Page 54 of The Earl's Disguised Governess
Claire’s mouth fell open. He could not possibly be suggesting he return for her hand.
He had promised it once, speaking to her of a future where they left Bristol behind, of saving her from her father’s seclusion, for she was a social butterfly destined for lavish balls and people surrounding her. Claire felt so detached from that life now.
“Lord Simon, your mistake has not lingered with me. You do not need to repay anything from six years ago. Much has happened since then, and I no longer need aid.”
“Not anymore, no, but you did then, and duty demands I honour that.”
“Lord Simon …” Her voice was harsh. Where had he discovered this new sense of morality? He had wanted nothing to do with her after her name was ruined, thanks to her father’s debts and death. “Lord Simon, as I said, I am not interested, and you owe me nothing. That is all I wish to hear of it.”
“Are you uninterested because your pride keeps you working here? Or is it something else … Perhaps someone else keeping you in Little Harkwell?”
“I do not know what you are suggesting,” she snapped. Claire turned to walk out, throwing a glare over her shoulder. “I do not need your help, and that is the end of things. Have a good day, Lord Simon.”
She walked out, and it was only when she returned to the music room that she exhaled deeply, pressing a hand to her chest where her heart thudded in a terrified, sick beat.
Chapter 19
March blew through the air, bringing with it the promise of springtime soon to arrive.
In no time at all, the snow would melt, and his journey home from the hospital would once become pleasant again. Perhaps he would even take a walk through the park when it got warmer, taking in a few last moments of freedom before the pressure of his earldom enveloped him the moment he returned to Little Harkwell.
But before he could even get to the monument for Archibald White outside the hospital, Graham called him from the entrance.
“Ernest! I am glad I caught you before you retired for the day.”
“Is everything okay, Graham?”
“Yes, yes.” He waved him off. “I called you back not to do with work but to invite you to dinner tonight at my house. It has been a while since I had company.” He paused. “I am having my cook prepare those potatoes you like.”
“The ones with the thyme seasoning?”
“Those ones, exactly.”
“Ah, well, good potatoes and company? How could I refuse?”
They laughed together, and Graham clapped Ernest on his shoulder. It had been almost a year since the Battle of Waterloo, and he was seeing glimpses of a lighter weight on his friend’s shoulders. They rode to Graham’s townhouse, and his friend led him inside. It had been some time since he had visited this residence, and walking through the hallways made him reminisce about his simpler life: a medic and his assistant. Now an earl and a chairman, yet still holding onto their physician status.
“Have yourself a seat in the dining room, and I shall join you once I send for wine,” Graham said, gesturing into the dining hall.
But as soon as Ernest walked in, his eyes landed on powder-blue sleeves capping pale shoulders and raven-black hair styled prettily.
He paused, rearing back, and snagged Graham just as he was about to disappear, no doubt on purpose.
“Graham, did you purposefully forget to mention that Lady Samantha and her aunt would be joining us for dinner tonight? I did not agree to this.”
“She is a friend, Ernest. You are both my guests. What is the problem?”
“The problem is that you have set me up! You pressed to correspond with Lady Samantha, and now she is here. Why, you are not better than my mother, Graham!”
“Ernest, I assure you—”
“You are trying to set Lady Samantha and me up so you have a clear pathway to Miss Gundry, are you not?”
“You cannot be seriously accusing me of such a thing! I would never go against you. I gave you my word regarding Miss Gundry when I saw that it bothered you.” He hesitated, and Ernest narrowed his eyes.
“Spit it out,” he hissed.
“It is only that I do agree with Lady Katherine regarding your potential match with Lady Samantha. I only wished to provide her with good company tonight, but I do think courting her—or at least entertaining the thought of asking her to court you—would be an honourable thing for Archibald’s memory.”
