Or rather, to the small garden behind Lady Brandewyne’s townhome.
She had not been sitting long before Dominic came out. She smelled him first, that familiar, rich scent. Then he moved out of the shadowed doorway and into the moonlight. The blue-hued light caressed his face, avoiding his eyes, turning them into dark holes in his face.
He settled beside her, maintaining an appropriate distance.
“Is all well, my lord?” What other reason could he have for coming out here, joining her in the dark.
“Well enough. Your uncle and Lady Brandewyne have retired for the evening. Louise is in her room, spying on us.” He pointed behind them, to a window on the second floor.
Surely enough, Louise’s face was a white moon against the window. She gave no indication that she noticed their perusal.
Henrietta chuckled, hands clasped in her lap. “She will challenge you greatly.”
“Will? She already does. Are you saying it gets worse?”
“Perhaps not. She has a strong mind, though. You should respect her independence.”
She heard his indrawn breath, as though preparing to say something deep and meaningful. At the moment, she did not want to hear it.
She held up a hand. “There is no need to have a discussion.”
“Presumptuous again, my dear governess.”
“I am not your dear anything.” Would he never stop flirting? She sighed.
“Very well. I merely meant to tell you how lovely you looked this evening. A new gown?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “From the clothing Lady Brandewyne bought months ago. It was stagnating in her closet.”
He shifted, and in that movement, she felt a change in his demeanor. He was going to go ahead and say something she would not like. She braced herself. This day had gone from terrible to worse than terrible, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. Tomorrow she’d confront her uncle. Make him see reason. After all, no good could come of him allowing his emotions to make his decisions.
“Henrietta...”
“Yes?” She willed herself to patience.
“I noticed when you saw your uncle, that he did not greet you in a warm manner.”
She had not expected this comment. More along the lines of “Henrietta, you should have told your uncle that you took a governess position.”
“I don’t understand your meaning.” She positioned her body to face him, searching his eyes, noting that they were no longer dark shadowed orbs, but glinting moon-kissed emeralds.
“He saw us when we came in. He gave no recognition.”
She fluttered her fingers through the aromatic night air. “Oh, that is nothing. One cannot give in to familial affection at a professional event.”
“You deserved a greeting.”
“Are you chastising my uncle?” Her skin prickled. The scents of honeysuckle and lilac drifted on the breeze. They were not as comforting as one read in poems. “You are out of line, St. Raven.”
“I’m not chastising him,” he said softly, as soft as the aromas teasing her senses. “I was surprised. It made me wonder how often you’ve been touched or shown affection.”
Henrietta bristled. “Not every family is like yours. We show affection in a different way. An intellectual way.”
Even to her ears, the words sounded snobbish and elitist, but she could not take them back, for they were true. Her uncle had always stressed the importance of mental connection, of the exchanging of ideas and thoughts and facts. Her parents had been similar. She did not remember if her mother and father had ever hugged her. No recollection of physical expressions of love existed, but she had the faintest sense that her mother had sometimes smelled of violets, her father of tobacco.
Her breath tugged within her throat as she fought to calm herself. “It is inappropriate for you to be out here with me. You will start rumors. Why are you insinuating...what are you insinuating?”
He grimaced. “I suppose I don’t know. It bothered me, somehow. I wanted to make sure you were happy.”
“I’m fine. Happiness is the least of my concerns.” She bolted up. What did he know? He had just now began the long process of respectability. Uncharitable thoughts ached to burst through her lips in accusation. She withheld them. He did not deserve vitriol. Though her blood strummed with the temptation to be unkind, to blame him for her frustration.
She stood up, feeling her nails digging into her palms, her toes curling into the stone path. Slippers were another complaint of society. In the Americas, she’d owned sturdy boots.
“Are you angry?” he asked. He made no attempt to stand.
“Not at you. At myself. Perhaps my uncle.” She drew a ragged breath. “It is no matter. Tomorrow I will speak to him before Mr. Hodges arrives.”
“Hodges?” Dominic’s head jerked up in a startling manner.
“Yes, you remember him?”
“I know exactly who he is.”
“There is no need to sound so caustic, sir. Mr. Hodges is an acquaintance who is accompanying me to an soiree tomorrow evening.” Was it her imagination or had Dominic’s shape stiffened? The darkened shadows made it impossible to know for sure.
“He’s courting you.”
“Not at all.” She crossed her arms, eyeing him more closely. “I do hope you will not be joining everyone else in their misplaced notions about marriage.”
“Why are you so against it?”
“Me?” She put her hand to her heart. “Marriage is a perfectly acceptable endeavor for most, but can you imagine a married doctor?”
“There are no female physicians in England, that I know of.”
She detected a thread of amusement in his voice that annoyed her to no end. “Very well, I shall tell you a secret, St. Raven. But if you dare tell...”
“I would not. You know that.”
She nodded. “Here it is then—I have been in contact with a renowned physician in Italy. He is my secondary plan.”
This time she was sure his posture changed. She moved a tad bit to the left, forcing him to follow her with his gaze, forcing his face to move into moonlight. She could sit down, she supposed, but she rather liked being taller than him for once.
“Italy?” He sounded choked.
“Yes, they are much more progressive than England regarding
