Page 25 of The Earl's Disguised Governess
Behind his mother were her usual gaggle of ladies who watched on in horror as if Ernest had been caught in a scandalous act. He did not think he had been.
“My apologies, Lady Katherine,” Mademoiselle Trevoux murmured, curtsying.
But Ernest’s mother’s eyes were on him.
It was clear where the blame was directed.
Awkwardly, he smiled at Miss Gundry, bowed to Mademoiselle Trevoux and his cousin, and departed.
Chapter 8
Once Claire received the letter from her mother, then danced with Lord Bannerdown, and fled the music room shortly after he had vacated it, the following week elapsed quickly.
If Lady Katherine was angry and suspicious of them dancing together, even if it was in the interest of tutoring Lady Florence, then Claire had to be careful. While Lord Bannerdown might receive scrutiny, Claire’s employment was on the line. She could not lose this opportunity.
However, no further incidents occurred that week, allowing Claire to feel more relaxed in her position as Lady Florence’s governess. And where she expected Lord Bannerdown to keep his distance after his mother’s outburst, he did not. He took every opportunity to smile at her, ask her how she was, and about her day.
Claire ventured through the halls now, a week on from the waltz lesson. She knew that Lord Bannerdown had many books in his study that Lady Florence would adore. He had a whole special collection of Shakespeare and many poetry and classical novels that Claire knew the young lady would be interested in perusing.
“You may acquire them at any moment,” he had told Claire one evening in passing when he had enquired about hiscousin’s progress. “My study is always unlocked. Please help yourself to the books. I understand that is rather unheard of, but I have nothing to hide, and that study does not entirely feel like mine. If my cousin can make use of the books in there—books that I myself have loved—then they should be used, yes?”
So, Claire slipped down the hallway to Lord Bannerdown’s study, feeling as though she should not be anywhere near the heavy wooden door as she pushed it open. She had her thoughts set on an Austen book she knew was in there.
But when she pushed open the door, she blinked, her brows lifting in surprise, when she saw Lord Bannerdown still at his writing desk.
“L-Lord Bannerdown,” she stammered. “I am terribly sorry. I will take my leave. I did not realize you would still be in here working.”
He looked up at her, his face pale but eyes bright. “Miss Gundry.” His voice was low and soft, his smile gentle in the candlelight illuminating the otherwise dark room. Outside, night had fallen. “Please come in. Are you here to speak with me?”
“I—I was coming to look for a book for Lady Florence. Forgive me, My Lord. I did not realize you would still be working so late.”
“It is not often,” he admitted. “But tonight is a night where … Ah, well, let us say my thoughts are quite loud.” He gave her a wince of a smile. “The work helps. Writing helps.”
Claire still hovered on the threshold, but he beckoned her inside. A flit of his eyes to the hallway beyond her made her move faster, mindful that eyes could be on them. They were doing nothing wrong. After all, it was not as though she was a lady of the Ton, at the risk of societal ruin if caught alone with him.
No, you have already suffered that due to a man. Although he was not improper with you but your own family. Your own family caused you societal ruin. What more do you have to lose by entering this man’s study for a book?
She stepped inside, ensuring to leave the door open unless he instructed otherwise.
Claire did not feel any fear as she moved into his study, sitting in the chair that he beckoned for her to take up. Should she have felt fear? Being alone with a man would have once put some worry into her. But now she found herself completely comfortable. Despite the late hour, despite the intimacy of his study, and the glowing illumination of candlelight, Claire felt calm and at peace.
“What is it you are working on?” she asked politely. Sat at his desk with his shirt undone at the collar, his cravat loosened,and his jacket slung over the back of his chair, he looked like a relaxed scholar, burning the candlelight as he worked late into the day. There was a tired but pleasant smile on his face, his dark hair rumpled. He messed it up further as he sighed and leaned back in his chair.
“Graham—my Courtenay—has drawn up plans for a new ward in the hospital, and I am reviewing them. It is in honour of our fallen friend whom we both mentioned.”
“The viscount,” Claire finished, wanting him to know she had listened.
Despite his fatigue, he looked happy that she had. “Yes.” He rubbed his eyes. “I am intending to fundraise for it to help with the costs. I want to be a part of the project without being the direct investor.”
It did strike Claire odd that Lord Bannerdown wouldn’t simply pour money into the endeavour, but it was clear those questions were written on her face, for he laughed quietly.
“I assure you it is not greed that stops me from funding it myself,” he said. “I have offered Graham heaps of funds, told him he has land at his disposal, even, to sell, but he claims it will only make him feel indebted to me. He wants this project funded without my direct help. Ideally, he wants it funded by the public, a way for them to honour Captain White.”
“That is very honourable.” Claire nodded. “I would like to help.”
Although her governess’s wage paid her way in life, she wanted to do what she could.
“I am sure Graham would be most appreciative.” She felt the heavy pause. “He … He mentioned you several days ago, in fact.” His eyes flicked from her and back to the plans. Was he aware that he frowned? Claire watched the troublesome look on his face for a second before he composed it into something more placid. “He seemed very fond of asking how you were. He mentioned that perhaps he would visit.”
