And what would the duke say, if he discovered his governess spent any amount of time doing something other than what he paid her to do? She shivered and wrapped both arms around her sketchbook, taking another step back.
Mr. Gardiner frowned at her, though not in a disapproving way. He appeared confused. “If I have offended you again, Miss Sharpe, please forgive me. I did not mean to upset you.”
With an abrupt shake of her head she tried to reassure him. “I am not offended.” But she turned away from him to call to her charge. “Lord James, it is time to go inside for your art lesson.” She curtsied to Mr. Gardiner without looking. “Good afternoon, sir. It was pleasant to see you again.”
Then she fled, in as dignified a manner as possible.
Lord James scrambled after her, and when they were on the other side of the willow tree he shouted, “Slow down, Miss Sharpe.”
Chastened, Alice waited for him to draw even with her. Mr. Gardiner was not in pursuit, after all. She needn’t outrun him, or his request for assistance.
Alice bit the inside of her cheek, holding her sketchbook tighter.
Here someone had finally taken more than a moment’s interest in her, in something she could do, and she had fled like a rabbit beneath a hawk’s shadow.
Chapter 6
Chin in hand, Rupert studied the somewhat fumbling movements of a Carabus violaceus in one of the small wooden cages upon his desk. The bright violet coloring of the beetle put him in mind of the dress Miss Sharpe had worn to dinner two nights previously. Not that he would ever admit such a thing aloud. Even he knew that women did not enjoy being compared to insects. No matter that he thought it a compliment.
“Billings?”
His valet, on the other side of the room tidying Rupert’s shaving things, answered. “Yes, sir?”
“Do you believe women to have inferior intelligence?” He turned to see his valet’s reaction to the question.
Billings raised both eyebrows but did not even look up from arranging the soap and brushes needed for Rupert’s evening shave. “I have a mother and five sisters, Mr. Gardiner. Not only would they box my ears if I said yes, but they could give any number of arguments and examples to demonstrate the opposite.”
With a chuckle, Rupert leaned back against the corner of the desk. “My father has said women are less intelligent. He has never made the mistake of saying so in front of my mother, come to think of it.” Rupert considered for a moment, then sighed. “There is a Swiss entomologist who specializes in bees. He is completely blind. But he carries out all his work with the help of his wife. She acts as secretary, or so people say. But I have to wonder if she could do so much, assist him in publishing all his findings and cataloging all his research, without being as intelligent as he.”
“What of the botanist you met in London last year at your club? Mr. Banks, wasn’t it?” Billings brought a chair from along the wall and moved it before the mirror. “You said he claimed to have been influenced by his sister.”
“Miss Sarah Banks. Yes. She edited the manuscript he published about his voyage to Newfoundland.” Rupert scrubbed his hands through his hair and immediately intercepted a disapproving glare from Billings. He grinned sheepishly.
“Sir, please leave your hair, facial and that atop your head, to me.” Billings gestured to the chair. “If you are ready, all is prepared.”
Settling into the chair, Rupert continued the conversation. “My point, Billings, is that if women have intelligence equal to men, as several women of note have proven, why are they denied entrance into so many of our societies?”
Billings put a white cloth around Rupert’s neck, then lifted the soap pot to create lather with a brush. “It is not my place to say, sir.”
Rupert grunted in dissatisfaction. He remained silent throughout Billings’s ministrations, his thoughts again on Miss Sharpe. Her intelligent eyes, quick wit, and talent with her pencils marked her as a lady he should wish to know.
Why had she withdrawn with such rapidity, and apparent horror, when he suggested her help with his project?
Perhaps, like Billings, she did not think it her place. Though she had been born a gentlewoman, made most obvious by her education and mannerisms, she supported herself through employment. Though she claimed to take no offense, she had left far too quickly for any other explanation.
The situation disturbed him enough that Rupert had mentally rehearsed the scene from the day before more times than he could count. Governess the woman might be, but he needed an answer to the situation. Perhaps he could seek her out again. She had not come to dinner the evening before, as he expected given her status, and would not be present that evening.
A word alone with Miss Sharpe would clear up the situation. But a word alone with an unwed woman in the duke’s employment might also lead to trouble.
The valet finished the shave and styled Rupert’s hair swiftly, then his hand lingered on a pair of silver sheers. “Sir, might I suggest a haircut?”
The fringe falling across Rupert’s forehead bothered the valet more than it did the master. Rupert shook his head and pulled off the cloth protecting his clothing. “Not today.” He scrutinized first his appearance and then his valet in the mirror.
“Billings, do you think you could discover something for me without raising suspicion from the staff? I should like to know the schedule of a female member of the household, without causing any injury to reputation.”
Billings reacted as though Rupert had asked the man to arrange an assignation. His jaw went slack, and his eyes bulged. “A woman’s schedule? Sir, in all our years together, you’ve never asked such a thing.” Then the valet narrowed his eyes. “It is not my place to ask why.” But that was exactly what Billings did.
Rupert had to laugh at the dramatic reaction, and he tried to ignore the heat rising beneath his collar. “Not for any reprehensible reason, Billings. On my honor, I have no intention of behaving poorly. That is my point in asking if it can be done without injury. I merely wish to discover a time when I might have a word with a lady without anyone arriving to the wrong conclusion when we speak together.”
“I can make inquiries.” Billings stiffened. “Who is the lady in question?”
“Miss Sharpe. The governess.”
“The governess.” Billings relaxed. “I suppose you might speak with her anywhere except behind a closed door, sir. No one will much care or notice otherwise.”
The statement brought Rupert to a pause, midway to standing. “But she is the daughter of a gentleman, and in the duke’s household.”
Billings’s expression shifted from relaxed to the more formal mask of a servant. “As you say, sir. I believe an open door will be sufficient in this circumstance.”
Rupert’s thoughts shifted to Miss Sharpe’s interaction with him that morning. Standing as close as he had to examine first her sketches and then his own, he had seen in her eyes an emotion he rarely encountered when he spoke of science, of insects, of botany. It went beyond polite interest. She had been as thrilled with the subjects under discussion as he, despite her reluctance to share her drawings.
A meeting of the minds had nearly occurred. Rupert knew it. But he had bungled things, somehow. Perhaps if he fixed them, if he only explained to Miss Sharpe, he would see that glimmer again.