Page 17 of The Earl's Disguised Governess
“And you?”
“You were truly meaning it when you invited me?”
“Of course,” he answered. Across the room, he noticed his mother’s eyes narrowed on him once again when she noticed his companion.
Get away from that commoner, he could almost hear her thoughts. It was bad enough he still worked as a physician, but to have his cousin’s governess as the person he had spoken with most tonight …
She would be irate indeed.
“I would like to mention, however, it is not due to Florence that you are invited,” Ernest mentioned. “It is simply a night of leisure. I would like you not to have to worry about your employment and simply enjoy yourself.”
Her eyes widened as if she had thought her invite was only conditional to her work.
“Lord Bannerdown …”
“I am genuine,” he told her. “I wish you to only go out of enjoyment and not employment duty.”
Her face flushed; her hands clasped together. “Then I would very much like to.”
“Excellent.” He gave her a bright smile. “Now, I have heard from my friend, Mr Graham Courtenay, at Bellott’s Hospital, that you two became acquainted the other day. He said you were looking for a woman named Emma and that you would laugh—ah, you are.”
Claire was laughing, and he felt blinded to whatever inside joke Graham and Claire had. A shot of jealousy curled through him as he watched her cover her mouth and recompose herself.
“Yes.” She giggled. “We became acquainted. He was telling me of your friend, Viscount Archibald White.”
A pang of sorrow replaced the jealousy—but then that ugly emotion reared its head once again at the thought that Graham had been able to talk so easily. Already the two had covered two topics that were now familiar for them both to reference. He tampered down his irrational feelings and focused on Claire’s voice instead.
“He was a good friend,” Ernest told her, nodding. “He died far too soon and far too young. He had grand plans for his life, and I am very sorry he shall not get to see them through.”
“My condolences,” Claire said, her voice tinged with sadness. “I … I offered Mr Courtenay a listening ear should he ever wish to talk about his grief.” Her eyes lifted to him. “And also, to you, Lord Bannerdown. I do not see why we cannot speak together. This is a large house, and the rooms sometimes echo with loneliness and silence. Do you see it?”
He nodded, although the party within this room spoke volumes otherwise. “Thank you, Miss Gundry. Graham told meyou are very intelligent; he could not stop singing your praises when we met later at the hospital.”
“In truth, he was a very kind gentleman,” she said. “Although he did look weary. As though the world had taken up a place in his face and weighed him down with its burdens.”
I wish I could tell her about the man who had gone into service with me. The man with laughter on his tongue at every moment, the man who loved to drink and dance, and how joy poured from him. A man always joking. And now, indeed, emotional fatigue and the toll of war have weighed him down.
“I should like to see him again,” Claire said. “Perhaps I can tell him about my book.”
“Emma?” he guessed.
“Indeed.” She smiled.
I wish you would tell me about your book, he thought, once again, irrationally.
But he was a fool.
And he told himself that he only felt such jealousy at her eagerness to see Graham once again due to him wantingher focus on Florence only. That was where her attention and devotion should lie.
“Perhaps you should discuss this Emma with Florence,” he said, his voice edged despite his efforts to soften it. “She might enjoy it.”
Claire frowned as though wondering why he had disputed her suggestion about Graham. But an unsure smile quickly replaced it as she nodded. “Perhaps.”
Chapter 6
A week passed, and Claire spent her days tutoring Lady Florence in their duet and testing her on European poetry. Ernest had promised he would come by to watch her performance, but as of yet, he hadn’t.
Claire didn’t mind, as Lady Florence still wished to perfect her notes before Lord Bannerdown joined them.
