardiner, Fellow of the Royal Society,
Greetings,
I am staying in Leicester, near your home in South Croxton. As we have had occasion to exchange letters on your observations of bird behavior during certain astronomical events, I hope you will not think it presumptuous of me to ask if I might pay you a call.
It is always a pleasure to meet with other members of our esteemed society to discuss the world of science and our respective disciplines.
Sincerely,
Mr. Stephen Lee
Clerk & Librarian of the LRS
Rupert read through the letter again. “Mr. Lee is coming here? When?”
“Day-after-tomorrow. I have invited him to stay for two days.” Father puffed out his chest with pleasure. “It is nearly as good as receiving a visit from Sir Joseph Banks.” His father spoke the name of the president with reverence, as most in the scientific community would. Sir Joseph had been president for forty years and had inducted Reginald Gardiner into the Society as a fellow when Rupert was still a boy.
“But what does Mr. Lee’s coming have to do with me?” Rupert returned the letter to his father. As the Society had yet to invite Rupert to join as a fellow and had rejected several articles he had attempted to publish through their journal, Mr. Lee’s arrival obviously had nothing to do with him.
“As clever as you are, my boy, can you not work it out?” His father tossed the letter to the desk before leaning against it, folding his arms over his chest. “This is your chance. Mr. Lee has served as clerk and librarian of the Society for years. He is trusted by Sir Joseph and well known to every person on the membership committee. To have his acquaintance will bring you another step closer to joining the society yourself.”
Rupert stared at his father, working out the logic for himself. “But—the Royal Society has spoken of limiting membership of late, due to the very fact that too many people are allowing friends and acquaintances in to give them distinction, despite their lack of scientific bend or knowledge. As much as I would like to be published, I cannot think they will allow me in when my work has been trivial compared to other men.”
“Trivial?” His father snorted. “There is no such thing as any part of nature being trivial. This is the world in which we live, Rupert. Every blade of grass could be of importance, and we simply lack the understanding to see it at present. Insects and flowers in a field might hold the keys to unlocking mysteries of health, or illness, or cure famine and hunger. What have I been teaching you all this time if it is not that?”
Rupert scrubbed his hands through his hair, remembering Alice and their last afternoon together in the meadow. While he had never questioned the importance of gaining the Royal Society’s approval before, at the moment, he could only think on leaving Alice. But she would understand, surely.
“How long do you need me here?”
“How long—? Rupert, you disappoint me.” Father shook his head slowly, wincing as he did. “Meeting Mr. Lee is important. I expect you to stay as long as he does. Get to know him and share your studies with him. He is on the committee for approving items for publication. When you tell him that the Duke of Montfort is one of your patrons, it will undoubtedly help your case.”
And see his work published in the journal, with Alice’s accompanying artwork and credit.
Rupert owed it to all of them, himself, the duke, and especially Alice, to put his work forward at any possible opportunity.
The day after tomorrow, plus two more days, and then taking his leave after that, meant staying with his family for five days.
That wasn’t too long.
If his father’s hopes proved true, if making Mr. Lee’s acquaintance furthered Rupert’s ambitions as a naturalist, then it would not be time ill spent.
“I will happily assist you in hosting Mr. Lee.” Rupert rose to stand, his father doing the same and matching him in height. “The duke will understand. I need to write him, of course, and inform him of my return.”
His father clapped a hand on Rupert’s back. “Wonderful. Now, let us find your mother. She will have questions about the duchess’s new style of decoration. Your mother has been after me for weeks to recover the chairs in her sitting room.”
Rupert allowed his father to lead the way, happy enough to be home that his smile was genuine. Even if his heart tugged at him and urged him to return to Alice as soon as possible.
Chapter 20
The day the duke’s eldest son came home, Alice received word that the family would breakfast together. Her duty was to assist the nursery maid in seeing the children were well dressed and prepared to enjoy the meal with the duke, his heir, the duchess, and any guests trailing the heir. Simon Dinard, bearing the honorary title Earl of Farleigh, was apparently a favorite of the entire family.
“Simon always brings back presents,” Lord James informed Alice, while she tried to make him hold still long enough to comb his hair. He wore a miniature version of a gentleman’s attire, looking every inch the duke’s son except for a cowlick above his left eyebrow. “Last time, it was the theater for the marionettes. And he sent me the clockwork horse for my birthday.”
Alice tried to hide her amusement at his enthusiasm. “I hope you enjoy seeing your brother for his own sake, too.”
“He’s a jolly enough brother, for all he’s ancient. I think he’s older than you, Miss Sharpe.” The boy screwed up his face. “How old are you, anyway?”
Lady Isabelle laughed from the doorway to his room. “James, you should never ask a lady her age!”
“Why not?” Lord James fixed Alice with a curious stare. “People ask me how old I am all the time.”
Lady Rosalind had joined her sister at the door. “Because you are a little boy.”
Thankfully, both sisters were properly turned out in their loveliest morning gowns. Their shared maid had seen to their hair, too, rendering them lovely young ladies. It occurred to Alice, quite suddenly, that the large party of friends their brother traveled with might well one day include those that
would marry her charges. If his friends were in their early twenties, a match might be made for the fourteen-year-old Lady Isabelle in another four or five years.
The upper nobility tended to marry later than the middle and lower classes. Still. The possibility was there.
Alice cleared her throat and brought them all back to the point. “I am old enough to have you in my charge, Lord James. That is all you need know.” She finally tamed the lock of hair, though she doubted it would remain in place once the boy began his usual antics. “All of you go down to breakfast and do mind your manners. Be clever and polite so your parents will know I am doing my best.”
They replied with their usual “Yes, Miss Sharpe” together, then went down the corridor, laughing and talking of their excitement to see their brother again.
Alice leaned against the doorway, and she watched a moment as the nursery maid tidied up the young lord’s bed. Her name was Jenny, but beyond the occasional “yes, miss” and “no, miss,” she had little to say to Alice.
For a moment, Alice imagined what it might be like to count the young girl as a friend. To speak of the children in their joint care, perhaps laugh about Lord James’s antics and Lady Rosalind’s continual talk of courtship.
She moved away, down to the schoolroom, where she had her vase of flowers and a sheaf of sketches to cover in paints and inks until the paper plants were all the correct hues.
An hour of careful work left her eyes strained, even behind the spectacles which aided her in such close work. She sat back and removed the wire-framed glasses to massage her temples. With nearly two hours until the children returned, Alice had time to spare. Almost as much as she would on a half-day.
Alice stowed away the paints and sketches, then she went in search of another occupation. Something to let her eyes rest. And, feeling rebellious, she left her spectacles off.
They were not strictly necessary, and perhaps the strain upon her eyes had as much to do with wearing the glasses when it was unnecessary as it did concentrating on detailed painting.
With that justification as her shield against censure, Alice left the children’s corridor and went down the long picture gallery. The duke’s ancestors, and a rendering of the scowling regent, watched her cross the grand carpet all the way to the main staircase.
Although permitted to use the sweeping marble steps, doing so without the children always felt a touch wicked. Governesses were not to be seen except as they were required to be in attendance of their pupils.
But no one saw her, servant or otherwise, and she slipped directly out the main door.
Alice wandered down the long, curving lane that brought travelers up to the castle. She had not spent much time on that side of the grounds. All of her time with the children, and with Rupert, had been on the opposite side, in the gardens.
The pretty lawns of green on either side of the drive were dotted with sheep, and a few dairy cows in the distance. The whole of the scene penetrated her lonely heart. The whole of the world stretched around her, and no one noticed or cared where she walked or where she went.
As it had been the entirety of her life.
Until Rupert.
He had noted her, remarked on her intelligence, then praised her talent and made use of it. Not to be cruel, or to further his ambitions, but in a sincere effort to work with someone he deemed interesting. Then he saw more.
He saw her.
Alice caught sight of a daisy growing along the drive, tall and slim among the grass. A little bee hovered near a moment before landing, causing the flower to sway. Would Rupert know what sort of bee it was? Would he think it worthy of a sketch, or had he already captured the likeness of one of the bee’s sisters?
Alice’s smile twitched, then she had to laugh. Rupert had seen her, had noticed her, because he was in the habit of paying attention to details and creatures others deemed inconsequential. Daisies and wildflowers, moths and spiders, Rupert saw them all. He saw beauty and fascination in things others walked by without notice.
She had to have faith that a man with such an ability, even if he had left without word, would not forget her in his time away.
Even if he had been away for over a week.
And she missed him.
“No one told me the family had any members of the fairer sex as guests,” a deep voice said from behind.
Alice whirled around, a hand coming up to her throat. She had not heard the tall gentleman approach. He wore black riding boots and a dark blue coat, a tall black hat, and a broad grin.
She dropped her gaze to the ground at once, as she had been taught to do since girlhood when confronted with a man not her relative or servant. “Pardon me, sir. I am the governess.”
He would scoff and dismiss her. They always did.
“The governess? How fortunate for His Grace’s children. All my tutors were middle-aged men with scowls and foul breath. You are quite pretty.”
He stepped closer. “I am Mr. Briant.”
It was not like when she met Rupert. The weight of this man’s gaze was far heavier and unwanted.
“Miss Sharpe.” She ought to have worn her spectacles. Perhaps that would have put him off. “If you will excuse me, I should return to my post.” She started to walk around him, keeping several feet of empty air between them.
“I will walk with you.” He matched her steps, coming closer than necessary. “I came with Lord Farleigh from London. He promised sport in the country.”
Ah, a friend of the heir. That explained his presence. But not the way he cast his gaze upon her.
Alice nodded tightly. “I hope you enjoy your time here, sir.”
His words took on a sly tone. “Between the pretty maid who lit the hearth in my room this morning, and someone as unexpected as you, I am certain I will.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I am the governess, sir.”
“And I am certain someone as lovely as you could teach me a few things.”
They had reached the archway which led to the carriage house. Alice had turned their steps in that direction, all too aware of how empty the entry to the castle had been moments before.
She needed people. Witnesses. Because as strict as her family had been with her, several of her female relations had impressed upon Alice her reticence to be near some men was as important to Alice’s well-being as it was to her cousins’ prospects.
But the covered path to the carriage house, a place which allowed guests to exit vehicles and be certain of keeping dry no matter the weather, appeared as abandoned as the foyer.
And Mr. Briant stepped closer to her. “Last time I stayed at a country house, a most beautiful companion to the eldest daughter made it her responsibility to see to my...entertainment.” The quiet emphasis on the final word as he spoke it, the shadow that appeared in his eyes, did not prepare her for his next move.
Mr. Briant grabbed her wrist and pulled Alice to a stop, then forced her back a step into a pillar. Where they stood, only someone entering either end of the covered path would see her—would see whatever Mr. Briant meant to do.
Alice’s voice shook. “Sir, I cannot allow this. Let me go at once. I am under the duke’s protection—”
The darkness in the man’s eyes deepened and his lips curled sideways in a knowing smile. “Has His Grace claimed you for himself? Is that why he hired such a pretty little thing to cluck over his children in the nursery?” He bent low and kept her wrist in his bruising grip. “He is a very good host, you know. I doubt he will mind sharing—”
Alice cut off his words with a sharp slap. Which startled him enough that the horrid man released her wrist.
With only moments to use, Alice twisted away and ran for the entrance they had passed through. It was closer, and there were windows facing that way. Someone might see, someone might come—
She stumbled into the daylight, and into a broad chest, at the same moment Mr. Briant’s hand closed on the back of her gown.
Alice looked up, hoping a groom or foo
tman had appeared—
But she looked into the face of the Duke of Montfort himself.
“Miss Sharpe,” he said, tone crisp. “Mr. Briant.”
The man’s steps skidded backward, and Alice stumbled into a curtsy likely every bit as muddled as she felt. The duke had caught her fleeing a man. A man who had implied horrid things about her. A man, given the way he had acted, rather used to getting his way.
Alice’s heart thudded with painful force against her ribs. “Your Grace.”
“Good morning, Your Grace.” Mr. Briant sounded not at all penitent or upset.
Alice raised her eyes to the duke again, her lips parted to speak, but what would she say? Could she tell him of the attack against her, of the man—the duke’s own guest—implying such vial things about her person and his expectations? A woman’s voice against a man’s was difficult enough—but an employed woman’s testimony against a gentleman’s?
Her throat closed up, she closed her mouth, and she remained in her deep curtsy.
“Miss Sharpe, it is fortunate that I found you.” The duke’s tone remained neutral but ignoring the greeting of his guest had to mean something. Didn’t it? “I wish to show my son the work you have completed for the catalog of the gardens. Did Mr. Gardiner leave behind any of the drawings?”
Alice sensed escape and spoke eagerly. “Yes, there are several in the schoolroom that I have finished coloring only this morning. I can fetch them—”
“No, no. You must join the family. The children are adamant that you meet Simon. We can send someone for the sketches.” Then he held his hand out to her.
The duke. Offered her his hand.
Alice’s head went dizzy with relief and fear all at once. The duke had never even spoken to her directly before. Yet here he called her by name, addressed her with respect before another man, and offered her escort to safety.
Rupert had said the duke and the duchess were kind. But she had not thought someone so far above her in status would ever deign to pay her notice.
Mr. Gardiner and the Governess: A Regency Romance (Clairvoir Castle Romances Book 1) Page 16
