The following morning, Amelia woke earlier than usual. For several moments, she lay staring at the canopy above her bed, half expecting to discover that Anderton Manor had been nothing more than an unusually elaborate dream. Then she remembered Gabriel Warring, his impossible rules, and her probationary month. Reality returned with remarkable efficiency. Before dressing, she sat at the writing desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. If nothing else, Bethany deserved to know that her sister was alive.
The letter took far longer to write than Amelia expected. Several times she found herself beginning a sentence only to scratch it out again. In the end, she settled for reassuring her sister that she was safe and well. She carefully omitted any mention of dukes, country estates, or employment as a governess. The fewer details she provided, the better. If her parents discovered her location, they would undoubtedly arrive with a carriage and a lecture. When she finished, she gave the letter to a servant to deliver.
Somewhere downstairs waited David and the daunting responsibility of educating him. She would rather have faced another breakfast with Gabriel.
Unfortunately, mathematics awaited. David sat opposite her in the schoolroom while Amelia pointed towards a slate covered with simple numbers. Sunlight illuminated the dust motes dancing through the air. It would have been a peaceful scene if David had remained seated for more than thirty seconds at a time. Instead, he swung his legs, twisted in his chair, and stared out the window. Amelia was beginning to suspect that numbers physically offended him.
“If you have three apples and receive two more apples,” Amelia said patiently, tapping the slate with a piece of chalk, “how many apples do you have altogether?”
David frowned dramatically. His gaze wandered towards the window. Then towards the ceiling. Then towards the dog sprawled beside the hearth.
“David?” Amelia prompted.
The boy looked at her with complete seriousness. “I do not like apples.”
Amelia closed her eyes briefly. “That is not the question.”
“It matters.” David folded his arms. “If they are apples, it matters.”
The dog thumped his tail against the floor. Amelia stared at the animal. “You are not helping.”
The dog looked delighted with himself.
“Grover is always helpful,” David said.
“Grover… so that is the creature's name. If you had another Grover, how many dogs would you have?” Amelia said.
“Two,” David said happily.
Amelia sighed in relief, for now. Twenty minutes later, Amelia had successfully explained the same sum six different ways. David had learned precisely nothing beyond two dogs. He had, however, informed her about a frog he once found in a boot, three different cloud shapes, and the fact that porridge remained a crime for children. Amelia was beginning to understand why governesses occasionally developed headaches. The dog listenedattentively throughout the entire lesson. At present, he appeared to be her most promising pupil.
Later that morning, Amelia attempted a different approach. She abandoned mathematics entirely and joined David outside near the gardens. The boy kicked a ball across the grass while the dog bounded after it enthusiastically. Amelia followed at a safe distance, hoping conversation might prove easier than arithmetic. Trust could not be built through lectures alone. Unfortunately, children seemed considerably more complicated than books suggested.
“You may tell me if something troubles you,” Amelia said as David chased after the ball. The boy slowed slightly before kicking it again. The dog immediately sprinted after it.
“Nothing troubles me,” David said.
“Nothing at all?” Amelia asked. Her head cocked to the side.
“No.”
Amelia raised an eyebrow. “That is impressive.”
David glanced at her. “Why?”
“Because most people are troubled by at least one thing.”
The boy thought about this. “I dislike turnips.”
Amelia sighed. “Thank you for your honesty.”
David smiled. For a brief moment, Amelia thought they might actually be making progress. Then the boy immediately ran off after the dog, abandoning the conversation entirely. The animal returned moments later and dropped the ball at Amelia’s feet. She looked down at the dog.
“At least one of us values my company.”
The dog barked happily. Amelia strongly suspected that it was an agreement. As she bent to retrieve the ball, a strange sensation prickled along the back of her neck. She looked up instinctively. Across the garden, standing near an open doorway leading into the house, Gabriel watched them. His arms were folded. His expression was unreadable.
Good heavens.
