He saw her.
Alice caught sight of a daisy growing along the drive, tall and slim among the grass. A little bee hovered near a moment before landing, causing the flower to sway. Would Rupert know what sort of bee it was? Would he think it worthy of a sketch, or had he already captured the likeness of one of the bee’s sisters?
Alice’s smile twitched, then she had to laugh. Rupert had seen her, had noticed her, because he was in the habit of paying attention to details and creatures others deemed inconsequential. Daisies and wildflowers, moths and spiders, Rupert saw them all. He saw beauty and fascination in things others walked by without notice.
She had to have faith that a man with such an ability, even if he had left without word, would not forget her in his time away.
Even if he had been away for over a week.
And she missed him.
“No one told me the family had any members of the fairer sex as guests,” a deep voice said from behind.
Alice whirled around, a hand coming up to her throat. She had not heard the tall gentleman approach. He wore black riding boots and a dark blue coat, a tall black hat, and a broad grin.
She dropped her gaze to the ground at once, as she had been taught to do since girlhood when confronted with a man not her relative or servant. “Pardon me, sir. I am the governess.”
He would scoff and dismiss her. They always did.
“The governess? How fortunate for His Grace’s children. All my tutors were middle-aged men with scowls and foul breath. You are quite pretty.”
He stepped closer. “I am Mr. Briant.”
It was not like when she met Rupert. The weight of this man’s gaze was far heavier and unwanted.
“Miss Sharpe.” She ought to have worn her spectacles. Perhaps that would have put him off. “If you will excuse me, I should return to my post.” She started to walk around him, keeping several feet of empty air between them.
“I will walk with you.” He matched her steps, coming closer than necessary. “I came with Lord Farleigh from London. He promised sport in the country.”
Ah, a friend of the heir. That explained his presence. But not the way he cast his gaze upon her.
Alice nodded tightly. “I hope you enjoy your time here, sir.”
His words took on a sly tone. “Between the pretty maid who lit the hearth in my room this morning, and someone as unexpected as you, I am certain I will.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I am the governess, sir.”
“And I am certain someone as lovely as you could teach me a few things.”
They had reached the archway which led to the carriage house. Alice had turned their steps in that direction, all too aware of how empty the entry to the castle had been moments before.
She needed people. Witnesses. Because as strict as her family had been with her, several of her female relations had impressed upon Alice her reticence to be near some men was as important to Alice’s well-being as it was to her cousins’ prospects.
But the covered path to the carriage house, a place which allowed guests to exit vehicles and be certain of keeping dry no matter the weather, appeared as abandoned as the foyer.
And Mr. Briant stepped closer to her. “Last time I stayed at a country house, a most beautiful companion to the eldest daughter made it her responsibility to see to my...entertainment.” The quiet emphasis on the final word as he spoke it, the shadow that appeared in his eyes, did not prepare her for his next move.
Mr. Briant grabbed her wrist and pulled Alice to a stop, then forced her back a step into a pillar. Where they stood, only someone entering either end of the covered path would see her—would see whatever Mr. Briant meant to do.
Alice’s voice shook. “Sir, I cannot allow this. Let me go at once. I am under the duke’s protection—”
The darkness in the man’s eyes deepened and his lips curled sideways in a knowing smile. “Has His Grace claimed you for himself? Is that why he hired such a pretty little thing to cluck over his children in the nursery?” He bent low and kept her wrist in his bruising grip. “He is a very good host, you know. I doubt he will mind sharing—”
Alice cut off his words with a sharp slap. Which startled him enough that the horrid man released her wrist.
With only moments to use, Alice twisted away and ran for the entrance they had passed through. It was closer, and there were windows facing that way. Someone might see, someone might come—
She stumbled into the daylight, and into a broad chest, at the same moment Mr. Briant’s hand closed on the back of her gown.
Alice looked up, hoping a groom or footman had appeared—
But she looked into the face of the Duke of Montfort himself.
“Miss Sharpe,” he said, tone crisp. “Mr. Briant.”
The man’s steps skidded backward, and Alice stumbled into a curtsy likely every bit as muddled as she felt. The duke had caught her fleeing a man. A man who had implied horrid things about her. A man, given the way he had acted, rather used to getting his way.
Alice’s heart thudded with painful force against her ribs. “Your Grace.”
“Good morning, Your Grace.” Mr. Briant sounded not at all penitent or upset.
Alice raised her eyes to the duke again, her lips parted to speak, but what would she say? Could she tell him of the attack against her, of the man—the duke’s own guest—implying such vial things about her person and his expectations? A woman’s voice against a man’s was difficult enough—but an employed woman’s testimony against a gentleman’s?
Her throat closed up, she closed her mouth, and she remained in her deep curtsy.
“Miss Sharpe, it is fortunate that I found you.” The duke’s tone remained neutral but ignoring the greeting of his guest had to mean something. Didn’t it? “I wish to show my son the work you have completed for the catalog of the gardens. Did Mr. Gardiner leave behind any of the drawings?”
Alice sensed escape and spoke eagerly. “Yes, there are several in the schoolroom that I have finished coloring only this morning. I can fetch them—”
“No, no. You must join the family. The children are adamant that you meet Simon. We can send someone for the sketches.” Then he held his hand out to her.
The duke. Offered her his hand.
Alice’s head went dizzy with relief and fear all at once. The duke had never even spoken to her directly before. Yet here he called her by name, addressed her with respect before another man, and offered her escort to safety.
Rupert had said the duke and the duchess were kind. But she had not thought someone so far above her in status would ever deign to pay her notice.
She slipped her hand into his, and the duke turned to lead them back through the door. He did not invite Mr. Briant to follow, so the man could not impose his company on the duke. It was near enough a cut-direct that Alice trembled at the retribution Mr. Briant might enact upon her.
The duke stepped inside the door, and a footman—wherever had he been when she needed him there?—closed the door behind them.
“There now, Miss Sharpe.” The duke turned to look down at her, a gentle expression upon his noble face. He looked exactly like his portrait hanging at the top of the stairs in the family wing—tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair starting to gray at the temples. He had a long nose, but his cheekbones and strong chin balanced it well. “You are safe.”