Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Ernest was not sure he could handle one more revelation, but he gestured for her to go on.

Miss Gundry's face throughout her story had been a picture of vacancy and fear as if waiting for his anger from the night she had confessed to knowing Lady Florence's secrets. But he found them very different, so he could not bring himself to be angry with her for this.

He felt responsible for Lady Florence and as though Miss Gundry had a duty of care to inform him of her actions. He did not feel the same for the governess but only waited to accept her story with understanding and compassion. He reeled from it. It was quite a lot to take in, even as many more things made sense to him now: her vague answers about her past, her education, her lack of governing before despite her age.

But the fact that she had been courted by the older brother of the man courting his cousin …

Ernest could not sit comfortably with that news.

Are you jealous, imagining her giving her heart to another man?

He chided himself for such thoughts.

"My other confession … It is about Lady Katherine."

"My mother?" He frowned. "I admit she has become a rather elusive mystery even to me these days, so please do go on. If you have something about her that I should know, I will listen."

Claire hesitated as if unsure, but Ernest caught her gaze again and nodded encouragingly. "Your words are safe here, Miss Gundry."

She gazed back at him as a blush spread over her cheeks. "When we speak alone like this … you may call me Claire."

He sat back, surprised. "You are sure?"

"Unless you think it is too improper."

"If you are happy for it, then I shall." He gave a beat of silence and then said her name softly, "Claire."

She let out a small laugh, more nervous than humorous. And then a solemn look passed over her face as she continued, "Lady Katherine delivered a threat to me. I recently received correspondence from my estranged mother for the first time in two decades. I put it away, not wanting to even look at it twice, let alone answer it. But I came back after an argument with Lady Florence to find my belongings tampered with. Lady Katherine revealed herself as the culprit and said she would tell everyone my identity unless I …" She caught her breath and inhaled sharply. "Unless I convinced you to marry Lady Samantha."

His stomach dropped sickeningly. He was not surprised but more disappointed to confirm his mother truly would stoop to such lows. He shook his head. "Was that why you asked my opinion of her?"

Claire blushed deeper. "No. She had not threatened me by then. I was merely curious … as to how you view women of the Ton." He could sense something else in her answer but did not push it.

He sighed. "My mother has become someone entirely unknown to me in these last several months. I am afraid I do not understand her motives for most things but a part of me is not surprised she has blackmailed you about something like this. I can only apologize for what she has put you through."

"It is okay," Claire told him, mustering a smile. "Although I imagine it must be comforting to know you have support to marry your late friend's formerly betrothed. Some would see that as an honour, I am sure. Not to mention, it would further secure your place in Society."

Now that she had revealed her identity as a former lady of the Ton, it was easy to see why she spoke the way she did. She knew a lot more than a governess would, and it baffled him how he hadn't spotted signs earlier.

"Some days, I wish Society would simply shun me so I can return to being a commoner," Ernest confessed in the quiet solitude of the library. It was as though it was a safe place, with so many books to watch over his confession and keep them safe. He sighed deeply, pushing a hand through his hair. "Did you not feel less … shackled when you shed your title and former life? Sometimes mine fits like a jacket that has grown too small." He frowned. "Or like a jacket that was never meant for me in the first place."

"I did not at first," Claire told him. "At first, I missed it terribly. I cursed and loathed my father, even as I grieved him, for robbing me of what I thought was my greatest happiness. But now I have found a new life, and I have Lady Florence, and after her, there will be other brilliant minds to nurture and teach, I am sure. I have more freedom, and I do not need a chaperone, which is rather pleasant. I can visit the town bakery whenever I please."

He let out a quiet laugh at that. He gazed down at his clasped hands. "Sometimes, Miss Gundry, I miss the war. I know I said this previously, but that is a testament to my thoughts that this longing does not cease. I miss the shouts of men, for at least I knew I was doing something then. I knew I had a purpose and a reason to be there. When I am at a party holding champagne, I find myself wondering what my purpose is. What I'm doing, and it is not a comforting process. My mother takes to it marvellously, but I feel like I have been tossed into the wild stormy currents of the sea with no raft." He paused. A stronger man would not have admitted such things. "To think my only thoughts should be on producing an heir to continue the Bannerdown title is ridiculous. To think my only purpose is to be extravagant and host parties and take a wife … it is incomprehensible sometimes. And because of those thoughts, I am unable to help feeling inadequate. I do not like having this duty on my shoulders. I have faced the possibility—and reality—of risking a man's life in surgery, and even that felt like a lighter weight to carry."

Claire loosed a breath, loud in the sentient library.

And then her hand reached out to close over his own. He sat upright, surprised. Warmth bloomed through his chest at the simplicity of her skin on his. This is dangerous, he thought. So very dangerous.

His eyes found her mouth, and her lips parted, and his whole body yearned to lean in closer to her.

Ernest pulled his hand away before he succumbed to the urge to kiss Claire. He could not. He could not add yet another complication to either of their lives.

Claire cleared her throat, pulling her own hand back to her lap. "What should we do next?"

"I am not sure," he confessed. "I must have some time to think of the best plan of action. However, I do know one thing. I should be the one to confront Lady Florence about Lord Victor."

***

Dinner was a tense but brief affair. Lady Katherine opted to dine with her friends instead, leaving Ernest to eat with Claire and Lady Florence, who still partially refused to speak with either of them.

"Did you know that Shakespeare says that art is a mirror held up to nature?" Ernest said, once their cutlery was placed down, and their glasses were empty. Lady Florence looked up, and a part of him was happy to have one topic he could reliably speak to her about.

"He did?"

"Indeed. How about you and I go to the gallery?"

Lady Florence hesitated. "I do not know. I am rather tired and shall retire early tonight."

"Only for a moment," Ernest said. "I shall not keep you awake long."

She shared a glance with Miss Gundry, who nodded. It pleased Ernest to know she still took the encouragement of her governess seriously, even if she struggled with forgiving them. Still, they had done the right thing in scaring off Lord Victor.

"All right," Lady Florence said, pushing back her chair. Ernest smiled and accompanied her.

As they entered the gallery, he asked her, "If you were a character in a Shakespeare play and possessed magic, what would your magic be?"

Lady Florence did not even think about it for longer than a moment. She laughed. "It is strange you ask, for I have pondered this myself. I think I would have the ability to read people's minds."

"Truly?" He was surprised.

"Yes." He walked her up to one of the paintings in the gallery, a large painting with a fine golden frame. "Because that way, I would not have to rely on only the words they say to understand them."

The painting he took her to was of her mother and father. Matthew's kind eyes looked down at them, his stance proud and confident. The man who had been raised to be the next Earl of Bannerdown.

He never got to be, Ernest thought sadly. He sighed, his gaze going to Lady Florence's mother, Honora, married into the Harkwell family. Lady Florence was a copy of her mother, with her soft features and blonde ringlets.

"I think that is an advantageous ability," he said. "Would you like to know mine?"

"If you would like to tell me."

"I would possess the ability to do any task expected of me."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, gesturing to the painting. "Sometimes I wonder what sort of earl your father would have been and if I am doing a good enough job of it. Sometimes, I wonder if I am doing my uncle proud enough." He nodded to the painting of the former earl further down the gallery.

But Lady Florence's gaze was fixed on her parents in the painting. "Shakespeare was right," she said. "Art is a mirror of nature. But is it nature that took my parents? That left me here with only one man to love me who has not even contacted me since you scared him off?"

He sighed, and she turned to him.

"Cousin, I have found the identity of your admirer," he told her. Her eyes immediately hardened. "And through my findings, I know one thing for certain. Your tendresse cannot continue."

"You are cruel—"

"Please simply listen to me," he said. He would not tell Florence of Claire's identity. No, that was for her to decide. "I met with Lord Victor's brother today. Lord Simon. They are the sons of the Marquess of Tuberville, are they not?"

Lady Florence nodded timidly.

"Cl—Miss Gundry shared with me that Lord Victor attended Oxford but left before he found what he was looking for. Well, the truth is rather that he failed his classes because he was overindulging."

"He told me he searched for great purpose and had not found it in Oxford."

"He found many things while there, but a purpose was not one of them, I am afraid," Ernest confirmed. "His own brother confirmed he has more than one woman in his affections, and he attempts to … impress you all for his own gain. He has no honour, Lady Florence, or he would have stayed that night in the garden and not run away. He would have contacted you to apologize. He would have ensured you were safe despite my anger. He would have met with me properly and requested to court you. But men like him do not court in the proper ways. They do so in secret, Lady Florence. He is a man who shall play with your feelings and not honour them in the slightest."

He knew his words rang true with his cousin when it was not anger that marred her features but sadness. He did not enjoy being the one to break such news to her, but he knew he must.

"I know you are right," she whispered, "but I so very desperately do not want you to be. Victor is all I have."

"That is not true, cousin." He paused. "Just as it is not true that I hate you."

"I am sorry I ever said that," she murmured. "I was overwhelmed and upset."

"I understand. But Florence, I want you to understand that when you debut, I shall watch over you and guide you through Society properly. I am your family, and I want to honour my duty to you but also because I care about you. I want to ensure no further misery befalls you. I want to ensure that your suitors remain good and honourable and will treat you as you deserve."

"And I know Lady Katherine feels the same way," Florence told him quietly. "She is just poor at showing it. Of all of us, it is clear to see how much she loves us. She has done good things for us."

Ernest did not agree but kept his thoughts to himself. Was his own mother poisoning his cousin with her abuse and manipulation? He had risen above her words with great difficulty, and he could only hope she had not begun to prey on Lady Florence during the days he had worked late at the hospital.

Was that what Florence meant when she accused him that night in the garden of not caring about her?

Guilt pierced his heart.

"Cousin, I am wondering if some time away from Little Harkwell—and Bath in general—might do you some good; what do you think?"

"You want me to leave?"

"No!" he said quickly. "No, I don't want you to do so, but I think some space from your grief and the city in general would be beneficial. You could recover from … this ordeal with Victor. And you and Miss Gundry can reconcile properly without any interference. How about going to London?"

And that way he could keep Claire safe from his mother's abuse and ensure Florence did not compromise herself or be tempted to find Lord Victor. It was the best solution to all their problems.

"Okay," Lady Florence said after several minutes. "I think I agree with you. And I shall be on my best behaviour until my debut."

He smiled and stood closer to her.

After a pause, Lady Florence said, "I think my father would have been proud. My grandfather, too. You are a good man, Lord Bannerdown. Thank you for still standing by me through my recent behaviour."

"You are young," he told her. "There is time to make mistakes so long as you learn from them and have others around to support you. That is me, and it is Miss Gundry. Do not forget that."

"I won't," she agreed. "I think I shall now retire, Lord Bannerdown. Thank you for everything today and recently."

They parted ways outside the gallery, with Ernest heading to his office. He had more plans of Graham's to look over regarding the White Wing. But he was stopped when he pushed open the study door to find his mother sitting in the chair alongside one wall, her face turned to him as if she had awaited his approach.

"The governess has retired," Lady Katherine said, smirking. "If that is who you were hoping would be waiting for you in here. I have heard about your secret rendezvous."

"There has been no such thing, Mother."

"Hmm."

"Leave the girls alone," he warned her. "You have meddled well enough with my life, as well as Lady Samantha's. You do not need to involve them in your games."

His mother let out a laugh, tipping her head back. "Oh, Ernest, dear. I cannot undo what is already in motion." She stood up, sweeping her skirts behind her as she clasped his face. Once that gesture would have been tender, a soothing touch from his mother. Now, it had a sense of threat to it. "Do not fear. I shall still be here to guide you when everything comes to light."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I shall not meddle with Lady Florence or her governess."

"Why?"

"Why bother? They mean little to me."

But as much as she shrugged it off, he saw a flicker of uncertainty. It wasn't a lack of care that made her leave Claire alone, he realized. It was her own pride. He could see it in her eyes, the lift of her chin, and the stance of her shoulders.

And Ernest understood. He had told Claire he did not know his mother anymore, but as he looked at her now, he knew perfectly.

Everything is a game to her. Gossip, lies, scandals.

And the only thing preventing her from revealing Claire's secret was the fact that it would implicate Ernest himself, the golden heir. A direct attack could be his downfall from an already tentative perch.

"Mother, I do not think you are half as in control of anything as you believe you are," he told her. He sat behind his desk and nodded at the door. "Now, if you will excuse me. I have work to do."

His mother stared at him, and he thought she would protest until a slow, satisfied smirk graced her mouth. She gave a tut before she strolled out. Ernest sighed and tried to look at his papers, but the words blurred. He could not understand any of it.

Nothing made sense, but he would get to the bottom of it; he was sure of that.

And he would ensure Claire's and Lady Florence's safety, no matter the cost.