Miss Brooking obviously saw the look too, because she moved to Frances’s side and put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “My lord, I assure you I have a full curriculum planned for Miss Lumlee. But I’ve been here twenty-four hours. Frances and I are still getting to know each other.”
Rory didn’t know why the two needed to know each other. He hadn’t known any of his tutors. His father had hired the men, and they’d sat him and his brothers down and begun teaching. If Rory had misbehaved or answered too many questions incorrectly, he’d been cuffed. There had been no tea parties.
“If you have need of the carriage, we could walk,” Miss Brooking said, giving Frances a dubious look. “It might be a bit much for Miss Lumlee—”
“I can do it!” Frances cried. “I’m a good walker.”
“Take the carriage,” Rory said. “I didn’t realize you had a residence so close.”
“It’s my mother’s house,” Miss Brooking said. “I haven’t lived there since I was a girl, which is why my doll is still there, I suppose. I had been visiting my mother when I saw the advertisement for the governess position.”
“Of course. I’ll have John Coachman ready the team. Gables!” he bellowed.
Notley made a sound like a wounded animal.
“What is wrong with him?” Frances whispered to Miss Brooking.
“He has a headache,” Miss Brooking answered in an overloud whisper.
“Icanhear you,” Notley mumbled.
Gables entered the dining room.
“Tell John Coachman to ready the carriage. Miss Brooking, Miss Lumlee, and I have need of it.”
Miss Brooking looked at him, eyes wide. “My lord?”
“I hope you don’t mind if I join you.”
He could tell by her expression that she very much did mind if he joined them. Her displeasure was understandable. Her mother was almost certainly a very modest person, and she would not be expecting to entertain the son of a duke this morning. Propriety and common sense dictated that he stay home. After all, what amusements could there be for him in the childhood home of his governess?
But one look at Notley, groaning with his head on the table, and then a look at the bright green eyes and flushed cheeks of Miss Brooking, and the decision was an easy one. He wasn’taltogether selfish in his actions, either. He wanted to spend some time with his daughter now that she was moderately civilized. His own father had been little more than a shadowy figure looming over him for most of Rory’s life. But Rory was beginning to think parent-child relationships didn’t have to be like his own. Harriet and her father had had a close relationship and had since she was a child. He’d always envied her that. Why couldn’t Rory have the same with his own child? That was the sort of father he’d intended to be when he married Harriet…before everything went sour.
“That sounds lovely,” Miss Brooking said with an obviously forced smile. Then she looked at her charge. “Frances, do you want to bring Harriet?”
“Oh, yes!”
“Go fetch her, then.”
“I will!” The little girl scampered away, and Rory frowned as he gestured for Miss Brooking to precede him into the foyer.
“I do wish you would instruct her not to run like a heathen.”
Miss Brooking laughed. “We crawl before we walk, my lord.”
“What does that mean?” He waved a hand. “I understand the concept, but how does that apply to my child? My tutors set expectations the moment they arrived. If I did not meet them, I was punished. Why not admonish her for grabbing a scone from the sideboard or running like a footman?”
Miss Brooking stared straight ahead for a long moment, so long that Rory wondered if she had heard him. Then she turned her head and looked at him in an almost assessing manner. For some odd reason, he felt almost uncomfortable at the way her green eyes seared into him.
“My lord, you hired me very quickly—so quickly, in fact, that you did not have the opportunity to review my letters of reference or discuss my methods. I understand this is the province of the housekeeper, but she was not interested in thosetopics either. I suspect this is because Miss Lumlee had only just arrived and there hadn’t been a discussion about the sort of governess you wanted for her.”
“The sort of governess? Is there more than one sort?”
“Yes, my lord.” Her eyes crinkled a bit with humor. “I do not want to tell you about your child or suppose too much. You’ve admonished me twice on those grounds.”
“Then step carefully, Miss Brooking.”
“I always do, my lord. This is not my first cow pasture.”
