Rupert turned to the mirror hanging above the chest of drawers, then grinned to himself. “I think Billings approves of Miss Sharpe.”
For some reason, that made his heart lighter. Perhaps he was not such a fool in seeking out her company.
Despite her initial misgivings—Mr. Gardiner could not really wish to spend his time with her, could he?—excitement rose in Alice’s breast with each passing hour of the morning. She sat in the schoolroom with the other governesses and children, a book open in her lap. But she could not concentrate enough to read more than a single line without drifting away in thought.
“I cannot believe they give you your half-day even when the family has guests.” Miss Felton had proven sourer by the day, especially after Alice and Mr. Gardiner had taken charge of young Geoffrey. “One would think your duty to the family more important than wasting time.”
Even Miss Felton’s horrid disposition would not quell Alice’s anxious happiness. She gifted the woman a smile. “I am most fortunate that Her Grace insists upon her staff being well rested, so that we may serve her and the family better.”
“It is not as if we are infants,” Lady Isabelle added from where she sat at the school table, picking at a sampler.
Color appeared in Miss Felton’s cheeks. “Of course not, my lady. I am certain you are quite a capable girl.”
Lady Rosalind looked up from the game she played with one of the other guests. “Truly, Miss Sharpe deserves a little time to herself. She is our favorite of all the governesses we have had.”
The defense from her charges both surprised and gratified Alice. She tried to hide her smile but made certain to offer them a wink when they looked her way. Treating the girls as ladies, capable of thought as well as choosing their own interests, had apparently endeared them to her.
Lord James was another story. He was across the room, doing sums with two other boys under the direction of their governess. Alice had no doubt he would get into some sort of mischief the moment they left him unsupervised. He still had not quite forgiven her for removing the frogs from his room, though he had seemed to understand the need for it.
Alice turned a page, then checked the watch she had hidden in her lap beneath the book’s cover. Her half-day had begun.
Closing the book, and pinning the watch to her bodice, she went to stand between Lady Isabelle and Lady Rosalind. “I am going to my room now. I trust you two will look after things.”
“Miss Sharpe, Isabelle and I wondered if we might speak to you in private for a moment?” Lady Rosalind stood, casting a glance to her elder sister.
Isabelle stood, too, dropping her embroidery into her empty chair. “Yes, please. We have something of great importance to discuss with you. In private.”
Startled, Alice could only nod and gesture to the door. “Of course. Accompany me to my room. We may speak there.”
The sisters followed her out the door and down the narrow corridor to her room. She allowed them to step inside first before entering and closing the door behind her. They both looked around with curiosity for a moment, Isabelle deciding to sit upon the bed while Rosalind took the only available chair.
They both fixed Alice with serious stares.
Her excitement ebbed away, replaced with concern for the girls. “Dear me. Whatever is the matter? I have never seen you both appear so solemn. Have I done something wrong?”
“Not at all,” Isabelle said, exchanging a look with her sister. “But we heard Josephine and Emma talking about yesterday. When Mr. Gardiner took you away.”
Alice’s cheeks immediately gave her away, heating up like bricks tucked into embers. “Oh—he only wished to show me the bees. And flowers. So I might better assist him.”
“That isn’t what Josephine said,” Rosalind announced, her smile appearing. “Josephine said he practically rescued you from the others, and you were gone for more than a quarter of an hour, and that when you came back you could not stop smiling.”
“Emma thinks you like him,” Isabelle added, a triumphant gleam in her eye. “I think she’s right.”
Knowing that the duke’s eldest daughter and her companion had discussed Alice in such a way, and before the younger girls, made her feel ill at ease. “I—I do not mean to act in a way contrary to what is expected. I know my first duty is to my position as governess. I would never dream—”
Lady Isabelle laughed. “Miss Sharpe, you needn’t worry. We do not disapprove.”
But their mother might. If word of Alice’s time spent with Mr. Gardiner reached the duchess, if she found out there was more to their time together than the duke’s project, Alice’s position might well be in peril.
“Are you going to see Mr. Gardiner today?” Lady Rosalind asked, sitting on the edge of her chair. “What are you going to wear? Mama says a woman’s choice of gown is as much about communicating what a lady thinks of her company as it is about looking her best.”
Alice put her hand to her throat, considering the question while trying to brush away the unease the girls had caused. “I—I thought I would wear this.” She lowered her hand to run it down the front of her dark brown, serviceable gown. The long sleeves might be impractical for a summer day, but they would protect her skin from the sun.
Identical looks of horror appeared on the girls’ faces.
“No, Miss Sharpe!” Lady Isabelle shook her head adamantly.
“You cannot keep a tryst wearing that,” the more romantically minded Lady Rosalind said sharply.
Alice felt her cheeks warm. “It is not a tryst.”
They both raised their eyebrows, then Lady Isabelle hopped to her feet. “Regardless, we cannot let you go for a walk with a gentleman wearing that. It’s all well and good to look frumpy in the schoolroom—”
“Frumpy?” Alice nearly laughed.
“—but you cannot stroll through a beautiful garden in a gown the color of mud,” Lady Isabelle finished severely, sounding older than her fourteen years. “What else do you have?” She went to the small wardrobe in the corner. “There must be something more suitable.”
Lady Rosalind stood, too. “And we must do something with your hair. Must you always wear it in such a severe knot?”
“It is hardly the concern of a governess to look attractive,” Alice argued, somewhat weakly.
“Nonsense. You are barely older than Josephine, but you dress like that horrid Miss Felton.” Rosalind sniffed, then pulled the chair to the middle of the room. “Sit. We will help you.”
Alice’s protests went unheard as the duke’s daughters took out every dress she owned— only six, at present—and cast each one upon the bed. Blue, gray, and brown day dresses were pronounced too matronly. The lilac evening gown met with wrinkled noses. The last two gowns apparently merited some study, however.
Lady Rosalind held one up to Alice’s chin. The gown was a pale blue, matching Alice’s eyes. It had been a gift from the same great-aunt who recommended her for the position of governess. The sleeves were long, the neckline high and modest, but the cut of the bodice did flatter Alice. The color made her eyes stand out, even from behind the clear lenses of her spectacles.
“That is pretty,” Lady Isabelle said. “What about the other one?”