The Unconventional Governess

“Thank you,” she said drily.

“No decision must be made now. It is not impractical to believe you could garner an offer from a baronet, perhaps at the house party in two weeks’ time.”

“I have not the slightest interest in rejoining society,” she said in a firm voice, the one she used as often as needed. It was quite effective, even on Lady Brandewyne, whose posture stiffened. “A companion or governess position will suit me.”

“Why not the governess position with Lord St. Raven? He is a good man. A fair man. He would compensate you adequately. He’s not a stickler for propriety, which would allow you more of the freedoms you’re used to. Before the accident, he spent most of his time in London, at any rate.”

Shopping, no doubt, but Henrietta kept the uncharitable thought to herself. “He does seem as though he has a kind heart, but we would not be a good fit. Louise is in need of more than what I can offer. I am not good with children”

“My dear, I hardly think that. Your education is extensive and while your manners may have rusted, you were raised in a genteel fashion. Had your parents lived, you would have had your come-out and the pick of the Season.”

“Even though I am not completely plain?”

Lady Brandewyne looked positively affronted. Her intelligence was such that she understood the sarcasm, but her ego was such that she could not believe it had been directed at her. Unable to decide how to answer, she settled for a nose-in-the-air glare.

Henrietta sought to relieve the tension with softer words. “It is very kind of you to have taken me in, but as you know, I have written several letters to nearby landowners and will no doubt find employment in record time.”

“As you wish, my dear. I recommend that you do not make any decisions until after the house party, though.” Lady Brandewyne’s lips pursed and for a moment, Henrietta had the strangest feeling that the lady was laughing at her, and that she’d been duped somehow.

* * *

Blackmail.

Dominic stared at the apothecary, who stood in the dark corner of the cottage, where he’d requested they meet.

The return to the St. Raven estate had been painful, just as Miss Gordon had said it would be, but after three days he’d decided to leave. At the mention of going to his estate in the north, Louise had begun weeping. She claimed to miss her home, and so, despite his reluctance to live at his dead brother’s estate, he’d taken her back to St. Raven.

It was now her home, after all.

Old John, who’d been in the village near St. Raven since Dominic was a young boy, smirked a yellowed, rotting smile.

Dominic crossed his arms. “Let me understand this correctly—you are wanting a monthly stipend from me, and in exchange, you will not tell anyone of my condition. You realize the penalty for blackmail?”

The apothecary shrugged. “As I see it, if word gets out that you’re afflicted, you’ll lose the estate and the niece.”

Dominic laughed coldly. “What makes you think I care?”

“Seems to me that niece of yours is going to get shipped off if you don’t keep her here. I’ve heard talk. She can’t keep a governess and her aunt wants to send her away.” Old John sidled closer, his eyes gleaming wickedly in the morning light that streamed through the windows of his ramshackle cottage. Apparently being in the medical field didn’t pay enough.

“I don’t deal with blackmailers.”

“Ah, but for the sake of the child? Will you let her be sent off, her spirit crushed by well-meaning adults? She will be, you realize. On both counts.” Old John cocked a brow. “And you will be ostracized. Epileptics scare society.”

“Is that what you think I am?” he asked slowly.

The apothecary cackled. “You’ve been moping in northern England. I happen to know someone who witnessed one of your fits and he promptly wrote to me. I can see you’re thinking about what I’ve said. My partner will give you three days to decide what means more—the girl’s happiness or a bit of coin each month.”

Dominic’s jaw was stiff. His first instinct was to tell Old John to rot. He didn’t care what society thought of him and he didn’t care about the estate. He just wanted to find a cure.

But he loved Louise. He just hadn’t realized what taking care of a child entailed. He’d always been the fun one, who brought her trinkets and cakes, who whisked into her life and whisked out with nary a cross word from her.

He glared at Old John and stalked out of the cottage. The ride back to the estate gave him time to realize that some of what the man had said was true. If word got out about his illness, Barbara would swoop in and take Louise. She might even have legal grounds, especially if he was taken against his will to an asylum. And then what?

He knew already, because Barbara had been sending him weekly letters urging him to send Louise out of the country to a finishing school for “difficult” girls. When this last governess quit, he had finally realized that if he didn’t go and get Louise, his sister would. The situation could turn ugly, indeed.

He dropped off his horse at the livery, but there was no one in the stables to greet him. Frowning, he surveyed his surroundings, noting the disarray and general filth. Edmund’s stables had never looked this way before his death.

He stabled the horse himself, pondering. Could he care for Louise, even with his illness? Could he oversee the estate while searching for a cure?

And the biggest question of all: Could he keep his illness a secret from the ton?

For some reason, Miss Gordon entered his thoughts. Strong and plucky, making her way in a man’s world. If anyone knew how to accomplish something, she would. Perhaps he ought to meet with her.

When he returned to the main house, Jacks greeted him with a letter and a squirming Louise.

“I simply wanted to have tea with you,” she said crossly, speaking before the valet. “I’ve missed you. Are you home for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Yes.” He eyed her.

She twisted away from Jacks. “I shall meet you in the solarium, Dom, and we can discuss our new life together over tea.” Flashing a smile that looked just like her father’s, which stabbed pain through Dom, she pivoted and ran down the hall.

He opened the letter, which was an invitation to a ball hosted by Lady Brandewyne. Miss Gordon would be there, he realized. And suddenly, it felt imperative that he speak to her, face-to-face.

He handed the invitation back to Jacks. “Send an acceptance.”

Chapter Four (#ud42ca2f8-c181-5e4d-a742-10605ce140c2)

Henrietta had definitely been duped. As the time for the house party drew closer, Lady Brandewyne’s intentions became completely clear.

She was trying to marry off Henrietta, no doubt with Uncle William’s blessing. His reasons for leaving were obviously a strategic tactic to aid Lady Brandwyne in her matchmaking.

Had he stayed, Henrietta would have been able to talk him out of this madness. But he had left to avoid the conversation, a realization that put her in a decidedly black mood.

To make things worse, Lady Brandewyne seemed to think Henrietta had forgotten the most basic tenets of How to Behave Like a Lady. When Henrietta emerged from the library or returned from a walk, invariably the woman gave her not-so-subtle etiquette lessons. Henrietta gritted her teeth and bore the verbal onslaught. After all, she was a guest in the dowager’s home.

It was not as though she had not considered leaving for London. Uncle William let a house in Mayfair, but the Season was in full swing and Henrietta had no desire to stay in an area where carriages would be bumping across the roads into all hours of the morning. If not for that, she’d leave at once for a more peaceful setting with less marital hints.

“The house party shall be a small affair, really.” Lady Brandewyne had called Henrietta in for tea in the parlor. She eyed Henrietta as though examining an infectious wound.

“I am expected to attend?” She knew she was, but she asked anyway, some puckish urge overtaking her mouth.

“But of course! It is, in a way, in your honor.” She ignored the horrified expression Henrietta could not stop from displaying. “I’ve taken the liberty of procuring gowns based on the measurement of your other dresses.” She gestured to the maid, Sally, who came over. “Bring me those boxes that were delivered earlier today.”

Sally left while Henrietta struggled to control her temper. She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the ferocious pounding. “You have bought gowns?”

“Only a few. I wanted to surprise you.”

Henrietta barely swallowed her snort. Surprise, indeed. More like browbeating. She feared this house party would best her social skills in unanticipated ways. She drew a deep breath, willing herself to smile, though her cheeks bunched unnaturally and her lips felt tight.