The Unconventional Governess

by Jessica Nelson

“I think you should return to my estate at once. We will discuss your opinion there.”

  Her eyes flashed, dark and brilliant. “Not until you rid this town of this false practitioner of medicine.”

  “You are to leave this store.”

  She made no move to follow his orders.

  He leaned closer, not enough to flaunt convention, but close enough to smell the clean scent of her skin. “Do you defy me, Miss Gordon?”

  A speculative silence fell about the room as everyone awaited her response.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Henrietta’s breath caught in her throat, quivery and rapid, as her chest seized. The green in Dominic’s eyes this morning reminded her of burnished emerald, smoky with challenge. Out of the corner of her eye, the quack cowered.

  But in the room, everyone listened. And that was enough to remind Henrietta that though she was right, that this cowardly man who handed out advice without knowledge deserved to be banished from the village, she was also Dominic’s employee.

  He could dismiss her and she had not quite saved enough money to travel to Wales. Exhaling an impatient breath, she surrendered to his smoldering look.

  Shooting the apothecary a scathing glare, she walked around Dominic and threaded her way through the watchers. By their expressions, they had no idea what to think or believe.

  She went out and waited for Dominic. She did not pace the walkway, but merely stood silent against a post. A few meters away, a woman watched her. Wrinkles whittled her skin, the carvings of grief.

  Henrietta offered the woman a smile, which the woman responded to by moving forward.

  “Miss...” Her voice faltered.

  “I am Miss Gordon, his lordship’s niece’s governess. I am also a trained physician’s assistant.” She tilted her head. “Are you in need of care?”

  The woman glanced around, but the crowd had dispersed and no one would hear their conversation. Just as well, since the woman wore a covert expression. She came closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

  “He killed my daughter.”

  Henrietta did not startle. Practicing medicine was just that. Practicing. Terrible tragedies occurred and most often, the practitioner was blamed. That was not to make light of this woman’s obvious pain. “What happened?”

  “I came to him for feverfew, to lower her fever. He gave me the wrong thing. Laudanum. I only knew after she died. I laid my head against her deadness and smelled the opium on her skin. Then I tasted what was left in the bottle.” The woman’s face warped, wringing out her grief in dry twists.

  “I am so very sorry,” Henrietta said quietly. “When did this happen?”

  “Last year.”

  “How old was she?”

  “Lettie was twelve.” The woman stepped back. “That man is no healer.” She spun around and marched away. A second later, the door to the apothecary’s shop swung open.

  “Why are you still here?” Dominic emerged, brow furrowed and clearly displeasured by her presence.

  “You told me to leave the store. I did.” She crossed her arms. The apothecary, that terrible person, stood behind Dominic. Hiding, no doubt. “This is important. This man does not belong in your town, serving up deadly concoctions.”

  “I see you met Mrs. Lowery.”

  “She told me what you did.”

  “Wait a second.” Dominic held up a hand. “This is not the place.”

  “I beg to differ, my lord.” Henrietta fixed a hard glare on the apothecary, her stomach roiling, her heart racing. “That could have been Louise who died. Laudanum? Is that your regular prescription for everything?”

  The old man’s eyebrows drew together. He did not look cowed by her words. “I gave Lettie a mixture of feverfew and laudanum. The girl’s fever spiked. There was nothing I could do.”

  “A likely story.” But doubt took root. Grief often provoked strange perceptions. “Whatever happened with Lettie does not excuse what you have done to Jane.” She turned to Dominic, ignoring the dismay on his face. After all, being an earl meant more than wealth and privilege. “It is your responsibility to address this misuse of medicine.”

  Dominic expelled a breath in a way that suggested annoyance.

  She glared at him. “Your village apothecary gave laudanum to a woman who quite obviously has consumption. Not only that, but she has probably spread the infection. She should be sent to a sanitarium. Her lungs sound as though it is an advanced case. Did you even listen to her lungs?” She directed that last bit to the apothecary, whose blasé expression only increased her irritation.

  “That would be unseemly,” he replied.

  Archaic nincompoop. The muscles in her neck were drawn as tight as a corset. “You do not listen to the sound of your patient’s cough?”

  “I often put my ear against a man’s chest, but what you are suggesting carries a level of impropriety for a woman. It is my practice to avoid such things.”

  “You are a fraud, sir. To put social etiquette above a science that saves lives.”

  “Consumption is not curable.”

  She squared her shoulders. “But it is containable, and you have not done your part.”

  Dominic moved between the invisible artillery flying between her and the apothecary. “That is quite enough, Miss Gordon. Go back to the estate and see to Louise. I will address this with you this evening.”

  “Very well.” She shot the apothecary one last, furious look before going to collect her horse.

  It wasn’t until after the dinner hour that Dominic summoned her. She’d been able to calm herself somewhat by itemizing her concerns by importance. If she didn’t think too hard about the apothecary’s ineptitude, she could actually eat her food, a meal that was served to her cold. Again.

  Evidently the new maids were not being properly put to use.

  That went on her list. Even if his parents had spent no time preparing him for earldom, due to his being a second son, that no longer excused his neglect.

  She went to his study with a list of items to discuss.

  As usual, his greeting for her to enter sounded distracted and glum. He sat behind the desk, studying a mound of papers. She expected him to look up and appear concerned. To perhaps have grown a few more gray hairs the way she felt she had this afternoon.

  Or maybe a new line upon his face to replace that irksome dimple.

  But no, when he straightened, it was with a charming grin and spiraling crinkles at the corner of his eyes. The lamplight caught his hair in a shining mass of ebony.

  How very unfair that he was so unaffected by this afternoon’s tumult. She squared her shoulders, her list clutched within her right hand. Smoothing her hair with her left, an altogether vain move and yet comforting in the order it suggested, she seated herself and placed the paper on the desk.

  Dominic reached for it, but she slid it toward herself.

  “Is that your resignation?” The crinkles flattened. He pulled back his hand.

  Containing her surprise, she shook her head. “No, my lord, unless you feel I should tender one?”

  He regarded her, the crescent in his cheek deepening. “I hardly find such a dramatic move necessary, and today has been filled with enough theatrics without adding that to your list.” He nodded at the paper.

  She pursed her lips. “There are only three or four concerns, but they are important. I thought if I wrote them down, you might find it easier to fix them.”

  “You do not find yourself to be presumptuous?” He steepled his fingers. The green in his eyes was deeper tonight. An inane observation, but present nonetheless.

  “Is it presumptuous to see a problem and suggest a solution?”

  “I asked first.”

  “Very well. I don’t find myself to be presumptuous. I’m tired of eating cold food. Despite your new maids, it is being del
ivered to my room cold and tasteless.”

  Dominic frowned, and the tilt of his lips did nothing to detract from his handsome features. “Our food was served hot.”

  “Perhaps you could speak to your staff, then.” Shrugging off the uncomfortable thought that perhaps the servants disliked her, she continued. “It is also necessary to update Louise’s collection of books. They are outdated by at least fifty years.”

  “That is not surprising.”

  At her lifted eyebrow, he shrugged. “My brother and his wife were not interested in furthering their education beyond farming and Seasonal activities in London. The books he kept are incomplete.” He shook his head. “But that is not your business.”

  The comment should not have stung, and yet it did. She ignored it to broach the final item on her list. “My final concern has to do with the apothecary.”

  He heaved a giant sigh that to a less hardier personality may have induced pity. She was not swayed by his lack of desire to argue the subject.

  “It was you who said we would speak of it this evening,” she said in a firm voice.

  “And you never shy away from tackling difficult discussions, do you, Miss Gordon?”

  She shook her head.

  “Very well.” He fixed her with a stare as firm as her voice had been. “Today you publicly insulted him and flaunted my authority. You are to apologize.”

  * * *

  The shock on Henrietta’s face was almost comical. Dominic had no doubt that the lady had never been told to apologize for anything in her life. From what he’d seen, she had been indulged a little too much. That brain of hers had stunted other aspects of her personality, namely her humility.

  He waited while she sputtered.

  Finally she said, “I certainly will not apologize.”

  “Why?” Perhaps he should not be surprised, but he was. “Your behavior was unacceptable.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “No, you should be begging mine.” Any humor that may have been tempting Dominic to laugh fled beneath the knowledge that she truly did not see how inappropriate she’d been.

  “No. No, absolutely not.” She set her jaw in a prissy jut.

  Dominic shuffled the papers on his desk, mostly to look busy while he considered a new approach. Dismissing her was out of the question, but he couldn’t have her jaunting into the village and stirring up strife. She had inspired him to do more with the estate, to ignore the fear of failure and the commitment involved, but she was not in charge.

  “Very well,” he said finally. “I will consider the matters you’ve brought before me. In the meantime, you are not to practice medicine or provide any medical assistance without my permission first.”

  “That’s not acceptable.”

  “Your actions today were borne of emotion and anger. They were not professional and helped no one. You undermined me and what I’m trying to accomplish as the earl here.”

  She was watching him with a blank face now. Discomfited by that indefinable look, he continued, “As the master of this house, it is not unacceptable for me to demand your obedience.”

  “I simply find it odd that a man who has shunned his responsibilities now finds them so very important. Enough so to keep his people from the proper care, all to protect a fraudulent physician. A man hardly skilled enough to be called an apothecary.” There was a starkness in her eyes that he wasn’t sure how to erase.

  He groaned. One word from an angry Old John, and Barbara would swoop down with her greedy husband and take Louise. Maybe even the estate. He wouldn’t put it past his brother-in-law.

  “Medicine is a serious pursuit. He has demonstrated a lack of respect for the practice.” She crossed her legs, placing her hands on her knees as though assuming a position of authority. Which he may have found amusing and slightly endearing if he was not so surprised by her complete revulsion toward Old John. “I have no problems running my diagnoses by you, but never think I shall stop serving those who need my skill and knowledge. I shan’t. And that is all there is to it.”

  Strong words, but the tone was not combative. Rather, it was an acceptance of who she was, why she existed. Once again, an admirable trait that he wished he could emulate. He had never had purpose. Until now.

  They would never be just earl and governess. They had learned too much about each other now. And he cared for her. Drawing a deep breath, he realized it was time to tell her the truth about Old John.

  “Your strength of character and fortitude is admirable. Regardless of your actions today, I hold every confidence in your skills.” He paused. “There is something you should know. Old John has a friend who wrote and told him I’m suffering from epileptic attacks. They are blackmailing me.”

  She gasped. “I do hope you are not giving in to them.”

  “I had to, temporarily.”

  She was shaking her head. “This will not do.”

  “For Louise,” he said roughly. “If they tell Barbara or even spread rumors, then she will insist on taking Louise and perhaps even the estate. I have no doubt that she will have me institutionalized.”

  “You ignored the estate and left Louise alone, so what does it matter if you lose these things?” Her voice was gentle, her logic impeccable.

  “Do you want me to be locked away? And I am doing my best to rectify my past mistakes. I know that Louise wants me in her life. I just hope to be all that she needs.”

  “I understand. What can I do to help?”

  “Stop annoying Old John until I can figure out a way to solve this.” He cleared his throat. “My sister has invited me to a house party a fortnight from now. It will be in London. You will both go with me.”

  “Excellent news, my lord.” She smiled kindly. “We shall have much to explore and learn while there.”

  “Yes.” For the last week, since he’d hired his steward and since he’d realized how much Louise wanted him there, he’d hardly thought of the parties he was missing. There were a few widows he used to attend events with, but since his accident, he had not heard from them.

  “I had planned to tell Old John that I will no longer bow to his blackmail demands. Now that he has been publicly attacked, I will need to do so sooner. If the villagers don’t run him out first.”

  “When is the next payment?”

  “I sent one today. I have some time to figure out how to stop them without ruining Louise’s future.”

  Henrietta waved a hand. “Who cares what that twit says? No one with a modicum of sense would give him credence. Even the threat of an asylum is unlikely.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “There is a chance of institutionalization,” she amended, “but thankfully you know me. And I happen to know several powerful physicians. I will not let you be put away.”

  His brow rose. “Strong words.”

  “Well, I’m certainly not going to waste time uttering weak ones.” She grinned then. “While in London, I suppose you will be able to take up hobnobbing with your dandy friends.”

  “Dandy friends?” An unexpected laugh erupted. “Have you seen how they dress?”

  “You have a very white, elegant cravat,” she said defensively.

  “My naive Miss Gordon, you know little of society and fashion.”

  “And neither do I wish to,” she said pertly.

  “Yet you must learn, if you are to prepare Louise for entrance.”

  “Perhaps I do not wish to prepare her for a shallow lifestyle.”

  “You believe me to be superficial?”

  “That is not what I said.” Henrietta’s lips pursed.

  Dominic’s back stiffened. Of course, it was how she saw him. He had never seen the need to live in a purposeful way. No longer did he wish to use his ailment as an excuse.

  Still, her low opinion rankled. He felt as though he had
become debased in her eyes.

  Blood rushed through his head. Muscles tensing, he leaned closer, fixing his gaze upon her. “If that is how you feel, then perhaps this is not the right position for you after all.”

  “Of course it’s not,” she quickly responded.

  Stunned by her acquiescence, he tapped his fingers against the desk. “You disrespected me today.”

  “Are we back to that again?”

  He was annoyed, so yes. “I expected more from you.”

  “I demand honesty and justice,” she choked out. “I shall not apologize for confronting that man.”

  “Will you apologize for undermining me?” A bold question, but he found himself curious. He had not liked her dismissal of his station. Her lack of respect. An odd feeling, as he’d never cared in the past for others’ opinions. But hers counted.

  She wet her lips, her tongue a pale pink slip of movement against lips a shade darker than her rose-tinted cheeks. “May I think about it?”

  “Think about an apology?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was thin, and suddenly Dominic saw the youth in her eyes. She was a woman thrust into unknown circumstances, doing her best to thrive in a world she no longer belonged to. How well he knew the feeling.

  Patience and grace. He could afford to give those.

  Inclining his head, he accepted her request. “Very well. Please let Louise know that in a fortnight we shall be traveling to London.”

  “I shall do so.” She swept upward, the tight curl of her fingers against her skirts the only evidence of her distress. “Will we be visiting a library?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  A smiled curved her lips then, and Dominic felt a sure and traitorous skip to his pulse. When she left, he stared after the door, the rapid beats of his heart a nonstop hammer in his chest.

  He had told himself he would not allow anything beyond professionalism, and yet, in the few seconds it had taken to tell her about Old John’s blackmail, his feelings had slipped into a place of trust.

  He trusted Henrietta. Not only with Louise, but also with his secrets.

  He was sliding into something he had not anticipated, and he did not dare to think of where he might end up.