Chapter 17
Rupert paced beneath the elm tree the next day, rehearsing in his thoughts all that had passed between him and Alice two days previous.
Kissing her had proven marvelous. But she had rushed away with such haste, he had to wonder if he had done something wrong. Had he acted too hastily? He had never been very good with people—at least, not beyond the small, polite talk his parents had spent years teaching him to perform.
But Alice was different, wasn’t she?
Rupert dropped his forehead against the rough bark of the tree trunk. After they went so long without seeing one another, he had reacted to her presence like a starving man placed at a well-laid table. His enthusiasm may well have overwhelmed her.
Then there was her concern about her position. Governesses likely could not court. He had never heard of a governess who had. Had he?
Some married, he thought. One of his own governesses had, but years after she had left his family. When he had grown past such an age to need a governess, she had sent a letter informing them of her news. At least, he thought he recollected that happening.
He started pacing again, until a snatch of bright blue caught his eye. Rupert stopped and stared as Alice entered the rose garden, her steps hesitant and an uncertain smile upon her face.
The blue gown was not something any of his governesses had ever worn. Dressed as she was, she put him in mind of butterflies, wildflowers, and summer skies all at once.
He came from beneath the tree, wearing his admiration openly. And in the instant his hand touched hers, Rupert quite forgot his worries. She had come. They would muddle through somehow.
“Will you walk with me?” he asked, gesturing out into the garden. “I wish to know everything about you.”
“Everything?” She looped her arm through his, and her cheeks turned pink. “There is not all that much to tell, I’m afraid.”
“How can that be, when you have lived more than twenty years in this world without me knowing of it?” Rupert might have sounded like a fool, but he hardly cared. He wanted to know her.
She began somewhat hesitantly. “My parents died when I was five years old, and I was raised by my relatives. By whomever could spare the room or had the ability to manage an additional child.”
Rupert nodded as she spoke. “Like our friend, Geoffrey. I cannot think one child could cause all that much difficulty.”
“One would think.” She punctuated her sentence with a sad smile. “But parents will always put their own children first.” Though she began reluctantly, her story wove around them as they walked. He asked the occasional question, but it soon became clear to him why she was reluctant to speak of her past.
Somehow, despite her kindness and cleverness, Alice had never been wanted by her family. Though she shared moments of happiness in her childhood, Rupert’s heart ached for the little girl without a permanent home. She had never known when she might be shuffled from one household to another, or what the next family would be like. Would they treat her as family or a servant? Would they keep her for a year or only a month?
They walked down through the gardens, away from the structure of the rose hedges and the careful arrangement of statues. Through the sunken fountain’s garden, where several frogs chirped and burbled happily to each other. Finally, they arrived at the meadow. Far enough away from the castle’s windows that—Rupert hoped—Alice would be more at ease.
Rupert asked fewer questions, and they gradually fell into silence sitting upon the meadow grass.
Alice had removed her gloves to pluck at daisies, and her restless fingers wove them together. Rupert leaned back on his hands, watching in silence, her history heavy on his heart. He saw the ring she wore on her thumb flash once in the sunlight, silver and scarred with slight scratches from years of wear.
“The ring you wear,” he murmured. “Where did it come from?”
She paused a moment, then put her daisy chain in her lap in order to slip the ring from her thumb. She held it out to him. “It was my father’s. He used to give it to me when he went away. I barely remember him, but I remember he would put this ring on a chain, and I would wear it until he came home.”
Rupert accepted it in his palm, noting the inside of the ring was smooth and bright from her wearing it. “Incredible that a child would not lose it,” he said, trying for a lighter tone.
Then he slipped it momentarily on his finger, the metal still warm from her skin. Her hands were so slight, the ring fit the second smallest finger on his right hand. He took it off again and held it out to her. “A precious gift.”
Alice stared at the ring, then looked up at him with a crease in her brow before she accepted it again. “It is only a silver ring. And look how much it needs polishing. I don’t think I ever noticed until now how very damaged it is.”
“A little polish from a jeweler would bring it to rights again.” Rupert rolled onto his back and folded his hands across his middle. “You have lived such a life of hardship, Alice. I did not know—and now I understand. Will you forgive me for my ignorance? I can see now why you protect your position as fiercely as you do, and I would rather give up my project entirely than make you fearful of losing your place.”
He turned his head to watch her profile as he spoke, his soul aching that he had caused her fear while in pursuit of his own plans. Yes, he dreamed of publishing a paper in the Royal Society, of joining their esteemed ranks. But to do so at the cost of her peace? It would be reprehensible.
It was too soon for him to tell her—admit to her—that he had started to imagine offering her a different place. One by his side. As his wife.
The word frightened and elated him, but he kept the thought to himself.
What would that do to the duke’s regard for Rupert? Would he earn His Grace’s ire in stealing away a governess all his children dearly loved?
The sincerity with which Rupert spoke lifted a weight from Alice’s chest. She lifted her daisy chain again, tucking another stem into the plait. Then she turned her gaze to him, where he rested in the grass, his stare upon her almost fierce as he waited for her to speak.
“I feel I know the family a little better now. The children and I get along well. I am not afraid of losing what I have here. At least, not regarding the work we do together.” She plucked one more flower, adding a last bit of length to her chain before looping it back upon itself to make a crown.
Rupert watched her, his smile returning, softer now. “But you are concerned about what will happen if we are seen too often together. If I attempt to court you, as you deserve to be courted.”
Alice’s cheeks warmed and she nodded, letting the daisy crown fall to her lap. “When they took me on, the dowager duchess and her grace were both clear about my duties, and what I could not do. ‘Fraternizing with men’ was most certainly upon the list of actionable offenses.” She tried to smile, but it felt weak to her. “Oh, Rupert. What am I to do?”
He sat up and took her hand from her lap, holding it between both of his. “Leave it to me, my dear. I will put some thought to the matter. Until then, I will make a heroic effort in refraining from showing my affection for you. In public, at least.”
She peered up at him, seeing his crooked smile paired with the sincerity in his gaze. “Your affection for me?”