“Well then, what do you say we start in the kitchens?” the ruddy-cheeked older woman said, with a warmth in her voice that almost made Frances weep. “We’ll get you some dinner, then find you a room so you can rest. I can show you the rest tomorrow.”
That sounded heavenly, but the weight of the challenge ahead of her made Frances hesitate. “But I imagine I am supposed to start Lady Harriet’s lessons tomorrow.”
“She doesn’t come downstairs until gone noon,” the housekeeper replied with a wink. “That’ll be plenty of time. Come on, let’s get you and Miss Bright settled.”
She took Frances by the arm, and Frances did not resist, allowing the kindly woman to lead her toward a hearty meal and, with any luck, the first dreamless, restful sleep she had had in almost a week.
In a surprisingly lavish, comfortable bedchamber, just below the domed spire of the east wing, Frances sat at a well-stocked writing desk. Outside the cross-hatched windows, night had fallen across this unfamiliar part of the world, two owls hooting to one another somewhere in the darkness.
The hour was late and she knew she should be fast asleep by now, with an early morning ahead of her, but there was one final thing she needed to do. If she put it off, she would never be able to sleep, her mind stirring the task around and around until she completed it.
Sliding a freshly cut piece of paper from a small stack, she dipped the nib of her quill in ink and paused.
What to say? What to leave out?
She chewed her lip in contemplation, as her mind drifted to the memory of the duke’s rain-soaked shirt and stubbled jaw; the gleam of his forceful gaze; the sweep of his long dark hair, wet from the downpour; the tear in his trousers that she still itched to repair.
“Was he really catching livestock?” she mused aloud.
He had not smelled bad. Far from it. He had smelled of a forest after a summer storm. But hehadbeen rather dirty, his attire disheveled, in a state she had never expected to see a duke in.
Shaking off the thought, for it kept leading her back to the way his shirt had clung to his warrior-like physique, she began to write:
Dear Father,
By now, you will have read the letter I left for you. I hope you are not too cross that I did not discuss my plan with you, as I hope you will trust me when I say that this will be the best thing for us all. The shadow of my scandal cannot smother my sisters’ shine if I am not there to cast it.
I have reached my destination and am safe and well.
I am to be a temporary sort of governess to the Duke of Alderwick’s daughter. If you need assistance with my sisters, then ask Mrs. Garstang; she knows everything I know.
I expect to return in a month, when I hope that the harsh judgment I have received will have died down.
Sincerely Yours,
Frances
Scattering powder across the ink to dry it more quickly, she folded up the letter and stamped it with her seal, brought from London. With a lump in her throat, she held the letter for a moment, as if she might imbue the paper with everything she was feeling, every bit of anguish that had sent her away from her home and her family.
“That includesyourharsh judgment, Father,” she whispered, as she set the letter down and scraped back her chair.
Maybe a month away was exactly what her family needed—her father, most of all—to realize just how necessary she was. And maybe, upon her return, she might find that they had actually missed her. But perhaps that was asking for too much.
CHAPTER FOUR
Something is very wrong here…
Dominic Everhart thudded down the stairs with bleary eyes and a pounding head, while a knot in his neck refused to be unraveled. His manor, ever his sanctuary, felt strange to him in the soft morning light, as if someone had crept in during the night and moved everything around.
Yet nothing seemed to be out of place.
His eyes scrunched into a squint as the front door burst open, a lively maelstrom of a man breezing in with a grin. “Well, it would seem I arrived just in time. I worried you might have been up since dawn, tired of waiting, and gone riding without me.”
The man was Hugo St. Vincent, Dominic’s maternal cousin and just about the only person he permitted to visit with any regularity. Hugo’s sister, and Dominic’s other cousin, Octavia,occasionally made the journey, but she quickly grew bored of the countryside and did not much favor Bath society.
“I was in the fields until late,” Dominic grumbled, as he continued down to the entrance hall. “A tree came down, broke through one of the barns. Twenty sheep and a donkey ran off and needed to be brought back, not to mention the damage to the barn.”
It was something that still needed tending to, but he had already agreed to spend the day with his cousin before the tree came down… and that surprising woman came to his door. As such, he could not change his plans: duty commanded that he keep his engagement.
