Alice settled on a stone bench beneath a spray of white roses, somewhat disappointed at the children’s chosen destination.
Rupert had finished his examination of the rose gardens before Alice even arrived at the castle. She knew from his sketches that he spent most of his time further away from the castle proper at this point in his studies.
It had been an age since she had caught more than a glimpse of him, and even that had been from the schoolroom window.
Perhaps she had misjudged their friendship. Or he had decided she was beneath his notice. Or...or something.
Her eyes stung a moment, but Alice brushed aside her feelings as foolishness. Then she opened her sketchbook and began work on her drawing of Lady Rosalind. She intended to gift the sketch to the girl for her upcoming birthday. Childhood was fleeting, and perhaps having it preserved in a sketch would gratify the girl when she grew up.
Alice removed her spectacles and rubbed at her eyes, then watched Rosalind with the eyewear still in her hand. Both of the duke’s younger daughters were pretty, and would soon grow into beautiful women, likely to turn the head of every man from London to the farthest reaches of Europe.
For the present, Alice was happy to grant them the peace of their mother’s gardens.
Every day that he did not see Alice, Rupert counted as dull. Despite the progress of his work, and his lively conversations on science with the duke, he missed the governess. He missed her observations on flowers and insects and people; he missed her quick smile and her wit.
Rupert rolled over in the grass of the meadow, a dandelion between his teeth as he stared upward at the summer sky.
He missed talking to her and listening when she talked.
In fact, it had impacted his work. When he ought to have studied the workings of a hornet’s nest he found in the woods, he instead sketched more flowers for her to add color and gathered many more specimens of plants than was strictly necessary, just to send them to her.
Why could not a dinner guest fall ill again, making room at the table for Alice?
Perhaps that was an unkind wish, but it was in his mind. He had debated sending her a note, asking for a meeting, several times. As the silence stretched between them, he wondered if it would be wise. If they did not meet again naturally, and soon, he might go mad.
As a bachelor, he could hardly send personal notes to Alice when anyone might read them. Rupert wouldn’t make her fodder for gossip. His work had kept him at the far reaches of the estate, and her duties as governess kept her with the children.
“It’s possible I imagined it all,” he said aloud to a bee that came to inspect his dandelion. The bee landed on Rupert’s nose. “I know most consider me odd the moment I open my mouth.”
The bee apparently thought the same, as it took flight and left him.
Talking to bees was a new low point in his life.
Rupert sat up, then drew his watch from his pocket to check the time. Three o’clock in the afternoon, with hardly any work to show for it.
Of course, he drew near the end of the project. At least, near to the end of making observations. He had only the woods left to explore, then he would compile his findings into a book for the duke and make a more abbreviated version of the work to submit to the Royal Society.
The most interesting part of his studies was nearly at a close. He would not even need to be present on the duke’s property anymore. He could journey the sixteen miles back to his father’s estate and finish writing up his discoveries there.
Perhaps never seeing Alice again.
He wanted to talk to Alice. He cared too much about her to leave without a word, without telling her that he—
He cared about her more than he had words to say.
Rupert rose and dusted himself off, then gathered up the basket full of little cages and his sketchbook. He slung his long butterfly net over his shoulder, then he turned and went slowly up the hill toward the formal castle gardens and the castle itself.
The structure was imposing, he reflected. If one did not know it had been built a decade before, one might suppose it to be a true work of Gothic architecture. Her Grace had done a fine job on the design. Thankfully, the interior was more modern and comfortable than buildings of greater age.
He missed his own home, though.
He trudged up through the wild gardens, the statue garden where he avoided looking in the direction of Aphrodite, then into the rose gardens.
He stepped through the hedges, around a large fountain, and into another section of roses surrounding a large elm tree.
Alice. His heart surprised him, singing her name in his thoughts the exact moment he saw her.
There she sat, on one of the stone benches, in perfect profile from where he stood. She was bent over her sketchbook, her bonnet casting shade upon her face, and her bare hand flying over the paper as she drew.
Rupert nearly dropped everything he held but came to his senses and put his belongings down carefully, instead. Then he tucked his hands behind his back and approached, moving slowly even though his heart raced at the very sight of her.
She came aware of him when he was still several feet away, her posture stiffening a moment before she turned her head to see him. For a long, horrid moment she appeared only surprised.
He had made a mistake. Overstepped. Perhaps been too forward—
Then she rose, dropping her sketchbook at once, and she crossed the distance between them until she was near enough to touch.
“Rupert,” she said, her eyes glowing a clear, more stunning blue than he remembered. That was when he realized she did not wear her spectacles. Without the glass and metal to frame her blue eyes, they were magnificently beautiful, like the very sky he had stared at only moments before.
He bowed, not taking his gaze from hers. “Alice.”
Then, despite the forwardness of such a remark, she said what he had thought the whole of the morning. “I have missed you terribly. Where have you been?”
A startled laugh escaped him, then he reached for her hand, reveling in the touch of her bare skin against his. “Here and there, my dear. You have received my flowers and sketches. You know exactly where I have been.”
Her cheeks pinked and she nodded once. “In the meadow and the woods, then. I am afraid my duties have kept me inside, and with the children.”
“While mine have kept me out-of-doors.” He had eyes only for her, as the world around them momentarily ceased to exist. “I missed you, too,” he admitted. “Though I did not know what to do about it.”
“The day after tomorrow is my half day,” she said, then her color deepened. “Oh, that was entirely too eager. Of course, you will be busy—”
“Busy spending time with you,” he interjected quickly, feeling heat creep up his neck and into his ears.
Her shy smile made him adore her still more than he had before. Rupert drew a little closer and bent toward her.
“Mr. Gardiner,” a young feminine voice shouted.
Alice stepped away, her eyes widening rather comically as she turned toward the children.
The three youngest members of the duke’s brood stared at them, Lord James with a puzzled frown and the two girls with wide eyes and delighted smiles.
A colorful litany of obscure words paraded through Rupert’s mind, but he forced himself to appear undisturbed as he gently released Alice’s hand.
“My lord and ladies, I did not see you there.”