Page 7 of The Gentlewoman Companion (The Gentlewoman #4)

Chapter Three

W ith a basket of lavender and de-thorned roses clutched to her chest, Louisa darted inside the manor through the kitchen door.

She dropped the flowers into the corner, threw off her apron, and cursed herself for volunteering to bring Lady Halverton breakfast. A maid would have done just as well.

Better, in fact. Yet, Louisa had offered, wanting to impress her employer and be the first person to greet her mistress each morning.

Louisa aimed to secure her position by performing her duties flawlessly, yet she’d already failed.

“She’s waiting on you, miss. Hasn’t called for anyone else to bring up her breakfast. Our mistress is more patient than a frog waiting for a fly,” Cook told her. “I remade the tea fresh. Take it up and be quick.”

Louisa grasped the tray’s handles.

Cook tsked. “Wash up.” She waved Louisa to a bucket of water.

Louisa glanced at her green-stained hands and flushed.

In the garden, creeping buttercup had been encroaching upon the lavender, so she’d spent the better part of an hour yanking out the pernicious weed.

Again, not her duty, but like scratching an itch, the work released some of the tension that had tightened her chest upon waking that morning.

“Will you put the flowers in water?” Louisa asked, massaging tallow soap into her emerald palm. “Please?”

Cook sighed but abandoned her rolling pin to drop the flowers into a pail.

“Thank you.” Louisa tried to smile, but Cook’s expression did not invite reconciliation.

Louisa took a rose and placed it across the tray before mounting the stairs to the countess.

She knocked and entered Lady Halverton’s room.

Draped in flowery brocades and covered in silk, the majesty of the room halted her step.

She wanted to abandon the tray and test the soft mound of Lady Halverton’s bed.

Wrapped in a ruby dressing gown, the lady reclined on a settee with A Treatise of Human Nature resting between her knees. Without looking up, she raised a finger to Louisa, signaling her not to interrupt.

Louisa arranged the tray on a small, round table near the window and began to retreat.

“There.” Lady Halverton snapped the book shut. “What a way to begin the day. I believe I shall make a habit of reading before breakfast.”

Louisa was unsure whether to call attention to her tardiness with an apology. “A lovely idea, Lady Halverton.”

“Although I must say, I prefer my breakfast at seven, not…” Lady Halverton glanced at the clock, “a quarter past eight.” She softened the reprimand with smile and moved to the table. “Join me? I’ll ring for another cup.”

Before Louisa could recuse herself due to the grass stains on her skirt, the bell resounded. She sat across from her mistress.

“My lady, you are too kind. Please let me explain. I took to the gardens early and, oh, the morning air and the sunrise! The beautiful grounds! I lost track of time. But that is no excuse. Please, accept my apologies. I will heed the hour tomorrow.”

“You are a daybreak devotee, like myself.”

Lady Halverton seemed to have nothing else to say on the matter.

Was her tardiness to be so easily forgiven?

Louisa did not know how to respond to Lady Halverton’s patience.

Unaccustomed to such unflappability, she could not be certain whether the generosity was truly as it appeared… or what she deserved.

A maid brought more dishes, which Louisa stared at for a moment until she realized she was meant to pour tea.

“There, my lady.” Louisa delivered a cup, complete with sugar.

Lady Halverton accepted the tea and took a sip. “By the by, James told me you took Daisy over a fence yesterday.”

Louisa’s heart slid upwards and pounded against her throat. “I will not do it again.” She could not look up for fear of seeing Lady Halverton’s disappointment.

“I should hope not. Too many are injured or killed on horseback for you to be unaware of the danger.”

The sharp edge to her voice was more concern than outrage, but it wrenched Louisa’s heart. How had she not considered Lady Halverton when she’d decided to jump that fence? “Yes, my lady.”

She heard Lady Halverton swallow her tea. “Which fence did you jump?” The sharpness was gone, replaced by genuine curiosity.

Louisa glanced up. “The barrier around the paddock.”

“Not easy for a beginner.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Daisy knew what to do.”

“How ever did you keep your seat?” Lady Halverton leaned forward.

Louisa blushed. “I merely tried to maintain my balance.”

“A commendable instinct. You must have lessons. Promise you will not attempt such a thing again until Jones feels comfortable with your ability.” She raised her cup. “Soon, you will be an accomplished horsewoman.”

“Yes, my lady.” Inside, Louisa sparkled. She was to have lessons! Lady Halverton had said accomplished horsewoman as if it were a crowning achievement. Though Louisa was not confident philosophy would ever penetrate her brain, she could excel at riding.

More than that, it seemed her position was safe for the time being. Her employer was endlessly gracious. Thank you, Mama, for helping me find Lady Halverton.

The prospect of riding lessons excited her far more than taking meandering rides beside Lord Halverton, although she supposed she may not be able to avoid that entirely.

She was only too aware of his golden eyes and chiseled features, of how young and eligible he was, and did not want romantic feelings for or from him.

She had a history of throwing herself to the first handsome man who offered her the smallest encouragement, but she would not make that mistake this time.

From now on, Louisa would know a man’s heart before she gave him her own.

Of course, the notion that an earl could consider her a marriageable prospect, much less fall in love with her, was daft, and his air was preoccupied enough that she almost felt safe with him.

She recalled his horrified expression after the jump with a twinge of regret, but it occurred to her that nothing would appeal to him less than her true self with all its propensity for spontaneous trouble.

Though she did not relish his anger, she preferred it to his regard and hoped it would keep him distant.

Besides, the heart-pounding thrill of jumping the horse had driven the constant oppression of the Great Misjudgment from her mind for a time.

Her heart longed for such adventures—yes, she was certainly inclined to choose riding horses over studying philosophy.

Lady Halverton returned her teacup to its saucer. “Will you call Nellie? I will prepare for the day while you respond to your letters.”

“Letters?”

“Perhaps there was only one. Did you not see it? I asked that it be brought to you. Very likely it’s in your room.”

Louisa excused herself. On her dressing table lay a note addressed to her in Charles’s untidy hand.

With a snarl, she promptly tossed it into the waste basket, making for the door.

She paused. Charles was not the sort of brother who corresponded with his sister—or anyone.

Perhaps it might be best to know what he wanted.

Sighing, she retrieved the letter and cracked the seal.

Dear Louisa,

Thank you for crowning yourself worst child.

Father had been threatening to confine me to his study to learn the workings of the farm.

Once you stole off, he forgot about me. Not to worry.

I’ve told no one of your highflying ways.

Yet, the sordid tale tickles my tongue. I assume your countess compensates you. Send me a few bob, and I’ll keep quiet.

Charles

Louisa gasped. She should have anticipated he would take advantage of her misfortune. He probably had a gambling debt he didn’t want their father to learn about. A few shillings now and again should keep him quiet, and her wages were generous.

Asking Lady Halverton to franc a letter heavy with coin might draw suspicion.

What did she have that he could sell and did not weigh much?

A thin, silver ring studded with turquoise glinted from her pinkie.

Aunt Mary had bought it for her. It weighed almost nothing but would keep Charles in his cups for a month.

On a sheet of paper, she wrote, “May Father send you across the ocean to fight the French.” She pulled the ring from her finger and folded the letter around it.

O ver the passing weeks as Louisa recovered from her troubles, she met Lady Halverton’s efforts to educate her with cautious interest. She spent hours reading to her ladyship, practicing enunciation until she sounded, to her own ear, like a duchess.

She now sat straighter, chewed slower, and thought—usually—before she spoke.

Having received instruction on proper female comportment her entire life, Louisa was not unaware of how she should behave.

She simply had not cared. However, Lady Halverton exemplified what a lady could accomplish when she presented herself with poise and grace.

Admiration and reverence for the countess prompted Louisa to wonder if she might one day be respected in the same way, never to fear the consequences of her Great Misjudgment again.

Louisa simply must learn how to acquit herself as her mistress did.

Lady Halverton belonged to a group of intellectual women who met regularly to discuss art, science, philosophy, and literature.

Time had proven to Louisa that these subjects were not always boring, and after all, Lady Halverton had great interest in them, so Louisa was eager to attend one of these gatherings.

Thus, on the prior evening, Louisa asked if she could attend the next literary breakfast hosted by Lady Halverton’s dear friends Mrs. Beecham and Miss Fisher.

Lady Halverton agreed, convinced this was the perfect entrance into local society.

“These breakfasts are so well attended, you will barely be noticed,” she had said.