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Florence’s stomach grew heavy at his disinterested dismissal, yet she tried her best to remain grateful the position was still hers.
It took everything in her power to bite her tongue as she stood from her place and offered her employer a subtle curtsey. She glanced at Lord Gray, but his full attention had returned to the paperwork on his desk, surely a sign that Florence was no longer welcome.
“Good evening, Lord Gray,” Florence murmured carefully before she turned on her heel and hurried out of the study. She felt dizzy, caught between the twin forces of embarrassment and irritation at the man.
He wasn’t the amiable man Agnes had made him out to be, and Florence wondered how difficult her remaining time in the Gray Manor would prove to be.
CHAPTERFIVE
The afternoon sun beat down on the countryside and made the day far warmer than Henry had anticipated during his short travels. His chestnut mare trotted through the winding hills and meadows contentedly, while he gave her some slack in the reins. She was a smooth enough ride, and he had considerable trust in her, since the horse had been his for some time.
The cool, refreshing breeze surrounded him and helped to clear his mind. The melodic songbirds kept him company on his ride, and he felt his annoyance drain away.
His initial interaction with the governess had been abysmal at best, and the frustration lingered even now. While much of his irritation had been caused by Florence, he couldn’t blame her entirely.
The sight of her had caught him off guard, and his surprising desire for her had sharpened his mood. He couldn't think straight while she stood in his study, respondingas if challenging him. She had to be taught who was in control.
Truthfully, Henry hadn’t meant to be so harsh with her. But her post was a significant one, and he had to make sure she was capable of guiding his niece through the upcoming year.
Henry took the reins in his grasp and spurred the mare on in the direction of the stables, deciding to finish his ride. He petted the beast when he dismounted, then returned to the house to resume his work for the day.
However, as he was walking, he heard a familiar giggle that warranted his attention. The sound carried from behind the house, and he followed it. He was careful to avoid the well-manicured blooming flowerbeds. Then, he found himself in the garden.
Henry spotted his niece some distance away, beneath a grand old tree that offered her plenty of shade against the hot sun. She was sitting on a stool, with a sketchbook in her lap and a piece of charcoal in her hand. Miss Murray was standing nearby. Her motionless pose indicated Agnes was sketching her governess.
A nagging feeling pulled in Henry’s chest at the sight of Florence as she stood holding her pose beneath the tree. He noticed that her shining red hair had been formed into a crown of braids and pinned atop her head. She looked very sophisticated.
It angered him that Florence didn’t even need to try to gain his attention. Her very presence claimed it despite his efforts to maintain a respectable distance between them. She was Agnes’ governess, after all.
Nevertheless, Florence posed for the sketch as if she were born to do exactly that, and she unknowingly entranced Henry on the spot. His steps slowed to keep his gaze on her longer, dreading the moment when his presence would become known. For when that moment arrived, he would lose his opportunity to stare at her.
Florence’s chin was lifted as she looked off in the distance pensively. She was focused enough not to notice him approaching, and Agnes was intent on her drawing. Agnes’ eyes moved between Florence and the sketch repeatedly; truly absorbed by her task. She had a keen eye, and Henry had often praised her realistic renderings. He thought she captured most figures quite well, even if her sense of perspective went askew at times.
While Henry noiselessly approached the pair, he heard Florence issue an instruction for her attentive pupil. She did so without moving a muscle beyond her jaw.
“Agnes, if you would like me to move, you will have to direct me in French. Do you think you can?”
Agnes clearly had no doubt she could. Rather, she nodded, pausing in her sketching to focus on her mental translation.
“Oui, je pense que je peux,” she declared with a smile, returning to her drawing.
“Trés bien,” came the warm response. He watched as Florence’s pleasure radiated from her soft features. She held her pose, waiting until Agnes gave her further directions.
It didn’t take long for Henry to notice just how smitten Agnes was with her new governess. He couldn’t recall her expressing the same appreciation for the previous one. She certainly hadn’t despised the woman, yet something about her hadn’t fully meshed with the girl and her ambitions.
Truthfully, Henry had assumed it was because the woman had been much older, her days of girlhood long gone. Florence, however, still had some fragments of her youthful days left, and she seemed to understand Agnes much better.
Even if Florence was more arrogant and aloof than Henry had anticipated, she had made Agnes shine brighter within the short time of her employment. He couldn’t object to what was so clearly visible before him.
Agnes sat musingly while she took in Florence’s form, and he could tell that many thoughts were running wild within her mind. Then, she hummed before speaking.
Henry cocked a brow while he listened to Agnes’ instructions—she wanted Florence to lift her right arm as if she were reaching for apples. Her words were clear and precise in French. But upon gazing at Florence once more, he noticed a spark of mischief in the governess’s eyes.
Not wanting to interrupt them, Henry halted his steps altogether and took in the fascinating scene. Truth be told, he was curious to see what tricks Florence had up her sleeve, and he also wanted to see Agnes’ progress thus far.
Henry noticed how Florence nodded to show she understood Agnes’ instructions perfectly, but instead of obeying them, she stuck one leg out and lowered her right hand as if she were performing some sort of dance. He sensed Agnes’ confusion immediately.
“Oh,” Agnes said, frowning at her model.
