St. Raven appeared startled, and indeed, Henrietta had surprised herself with the bold words. Heat suffused her face, but she refused to take back the opinion.
“Your advice is noted.” He studied her further, his handsome features pensive. “Rest assured, she attended a prestigious school before the headmistress dismissed her.”
“Dismissed...that does not surprise me. This was after her parents died?”
His eyes flickered in acknowledgment.
She gave him a gentle smile. “She’s a strong-minded young lady who will need to be carefully handled. Your brother and his wife would’ve been proud, my lord.”
He looked down. “Her aunt feels that Louise would be better off in a school on the Continent. She has asked me several times for guardianship of her.”
What to say to such a confession? It was not that she disapproved of a girls’ school, but she could not help but think that such a place would stifle Louise’s natural enthusiasms.
“And what do you think?”
“I have spent the last few months in northern England at my cottage, but I had no intention of allowing Barbara to raise the girl.” He glanced down at the sleeping girl, contemplation a heavy curtain across his features. “Now I wonder if I am up to the task.”
“Raising a child is a monumental feat,” she murmured, thinking of her own family and how she’d maneuvered them into letting her live with Uncle William.
“Indeed. We are in a strange situation. One in which you are a governess who is not really a governess.”
“Not really a governess? Really, St. Raven, that is slightly offensive.”
“I insist you call me Dominic.” Sunlight glinted off his hair, the shiny strands as dark as a raven’s wing. Not a hint of brown in there, she realized obtusely. He wore an inscrutable expression, his lips serious, his eyes fastened upon her. “It is not my intention to offend, but surely you understand my meaning.”
“I simply do not see the point in using our Christian names. Yes, the Americans are not so formal and it is true that I prefer informality, but I am trying to teach Louise the value of her cultural mores. The correct use of titles is important in English society.”
“But it is not important to a family, nor to a child who needs to feel involved.”
She pursed her lips, studying him, and the earnestness that had blotted out the teasing. Why did she feel uncertain, as though he was asking her to cross an invisible line?
And yet didn’t she find him intriguing? The idea of using his name was both thrilling and terrifying. A comfortable segue to their relationship.
“Very well. Dominic. And you may call me Henrietta. But in society, we must adhere strictly to expected standards. This is for Louise’s benefit.”
“But of course,” he murmured, dipping his head.
She gave him a terse nod and left the room.
For the next week she busied herself setting the schoolroom to rights, finding outdated books that might still retain some kind of pertinence for Louise. Her bedroom was small but comfortable. Set near the nursery, she had few opportunities to encounter servants and she had discovered that the sitting room was rarely used. Although she’d been out of England for many years, she was familiar with the duties of a governess. Including the desired goal of teaching her pupil to be ready for marriage to a peer.
What she had not expected was the distance with which the servants treated her. In fact, they hardly spoke to her.
And consequently, Henrietta felt the first stirrings of loneliness. The library became her sanctuary. One evening after dining alone in her room, she perused the available books while ruminating on her day. It had been a good one. Louise had eaten all of her meals and taken a careful walk around the gardens. Perhaps tomorrow they might begin lessons.
Which was another reason why Henrietta found herself in the library. She wasn’t certain where to start. Literature or arts or sciences. Sewing could wait for a rainy day. Dancing... Dominic would have to hire a dance instructor.
How easily his first name flowed into her thoughts. Sighing, she pulled a novel from the third shelf. A cloud of dust billowed outward and she sneezed. Waving her hand in front of her face, she turned and encountered the earl.
His silent presence took her by surprise. “My lord, what are you doing in here?”
“I thought you might wish to have company.”
She looked past him. No servants nearby, but the door to the library remained open. “I am looking for tomorrow’s studies. Something interesting. Botany, perhaps. Or the study of insects. Louise enjoys butterflies.”
“Pinning them to her collection, you mean?”
“I shall encourage her to study them whilst they are alive.”
“You were in the gardens today.”
Henrietta’s gaze shot up. “You saw us.”
“Yes. Louise is recovering well. Her ankle has healed?”
“It was a minor sprain, enough to keep her stuck in that...folly. Is that what you call it?”
Dominic laughed, a husky sound that tickled Henrietta’s senses. What scientific reason could she attribute to such a reaction? Wetting her lips, she smiled back.
“Yes, a folly and it is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen. I try to forget it’s there.”
“Louise quite likes it. I believe the fanciful nature of such a place stimulates her imagination and will provide a good backdrop for multiple history lessons. Perhaps even philosophy, if I can get her to believe it to be a place where Plato might hold his lessons.”
“Who?”
She gaped, and Dominic laughed again. “I jest. Do not look so affronted. I am sure whatever you have planned will be beneficial.” His lips quirked. “Am I to understand you believe in flights of fancy? That hardly sounds practical or scientific.”
An acute sense of embarrassment stole over her in hot waves. Surely this was not the usual banter between an employer and his governess.
Squaring her shoulders, she looked up her nose at him. She could not very well look down as he stood a good head
