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“And you have promised me, time and time again, that you would behave.”

“I know, father.”

“And still, you disobey me.”

“But father…” Her chin began to wobble. “It was not as bad as you might think. And Miss Wanton—she did not force me. She did not even suggest it. I was the one who made her.”

“Isabella…” He sighed and shook his head. “When will you learn, you are but a child. It is not on you to make these types of decisions. Nor is it on you to take the blame. As young as you are, you cannot be held accountable for them. That…” He fixed his glare on Miss Wanton who was sitting in silence, staring at her lap, face ashen for she knew what was coming. “That is on your governess.”

It might not have been so bad if this was the first time such an occurrence had happened. Or if Miss Wanton was not one of nearly a dozen governesses who had come and gone these past two years for similar reasons. It was becoming all too familiar now, a pattern emerging, one which inevitably infuriated andbroke his daughter while leaving Frederick to pick up the pieces whilst assuming the mantle of villain.

“I can explain,” Miss Wanton began quickly. “Please, allow me to explain.”

“Then explain.” He crossed his arms and looked down his nose at her. “I am all ears.”

She winced. “I… as your daughter has said, we had finished with her studies. There was still some time until supper, so she thought it might be fun?—”

“Is that why I hired you? For fun?”

She winced again. “We were only playing tag, Your Grace. And I made sure we did so on a grass-covered area so that if she fell, she might not hurt herself.”

“It is not the hurting of herself that concerns me. It is the fact that she was doing so in the first place. I have told you, countless times, that I do not wish for her to play such games.”

“I know…” she spoke into her lap.

“And I have told you countless times that if she is to ask, you will deny her.”

“I know…”

“And I have told you, I did tell you, what would happen if you were to ignore my demands. You do remember what I said, do you not?”

“No, father!” Isabella leapt to her feet, fists scrunched by her sides. “Please! You cannot do this! Not again!”

“Miss Wanton…” Frederick had come here to fire Miss Wanton, yet the sight of his daughter pleading had Frederick hesitating more than he had expected. “I want to thank you for your time spent here but?—”

“Father, no!”

“—I am afraid that… that…” He chanced a glance at his daughter, her pleading stare fixed on him, and he could not bring himself to finish what he had started. Such was a father’s love. “I am afraid that another warning is in order. A final warning.”

Isabella blinked with disbelief. “Re - really?”

Miss Wanton frowned as if she did not understand. “Excuse me?”

“A final warning,” he repeated. “I have told you what is expected of you and what is not. My daughter is not your friend. She is not your plaything. She is your student, and you are to treat her as such. Nothing more.”

Miss Wanton continued to look confused as her eyes flicked from Frederick to her lap. “I… are you saying that I have not been teaching your daughter to your standards?”

“I am saying that is all you should be doing. And quite frankly, I am sick of having to look over your shoulder as I am forced to do. So, hear me now…” He looked pointedly at her, wanting her to meet his eyes, so she could see that this was not a discussion, only for her to continue in staring at her lap. “No more! Is that understood.”

Frederick felt a strange sense of relief as he levelled Miss Wanton with a warning scowl. Having not at all looked forward to letting her go, this felt like an acceptable middle ground. One that would not result in his daughter hating him. Only…

“Your Grace, I am afraid that…” Miss Wanton was shaking visibly, hands clenched into balls, eyes still on her lap but that looked to change. “I am afraid that I do not accept your warning.”

“Excuse me?” Frederick leaned back as if struck.

“For weeks now, I have done everything that you ask. I have put my blood and sweat into teaching your daughter and… and…” She forced herself to look at him, her stare a mixture of hatred and fear. “And still, it is not good enough.”

“Miss Wanton,” Frederick growled. “I should warn you that?—”