She slipped her hand into his, and the duke turned to lead them back through the door. He did not invite Mr. Briant to follow, so the man could not impose his company on the duke. It was near enough a cut-direct that Alice trembled at the retribution Mr. Briant might enact upon her.
The duke stepped inside the door, and a footman—wherever had he been when she needed him there?—closed the door behind them.
“There now, Miss Sharpe.” The duke turned to look down at her, a gentle expression upon his noble face. He looked exactly like his portrait hanging at the top of the stairs in the family wing—tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair starting to gray at the temples. He had a long nose, but his cheekbones and strong chin balanced it well. “You are safe.”
Alice went cold from her fingertips to her toes, but her cheeks grew hot. “Your Grace, I did not mean for anything to happen. I was surprised. I didn’t expect—” And then the sob broke free of her, and Alice pulled her hand from his gentle grasp to cover her mouth with both palms.
The duke remained silent while she fought for control over her emotions, but his expression was nothing but kind. He spoke with softness when she grew quiet again. “I have three daughters, Miss Sharpe. All of whom care for you. I have raised my sons to conduct themselves honorably. James saw you were distressed. I came at once.”
Her jaw fairly hit the ground between them. “Lord James?”
“He looked out the dining-room window.” The duke pointed to the floor above. “And said that it appeared you were being chased. I agreed and came. You are, at my word, a member of my household and under my protection. Mr. Briant will be gone before noon.” He sighed deeply and looked up the stairs. “And I must have a word with my eldest about the company he keeps.”
Then the Duke of Montfort offered her his arm. “I am certain there are people waiting for us, Miss Sharpe. Will you join my family upstairs?”
Alice nodded once, hardly believing how a nightmare had transformed into a splendid dream. How else could she explain the quick reversal of her situation only moments before?
If—no, when Rupert returned, she would tell him how right he was to trust and esteem the duke.
Chapter 21
“Father, I have to go. I have already been away too long.” Rupert checked his watch. If he left in the next hour, he would arrive at Castle Clairvoir in time to find Alice before dinner.
His father glanced over the edge of the book he read, seated in his favorite chair of the library. “But Mr. Lee is still here, and he is highly interested in your studies.”
“I doubt that.” Rupert released a frustrated sigh. “I think he is only being polite and enjoying the fine accommodations. Perhaps he’s interested in your observations of the effect a full moon has on nesting birds.”
Mr. Lee had a fine scientific mind, as the librarian and clerk of the Royal Society must, but his own interests were nearer the heavens than the creeping things of the earth. Rupert could not fault the man for his preference, but it certainly made his journey to his parents’ home feel wasteful.
Mother sat in a chair nearby, perusing a women’s journal. “Mr. Lee does enjoy talking about the moon. Perhaps you might find something to discuss with moths and moonlight, Rupert.” Her tiny smile of amusement was her only indication of teasing.
How did he make them understand? Rupert needed to take his leave. Especially given how unsettled he had become that morning. Something was wrong. Something to do with Alice. He felt it in his heart.
He had jolted out of bed, later than usual due to entertaining neighbors the night before, with Alice’s name on his lips.
Their attachment was too new, their affection for one another not even in its larva state—
He winced.
“I really must cease comparing everything to insects,” he muttered to himself.
His father snapped the book closed. “What was that?”
Perhaps it would be better to borrow from his father’s vernacular. “Fledgling state sounds far better than larva,” he observed.
“I agree, but both are juvenile states for their respective creatures.” Father tilted his chin down and fixed Rupert in place with a deep frown. “But what does that have to do with anything?”
Rupert took in a shaky breath. He noted his mother put down her journal and looked at him with as much curiosity as his father. He had to tell them.
“I have developed feelings for a young woman.”
“Developed feelings?” His father dropped the book to the floor with a thump.
Mother laughed. “Oh, Rupert. You make it sound like a fever.” She rose from her chair. “But this is wonderful. No wonder you are so eager to be on your way. Was she a houseguest of the duke’s?”
“No.” Rupert shifted his gaze from one parent to the other.
“A neighbor?” His father guessed next.
“No, not a neighbor.”
His mother gasped and put a hand to her heart. “Not the duke’s daughter! Never say that. Oh, I could not at all be the mother-in-law to a duke’s daughter.”
Rupert groaned and shoved a hand through his hair. “No, Mother. Not Lady Josephine. You don’t know her—but she is clever, and witty, and the loveliest woman I have ever met. Her name is Alice Sharpe.” He had told Alice her status as a gentleman’s daughter had not changed with her position as a governess. Would his parents see things as he hoped?
“Out with it, boy. Is she spoken for? Too proud to court you?” His father was on his feet now too, eyes bright. “Or has she accepted you and you’ve kept the whole of it a secret?”
Rupert spoke his answer slowly, and clearly. “She’s the governess.”
For the space of two heartbeats, his parents said nothing.
Then his mother emitted a sound he had never heard before—something between a shriek and a yelp—before she took hold of Rupert’s arm. “Are you engaged to marry? When will we meet her? What about her family? Do they approve of the match?”
“Let the boy talk, Mariah.” Father’s chest puffed out rather like a male chickadee’s—though Rupert kept the comparison to himself. “Tell us everything, Rupert. Before your mother flies apart.”
Rupert put his hand over his chest. “I sincerely have nothing more to tell. I have not declared myself, or asked for her hand, because this is all very new. I had barely spoken to her—barely expressed my interest—when I received your note. And now I have been here for nearly a fortnight—”
“Keeping her a secret.” His mother glowered at him. “Rupert, you know full well that it is our fondest hope for you to fall in love. How else am I to have grandchildren?”
Rupert’s weak laugh was his only answer to that. His mother was not as vocal on the subject as some, but he did know how much she wanted a daughter-in-law, and grandchildren running about the house. His birth had been difficult for his mother, and damaging. She had never carried another babe to term after his birth, and eventually no longer fell pregnant.
Rather than grow apart, or grow bitter, his parents had lavished all their love upon him. Perhaps it had made him a little odd, to grow up with his father for a playmate and his mother his most frequent companion. Rupert never doubted their love.
“Get out,” his father said, pointing to the door. “Get back there at once and woo the lady properly. When a man finds the match to his heart, the woman’s whose heart song is a match for his, he must not lose her.”
“But—I barely—that is, it’s difficult to court a governess.” Finally given permission to leave, Rupert was torn between running out the door and laying all his troubles at his parents’ feet. They would have answers he did not.
“There is always difficulty, son.” His father wrapped an arm around Mother’s shoulders. “It is up to you to work your way through it or around it.”
Mother’s enthusiasm had waned somewhat. “If your affection is so new, a fledgling thing barely ready for flight, you must treat it gently. You owe it to yourself and the young lady to
see how far you might go.” She narrowed her eyes. “How does she feel about your insects?”
The first time they met, she captured a butterfly from his shoulder. She spoke of spiders and butterflies and bees all with the same respect and curiosity. She rescued frogs from castles and loosed them into ponds.
“She understands them,” Rupert said, a touch of awe in his tone. “And, I think, she understands me.”
In short order, Rupert climbed into the family carriage with Billings and a trunk full of his things. His parents stood on the steps, along with a bewildered Mr. Lee, waving Rupert away to good fortune.
The worry that had settled in his chest lessened.
Returning to the castle, returning to Alice, was the right choice.
Chapter 22
“Miss Sharpe?”
Alice looked up from the sketchbook in her lap to find Lord Farleigh coming through the willow tree.
Her heart fell. She had hoped Rupert called to her, though she knew at once the voice was wrong. Rupert’s voice was deeper than the young earl’s.
Lady Isabelle and Lady Rosalind sat upon the bench on either side of her, both sketching the scene before them as she did. They were at the sunken pool. Lord James lay in the grass nearby, chin in hand, reading a book about the Spanish Armada.
“My lord.” She rose to offer a proper greeting, but he waved a hand to dismiss that notion. Alice sank back onto the bench.
Lord Farleigh had said little to her upon their initial meeting the morning before. Though he had apologized for the behavior of his guest and assured her Mr. Briant’s welcome had ended.
The heir to the dukedom was in appearance much like his father, almost regal in appearance, though some might find his nose a little too long for the usual standards of attractiveness.
“I have come with guests.” He gestured behind him as several giggling children followed from beneath the willow tree. “Lord Addington has arrived.” Miss Finchley, the baron’s daughter, appeared at the rear of the party, her usual sour expression replaced by a simpering mein.
“Ah. Miss Finchley.” Alice hastily repeated her attempt at a curtsy, completing it this time. A baron’s daughter would think it her due for the governess to pay such respect.
Miss Finchley’s younger siblings, two boys and a girl, along with Geoffrey, were immediately greeted with pleasure.
“We were in the neighborhood,” Miss Finchley said, swaying her hips more than strictly necessary as she came to stand next to Lord Farleigh. “My father simply had to stop to speak to His Grace.”
Given that the baron’s family had attended a house party little more than a week previous, the timing of an unexpected visit likely had more to do with the news the heir had returned. The tight smile Lord Farleigh wore bore further testament to Alice’s reasoning.
“Unfortunately, our governess was unwell.” Miss Finchley affected a pretty pout. “Crowded carriages do not agree with her.”
It had taken the baron’s governess half a day to recover from their previous visit.
“Oh, the poor dear.” Alice adjusted her spectacles, sliding them further up the bridge of her nose. “I completely understand, and I am happy to mind the children until she feels well again.”
Lord Farleigh’s relieved smile spoke more of his character than he likely knew. That an earl, son of one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, concerned himself over a governess gave her great hope for the future of the duke’s title. How had a family of such prestige remained humble amid the vanity of the noble class?
Miss Finchley cooed and looped her arm more tightly through his lordship’s. “Wonderful. Now, my lord, you must show me the portrait gallery as you promised.”
As they withdrew, Alice had to admire Miss Finchley’s ambition. Most would deem the daughter of a baron beneath the interest of an earl, particularly one set to inherit a dukedom. With a shrug, Alice turned her attention to the children under her care. “Why don’t we play a game?” she proposed.
With great enthusiasm, the children proposed hide-and-seek.
Alice had to laugh while she shook her head. “Oh, given the size of the gardens and castle, I am not certain that’s a good idea. I know I might well become lost before anyone might find me. Why not blind man’s bluff?”
“What shall we use for a blindfold?” Geoffrey asked.
Alice loosened the fichu she wore, made of a thin cream cotton. She folded it over on itself a few times, then held it up for their examination. “This will do, I think. But we cannot play here. Someone might tumble into the little pond. Come, to the meadow.”
The children followed after her, speaking excitedly. Lord James had the first turn, running and grasping after the others until he caught one of the Finchley girls.
They repeated the play with laughter, until everyone had been caught except Alice. Though many a governess might consider the game beneath their dignity, she welcomed the distraction.
What better way to soothe her heart than with the laughter of children?
“Miss Sharpe, you must be the blind man.” Lord James held the improved blindfold out to her. “Everyone else has had a turn.”
“Yes, Miss Sharpe!”
“You cannot catch us if you try!”
Alice crossed her arms. “You think not? But none of you have caught me.” She looked to her oldest charges, ready to laugh with them over the antics of the younger children.
She saw Lady Rosalind elbow her sister and point back toward the castle. Eyebrows raised, Alice started to turn to see what had captured their attention.
“Miss Sharpe!” Isabelle practically shouted, startling everyone. “It is most unfair that you will not take a turn.”
“Yes, you must put the blindfold on,” Lady Rosalind insisted. “If we cannot catch you, you cannot be too worried about catching us.”
“I think she’s scared,” the little Finchley boy chimed in.
Geoffrey glowered at him. “Miss Sharpe isn’t scared of anything. Remember when she helped me after I fell out of the tree? She’s brave.”
The sudden championing from Geoffrey broke through the last of her reluctance. She bent in half. “Very well, children. I will take a turn.” She bent forward to allow Lady Rosalind to tie the blindfold about her head. At least she had already discarded her bonnet at the beginning of playing, as had the young ladies.
“Spin her around,” Lady Isabelle instructed. “Then follow me!”
Alice spun, Lady Rosalind’s hands on her shoulders to keep her from stumbling. “Oh, that isn’t fair, all of you banding together.”
The children all giggled.
“Because you are so much better than us at the game,” Lady Rosalind added, “you must count to ten instead of five.”
“All these rules,” Alice protested with a laugh. “Very well, I’m counting. One—” She heard squeals of laughter as the children ran. “Two.” Their footfalls on the grass withdrew in a hurry. She sped up her count. “Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.” Someone still hovered nearby, or so the sound of grass brushing against boots told her. “Eight. Nine. Ten!”
Alice lunged toward the footfalls she had heard, hands reaching out for small shoulders.
Encountering, instead, a broad chest.
A strong arm encircled her waist.
A deep, warm, and familiar voice whispered in her ear, “You caught me.”
“Rupert!”
He hadn’t even changed out of his travel clothes. Nor had he searched out his host first. Rupert had gone directly to the schoolroom, only to find a cross Miss Felton seated at a table sipping at tea.
“I suppose you are after Miss Sharpe,” the woman said, nose wrinkled. “I am told she is in the gardens.”
Although that was hardly more helpful than saying “she is out in the world somewhere,” given the size of the estate, Rupert thanked the woman and rushed from the house.
An undergardener pointed him to the area with the sunken pool, where several discarded bonnets
and sketchbooks gave him a hint that the governess had led the children to more wild climes.
He had come to the edge of the meadow, watching as children ran and shrieked in a game of blind man’s bluff.
He had started to approach when they stilled, obviously discussing their game. He had aimed for Alice, her tall, lithe figure at the center of the play.
Excitement climbed through his entire body, making his heart sing like a cricket and his stomach leap.
Then they blindfolded Alice, and Rupert nearly stopped.
Until a grinning Lady Isabelle waved him forward.
Bless her little matchmaker’s heart.
When the children scampered away, back to the sunken pond garden, Rupert approached Alice more slowly. She was stunning, poised for her run, wearing the same beautiful peach colored gown he had seen her in before.
When her hands landed upon his chest, he instinctively pulled her closer.
“You caught me.” Those words held a world of meaning he would have to think upon later.
“Rupert!”
She ripped away the bit of cloth covering her eyes, sending her spectacles tumbling from her face as she stared up at him.
He laughed, catching them before they could fall to the ground, keeping one arm securely around her. Then he settled them on the bridge of his own nose, hooking one of the ends behind his ear. “These are useful. Look at that—I can see every one of your beautiful freckles on your nose.”
She wrinkled that nose and narrowed her eyes at him. “Rupert, where have you been? And you oughtn’t to notice a lady’s freckles. Oh, and unhand me before the children see!” She suddenly looked about, her shoulders tensing until she realized they were quite alone.
“I think they have given up your game in favor of another.” He bent closer, unable to resist drawing nearer to her. “Why shouldn’t I notice your freckles? They are adorable.”
Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink, and her body relaxed in his hold. “Rupert.” She glowered at him, but there was no real heat in the glare. “Why did you leave?”
Mr. Gardiner and the Governess: A Regency Romance (Clairvoir Castle Romances Book 1) Page 17
