“And you were certain I was concerned about the flowers you crushed.” He followed after her, admiring the grace of her walk.
“I thought you were a gardener,” she reminded him over her shoulder.
Rupert bit back a sigh of admiration. He had to get hold of himself. He had been around many a beautiful woman before. Had both charmed ladies and repelled them, at his choice, with either mild flirtation or stories about his insect collection. All his interactions with Alice Sharpe, however, had been different. She seemed charmed by his talk of crawling things and repelled by his attempts at flirting—at least at first. Things were markedly different now. Her reactions sent his head spinning, and their time together was never quite enough for him to determine what it was that drew him to her.
They settled beneath the statue, on a blanket Billings had thoughtfully added to the basket. Rupert served her a cup of lemonade from a small jug, then fruit and cheese.
“How did you become a governess, Alice?” he asked after he had settled in with his own refreshment. “You talked of your family before, when we tended to Geoffrey. Why are you not with them?”
Her eyes lowered to the flowers, and one hand idly plucked grapes from their stem. “My parents died when I was very young. I cannot remember my father at all, though I do remember my mother. We lived with one of her sisters for a time, before she fell ill and died. My aunt kept me for a few years, but she had several of her own children to occupy her time. I was sent to my father’s mother. Then she passed away, and I went to an uncle. Then another aunt, and then everyone blurs together.”
She had been like Geoffrey, passed from one guardian to another. Never quite settling, never belonging.
“My great-aunt, Mrs. Lucinda Beardsley, was the last person I was with. I acted as her companion for a time, but then she was summoned to help one of her granddaughters enter Society. That was when the family decided I ought to try for more independence.”
Though Alice spoke calmly, her words practiced and clearly carefully measured, something about her story struck him as terribly sad. Lonely, even.
“You became a governess.”
She plucked another grape but left it on the plate rather than sample it. “To the duke’s family. Yes. My great-aunt recommended me to the dowager duchess.”
“This is your first position?” Rupert sat back on his hands, considering her reluctance to help him with his work. It made more sense that she would worry so, given that her family had sent her away with such heavy expectations upon her shoulders.
Alice shrugged. “My very first, officially, though I have acted as a tutor for many of my younger cousins. I am quite familiar with children and schoolrooms. I have always tried to make myself useful.”
The smallness of her voice at that admission caused his heart to crack. How could anyone make her feel of such little value that she had to make herself useful to live with her own family? No wonder she kept quiet in the presence of others. No wonder she defended the orphaned Geoffrey with such kindness. How little of that had she known in her own youth, passed from one household to another?
Rupert put aside his plate and reached for her hand before she could tug another grape off the stem only to let it roll freely about her plate. She looked up at him, startled, as he drew her hand close to his heart. Fixing her with what he hoped was a reassuring smile, Rupert spoke earnestly.
“Everything I know about you, Alice Sharpe, speaks of your intelligence, warmth, and kindness. You are quick-witted and a true pleasure to be near. I value our friendship, though it is early days yet. I am most grateful to have your help with my work, and I cannot imagine how anyone could see you as anything less than a lady of quality.”
Her lips parted, and her eyebrows raised high, but no word escaped her. Not for a long moment, as she seemed to evaluate his words and the truth behind them. At last she smiled, her expression softening in a way that made him want to draw closer, though he resisted the urge.
“Thank you, Rupert. That is one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me.”
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before lowering it, ignoring the desire to pull her into a most improper embrace. He had only just gained her trust and friendship. He would not lose it merely to give way to his impulses.
He had never met a woman like her. And he very much wanted to know more, know everything, about Alice.
But she had a position to protect, and he would not do anything to alarm her.
He needed to take things slow.
With great reluctance, he began to clear away their picnic and turned the conversation back to flowers and bees.
Alice floated back into the house, up the servants’ stairs, and to her room. Once there, she closed the door behind her and leaned heavily against it. Never in her life had someone paid such pointed attention to her. Not once in her memory had a man looked upon her as though she were more than a curiosity.
Her family had hinted that she held attraction for the opposite sex, and they had even deemed her a danger to her own daughters due to that fact. But Alice had thought them wrong, or else mistaken in their assessment of her looks.
For the first time, in Rupert Gardiner’s company, she had felt beautiful.
Alice went to her desk as she removed her gloves, humming to herself, when she saw a slip of paper that had not been there before. Frowning, she lifted it and turned it over to reveal a note.
The Duke and Duchess have decided to allow the children to perform this evening, with instruments and recitations. Before they take dinner with their guests, at five o’clock sharp. You are to prepare the duke’s children. - F.
With less than two hours to prepare herself and her charges, Alice leaped into movement. She took off her peach dress and pulled on the dark blue gown still laying across her bed from when Lady Isabelle had discarded it. She did up the front buttons, grateful for the practical gown, but she had no time to fix her hair.
She flew out of her room in search of the girls and Lord James. She had to ensure their appropriate dress for the evening and help them choose either a piece to play or a poem to recite that would gratify their parents’ guests.
If only she’d had more notice. If only they had more time to prepare.
Would a poor showing of the children mean a reprimand for her?
She started with Lord James, certain he would be the most difficult of the three to prepare. She knocked upon his door in the children’s part of the hall, and it opened to reveal him and several of the other boys playing at soldiers on the floor of his room.
“Lord James, you must dress for dinner this evening. There is—”
“A performance,” he said, interrupting her. His wide grin kept her from feeling any offense. “Josephine told us. I’m to go last. Want to hear my recitation?”
Alice raised her eyebrows and folded her hands before her. “You already have something prepared?”
“Yes. I thought I could give Puck’s speech from the end of the play we read last week.”
"From A Midsummer Night’s Dream?” Alice gaped at him. “Lord James, that would be perfect. I had nearly forgotten you memorized it.” Indeed, he had focused so much of his attention on frogs and catapults of late, his other activities had nearly eclipsed his interest in the mischievous Puck.
What better way to end an evening of children’s displays than Puck’s monologue?