Page 14 of The Earl's Disguised Governess
“Perhaps if you left, then you would not hear it,” Lady Florence countered, frustration in her voice. “I must continue to play if I am to be good and be successful in my debut! Should I not focus on impressing a husband?”
“Right now, your focus should be on not causing me any grief, yet here you are. Your lack of manners is outrageous. Did your mother teach you nothing?”
“Do not speak of my mother, please, Lady Katherine,” Florence sniffed, her head hung.
“Lady Katherine, what is happening?” Claire asked, interrupting the two women. Lady Katherine whirled around, her long ringlet of a ponytail flying to her other shoulder. “I do not think Lady Florence deserves such harsh words. She is only practicing what I have taught her and instructed her to do. Her cousin, his lordship, is happy with her progress—”
“He is?” Lady Florence asked.
“And I have invited him to watch Lady Florence play soon. She wishes to impress the man who is her legal guardian. Surely you understand that.”
Lady Katherine gaped, her painted lips in a pout. She wore a fanciful day gown in a green colour that complemented her chestnut-brown hair, the same as her son’s. A few elegant strands of grey streaked through it. Her cheekbones were high and prominent, but her features made her look cruel and shocked as she stood in the midday light.
“Surely I understand that?” she gasped as if she could not dare to believe someone would ask her such a thing. Claire worried that she had overstepped and went to apologize, but before she could, Katherine shook her head, throwing an arm out towards the door.
“Leave,” she ordered, and Claire clutched her chest.
“I am sorry—”
“Not you,” Lady Katherine sighed. “Her. This insolent child! Grief does not excuse pitiful manners, girl, and you shall do good to remember that.”
Lady Florence stood up, her face twisted in silent anger, as she balled her fists. She spared a glance at Claire, who nodded gently, her face apologetic, before she fled the room, the sound of her tears trailing after her.
“Lady Katherine, I think that—”
“I am the lady of this household,” Lady Katherine hissed. “I run this household. I was born in this house and have reclaimed it with everything I have. I have fought for my title once again, and I shall not have an insolent little child question where I may go in my own house!”
“Please, Lady Katherine, she was merely practicing her pianoforte. The earl had suggested it be one of the instruments she learns, and Lady Florence is already very proficient. I am very proud to be her governess.”
“If you are so proud, then you shall have no problem hearing that Lady Florence is in a very vulnerable state. She is malleable, and if you are her governess, as good as you say you are, then you must be firm with her. She cannot be coddled and excused over grief or childish indulgence. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Lady Katherine,” she said, bowing her head, wondering if this was how mamas spoke to their debutantes when instructing them how to behave at the seasonal balls. I would not know, she thought. She did not agree with the instruction, for Lady Florence had done nothing wrong at all.
“There is to be a dinner party next week,” Lady Katherine said, lifting her chin as if once again haughty and in charge. She marched over to the doorway, leaving despite having already ordered Florence out. “Ensure the child’s attitude is fixed before then.”
“She is your niece,” Claire whispered, but Lady Katherine had already left, showing no sympathy or care for her own family.
Perhaps the rumours were true. Perhaps Lady Katherine had done some cruel things to regain her title, but who was Claire to judge when it came to doing what one must?
Chapter 5
All week, his mother had been insistent about throwing a horrendously outrageous dinner party that would bring the entire Ton back into their favour and quell any rumours.
Ernest had to admit that he was starting to listen to the rumours—some defamed him, others defamed his mother. Some gossiped that they had only inherited the title due to Ernest’s service and that the real, former earl had absconded to Europe. Each rumour got more and more ridiculous.
But the only thing he knew to be true was that his mother was celebrating her brother’s life—and his death and he did not like how.
The dinner party was under way, with guests filling the drawing room until dinner was called. The wine was poured, conversation flowed, and his mother swanned about the room in a beautiful cream gown, the very centre of the chaos and flurry of activity.
Lady Katherine thrived on it, and as Ernest stood to the side, accepting another glass of wine from a fellow earl who pressed it into his hand, he could not help watching as his mother displayed exactly why she should never have left the Ton years ago to marry his father.
A pang of bitterness curled in his chest.
She glided effortlessly, charming and gracing those around her. Every inch the elegant lady of the house, Katherine Barnes left no doubt that the Barnes’ rise may have been questionable to some, but it was not undeserving.
He turned away.
“We were just discussing the state of the American independence, Bannerdown,” Lord Everly was saying. “Well, Monroe. He is one of the last Founding Fathers over there. I believe he is looking positive to win the election.”
