Mr. Gardiner and the Governess - Sally Britton Page 0,37
sciences?”
“My father is an ornithologist,” he said, mentally trying to find a way to extract himself from the conversation. “I grew up surrounded by his studies, and so began my own.”
“Ornithology?” Miss Hepsworth exchanged a glance with her sister, then Miss Finchley. “What branch of study is that?”
“The science of birds,” Miss Sharpe said. Nearly at the same moment Rupert gave that exact answer.
She met his surprised gaze with her own, the barest smile touching her lips again.
Miss Hepsworth looked from Rupert to Miss Sharpe, her nose wrinkling. “How fascinating.”
“I cannot say I ever had a governess clever enough to know such things,” Miss Finchley said with a sniff. She cut a cold glance toward Miss Sharpe, an obvious attempt to put the governess in her place.
Rupert resisted the desire to run. He had seen enough women begin verbal attacks to sense one coming. He could not come to her defense without making the moment more awkward, having already praised her.
Miss Sharpe blushed and dropped her gaze to her lap again.
Rupert rather wished to throttle Miss Finchley.
Lady Josephine snapped her fan open with the same air with which a man might draw his sword. “We are most fortunate that Mother and Grandmama discovered Miss Sharpe. Every time I visit the nursery, I am delighted by what I learn in my conversations with her.”
The duke’s daughter had drawn a line in the sand with those words. Marking Miss Sharpe as an above-average person in both her career and the lady’s esteem.
“I quite agree,” Rupert said firmly. He stood. “But if you do not mind, Lady Josephine, I should like to steal Miss Sharpe away for a moment. I must show her some variation in one of the flowers I am studying to get her opinion for the catalog. Excuse us, ladies.”
He bowed, at the same moment holding his hand out to Miss Sharpe. There was no room for argument, and if they moved swiftly enough, no one else might invite themselves along.
“Of course, Mr. Gardiner.” Miss Sharpe put her gloved hand in his, and with a quick tug he helped her up to her feet. “Good day, Lady Josephine. Ladies.”
Miss Sharpe curtsied, then beat him to scooping up his butterfly nets.
Rupert recovered the rest of his equipment, then gestured with a tip of his head across the meadow. “That way, Miss Sharpe. Toward the forest, if you will.”
She fell into step beside him, easily keeping pace with his long strides, even though she was nearly a head shorter than he.
She waited until they were nearly to the trees, a small orchard of chestnut trees, before she spoke softly. “I thank you for the rescue, Mr. Gardiner.”
“I cannot accept your thanks for that. I think your need for rescue was my fault.” He directed her to a path between the trees, leading to the edge of the forest upon the duke’s lands. “The moment I sat down, the ladies began sharpening their knives.”
“Not Lady Josephine. Nor Miss Arlen,” she corrected him, that near-smile appearing again as she puffed out a laugh. “But yes, I do believe Miss Finchley and either Miss Hapsworth would happily set their caps for you.”
Her open assessment surprised a laugh from Rupert. “There now, Miss Sharpe. Didn’t that feel wonderful to say?”
She laughed again, with more energy, and it faded away to reveal the same wide smile he had seen the first time they met. Before she knew he wasn’t a gardener in the duke’s employment.
Rupert relaxed at once, relieved beyond words that she had become comfortable around him once more. When she let her guard down, their conversation always proved much more enlightening. And diverting.
“Do you really have a flower to show me, Mr. Gardiner, or was it all a ruse to make sure my escape?” she asked, those lovely blue eyes twinkling at him.
Rupert’s heart hummed in an approximation of the sound of a bee, happily at work at a flower.
He cleared his throat. “Actually, I wonder if you might like to see the bees I found yesterday. His Grace’s beekeeper intends to tempt them with a hive this afternoon, so this will be my last chance to study them as they swarm.”
Her fingers went to her throat. “Do we need to wear any netting?”
A practical question rather than a fearful one.
“We will not disturb them, only view their actions from afar.” His free hand reached out, grasping her elbow for a moment in reassurance.
Miss Sharpe was an absolute marvel, and when she looked up at