“The message shall be passed on,” Henrietta said courteously. Obviously dismissed, and feeling curiously let down, she walked back outside. Mary waved and shut the door.
She’d bring her the supplies tomorrow and hopefully Mary would use them. She didn’t want to arbitrarily call the village apothecary a quack, but his cream didn’t appear to be helping Mary at all and smelled odiferous.
Sultry clouds crawled across the sky, blocking out the sunlight. The air had grown heavy with humidity while she’d been inside. Frowning, Henrietta called for Louise. They had better get home, and fast, before this moving, moody sky opened up on them.
The ride went quickly and just after they’d dropped the horses at the stables, the first drop of water plopped against the ground. Louise squealed, and her look of genuine happiness inspired Henrietta’s own smile.
They ran to the house, laughing and out of breath by the time they reached the side entrance. The lunch basket containing their pickings weathered the dash, but hopefully the flowers had not been crushed. She would need to take them up to her room to put the herbs in her medicine chest, and then the flowers could be arranged wherever Louise preferred.
As usual, the servants had little to say when she and Louise trekked through their space, though Cook did take a second glance and one of the housemaids hid a smile behind her hand.
Henrietta glanced down. Mud soaked her skirts. Louise burst ahead of her into the main hall, her splattered skirt flapping against the backs of her calves in reproachful whacks. Jacks approached them and bowed, effectively stopping Louise.
“His lordship wishes to see you in his study.” His gaze roved over them, undisguisedly disapproving.
Feeling the weight of that look, she plucked at her skirts. “Should we change first?”
Before he could answer, Louise giggled. “Let’s go now. If we are messy, he will not lecture for so long.” She skipped around Jacks, giving him a friendly pat on his shoulder.
Trying to get the image of a lecturing Lord St. Raven into her mind, Henrietta followed. The earl had his moments of seriousness, but mostly when she thought of him, she thought of crinkling eyes and crooked smiles. Did the man even know how to lecture?
They entered his study. Or rather, Henrietta entered. Louise was already there, her voice a steady chirping as she regaled Dominic with their afternoon adventures. They had explored the wooded areas, gathering mandrake for her herb chest, and other flowers for decoration.
Henrietta set the basket on the floor, observing his lordship’s personal space. A large, oval-shaped room, it boasted plenty of intricate candelabras for light and a sitting area near the fireplace. His desk, a mahogany giant, faced the door.
Dominic was not behind it. Rather, he and Louise stood near the window as she gesticulated with her hands. An indulgent smile played around his mouth. The tips of his fingers rested in the pockets of his trousers and the strong slopes of his shoulders were relaxed.
Not for the first time, she saw how deeply he loved Louise. The observation made her like him. Uncle William had often smiled at her in such a way. They had spent many evenings discussing medicines and the newest surgical techniques. She hadn’t heard from him since she left Lady Brandewyne’s. Had he even received her letter? She should pen another. A nondescript one with no mention of her plans to join him.
The last thing she needed was her guardian telling her no. If she could but see him face-to-face. Explain her position. Then surely he would understand that her place was next to him.
“You are deep in thought.”
She focused on Dominic, noticing the mischievous glint in his eyes and the dimple carving a crescent in his stubbled cheek. The man had not even shaved this morning. He should not look so dapper, so utterly charming.
Biting back a scowl, which intellectually she realized he did not deserve because it stemmed from her own frustrations, she fixed a placid look upon him. “There are many considerations to be taken in my life, my lord.”
“You don’t have to call him my lord here,” said Louise.
Dominic turned to his niece, but not before Henrietta caught the unprofessional wink he slid her way.
“Although we are using our given names, it is not entirely appropriate for me to do so with your uncle.” Discomfited and yet feeling a strange urge to smile, she crossed her arms. “I must refine my mannerisms to reflect my current society. Such as the proper use of titles. Even you should refer to your uncle as Uncle Dominic or as my lord. That is what is proper.”
Louise snorted, an unlikely noise coming from her twelve-year-old self. “Stuff propriety. The Americans do.”
Henrietta’s eyes widened. Thus far, perhaps due to her accident, Louise had been amenable. Now a stubborn, persnickety note crept into her voice. Dominic’s expression grew stern. Louise ducked her head, an abashed look entering her eyes.
“Tell me more about these Americans?” he asked.
Louise shrugged, digging her terribly soiled slippers into the carpet. “They don’t have dumb rules.”
“Use your words,” Henrietta advised. She rather enjoyed being the teacher. “Dumb is not expressive.”
“On the contrary.” His lordship turned to her, obviously preparing to argue. She took a deep breath, fortifying herself for the smug retort which no doubt would roll off his precipitate tongue. “The word dumb expresses quite a bit. It is a small yet strong word. Why use fancy when simple will do?”
He made a legitimate point. Aware of Louise’s eyes upon her, she inclined her head in acquiescence. “For the most part, I do agree with you. But I would wish Louise to expand her vocabulary, for a command of language is a boon to any young lady. As well as deportment and good manners.”
“What about hygiene?” Dominic cocked an eyebrow and Louise covered her mouth, failing to hide her sniggering.
“We just came in from outside. Louise shall change shortly.”
“And you?”
Another snigger from Louise.
Of course this egotistical earl would
