The Unconventional Governess

by Jessica Nelson

  “But you speak of God’s love, and He is not made of chemicals.”

  She blinked. “I have never thought of that.”

  His mouth curved. “Perhaps my brain is not so atrophied after all.”

  Finally, she could smile. The pressure lifted from her chest with that one sentence. “We shall give you the benefit of the doubt, my lord.”

  “Why do you suppose you have these dreams?”

  “Why?” She shrugged. “Perhaps your altercation with Louise brought back memories of my own family. My old home is not far from here. An hour or so? I believe Lady Brandewyne and Uncle William grew up as neighbors.”

  A tickle curled at her neck. She reached up and realized her hair was falling out everywhere. One pin poked behind her ear. She pulled it and her hair cascaded over her shoulders and down the front of her pelisse. It was a particularly thick fabric that served perfectly when she’d been with her uncle, suitable for occasions for when she was called out suddenly in the middle of the night.

  She dipped her fingers beneath her hair, lifting it to repin, and she noticed St. Raven staring at her strangely. An odd expression was in his eyes. When their gazes met, he looked quickly away, making a strange sound in his throat.

  Frowning, she repinned her hair quickly. “Please say there is not a stray crumb in my hair.”

  “No.” He cleared his throat. “Not at all. Your hair is just very long. Surprisingly so.”

  “Well, most women have long hair,” she said primly. She rather liked her hair color, too. Perhaps it was vain, but the swirls of brown and gold reminded her of a caramel she’d once eaten in Paris. Her hair color was, perhaps, her only mark of beauty. “We should return to our rooms.”

  “Your childhood home is nearby, you said.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t we visit it tomorrow?”

  “Whatever for?”

  “Remembrance. It might be a good idea to see it as an adult, to banish those childhood fears.”

  “They are not fears.” She heard the starch in her voice. And she smelled the smoke again, the fire at home and the fire at Newark mingling into one overarching terror. The loss of those she held dear. Her parents’ graves were in the Morningside village cemetery. They had their own vault. “I have never, however, visited their mausoleum. That might be an important trip to make.”

  “It’s set then. Tomorrow after we break our fast, we will depart for Morningside.”

  Henrietta nodded, quickly making her escape to her room, but uneasiness gnawed at her throughout the night, and sleep eluded her.

  Chapter Twelve

  There was no denying the heavy dread weighing on Henrietta’s shoulders as they began their trip to Morningside Manor the next morning. They had decided to ride horses, after determining the fair weather would make for an enjoyable journey.

  A cloudless cerulean sky accompanied their ride. Dominic had attached a lunch basket to his saddle and Louise rode ahead, sporadically sliding off her docile mare to collect wildflowers growing on the edges of the road. Her enthusiasm distracted Henrietta from the direction of her thoughts. Though she’d had no more nightmares, she still felt the thick, pungent stain of smoke coating her tongue, poisoning her day.

  Memories were sliding through her, slippery and too quick to catch. She hoped visiting her parents’ mausoleum might bring a type of comfort. Or at least a respite from bad dreams.

  Beside her, Dominic’s horse snuffled. He tossed his head. Her own mare responded with a whinny.

  Dominic chuckled. “They are bored with our silence.”

  She patted her mare’s chestnut flanks, appreciating the sleek hide beneath her fingertips, the way sensation grounded her to the present and made her forget that ashy taste in her mouth. “Nonsense. They are animals. They’re simply responding to external stimuli. A fly, perhaps.”

  “Where is your imagination?”

  “In my brain, where it belongs,” she responded pertly. Perhaps this trip would not be so onerous after all. “I am interested in seeing the village after the cemetery. My supply of chamomile is running low, and I’d like to get more feverfew.”

  “You’re demanding for a governess.”

  “It’s temporary.”

  “Your demands?”

  “Don’t sound so hopeful.” She shot him a grin. “The position.”

  “Ah, yes. Being a governess does not suit you.”

  She drew her horse to the left, as it kept gravitating toward St. Raven’s. “No, that is not it at all. I enjoy teaching Louise.”

  “Bossing her about.”

  “Really, my lord, do you want to have a conversation or are you going to persist in sniping at me the entire trip.”

  He chuckled, an easy roll of laughter. “I am only returning the favor.”

  “I don’t snipe at you.” She touched the horse with her heels, determined to leave the earl behind.

  He sped up, drawing his mount close to hers. “Don’t be so prissy, Retta. I’m jesting. Tell me more about your herbs, if you want.”

  “Prissy? Retta?” She pressed her lips together to give him the impression she was highly irritated, when in fact, for the oddest second, her stomach flipped and she felt unaccountably pleased by his teasing tone. They had grown even closer, somehow.

  He quit his teasing to ask her about herbs, and as she spoke, warming to her subject, she remembered how fulfilling it felt to fix people’s hurts. Before she knew it, they were cresting the hill that led to Morningside Manor. Dominic had listened so well, and asked so many intelligent questions, that she’d forgotten herself and monopolized the conversation.

  Louise pounded over, her small mare’s dark mane streaming in shining wisps. Her broad grin betrayed her excitement. “Is this where you grew up? Why, it’s lovely. The most lovely, flowery home I’ve ever seen. There is ivy growing up the walls, Henrietta!”

  Before they could respond, she whirled her horse around and galloped the rest of the way up the hill, then disappeared over its top.

  “I guess that means my cousin rebuilt.”

  “Your cousin? William Gordon did not inherit?”

  She shook her head, slowing her horse as they neared the top. A bitter unwillingness to see her former home choked her. “He is the third son. My father was the oldest. The second son inherited, but I believe he died several years ago, leaving my cousin as owner.”

  “Perhaps we should pay a call.”

  “No, no, I would rather not. That is no longer my world.”

  They were getting closer now. Closer to seeing the place she tried to never think of. The childhood she’d deliberately forgotten until memories took her dreams hostage.

  Dominic said, “Do you not find it unfair that your uncle pulled you from what could have been a life of wealth and comfort? He thrust you into a life of war, a life not fit for a lady of your stature.” Though he spoke gently, Henrietta felt the sting of his opinion.

  She loosened her grip on the reins, which were digging into her palms. Remembering brought more pain. They reached the top of the hill, and there was Morningside Manor.

  Rebuilt.

  Splendid in the morning wash of sunlight, gleaming with good health and care. Louise had been right. There were several colorful gardens visible from here, planted in careful symmetry around the rectangular structure of the house. A catch of breath was trapped in her throat and for a long second, she was certain her heart forgot to beat.

  “I expected rubble,” she said quietly. Her horse stomped, impatient to keep moving, but she did not want to go any closer. Louise sat at the base of the hill while her mare snacked on the succulent grass.

  “Why?”

  “I suppose that moment in my life is frozen in my memory. I left and never came back.”

  “But you knew your uncle would inherit. You must
have known they’d rebuild.”

  “I suppose I did not think too closely about it. I threw myself into studying the human body, various diseases, how to heal people. The past remained shut away, a painful time I refused to dwell on.” She could not look at him, for a betraying sting pricked her eyelids. She needed a moment to compose herself, to concede that the world had moved on while she remained ensnared by the past.

  She inhaled, dismayed that it was a shaky, unsure breath. “My aunt and uncle tried to take me in. But I was fifteen. I was being groomed to enter society, to make an advantageous marriage, and I was angry. Furious that my parents had been taken from me. Uncle William came for the funeral. While the others were weeping and having fits of vapors and multiple glasses of cognac, he was stoic. He stood at the grave strong and in control.” She blinked and, once sure her eyes were dry, looked over at Dominic. His somberness encouraged her to continue. “I admired his fortitude. I watched him, and I did not cry, either. We had a chance to speak and I found that a gargantuan curiosity lived inside of him, the same that breathed within me. He was a university-trained physician who expanded his knowledge by performing surgeries. He did not care that gentlemen are not to work. He was breaking societal molds. Doing important things with his life. And he was so kind. It is in his eyes, Dominic, a great and charitable kindness that reminded me of my father. And so I chose to go with him.”

  “I am surprised your guardians agreed.”

  “They did not, at first. There was a great fuss involved. My aunt had no daughters and was looking forward to giving me a come-out.”

  “Most young ladies are determined to marry.” A sour note tinged his tone.

  “That is true. But, you see, I had already developed an interest in learning from my father. He was a natural teacher. My mother enjoyed botany, as well. I eventually achieved my goal of going with Uncle William when I pointed out that my parents, titled as they were, did not have a great deal of wealth. Therefore, taking into account my plainness and my lack of dowry, it was determined that my odds of catching a husband of rank were low. It would probably take several years of expensive Seasons, clothes, tutoring in the fine arts of being a well-mannered debutante... You see my point. Then I proceeded to behave monstrously. I made my aunt’s life miserable. She finally gave me to Uncle William.” She noted Dominic’s look of surprise with a confirming nod. “Yes, I was worse than Louise. Older. More manipulative and determined to have my way.”

  “I have only seen you behave in a straightforward manner.”

  “Uncle William and my relationship with God have changed me.” She proffered what felt like a rueful smile. “Though, as I am planning to join my uncle, unbeknownst to him, perhaps I have not completely ceased my manipulative maneuverings.” They shared a smile then, and she found her heart skipping, lightening. Warmth not caused by the sunlight suffused her being.

  How very easy it was to speak to Dominic. He made her feel both comfortable and comforted.

  Dominic brought his horse closer, leaning forward until she could feel the heat of his face against hers.

  “Your aunt and uncle were very wrong about one thing,” he said in a husky, low voice that put tremors in her belly.

  “What?” she asked in a shallow, breathless voice that sounded unfamiliar to her ears.

  He grinned, the lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes, unbearably attractive. “You are not plain.”

  * * *

  Dominic could not take his eyes from the woman riding in front of him. Radiant. That was the word that came to mind. Effervescent, even. And the irony was that she had no idea, or perhaps she did not even care. She called herself plain.

  If one did not speak to her, one might make such an assumption. But he remembered the first time he’d seen her, hovering over him, eyes alight, alive...with warmth. Compassion. Dark with intelligence, and because she’d been so close, he’d noticed her lips.

  Despite the pain he’d been in, those lips had made a quite remarkable impression on him.

  They rode past the estate now, not venturing closer. Louise and Henrietta were ahead of him, discussing flowers and herbs. He gripped the reins, urging his mount to pick up pace. He should not have said such a thing to Henrietta about her looks. She was the governess and not even a permanent one, at that.

  He hoped she stayed a few years, at least. Long enough to prepare Louise for society, or until his niece was ready to enter a finishing school.

  He read the longing in her eyes to practice medicine again. Any flirtation would be temporary, at best, and though it amused him to put color in her cheeks, he needed to exercise more self-control. There was also the matter of his illness.

  He was in no position to indulge in any romances. Not with Barbara’s constant desire to take Louise and Old John’s threats to expose his epilepsy. He was to make another payment soon. A nuisance, and everything in him protested the acquiescence to the spineless blackmailers.

  He pulled up alongside the ladies. “Where are we headed, as Morningside Manor is now behind us?”

  “The cemetery,” said Louise. “I picked flowers for Henrietta’s parents.”

  But when they reached the spot of their burial, and dismounted, there were already flowers at the mausoleum door. He caught the shock flitting across Henrietta’s face. Masking it, she dropped to her knees, hands clasped.

  “Someone has brought my parents fresh flowers.”

  Louise slipped her hand into Dominic’s. “Does that mean they are missed?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “And cared for. Are you sure you do not want to make a call on your cousin?”

  “The Season has started, and I doubt anyone is home.” She stood, shaking debris from her skirts.

  “Take a second alone.” Dominic steered Louise toward the horses. Well he recalled visiting the graves of his family. It was a private moment, for reflection, for remembrance. But as they waited with their horses, he found that the wan complexion and sober set of Henrietta’s lips bothered him.

  She did not take long and when she walked back to them, a telltale sheen dusted her eyelashes.

  “Let’s eat,” said Louise, who had been suspiciously quiet this time. She, too, felt the sadness of the visit. They stopped to picnic near a stream. The trees offered shade, but the meal was quick. He could see the distraction in Henrietta as she ate.

  “The village should have an herb shop,” he said as they packed up. “We will inquire about who leaves the flowers.”

  “Someone who loved my parents,” said Henrietta.

  “Agreed.”

  The ride to the village did not take long. It was a quaint little town with various shops and an inn, just as he expected. They left their horses at the livery to be fed and watered for the return ride to St. Raven. As they neared the herb shop, Dominic spotted a familiar figure.

  The apothecary, striding toward them with a leer, prompted Dominic to pause outside the door. Instead of going inside with the ladies, he crossed the street, hoping his blackmailer would follow him.

  Old John met him on the corner of the walkway. He spoke before Dominic. “I’ve been waiting.”

  “You’ll have your money.”

  Old John cackled, rubbing his hands together. “It’ll be double this time, for your tardiness.”

  Dominic’s jaw hardened. “It is not due until tomorrow.”

  “We changed our minds.”

  Never negotiate with a blackmailer. It’s not that he didn’t understand that no good would come of this situation, it was simply that at the moment he didn’t feel he had any other choice.

  Old John was eyeing him, licking his lips.

  When Dominic still didn’t speak, he said, “It’s a simple matter to send a small note to your sister detailing your sickness. I’m sure she’d be happy to get her hands on yer estate. Not to mention the girl.”

 
“You’ll have your money,” he said tersely. “Did you follow us here?”

  “Nay, we apothecaries trade herbs. In fact, I was headed there now. I’ve heard yer new governess deals in medicine.”

  He didn’t like the gleam in the old man’s eyes. “Leave now and you shall have your double this afternoon.”

  “Ye’ve not much to bargain with, but I’ll give ye that for now.”

  Dominic strode past him, heading to the shop to join the ladies. They were at the counter paying for their goods when he arrived.

  “Allow me,” he said over Henrietta’s protests.

  Then they left and no sooner were they riding home, Louise in front as usual, than Henrietta turned to him. “Out with it,” she said in a crisp tone.

  “Out with what?” He patted his horse’s neck, avoiding her face.

  “You have been sulky and taciturn since we left the village. What happened?”

  “It’s not your concern.”

  “Not my concern?” A sharp edge entered her tone. “You have seen me at my most vulnerable, and I have seen you at yours. I do believe it is my concern.”

  “You’re my employee.”

  “I am not just an employee, and well you know it.”

  Dominic nudged his horse to move a bit faster. Telling her about the blackmail would only draw them closer, but it was unwise. He didn’t wish to grow closer to Henrietta. He had a disease to cure and a child to successfully raise. Besides, she might try to fix the problem and that could lead to Barbara discovering his epilepsy.

  Which would mean doctors and doubts about his sanity and more problems than he wished to think about.

  “That is all you are, Henrietta.”

  “Balderdash.”

  He raised his brow at her then. Her face was flushed and her eyes sparked.

  “There is no need for you to be upset,” he said, trying to smooth her obviously rumpled feathers.

  “No need? I hardly think you are one to speak to me of what I may or may not need. You hardly know me.”

  “I know that you excel as a governess. I know that eventually you will join your uncle and exceed society’s expectations of a woman practicing medicine. I know that you needed to visit your old home to heal the wounds of your past.”