Mr. Gardiner and the Governess - Sally Britton Page 0,40

a final wave.

Alice hoped her blush had faded when she reached the meadow, even though her grin was far more difficult to hide.

Chapter 12

“Billings!” Rupert crawled on his hands and knees beneath his bed, searching for his missing boots. “Where are my Hessians?”

His valet cleared his throat loudly enough that Rupert sat up to glare at him, only to see both boots in the man’s grasp.

“Oh.”

“Yes, sir.” Billings lowered the boots and glanced over Rupert’s hasty efforts to dress himself. “Might I inquire as to the occasion for changing your clothes from what you decided upon this morning?” The valet cast a meaningful glance at the coat and cravat already discarded over the desk.

Rupert stood, trying to appear as though crawling about in his room was quite normal. “Ah. That. Well. This morning I was working in the gardens.”

Billings arched an eyebrow. “Yes, sir.”

“And this afternoon—I am not.”

“You are not.” Billings appeared somewhat concerned.

“Not working in the gardens.” Rupert touched the knotted cravat somewhat self-consciously. “Would you fix this dashed piece of sailcloth?”

Billings put the boots upon the ground, carefully standing them up to avoid creasing the leather, then came to the rescue of Rupert’s half-strangled throat. “Sir, your neckcloths are always of the finest linen. To imply that I would procure anything but the best for your use is somewhat insulting.”

His valet’s dry sense of humor had always amused Rupert more than louder sorts of jests. It also put him at ease. His valet was not put out with him. “I am aware of your efforts to make me appear presentable, and I thank you for them. I suppose I am something of a trial for you.”

“Not at all, sir.” The valet removed the crumpled cloth and went in search of a fresh strip of white linen. “You intend to be out of doors this afternoon, but not working.” It was an observation, but Rupert recognized the question, too. Hessians were not appropriate footwear to wander about a castle. But they were acceptable for riding or the outdoors.

The only reason to hide what Rupert was about would be his own uncertainty. The exposure of his plans to another might cause future embarrassment if they came to naught.

Rupert cast a glance at the shelves against the wall without books or baubles, instead full of his cages of specimens. A cricket chirped, the sound calming to Rupert’s tightened nerves. He turned back to his valet and tried to smile.

“I am meeting Miss Sharpe for a walk in the gardens.” The admission, once made, caused his chest to tighten. What if she did not come? What if she came only to avoid offering him insult? Or what if they had nothing to say to one another once together?

Somewhat impossibly, Billings changed posture. His shoulders squared, his chin lifted, and a knowing gleam appeared in his eyes. “Miss Sharpe. Of course. Here, sir. Not the blue coat, the green. And you mustn’t wear the broad-brimmed hat. Something more elegant—ah, the brown beaver. It lends height to your stature.” The valet went about the room like a whirlwind caught indoors, but with efficiency rather than destruction.

Rupert watched in some confusion but obeyed when Billings instructed him to hold out arms for his coat and lift his chin for a fresh cravat. Then Billings forced Rupert into a chair in order to fuss with his hair. After lamenting the lack of time for a trim, Billings took up the Hessians and shoved them—without ceremony—onto Rupert’s feet.

“What else do you need, sir?” Billings asked, eyeing Rupert’s clothing critically.

“I thought I would go to the kitchens for a basket?” Rupert did not mean to make the statement into a question, but given the valet’s reaction to Rupert’s plans, he found himself rather uncertain.

“An excellent idea. I will go for you, and I will leave the basket somewhere in the gardens. You have no wish to carry the thing everywhere with you. What would be the most convenient location?”

The valet had a point. Rupert laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had thought to tour the statue garden with Miss Sharpe.”

“Excellent. I will leave the basket at the foot of Apollo.”

Rupert raised his eyebrows. “You know the gardens?”

“Of course, sir. I enjoy a turn out of doors on occasion.” Billings smiled, almost secretively. Perhaps he had escorted his own fair guest through the gardens. Though the idea of his valet offering courtship to any young lady proved hard to picture.

“I will see to the basket at once,”