of her manners? Or perhaps it was such a simple thing as her refusal to fawn over him.
His ego could not recall such a neglect.
She cleared her throat. “Where is your niece’s governess?”
“She unexpectedly quit.”
“The governess gave you no warning? No time to hire someone new?”
“It all became too much for her, I suppose. I myself would never wish to teach children.”
“You never know what you must resort to in difficult situations, my lord.” Henrietta’s smile looked suddenly sad.
“That reminds me... I shall need to write her a letter of recommendation. Could you have writing utensils sent up to me?”
“You would reward a governess who has quite effectively left you in the lurch?”
“Why, no, dear Miss Gordon, but neither will I punish her. No doubt she is already fretting over her future. She will perhaps wonder what is to become of herself? A genteel woman of good family and no money, fallen on hard times. Who will take her on now that she has left her current situation? Without a letter of recommendation...suffice it to say, England is a harsh place for those caught between the servant class and the peerage.”
“You are very astute for one who wears such expensive clothing.”
“Another jab.” His lips quirked. “Miss Gordon, I think you should count yourself very fortunate that you are not in need of employment, for that sharp-edged tongue of yours could very well be your downfall.”
“Fiddle faddle,” she rejoined, but an odd expression had crossed her face.
“And what is the meaning of your distaste of the finer things?” he continued, enjoying her discomfiture. He thought she might deserve a bit of perturbation. “I enjoy silk cravats and well-made clothing, and there is nothing wrong with such enjoyment. You would begrudge me my clothes, but have me refuse to recommend my governess? Even knowing that Louise can be trying? You’re a hard woman, Miss Gordon.”
She searched his face, and so he kept his features blasé. Her inability to correctly discern his intentions showed upon her features. “Perhaps one must be strong to survive in this world.”
“Hardness will certainly deflect any arrows to that armor you’re wearing,” he said easily.
Behind them, the apothecary coughed. Or perhaps it was an ill-disguised laugh. Scowling, Henrietta set her shoulders. “I shall return this evening to check your dressings.”
“Please do,” he called out, chuckling at the stiff way she left the room.
At the very least, she would amuse him while he contemplated how to find Louise a governess while searching for a cure for his illness.
What a positively bothersome man.
His outlandish comments followed Henrietta the rest of the day.
Tea with Lady Brandewyne that afternoon furthered her agitation. Only moments into the expected social tradition, and Lady Brandewyne reached into the pocket of her dress.
“A letter came for you today. From your uncle.” She held out a thick square, her eyes keen despite her advanced age. “I have news.”
“News,” Henrietta repeated, sounding just like her uncle’s pet parrot. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, rather like the jostling of organs when a ship took a sudden dip into boisterous waves.
“Would you prefer to read your letter first?” The lady sipped her tea, eyeing Henrietta expectantly over the rim of the cup.
Swallowing a smart retort, Henrietta opened the paper. Her shock increased with every line. Her fingers trembled as she read. Her heartbeat strummed to a near stop. Feeling very grim indeed, she set the letter to the side. “I suppose you know all about this?”
“It had been discussed.”
According to the letter, Uncle had left England without her. He had gone to Wales in order to instruct more students, but felt that Henrietta was in no shape to be traveling. He asked Lady Brandewyne to watch over Henrietta until he returned. He worried for her safety. He no longer believed a woman’s place should be assisting him at wartime, serving the poor souls of wounded soldiers. Henrietta’s battle with rheumatic fever had shown him that he wanted her safe in England, away from illness and the ravages of war. He did not believe her heart could sustain the exhaustion of working in the field again.
“Well?”
“He wants me to stay in England,” she said flatly. As she had expected, but to have it confirmed was more of a shock than she realized it would be.
“A wise decision. You are of marriageable age. The orphan daughter of an earl. Your plainness is not detracting, and your form is comely. We shall get you to London, spiff you up and find you a baron in no time. Perhaps even a viscount?”
“I have no dowry, nothing to bring to marriage but my bloodline. An engagement is out of the question.”
“A baronet, then.”
Henrietta squared her shoulders. Her life was with Uncle William, practicing medicine. He might not want her there, out of misplaced fear, but she would prove those fears to be unfounded. Time for her alternate plan.
“I shall search for a post until I have the money to join my uncle. Will you write a letter of recommendation?”
“Certainly, but I cannot approve such nonsense. This makes me quite unhappy, Henrietta.”
“Happiness is ephemeral. I have no doubt it shall return to you shortly. In the meantime, I will begin searching for a position somewhere.” She paused. “I would ask discretion from you on this matter. Please do not say anything to my uncle at this time.”
Lady Brandewyne’s hand went to her mouth. “You are not telling him?”
“I think it’s best to find the position first, and I do not wish to worry him.”
She nodded, but there was a worried glint in her eyes. “Secrets are unwise.”
“It is not a secret,” Henrietta assured her. “I would like to tell him myself, though.”
“Very well.”
Satisfied, Henrietta nodded. After tea, she immediately wrote two letters of inquiry to nearby neighbors whom Lady Brandewyne intimated were looking for governesses. She left them with the butler to be delivered later.
Knowing that Lord St. Raven was now without a governess offered a slight temptation. She disliked his effect on her nerves, yet she found herself reflecting on his unexpected kindness toward the governess who had left.
No doubt Louise would prove an apt pupil. Very bright and most likely challenging. And then they were both orphans. Oh, how she sympathized with the child. She
