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“Perhaps you could simply tell me what subjects Lady Celeste is studying,” ventured Artemis after a lengthy, prickly-as-a-hedgehog-caught-in-a-briar-bush pause. “What accomplishments has she attained? I’m sure she has many.”
The governess put aside her cup and then ran her palms over her skirts. “Lady Celeste studies everything that is necessary for a young lady of her station,” she said stiffly. “Literature, French, a little German, mathematics, history, geography, painting and drawing, embroidery, music—she plays the pianoforte beautifully—and dancing. And of course, etiquette lessons. She is adept at anything she puts her hand or mind to.”
“Of course. But to clarify, you do not teach any scientific subjects? The physical sciences? Botany or zoology perhaps?” Artemis dared not ask if they ever discussed politics or progressive topics such as a woman’s right to higher education, property holding, or suffrage.
Miss Sharp sniffed. “We occasionally discuss flora when practicing flower arrangement, or if we are out and about on an excursion, say to Kew Gardens. But as a general rule, no.”
Artemis nodded. “I see. You mentioned literature. I assume that you discuss deeper meaning such as themes, symbolism, and literary devices That there is some analysis of plot, characterization, and the author’s purpose or message.”
“Of course.”
Artemis knew she was playing with fire before she even asked her next question, but she couldn’t help herself. “And does Lady Celeste enjoy reading a wide range of books, including novels? His Grace informed me that she particularly likes anything by Jane Austen. And Gothic novels.”
“Yes, she does. Although, she does not read anything in the latter category,” said Miss Sharp with a moue of displeasure. “Not if I can help it. Indeed, I would say that the vast majority of Gothic novels are utter rubbish. Especially anything by that shocking author, Lydia Lovelace, who seems to be all the rage. Heaven knows why.” The governess gave a theatrical shudder before her narrowed gaze settled on Artemis. “Miss Jones, I hope you’ll forgive me for changing the subject, but I must confess, I’m more than a little curious about you. How is that you and His Grace became acquainted? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”
“No, I don’t mind. We met through mutual connections, quite recently,” Artemis replied smoothly even though she was reinventing history ever so slightly. “The Countess of Castledown and my aunt, the Dowager Baroness Wagstaff.”
There, you’re not the only one who can lay claim to knowing members of high society, Miss Rosalind Sharp.
As Artemis nonchalantly sipped her tea, she didn’t fail to notice the tightening of the governess’s mouth. This meeting was not going the way Artemis had anticipated. For one thing, she really should stop baiting the woman. They weren’t in competition, and as far as Artemis knew, Miss Sharp’s job was secure. Indeed, Miss Sharp clearly cared for the well-being of her charge and the subjects she taught her were the usual fare for a peer’s daughter.
Although Artemis had no overt reason to doubt the governess’s instructional skills, she also sensed that the woman was a bit of a stickler. She understood that not everyone enjoyed reading her Gothic romance books, but to dismiss themandthe entire genre as utter rubbish… Nowthatrankled.
Yes, perhaps the duke’s assessment was accurate: Lady Celestewasbored. And maybe it was because Miss Sharp was just a little too staid and stuffy. She struck Artemis as someone who was unwilling to discuss anything that was the least bit unconventional and would never question the status quo. Which might mean her conversational exchanges with Lady Celeste were uninspiring on an intellectual level. Especially if Lady Celeste had the inquiring mind the duke claimed.
While Dominic had asked her to speak with Miss Sharp, Artemis felt that it was only his daughter who could actually shed any helpful light on the situation.
***
When Miss Sharp ushered in Lady Celeste Winters a short time later, Artemis was immediately struck by how much the young woman reminded her of her father.
Not just in terms of her physical features—like the duke, she was tall with black hair and arresting gray eyes fringed with enviable dark lashes—but the way she carried herself. There was a quiet confidence about her that was appealing. When Miss Sharp effected the introductions, Lady Celeste spoke with grace and her smile seemed genuine. She was neither shy nor too loud or overbearing. Indeed, she was scrupulously polite, and Artemis couldn’t detect any signs of rebelliousness or waspishness or an unwillingness to take part in this interview.
As they all prepared to take seats at the fireside, Artemis addressed the governess. “Miss Sharp, I know this may seem irregular, but might I speak with Lady Celeste on her own?” She smiled at the duke’s daughter. “If that’s all right with you too, my lady.”
Miss Sharp’s brows knit into a ferocious frown. “I hardly think that is appropri—”
“Of course, that would be perfectly fine with me, Miss Jones,” said Lady Celeste. She turned her attention to Miss Sharp. “Leave us, please.”
“But—”
“Miss Sharp”—now it was Lady Celeste who was frowning—“Papa informed me that Miss Jones may like to converse with me in private. But I believe you already knew that, so I see no reason for you to raise an objection. I will ring for you when I am ready.”
“Yes, my lady.” The governess dipped into a respectful curtsy, then retreated. Even though the door closed behind her, Artemis wondered if the woman might actually disregard the dictates of decorum and try to eavesdrop through the keyhole.
If she heard anything she didn’t like, then it would serve her right.
Lady Celeste sank with studied poise onto the opposite settee. She smoothed her rose-pink taffeta skirts with pale, elegant fingers, then fixed Artemis with an expectant look. It was only then that Artemis noticed the slight shadows, like lilac bruises, beneath the girl’s eyes. Perhaps there was even a hint of puffiness to her eyelids and the tip of her nose was slightly pink. Had she been crying?
When Artemis offered to pour her a cup of tea, Lady Celeste’s brows dipped into a slight frown. “Oh, let us order a fresh pot. And some petit fours and sandwiches or pastries. I don’t know why Miss Sharp didn’t organize something a little more lavish for you in the first place.” She leaned forward and added in a low voice, “I shouldn’t say this, but I often think my governess can be a bit parsimonious. Particularly when it comes to cake.”
Artemis tried very hard to maintain a neutral expression, but feared she’d failed abysmally when the duke’s daughter offered her a conspiratorial smile in return.
Lady Celeste rang for the maid, who appeared almost immediately, then after ordering a proper afternoon tea, her full attention returned to Artemis.
They engaged in general chitchat for a short while—about the weather, the latest fashions featured in theNew Monthly Belle Assemblée(of which Artemis knew little about), who were London’s best modistes (Artemis had only heard of Madame Blanchard), their favorite tea shops (Lady Celeste loved Gunter’s)—until Artemis broached the subject of why she was here.
“Yes, my father mentioned you were a finishing school teacher with considerable expertise,” said Lady Celeste, “and that you have quite progressive views about the education of women. To be perfectly honest, I am most intrigued by that.”
