She looked at him and smiled. “I have one day off a week, and I will visit her then.”
“A full day?” Rory raised his brows.
“Your fault, my lord. You said you would give me whatever I wanted. So in addition to my salary of ten thousand pounds, I asked for extra time off.”
“Ten thousand—” But he saw her smile and knew she was hoaxing him. “Very amusing, Miss Brooking.” He made a note to ask Mrs. Mann what her actual salary might be.
“While we are alone, I wanted to mention something about Miss Lumlee I think you have also noticed.”
“Her eyesight?”
“Yes, my lord. I observed that she does not see distances very well, and today’s carriage ride confirmed it. I believe she needs spectacles.”
“That won’t be necessary. She seems to have no trouble seeing things that are close. As long as she can read and sew, draw and play piano, that’s all that’s required of her.”
Clearly, this was the wrong thing to say, as Miss Brooking’s mouth dropped into a lovely, round O.
Apparently, he needed to expound further. “Furthermore, she is a female. Females with spectacles do not attract husbands.”
Miss Brooking closed her mouth into a tight line. “She is seven, my lord. She is not looking for a husband.”
Rory flinched inwardly. Perhaps he might have made his point more elegantly. Still, surely Miss Brooking understood he had Harriet’s best interests in mind. “She will be on the Marriage Mart in ten years or so, and it’s best if she’s not wearing spectacles then.”
She stared at him, her mouth working but no words coming forth. Finally, she let out what sounded like a cry of frustration and walked away from him, her long strides eating up the path.
Chapter Seven
Genevieve told herselfshe’d known this position would not be easy. From the moment she met Frances, she’d anticipated a challenge. But then, she’d thought the challenge would be with the little girl, not her father. Clearly, she had judged the situation all wrong. Frances was desperate for love, attention, and affection. She was understandably angry with her father, who had taken no interest in her. Most titled men took little interest in their daughters until the females reached marrying age, but this sort of inattention was particularly hard on a little girl who had lost her mother and then been shipped off to live with grandparents she barely knew.
Frances needed someone to love her and comfort her and make her feel safe. Genevieve could and would do those things willingly. Once Frances trusted her, the little girl would be easy to manage and, Genevieve thought, a pleasure to teach and care for.
The father was a different matter entirely. He was proving quite difficult to deal with. First, there had been the drunken party in the middle of the night. Then he had insisted on accompanying her to her childhood home. And now, when he clearly saw his daughter needed spectacles, he said the most asinine, old-fashioned thing she could imagine.
But then, perhaps she had expected too much from him. Why shouldn’t he be like every other man and believe awoman’s only value was in her beauty and whatever feminine accomplishments Society deemed most valuable at the moment?
“Miss Brooking!”
She looked over her shoulder and saw he had followed her along the path. Dratted man. She needed a moment to calm her temper before speaking to him again.
“Miss Brooking!”
She stopped and whirled around. “My lord, I need a moment to compose myself. If you’ll excuse me—”
He grabbed her arm lightly before she could walk away. There was that frisson again. That was the only word she could use to describe the way she felt when he touched her. But she was not in the mood for it at present. She pulled her arm away.
“Don’t walk away from me.”
“My lord, it is either walk away or tell you what I am really thinking, and I promise you that you do not want to hear that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t. Give me a moment to compose myself and—”
“Speak. Say what you are thinking.”
“Fine. How dare you stand there and tell me that your child does not need to see clearly because she was born a girl? How dare you reduce her to her looks and marriageability? She is a person, my lord. Not an ornament to be hung on a man’s arm one day.”
He stared at her, his gaze steady. “Go on.”
