Mr. Gardiner and the Governess - Sally Britton Page 0,31

Miss Sharpe.” The boy’s eyes closed. He was so young. He could be only five or six years old.

Rupert put one arm beneath the boy’s knees and the other around his shoulders, necessitating he brush Miss Sharpe’s arm as he did so. She kept her support there until he stood, making the movement easier to accomplish. The little boy groaned, turned paler still, and tucked his face against Rupert’s shoulder.

Poor fellow.

Nodding to the archway on the other side of the garden, Rupert spoke quietly for the sake of the lad. “Lead the way, Miss Sharpe.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gardiner.” She offered him the barest of smiles before marching out of the garden at a quick pace—one that Rupert found hard to match. Before he could beg her to slow her steps, the moment they were out of the garden she waited for him and then walked alongside him.

“The poor boy knocked his head against a branch on the way down. I was watching him, though no one else noticed until he fell. His bottom came in contact with the ground first—I imagine he will be rather bruised. But he did not jump up, or even try to rouse himself, as most children do after a fall.”

“A sure sign of trouble,” Rupert agreed easily. “I had my own share of tumbles as a child, including one similar to this. I think it best we send for a doctor, as you suggested.”

Miss Sharpe released a huff of breath. “That horrid Miss Felton said to leave him or make him stand. She said he was pretending the injury for attention.”

Rupert grunted as he went up a wide set of steps to the next tier of gardens. “I cannot imagine the baron would like to hear his governess overlooking such a thing as a tumble out of a tree.”

With lowered voice, Miss Sharpe corrected his assumption. “Geoffrey is not the baron’s son. He is the son of a distant cousin. The baron is a temporary guardian.”

“Still.” Rupert did not understand the distinction. “The child is in his care.”

“I am afraid being in someone’s care is not the same as being cared for, Mr. Gardiner.” The grim set to her jaw as she spoke those words, coupled with the sudden darkening of her eyes, made him wonder.

It put him in mind of their last conversation, when she had given him too much information, too quickly for him to respond. My own relatives do not want me in their homes, she had said.

“I will make certain Geoffrey is properly attended to, Miss Sharpe. I promise.”

Her head turned in his direction, giving him a clear view of her lovely face and the way her lips parted, her eyes wide behind her spectacles.

Surely, his promise was not all that surprising.

But then, for a woman who openly noted the lack of care her own kin had for her, perhaps it was.

A footman offered to relieve Mr. Gardiner of Geoffrey, the boy still distressingly listless, as soon as they entered the castle. Much to her surprise, Mr. Gardiner immediately turned down that offer. Even the child’s light weight would have grown burdensome by that point.

Instead, Mr. Gardiner started giving orders to the footman, and another who had appeared from the other end of the corridor.

“I will take the boy to the nursery. One of you send for the doctor, and the other must alert Lord Addington to the fellow’s misadventure. Miss Sharpe, you ought to stay on hand until the doctor arrives, to answer any questions he has about the injury.” He carefully adjusted his hold on the child, moving the boy higher upon his shoulder.

Geoffrey finally made a noise, the barest whimper.

The servants bowed and hastened away.

“Thank you, Mr. Gardiner,” Alice whispered. “Follow me. The servants’ stair will be quicker than taking the main staircase.”

He fell into step behind her as she sprung open one of the hidden doors that made it possible for the servants to come and go, unseen by the duke’s guests. The staircase was wide enough for two servants to pass while burdened with trays or laundry, and the steps themselves were deep enough to ensure good footing.

Not like the staircases in London that servants used. One of her uncles had a townhouse with stairs that were practically walls with shallow grooves for climbing upward. Horribly dangerous to the staff.

Alice tucked aside the nervous thought, focusing instead on her gratitude for a safe way to take the little boy to his bed.

The nursery and schoolroom were