“Well, I am. A proper young lady learns to think of others. Besides, you’ll feel better if you eat something.”
“I feel fine now.” Frances stamped her foot.
“You’re cross. If you don’t want to tell me why, that’s fine, but you will come inside with me.” Frances set her jaw, and Miss Genevieve set hers as well. “Frances, I think we had better have a talk.”
Oh dear.Frances knew that tone.
“Now that I’ve been hired as your governess, there are certain rules I expect you to follow. First of all, there will be no more running away. Secondly, when I ask you to do something, you will obey.”
Frances nodded. She’d been expecting this, and she liked Miss Genevieve and didn’t want her to go away like the other governesses.
“Now, what are your rules?”
Frances blinked. “Myrules?”
“I’ve told you the two most important of my rules. What are your rules for me?”
Frances shook her head. “I’ve never had to give any rules before.”
“Oh, I create rules all the time. It’s quite simple. I think about what scares me, and I make a rule to avoid that. For example, I’m scared of your being hurt or lost, so I made a rule that you aren’t to run away. That’s the reason I made the rule that you must obey me too. I want to keep you safe and healthy. What are you afraid of?”
Frances looked at the ground. She didn’t want to say what she was truly afraid of. Instead, she said the closest thing. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“Then you should make a rule that I can’t run away either. Is that your rule?”
“Yes. No running away on your part.”
Miss Genevieve stuck out her hand, and Frances shook it. Then the governess bent and picked up Harriet, and Frances saw that the doll had a smudge of dirt on her face now.
“Oh!” She reached for Harriet and wiped at the dirt with her apron. “It won’t come off!” Tears pricked behind her eyes.
“I can clean that off in a snap. I know just the thing,” Miss Genevieve said, her voice kind, though Frances knew the dirt was her own fault. She burst into tears, and Miss Genevieve didn’t ask why. She just pulled Frances into an embrace and held her until she had sobbed so much, she didn’t have any more tears left.
“Feel better?” Miss Genevieve asked, looking down at her after Frances had quieted.
“No,” Frances said. “I’m thirsty.”
“Let’s go inside, then.” Miss Genevieve straightened and held her hand out. Frances took it, and together they started back toward the house. But she couldn’t stop herself from looking over her shoulder one last time, because the fear hadn’t disappeared with the tears.
Her father had left her, and he wouldn’t like being given a rule not to run away. And even if he did agree to that rule, no rulecould prevent an accident. What if his coach overturned? What if, like Mama, he never came back?
Chapter Five
“Shh!” The hushingwas followed by a giggle. Genevieve turned over in the small bed in the nursery and squeezed her eyes closed. A man’s low voice came through the closed door, and Genevieve sat. She’d been asleep until about an hour ago, when Lord Emory and his friend had returned, bringing what sounded like half the tavern with them. Now, it sounded as though the party had moved upstairs and outside the nursery.
Genevieve peered through the darkness at Frances. The child was on her back, arms flung over her head, sleeping soundly. Thank goodness for that.
The sound of a woman’s giggle came from outside the doorway, and then a thud, and Genevieve finally gave a huff of annoyance, tossed back the covers, and donned her dressing gown. She was fortunate her mother’s house was so close. Mrs. Mann had been more than willing to send a footman to fetch Genevieve’s things if it meant she would accept the position straight away and not leave Frances in the care of the housekeeper.
Genevieve felt for her slippers in the dark.
“Shh!” came from the hallway again. It was louder than ever. Giving up searching for her footwear, Genevieve went to the door, opened it, and stepped out, closing it behind her. Mr. Notley and his companion didn’t even notice her. They were too busy becoming better acquainted.
Genevieve cleared her throat. Neither of them turned around. She tried again, and the effort was equally unsuccessful. Finally, she stepped forward, tapped Mr. Notley on the shoulder, and waited.
He broke off his kiss, turned, and stared at her. “Hello, love,” he said. At least, she thought that was what he said. His words were terribly slurred.
“Mr. Notley,” she whispered. “Your room is that way.” She pointed to the other wing of the floor.
