Page 8 of The Earl's Disguised Governess
“Then he has had six months, which is two element seasons, to get to know me.” There was a sad note to her voice, a bitterness with which Claire knew well. She withdrew from Florence to go to the cupboard down the hallway to fetch an extra blanket. The night was already chilly.
When she returned, Florence was on her bed, candlelight flickering over her face as she gazed down at her bed coverings. She grazed her fingers over the textured bedding, sighing.
“I do wish for a relationship with him,” Florence said. “But I feel as though he should approach me. Lord Bannerdown and Lady Katherine are my only remaining family now, and I do not wish to lose more people.” Her chest hitched as she fought back emotion. She shook her head. “It is why I find solace in books, Miss Gundry. They remind me that I am not alone, and that people have weathered worse situations and come out feeling rather positive. It is something I hope for myself.”
“I am sure that will happen,” Claire assured her. “And perhaps I can … facilitate some connection between the two of you. After all, you are his legal ward. He and Lady Katherine should have a hand in your debut next year. He shall have to get to know you then.” She gave her a soft smile, almost teasing about the situation, but met Florence’s sad smile as she tucked herself beneath the sheets.
“Sometimes, Miss Gundry,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, “I wish I had not been a survivor of the illnessthat took my family away. Sometimes it hurts to be the one left behind in such ways, knowing the only family I now have did not choose me in their lives.”
Claire’s heart broke hearing those words, even as she resonated deeply with them. She wished to hold the girl comfortingly and take away those aches. She was far too young to feel them so terribly. But she could only brush back her hair, smile, and reach for her candle holder.
“Things shall turn out better, Lady Florence,” she said. “I shall make sure of it for you.”
Florence hesitated, and Claire thought she had fallen asleep, so she retreated, leaving her in darkness, until her quiet voice came through the shadows of her room.
“Miss Gundry?”
“Yes, Lady Florence?”
“I am ever so grateful for you. I wish you could stay forever.”
A pang of sadness speared Claire. “Me too, Lady Florence. Now, get some sleep, for tomorrow we will duet and read some more books. What do you think? Maybe a stroll in the gardens in our thickest cloaks.”
“I would like that.”
But as she passed by the girl’s escritoire, she could smell something sweet. Knowing she would not be caught, she arched the candle discreetly past the sweet, perfumed smell, finding a letter that had yet to be addressed to anyone, but bold strokes of writing littered the parchment. Claire paused, only for a moment, so she wasn’t noticed snooping.
Was it for a friend?
Perhaps… Perhaps a tendresse?
No doubt he is hoping for the day I am married off. Was that situation closer than Claire realized? Why would Florence keep such a secret from her? She had told her many things that she did not wish to be public knowledge, such as her fear of debuting and worry over being too awkward to speak to suitors.
Maybe it is merely for a friend. Perhaps I interrupted her writing, and she has yet to address it.
Claire closed the door after bidding her goodnight and retreated to her room further down the hall, slipping quietly in. She could not fault Florence for keeping secrets, for she had plenty of her own.
She set the candle down on the dresser in her room, decorated in pale blues and soft creams. She eyed herself in the mirror, letting herself, for just a moment, remember the bright-eyed Lady Claire Garner that she had once been, the daughter of the wealthy Baron Flogsend, with whom she had lived in Bristol, as high members of society.
“And now you are a governess,” she whispered to herself. “Miss Claire Gundry and nothing else. Nobody else. Lady Claire has gone, written off, just like the debts you settled for your father. That life is gone.”
She steeled herself but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside her door. Claire blew out the candles quickly and hurried into bed, ducking beneath the covers. It was still early, but she could not understand who would be at her door so late, so she feigned sleep, and eventually, it came for her.
Chapter 3
Ernest’s fist was held aloft at the white, wooden door to Miss Gundry’s bedroom.
It was strange; he was sure he had seen candlelight flickering down the hallway beneath her door for a moment. Was it possible she had heard him and wished not to talk? Had he imagined the light? If she truly was asleep, he should not disturb her simply to discuss Florence’s progress.
Then he hesitated. Did he really want to be caught around her twice in one day? What would the staff think if they saw him loitering outside her door? He grimaced and moved back. His footsteps sounded too loud to his ears, and he cringed, hoping she hadn’t heard him.
He should not disturb her with questions about Florence so late.
Still, Ernest almost resented the distance he put between himself and Claire’s bedroom door.
Instead, he went downstairs and found his mother in the drawing room, wrapped in a burgundy robe, with her hair plaited back from her face.
“Ah, Ernest,” she said, beaming at him. “I had some wine brought up. Would you care to join me for a nightcap?”
