“No,” Rory said definitively.
Notley held up both hands. “Fine. Hands off the governess. But you can’t expect me to live like a monk. We’ve been half a week, I and haven’t left the house. Let’s go into the village tonight.”
Rory nodded. “Fine.” A few drinks and a quick tumble with a barmaid were just what he needed. His gaze strayed from his laughing daughter to Miss Brooking. Why had he reacted so negatively when Notley admired her? He would never take advantage of a woman in his employ, and he knew Notley well enough to know he wouldn’t force a woman who wasn’t willing. What did it matter if Notley flirted with the governess or stole a kiss? She wasn’t a child. In fact, his mother would say she was decidedlyon the shelf. Clearly, she was old enough to make her own decisions.
Quite suddenly, Rory realized he didn’t want kissing Notley to be one of her decisions. He didn’t want to share her—which was ridiculous, because she wasn’t even his. Equally ridiculous was the fact that he was never proprietary about women. Once or twice, he’d heard rumors that Harriet had lovers after they’d separated. The rumors had never been substantiated, but even if they’d been true, Rory wouldn’t have cared as long as she didn’t flaunt them in front of his face.
But that was after he’d fallen out of love with Harriet. What about before? Rory couldn’t remember ever worrying about Harriet even looking at another man before they’d wed. He’d been so sure of her affections, and he’d been so hopelessly besotted that he wouldn’t have dreamed of looking at another woman.
What a fool.
Rory closed the curtains on Miss Brooking and Frances and the barking dog and sat at his desk again, thumbing through the ledger and sighing at the lines and lines of entries.
“Country life is so tedious,” Notley said. “What do people do all day?”
“You could read a book.”
“Gives me a headache.”
Rory found the page where he’d left off and began reading through his steward’s notes. So far everything looked on the up and up, but he shouldn’t have stayed away for so long. His father always said that a steward was no replacement for the landowner. Rory didn’t have tenant farmers, but Lilacfall Abbey still needed managing, especially if he were to sell it.
That had been the plan when he’d returned. He’d begin the process of selling the estate and help his friends King and Henry with their problems. Then he could go away again.
But how could he go away now that he had his daughter to think about? What if the Dowlings wouldn’t take her back?
“Take a walk on the grounds,” Rory said to his friend. “I pay a fortune to keep them looking like this.” The numbers certainly indicated his groundskeepers were paid well, and yet the grounds weren’t as well kept as they had been before. Now that he was home, he wanted everything neat and tidy. “The weather is still remarkably warm for this late in the year,” he added.
“There’s a bright yellow thing in the sky,” Notley said. “I don’t like it.”
Rory smiled and closed the ledger.
Notley’s brows went up. “I say now. That’s a good sign. To the village?”
“To the village. The work will be here when I return.”
Notley put an arm around him. “Oh, I’ll make sure you’re far too foxed to even think about work. Let’s be off.”
*
Frances looked upas the cruel prince sped away in his gleaming black carriage. The dog, whose name was Admiral, had gone off with Mr. Bloom. Miss Genevieve had just remarked that Bloom was the perfect name for a groundskeeper, especially one at an estate with so many blooms.
That was when she’d heard the carriage and looked up. The cruel prince hadn’t even turned his head to look at her as he drove past. The other man in the coach had waved, but not the prince.
“Frances? Did you hear me?” Miss Genevieve asked.
Frances shook her head, anger boiling up in her. Quite suddenly, she wanted to run away again. She wanted to be anywhere but here.
“I asked if you were ready for our tea party. Harriet looks thirsty.” Miss Genevieve smiled.
“Harriet is just a dumb doll,” Frances said, throwing it on the ground. “She doesn’t get thirsty.”
Miss Genevieve blinked but didn’t look particularly shocked at Frances’s outburst. Somehow, that reaction was worse than if the governess had been taken completely aback. “Earlier you seemed excited about a tea party with your doll. What’s happened? Is it because your father—”
“No. I don’t have a father. I just don’t want to go to a silly tea party.”
“Fine. Then we’ll have tea and no party.”
“I’m not hungry.”
