Chapter 16
In Which Knots Are Undone and the Air Is Cleared; And Plans for the Afternoon Are Made …
Phinn hovered by the door to the schoolroom, his hand poised to knock while he attempted to untangle his tongue, which felt like it was tied in innumerable knots.
It had been over an hour since Miss Davenport had fled from his suite in tears.
No doubt the sight of him in next to nothing had been an unexpected shock to the poor woman.
But feck—no, dash it all—how could he have known she’d be in his sitting room looking at fabric swatches?
He suspected that the tailor, Travers, had been too goddamn lazy to take the samples up to the schoolroom. No doubt he’d been the one to suggest the governess accompany him to the Marquess of Kinsale’s rooms, not the other way around.
Phinn needed to apologize to Miss Davenport for startling her so badly. She could hardly have known he’d been taking a bath and would then come barreling into his sitting room with nothing between nudity and a semblance of decorum but a thin piece of green silk.
He was of a mind to dismiss Mr. L. M. Travers of Savile Row and find another tailor.
Not only was the man arrogant and judgmental—he was always frowning and tut-tutting about how certain fabrics wouldn’t sit the right way on Phinn’s frame or how a particular style that was currently the height of fashion and desired by most gentlemen of rank, did not suit such an overly muscular physique, but he would do what he could, et cetera, et cetera—but Phinn could not abide a man who would not take responsibility for his own transgressions.
The fact that Travers had talked over Miss Davenport and then thrown her under the omnibus, so to speak, made Phinn feel like knocking the tailor into next week.
Speaking of knocking … Phinn drew a deep breath, gathered his nerve, and at last rapped on the schoolroom door.
Miss Davenport’s murmured summons to enter came straightaway. Phinn found her sitting at one of the larger occasional tables with the two boys, a small pile of coins between them all.
Before he could untether his tongue, the governess hurriedly rose to her feet and curtsied.
“Oh, Lord Kinsale,” she said. “I-I was not expecting to see you so soon after …” Her face turned crimson and she pleated her fingers together in front of her waist. “Mr. Travers … He, er … he sent his assistant up here with some fabric samples. Apparently some of the boys’ new clothes—things like shirts and waistcoats—will be ready in a few days, and we should receive everything else—their new trousers and coats—within a week. ”
Phinn grunted. I should bloody well hope so, he thought to himself. Considering the fee I’m paying the pompous bastard. His tongue loosened and he at last managed, “I hope … I hope that will s-s-suit.”
“Oh yes. Of course. Christopher has a few things that Tom is welcome to borrow in the meantime. And anything that gets too mucky can be laundered.” Miss Davenport glanced at the boys.
“Christopher, can you show Tom how to write the numbers designating each of the coins in that notebook I gave you? Then, Tom, can you practice copying those numbers beneath them? I just need to step outside and speak with Lord Kinsale for a few minutes.”
Ah, damn it. Miss Davenport wanted to speak with him privately? Phinn prayed the governess wasn’t going to resign because of what had happened in his rooms.
With a sigh, he followed her into the hallway.
“Miss Dav-Davenport,” he began at the same time the governess said, “Lord Kinsale.” And then they both said, “I’m sorry,” before breaking off a second time.
In the awkward silence that ensued, the governess bit her plump lower lip and damn it …
now Phinn was distracted by her pretty mouth. And he really couldn’t afford to be.
Inhaling a calming breath, he tried again. “Ordinarily, I w-w-would let you speak first, Miss Dav-Davenport. But … but I really f-f-feel that I should … that I should say somethin’. About the in-incident in my sit-sittin’ room.”
The governess was twisting her fingers together now. “Yes,” she said, her voice little more than a breathless whisper. “Yes … I-I wanted to talk to you about that too, my lord.”
“Aye … I-I m-m-mean yes.” Phinn wiped a hand down his face then rubbed the back of his neck as awkwardness assailed him. “Miss Dav-Davenport. There’s n-n-no easy way to say this but …”
The governess nodded and her expression fell.
“I know, my lord,” she said, her gaze trained on the hall runner rather than his face.
“After what occurred earlier—after I invaded your privacy yet again—clearly there’s no other option but to dismiss me.
I shouldn’t have listened to Mr. Travers, even though Smedley had apparently told him it would be fine. I’ve been so very foolish.”
What? Phinn’s mouth dropped open as horror blasted through him.
Not because Travers and perhaps Smedley were behind this second misadventure of the sartorial kind.
No, it was what the governess had said before that.
“N-n-no. No-no, M-M-Miss Dav-Dav-Davenport. I d-d-don’t want to dis-dis-dismiss you.
I …” He drew a steadying breath and fought desperately to make his blasted mouth work properly.
“I came to see you to apol-apologize for-for you havin’ to see m-m-me in …
Well, n-n-not dressed as a gentle-gentleman should b-b-be. ”
“But that was hardly your fault, my lord,” said Miss Davenport, at last raising her eyes to his. “How could you have known that I would be there?”
“Just like it w-w-was hardly your fault that I b-b-burst into the room in nothin’ but me b-b-bathrobe.
Need-needless to say, I’ll be havin’ a w-w-word with Smedley about the in-incident.
His med-meddlin’ is not to be borne.” He blew out a sigh and attempted a smile.
“Honestly, the last thing I w-w-want you to do is leave, Miss Dav-Davenport. I … I need you. And that’s the God’s honest truth of the m-m-matter. ”
The governess studied his gaze intently for several long moments and Phinn began to wonder if he’d said something he shouldn’t have. “Well, that’s most reassuring,” she said with a soft smile. “Because I certainly don’t want to go.”
“Oh. Good. Ex-excellent,” said Phinn, relief washing through him like sunlight breaking through a bank of dark clouds. “I’m glad we’ve c-c-cleared up any mis-misunderstandin’.”
Miss Davenport’s hazel eyes glowed with warmth. “Yes. I am too. And you can rest assured that I will never enter your suite of rooms again.”
More’s the pity, thought Phinn. Little did Hermina Davenport know that only ten minutes before he’d encountered her in his sitting room, he’d been fantasizing about her entering his bedchamber and joining him in the bathtub.
Thank the Lord she couldn’t read minds, so she didn’t know what he’d been up to in the bath … or more precisely what had been up.
“I suppose I should get back to the boys,” said Miss Davenport, taking a step toward the schoolroom door.
Even though Phinn should seek out Smedley—he would let the butler know in no uncertain terms that he was not pleased—he hesitated to leave. “How is everything go-goin’?” He was genuinely interested. “How is … how is Tom settlin’ in?”
A worried expression crossed the governess’s features.
“I think he is keen to learn, despite his protestations. Only …” She lowered her voice.
“I’m concerned that he wants to leave the house to wander the streets after dark.
” She then told Phinn how she’d come across the boy, fully dressed in the hallway when she’d been on her way to bed the night before.
“He appeared to reconsider when I reminded him it was raining, and there was no sense in getting wet. But I suspect that he still might be tempted to try again another night.”
Phinn sighed. “Unfortunately, I f-f-feel there’s little I can do. I’m not really his guard-guardian, so I have no authority over him. I’ve b-b-been hopin’ that with t-t-time he’ll learn to trust m-m-me and will want to stay of his own accord.”
Miss Davenport nodded. “I think you might be right, my lord. Stopping him from coming and going as he pleases will only cause resentment and rebellion. As you say, he has to want to stay. But I will do my best to make him feel like he’s welcome here.
I do think he’s forming a bond with Christopher too. Which is lovely to see.”
“You-you mentioned yesterday that you need-needed to purchase various items for the b-b-boys,” said Phinn. “Do you n-n-need the carriage at all? You’re wel-welcome to send for one at any t-t-time.”
Miss Davenport’s eyes brightened with eagerness. “Actually, I was rather hoping I could take the boys to Hatchards this afternoon.”
“Of course,” said Phinn. “Although, m-m-might I c-c-come along too? That way I c-c-can set up an account straightaway, rather than havin’ to go through me, I mean my man of b-b-business.”
“I’d be delighted.” The governess blushed prettily. “I mean, I’m sure the boys would be delighted if you joined us. The more the merrier as they say.”
“Very good,” said Phinn. “After lunch, per-perhaps? Say two-two o’clock? Would that suit?”
“It would be perfect.” Miss Davenport cast him a look that Phinn interpreted as shy. “I hope it’s all right to ask this, my lord … but, will you require further etiquette and elocution instruction this evening? At dinner and afterwards? If I know in advance, I can devise a lesson plan.”
“Yes. Yes, I w-w-would,” said Phinn. He paused, searching for the right words.
“Last n-n-night I wasn’t jest-jestin’ when I mentioned I m-m-might require dancin’ lessons too.
While I was out ridin’ with Lord Hart-Hartwell this mornin’, he suggested I attend a b-b-ball this evenin’ that the Queen herself is attend-attendin’.
But I d-d-don’t even know how to w-w-waltz. So I can-cannot go. Not yet.”
Miss Davenport’s cheeks took on a rosy hue. “I would be happy to, my lord. Would you like to begin dance lessons tonight?”
Phinn grimaced. Damn it. He’d love to hold Miss Davenport in his arms. And not just because he’d caught her like he’d done on the Kinsale Cloud or in the garden yesterday afternoon when she’d slipped on wet flagstones.
“I’m afraid not,” he said. “I’m … After me …
After my ri-ridin’ lesson I’m a b-b-bit sore and sorry for myself.
I t-t-took a few tum-tumbles and trotting is feck—I mean, damnably hard.
” He glanced toward the main staircase a bit farther along the hall.
“I’m not lookin’ forward to go-goin’ down the stairs.
Promise you w-w-won’t laugh if you no-notice me limpin’ and cur-cursin’. ”
The governess pressed her lips together as if she were already trying to suppress a smile. “I promise,” she said. Although her eyes were certainly twinkling with mirth.
As Phinn gingerly descended the stairs, his bruised thighs and backside hurting like the very devil, he was sure he heard a soft huff of laughter right before the schoolroom door snicked shut.
It seemed Hermina Davenport had a wee bit of a wicked side lurking beneath her prim and proper exterior … and Phinn liked the idea very much.