Chapter Three #2
“If she’s not?” Aiden asked.
Duncan gave Ella a pointed look as he answered Aiden’s question. “Then her lesson’ll be over.”
Ella nodded her understanding. Duncan left similar instructions with Will, who was overseeing Joseph’s lesson.
His staff knew that if the Haddingtons voiced any objections, he’d take responsibility for the shortened lessons.
The staff’s trust allowed him to trust them in return, and today, it gave him the freedom to go do what needed doing.
Garden or orchard? The weather was unusually cool. The shade would likely make the orchard a far less comfortable choice. He’d try the garden first.
And why am I hying after this lass in the first place?
She’d managed to wriggle her way into his thoughts and concerns these past months.
He’d watched her struggle with ill-mannered and headstrong charges with determination and patience.
He’d heard whispers of the monumental scolds Mrs. Haddington had subjected her to, though he’d never heard Miss Pemberton speak ill of her employer.
The quiet governess had a quiet strength that, despite his feelings for her fellow countrymen, had earned her more than a small measure of Duncan’s respect.
Upon arriving in the garden, Duncan spotted her quickly. Her dark-blue dress contrasting against the light-green shrubbery gave her away. She sat on a bench near the star-shaped fountain, reading a book.
“Miss Ella doesn’t think you read.”
Miss Pemberton didn’t look up. “Let us hope her father believes the same thing.”
Mr. Haddington must have at least suspected she liked to read, else he’d not have offered her the use of his library. Of course, that likely meant enduring his company as well, and Duncan could easily understand the displeasure of that prospect.
“Are the children’s lessons finished early?” Miss Pemberton asked.
He shook his head.
She set her book on her lap. “Are they causing you difficulties?”
He shook his head again. The Haddington children were little terrors, but he knew how to handle them.
“Then what brings you here whilst they are at the paddock?” she asked.
“You.”
Her eyes pulled wide. “Me?”
“You’ve not been present for the last few lessons. You didn’t come Friday to visit the horses.” He’d fully expected her to.
“I find your surprise. . . surprising. I thought you would have been pleased.”
Now that was near about the oddest thing she could have said. “Why would I have been pleased?”
“Because your report was taken seriously.”
He dropped onto the bench beside her. “You’re not making a bit of sense, woman.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Haddington were told that I disrupted work at the stables during my brief visit last week. Thus, I have been banned from returning even for the children’s lessons.”
She took up her book once more. He slipped it quickly from her hands, which brought her gaze to him.
“You think I told ’em you were making trouble?”
“I cannot imagine our employers holding court with a lowly stable hand, and outside of your staff and me, you were the only other person at the stables that day.” She shrugged as if it were a natural conclusion, one that ought not surprise anyone.
He, however, was far from satisfied with that explanation. “If I’ve a rat amongst my staff, I’ll sniff him out and give him a piece of my mind.” The very idea that one of his workers might be slippin’ up to the house behind his back to make trouble for Miss Pemberton was insupportable.
“It wasn’t you, then?” The possibility had clearly never occurred to her.
“You weren’t any trouble that afternoon. You never are, I’d wager. And I’d certainly prefer having you accompany the children. They’re better behaved when you’re there.”
She looked away, shaking her head. “I doubt that.”
“They are. You don’t allow them to browbeat you, so they’re less horrible when you’re about.”
She still looked doubtful. Duncan slid closer to her, leaning forward a bit in an attempt to catch her eye.
“I saw them with all of their previous governesses, so I know how awful they can be. You’ve made a difference, Miss Pemberton. You’ve helped.”
“At least someone has benefited by my being here,” she said quietly.
Her posture slipped, something he didn’t think he’d ever seen. She held herself so properly all the time. While he often scoffed at the English for their adherence to etiquette at all costs, he found he didn’t care for the sight of her abandoning the armor of civility. It felt too much like defeat.
“You don’t think anyone else is happy to have you here?”
She shrugged a shoulder as she stood. “The other servants mostly ignore my existence. Mrs. Haddington seems determined to punish me for imagined misdeeds.” She ran her fingers along the leaves of a bush as she walked past. “Your staff, it seems, find me a nuisance. I’m rather convinced you do as well.
And Mr. Haddington— his feelings on the matter are best left unexplored. ”
She’d taken far too many tangents there to explore them all. He chose the one he felt most qualified to answer. “What makes you think I find you a nuisance?”
“What else am I to think? You hardly ever speak to me— this conversation is by far the most words I have ever heard you utter— and you were very, very clear in your desire that we not consider ourselves to be on friendly terms.”
“When have you ever known a man and a woman from such differing backgrounds to be friends?” Surely she understood the difficulty.
“I suspect we are really not so different, Duncan Buchanan.”
That was more true than she knew, more true than anyone knew. Had she discovered aspects of his history he’d kept hidden? He didn’t think so, yet she seemed so certain that they were on relatively equal footing. Had he given himself away without realizing?
“Why is it you want to be my friend?”
Though her mouth didn’t turn upward, something in her eyes hinted at a smile.
“You are kind and considerate and thoughtful. We share a few interests. Your conversation is intelligent and interesting. And, though I don’t know you well, I’d be willing to wager that you are a good man.
To me, that makes you a very good choice for a friend. ”
“Even though I’m only a lowly stable master?”
She shook her head. “I am only a governess.”
The difference in their positions— his claiming nothing more exalted than being a lower servant and her hailing from the upper classes— truly didn’t bother her. With only one exception, he’d never before met an English person who felt that way.
“A friendship between us might be difficult,” he warned. “You, after all, are not permitted to come to the stables.”
A palpable relief settled on her. Relief, of all things.
She truly wanted to be his friend. She, an Englishwoman of the upper class, wished to associate with him, a man inarguably beneath her.
How very. . . refreshing. “I am permitted to come to the garden, though. Perhaps if you have an evening to yourself, you might come here. We could walk the paths for a time and talk. The garden is public enough to not cause any scandal.”
He stood and joined her at the fountain. “I’m free most evenings other than Sunday. Perhaps you might make your way here to the fountain tomorrow after supper.”
She smiled at him, and at the sight, something decidedly odd happened: his heart, an organ he’d managed to ignore for a great many years, lurched.
Warmth trickled over him even as a smile of his own threatened to break free.
His breath caught in his lungs, and anticipation tiptoed over every inch of him.
He’d spent evenings in the company of friends before, but had never once looked forward to the experience with such eagerness. Miss Pemberton had asked for his friendship, but Duncan suspected he had already begun to feel a bit more than that for her.