Mr. Gardiner and the Governess - Sally Britton

Chapter 1

May 1818

For most of Alice Sharpe’s life, her relatives passed her from one home to another, the same way one might pass an unwanted family heirloom with little more value than sentiment. As she stood on the fine Persian rug before Her Grace, Sarah, the Dowager Duchess of Montfort, Alice reflected that this was the first time she had been given up to someone not even a part of the family.

“You do not look like a governess.” The dowager duchess narrowed her eyes, the surrounding wrinkles deepening somewhat. She and Alice’s great-aunt had served Queen Charlotte together as ladies-in-waiting, years before. “But Lucinda says you are well-suited to the position.”

Alice swiftly lowered her gaze to the floor rather than be caught staring. “My great-aunt paid for much of my education herself, madam. I am four-and-twenty, and I have acted as a governess in all but name to several of my cousins for half a dozen years.”

The dowager turned to the only other person in the room, her daughter-in-law, the current Duchess of Montfort. “What do you think, Cecilia?”

Her Grace, the Duchess of Montfort, made a thoughtful humming sound before she spoke, her beautiful voice low and cultured. “I think Miss Sharpe would do well here. She is old enough to keep the girls in check and has more than enough experience. It certainly helps that she is familiar with our set. Why has your great-aunt sent you here, rather than retain you as a companion or governess for someone in your family?”

The exotic flowers swirling upon the carpet provided no reassurance, but Alice followed their lines with her eyes as she spoke. “If it pleases Your Grace, my great-aunt learned of your need for a governess and thought there could be no greater honor than for me to serve in your household.”

That was the reason Alice had been told, but she had heard the quiet conversations from the other end of the dinner table and the corners of drawing rooms. The family had tired of looking after her, and several of them thought Alice ought to make her own way in the world. At least until she was old enough not to compete with their daughters when suitors came to call.

Apparently, her fair hair and blue eyes made her a competitor for the interest of gentlemen bachelors.

Her unconscious place as a rival led to the three hour carriage ride that brought her to the castle, her trunks waiting in some unknown hall to either be swept up to some small bedchamber reserved for a governess or else tucked back into the carriage with her, sent back to her great-aunt in disgrace.

Though the duchess must know she was one of the most powerful women in England, she spoke with a gentleness Alice had not expected. “You would not oversee all the instruction for my daughters’ education, of course. We bring in masters for riding, dancing, music, and art. I would expect you to see to their academic studies, and mind that they practiced everything else. You are to ensure they keep to their schedules. Is that agreeable to you, Miss Sharpe?”

“Your Grace, I am confident in my teaching abilities. I will make certain your daughters are well prepared to leave the schoolroom when you see fit. It would be an honor to serve you here at Clairvoir Castle.”

Had Alice’s great-aunt not pronounced the name of ancient lands as “Clee-ver,” Alice certainly would have said it wrong. Despite the estate name being originally from the French, the early English inhabitants of the estate had corrupted the pronunciation hundreds of years before.

The duchess lowered her voice to speak to her mother-in-law, their quiet whispers the only sound in the large sitting room awash in the afternoon sunlight.

Alice’s fingers twitched with the need to push her wired spectacles up her nose, but instead she gripped her skirts tighter. She needed the spectacles to read but could do without them otherwise. Yet her great-aunt had insisted she wear them as often as possible, as “Society considers girls wearing spectacles plain.” Yet another way to ensure she did not distract her cousins’ suitors.

Even at that moment, surrounded by crystal chandeliers, plush furnishings, and the rich tapestries of the newly rebuilt Castle Clairvoir, Alice presented herself as no more than a brown smudge in the bright glittering world of wealth. She wore a dark brown gown with a cream-colored fichu to hide the smooth skin of her neck. Her hair she had pulled back, most severely, into