“I am sorry, Your Grace,” Johanna added, her flush deepening. “I hope I did not teach Lady Verity anything too terribly untoward. I have found lightheartedness in the heaviest moments can sometimes help to ease one through them.”
He allowed his gaze to linger upon her, and he was torn between the urge to kiss her and the urge to shake her and demand the truth from her beautiful lips. His paternal rage had dimmed as he had stood in the hall, listening to their silly songs. Listening to his daughter giggle.
What a priceless sound, his daughter’s happiness.
If this woman could make Verity laugh again, part of him did not give a damn if she was colluding with every Fenian in the world, as long as she would promise to keep his daughter safe. But that was foolish thinking and selfish, too. Entirely unworthy of a man who had been entrusted with the safety of the nation.
“Lightheartedness,” he began, only to be interrupted by another peal of Verity’s laughter.
She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyebrows raising to comical effect.
Johanna placed a protective arm around her shoulders and drew Verity nearer, into the billowing silk of her skirts. “Silliness,” she said again. “We meant no harm, Your Grace.”
Good God, she was comforting his daughter, much as she had in the carriage the night before, when Verity had been safely bundled between them. What was he to say to this? What could he say? Something inside him was shifting. Breaking open. He was an egg, raw, which had just been cracked.
“I know I should not have been so unladylike, Papa,” Verity added, her tone contrite even as the mirth dancing in her eyes suggested she was not entirely sorry.
It occurred to him that he had spoken a grand sum of two words since interrupting their lively ditty. He was about to ask his daughter to go see Simmonds, his standard means of dismissing her, when he realized he could not do so. Simmonds was seeking other employment without a reference.
His daughter had survived the fire unscathed, no thanks to her, and he would be damned before he would give the woman a recommendation. Verity had confided in him that she had arisen in the commotion, to find her governess already gone. The woman had never bothered to fetch her, but had simply fled, fearing only for her own safety.
But he could not dwell upon the horrid events of the previous night for too long, or risk bringing on one of his fits once more.
Felix cleared his throat. “Verity, perhaps you might return to your chamber for a nap.”
“Where is Simmonds?” his daughter asked, instead of obeying him.
“Simmonds is no longer your governess,” he bit out, trying to stifle his ill will toward the woman and failing miserably.
If anything had happened to Verity…
If the smoke had reached her chamber…
He shuddered, for he could not entertain any more such thoughts.
“I never did like her,” his daughter said, looking rather smug. “Does this mean I do not have to read, Papa?”
“Of course you must read,” interjected Johanna before he could offer a single word. “Reading is a great gift. One that takes your mind on journeys you could never otherwise embark upon.”
Her words were true, and yet Felix could not help but to be irritated at the encroachment. And what was he to do about her? Here was a woman he did not dare believe to be what she presented herself as, a great actress, and yet every part of her—every look, word, and deed—made him want her more. Even as his rational mind knew how skillful she was at applying her trade, he could not make the rest of him discount what he had just overheard.
What he now saw.
She was still rubbing his daughter’s slim shoulder, almost absentmindedly. It was the first time he had ever seen another female showing her tenderness, and the sight hit him in the gut. So, too, the manner in which his daughter responded, like a kitten looking to receive affection.
“Do you like to read, Mademoiselle Beaumont?” Verity was asking now, gazing adoringly up at the woman who so consternated him.
“Of course I do,” said Johanna, giving his daughter a radiant smile. “I must do so, for I am an actress. I need to read scripts in order to be able to portray a character. Being able to read is very important for every lady, you will find.”
“It is?” asked his daughter, her tone skeptical.
Felix could say nothing. All he could do was watch the scene unfold, in such stark opposition to the meeting he had so recently had with his daughter, during which she had challenged him on the same matter.
“Of course it is,” Johanna assured her. “Reading is how you learn, and when you are learned, no one may look down his nose at you, my lady. You will command the respect of everyone in your presence.”
“But I have not entirely understood it,” Verity admitted, with eyes only for Johanna. “Simmonds would grow tired of my confusion and bark at me. Sometimes, she slapped my hands and made me stand in the corner.”
The devil she had.
