He did not exactly have the best history with governesses for Barbara. They never stayed longer than a few months, and unfortunately, it was all his fault. For some reason, he did not understand, he terrified them all.
Morgan was a tall man with quite a broad frame, regularly maintained with boxing, riding, and fencing bouts. His stature, coupled with his mostly blank expression and strict nature, led to most finding his presence too intimidating.
This effect applied to both men and women alike, as such, Morgan did not have many friends. In fact, there was only one, Arthur Finch, and he found great humor in Morgan’s plight of fleeing governesses.
“Perhaps if you smiled a bit more you would look less... annoyed.”
His friend’s words came back to him as he approached the drawing room. He did not understand how he looked angry, though, he kept his expression neutral all the time, and rarely did he even express displeasure explicitly.
His father had been the same and Morgan did not remember the previous duke having these problems. He was a proper duke, and raised Morgan to be the same, worthy of the respect they received.
The most he had seen his father smile had been around Barbara. It was a great contrast from the way the previous Duke had been with him, but he understood. Barbara was a child. He, on the other hand, had always been the heir to the Dukedom.
Even his mother had been strict with him, always reminding him of his duties and encouraging him whenever he wanted to rest.
His parent’s training had come in handy five years ago when he suddenly had to take up the title after his father passed from lung disease. However, it had left him ill-prepared to care for Barbara when his mother passed from the same five months after.
He did not need anyone to tell him he was not enough as a parent. He did not know the first thing about children… he was hardly one himself. He was not raised to show his emotions and feared himself too cold for little Barbara who was only seven at the time.
His history with governesses started then, as he began searching for someone to help him.
It was a disaster.
One after the other, they all found reason to leave, sometimes with nothing but a letter stating their apology and nary a word exchanged in person.
Thankfully, his little sister did not seem perturbed by this constant abandonment. Rather she seemed to find it hilarious as well, almost like a game. Then again, she did not like any of her governesses very much.
Morgan attempted to force a pleasant smile on his face, keeping Arthur’s advice in mind as he stepped into the drawing room.
His smile quickly became a grimace, however, when the first thing he saw was his sister sucking on her bloodied finger.
“Barbara!” he could not keep the concern from his voice as he crossed the room in a mere three steps.
His little sister’s blue eyes lit up at the sight of him and she was on her feet in an instant, meeting him just as he reached the chaise lounge she was sitting on, and hugging his legs.
“Brother! Hello! I did not know you had returned,” Barbara chirped as though her finger were not bleeding.
Morgan patted her awkwardly on the back for a moment, before taking her hand to inspect her bleeding finger. When he wiped the blood with his handkerchief, he was aghast to find several needle pricks, not just one.
His eyebrows turned down in worry, and he turned to the governess, not remembering to check his expression. The woman squeaked when he turned to her, jumping slightly.
“Lady Anne, might I ask why my sister is injured so?” Morgan asked.
The woman’s brown eyes were wide as the open end of a teacup and her chin trembled. “Th- that is how it usually is, Your Grace, the young miss is still learning… Injuries like these are common,” she struggled to say.
Morgan inspected his sister’s finger again, his frown deepening.Such things are normal? Why would the ladies need to learn such a thing if it hurts them so?He had not realized that behind the beautiful, embroidered handkerchiefs that fathers, brothers, and husbands showed off, were bloodied fingers like these.
“This is terrible,” he muttered. A new respect for the battles of women formed in his mind as he compared Barbara’s finger to the pain in his thighs when he first learned to ride and the black eye he got when he first attempted boxing.
He was still thinking when an annoyed screech made him raise his head in shock. He looked up to find Lady Anne red in the face, with her mouth wobbling and unshed tears in her eyes.
“I quit!” she screeched. “I can’t do this no longer!”
Morgan’s eyes went wide and he let go of his sister, his hands outstretched in an attempt to calm the upset lady. What did he do? Was he about to lose another governess? He had tried so hard though! It was only a month! This would be the quickest one yet.
“Lady Anne…”
“No! Never have I met a man as cold and cruel as you, Your Grace, berating me not to make mistakes and threatening to throw me out the very first day I arrived!” Lady Anne had enough.
