Page 48 of The Earl's Disguised Governess
His stomach dropped sickeningly. He was not surprised but more disappointed to confirm his mother truly would stoop to such lows. He shook his head. “Was that why you asked my opinion of her?”
Claire blushed deeper. “No. She had not threatened me by then. I was merely curious … as to how you view women of the Ton.” He could sense something else in her answer but did not push it.
He sighed. “My mother has become someone entirely unknown to me in these last several months. I am afraid I do not understand her motives for most things but a part of me is not surprised she has blackmailed you about something like this. I can only apologize for what she has put you through.”
“It is okay,” Claire told him, mustering a smile. “Although I imagine it must be comforting to know you have support to marry your late friend’s formerly betrothed. Some would see that as an honour, I am sure. Not to mention, it would further secure your place in Society.”
Now that she had revealed her identity as a former lady of the Ton, it was easy to see why she spoke the way she did. She knew a lot more than a governess would, and it baffled him how he hadn’t spotted signs earlier.
“Some days, I wish Society would simply shun me so I can return to being a commoner,” Ernest confessed in the quiet solitude of the library. It was as though it was a safe place, with so many books to watch over his confession and keep them safe. He sighed deeply, pushing a hand through his hair. “Did you not feel less … shackled when you shed your title and former life? Sometimes mine fits like a jacket that has grown too small.” He frowned. “Or like a jacket that was never meant for me in the first place.”
“I did not at first,” Claire told him. “At first, I missed it terribly. I cursed and loathed my father, even as I grieved him, for robbing me of what I thought was my greatest happiness. But now I have found a new life, and I have Lady Florence, and after her, there will be other brilliant minds to nurture and teach, I am sure. I have more freedom, and I do not need a chaperone, which is rather pleasant. I can visit the town bakery whenever I please.”
He let out a quiet laugh at that. He gazed down at his clasped hands. “Sometimes, Miss Gundry, I miss the war. I know I said this previously, but that is a testament to my thoughts that this longing does not cease. I miss the shouts of men, for at least I knew I was doing something then. I knew I had a purpose and a reason to be there. When I am at a party holding champagne, I find myself wondering what my purpose is. WhatI’m doing, and it is not a comforting process. My mother takes to it marvellously, but I feel like I have been tossed into the wild stormy currents of the sea with no raft.” He paused. A stronger man would not have admitted such things. “To think my only thoughts should be on producing an heir to continue the Bannerdown title is ridiculous. To think my only purpose is to be extravagant and host parties and take a wife … it is incomprehensible sometimes. And because of those thoughts, I am unable to help feeling inadequate. I do not like having this duty on my shoulders. I have faced the possibility—and reality—of risking a man’s life in surgery, and even that felt like a lighter weight to carry.”
Claire loosed a breath, loud in the sentient library.
And then her hand reached out to close over his own. He sat upright, surprised. Warmth bloomed through his chest at the simplicity of her skin on his. This is dangerous, he thought. So very dangerous.
His eyes found her mouth, and her lips parted, and his whole body yearned to lean in closer to her.
Ernest pulled his hand away before he succumbed to the urge to kiss Claire. He could not. He could not add yet another complication to either of their lives.
Claire cleared her throat, pulling her own hand back to her lap. “What should we do next?”
“I am not sure,” he confessed. “I must have some time to think of the best plan of action. However, I do know one thing. I should be the one to confront Lady Florence about Lord Victor.”
***
Dinner was a tense but brief affair. Lady Katherine opted to dine with her friends instead, leaving Ernest to eat with Claire and Lady Florence, who still partially refused to speak with either of them.
“Did you know that Shakespeare says that art is a mirror held up to nature?” Ernest said, once their cutlery was placed down, and their glasses were empty. Lady Florence looked up, and a part of him was happy to have one topic he could reliably speak to her about.
“He did?”
“Indeed. How about you and I go to the gallery?”
Lady Florence hesitated. “I do not know. I am rather tired and shall retire early tonight.”
“Only for a moment,” Ernest said. “I shall not keep you awake long.”
She shared a glance with Miss Gundry, who nodded. It pleased Ernest to know she still took the encouragement of her governess seriously, even if she struggled with forgiving them. Still, they had done the right thing in scaring off Lord Victor.
“All right,” Lady Florence said, pushing back her chair. Ernest smiled and accompanied her.
As they entered the gallery, he asked her, “If you were a character in a Shakespeare play and possessed magic, what would your magic be?”
Lady Florence did not even think about it for longer than a moment. She laughed. “It is strange you ask, for I have pondered this myself. I think I would have the ability to read people’s minds.”
“Truly?” He was surprised.
“Yes.” He walked her up to one of the paintings in the gallery, a large painting with a fine golden frame. “Because that way, I would not have to rely on only the words they say to understand them.”
The painting he took her to was of her mother and father. Matthew’s kind eyes looked down at them, his stance proud and confident. The man who had been raised to be the next Earl of Bannerdown.
He never got to be, Ernest thought sadly. He sighed, his gaze going to Lady Florence’s mother, Honora, married into the Harkwell family. Lady Florence was a copy of her mother, with her soft features and blonde ringlets.
“I think that is an advantageous ability,” he said. “Would you like to know mine?”
