Mr. Gardiner and the Governess - Sally Britton Page 0,69
made of a thin cream cotton. She folded it over on itself a few times, then held it up for their examination. “This will do, I think. But we cannot play here. Someone might tumble into the little pond. Come, to the meadow.”
The children followed after her, speaking excitedly. Lord James had the first turn, running and grasping after the others until he caught one of the Finchley girls.
They repeated the play with laughter, until everyone had been caught except Alice. Though many a governess might consider the game beneath their dignity, she welcomed the distraction.
What better way to soothe her heart than with the laughter of children?
“Miss Sharpe, you must be the blind man.” Lord James held the improved blindfold out to her. “Everyone else has had a turn.”
“Yes, Miss Sharpe!”
“You cannot catch us if you try!”
Alice crossed her arms. “You think not? But none of you have caught me.” She looked to her oldest charges, ready to laugh with them over the antics of the younger children.
She saw Lady Rosalind elbow her sister and point back toward the castle. Eyebrows raised, Alice started to turn to see what had captured their attention.
“Miss Sharpe!” Isabelle practically shouted, startling everyone. “It is most unfair that you will not take a turn.”
“Yes, you must put the blindfold on,” Lady Rosalind insisted. “If we cannot catch you, you cannot be too worried about catching us.”
“I think she’s scared,” the little Finchley boy chimed in.
Geoffrey glowered at him. “Miss Sharpe isn’t scared of anything. Remember when she helped me after I fell out of the tree? She’s brave.”
The sudden championing from Geoffrey broke through the last of her reluctance. She bent in half. “Very well, children. I will take a turn.” She bent forward to allow Lady Rosalind to tie the blindfold about her head. At least she had already discarded her bonnet at the beginning of playing, as had the young ladies.
“Spin her around,” Lady Isabelle instructed. “Then follow me!”
Alice spun, Lady Rosalind’s hands on her shoulders to keep her from stumbling. “Oh, that isn’t fair, all of you banding together.”
The children all giggled.
“Because you are so much better than us at the game,” Lady Rosalind added, “you must count to ten instead of five.”
“All these rules,” Alice protested with a laugh. “Very well, I’m counting. One—” She heard squeals of laughter as the children ran. “Two.” Their footfalls on the grass withdrew in a hurry. She sped up her count. “Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.” Someone still hovered nearby, or so the sound of grass brushing against boots told her. “Eight. Nine. Ten!”
Alice lunged toward the footfalls she had heard, hands reaching out for small shoulders.
Encountering, instead, a broad chest.
A strong arm encircled her waist.
A deep, warm, and familiar voice whispered in her ear, “You caught me.”
“Rupert!”
He hadn’t even changed out of his travel clothes. Nor had he searched out his host first. Rupert had gone directly to the schoolroom, only to find a cross Miss Felton seated at a table sipping at tea.
“I suppose you are after Miss Sharpe,” the woman said, nose wrinkled. “I am told she is in the gardens.”
Although that was hardly more helpful than saying “she is out in the world somewhere,” given the size of the estate, Rupert thanked the woman and rushed from the house.
An undergardener pointed him to the area with the sunken pool, where several discarded bonnets and sketchbooks gave him a hint that the governess had led the children to more wild climes.
He had come to the edge of the meadow, watching as children ran and shrieked in a game of blind man’s bluff.
He had started to approach when they stilled, obviously discussing their game. He had aimed for Alice, her tall, lithe figure at the center of the play.
Excitement climbed through his entire body, making his heart sing like a cricket and his stomach leap.
Then they blindfolded Alice, and Rupert nearly stopped.
Until a grinning Lady Isabelle waved him forward.
Bless her little matchmaker’s heart.
When the children scampered away, back to the sunken pond garden, Rupert approached Alice more slowly. She was stunning, poised for her run, wearing the same beautiful peach colored gown he had seen her in before.
When her hands landed upon his chest, he instinctively pulled her closer.
“You caught me.” Those words held a world of meaning he would have to think upon later.
“Rupert!”
She ripped away the bit of cloth covering her eyes, sending her spectacles tumbling from her face as she stared up at him.
He laughed, catching them