Page 21 of Vanquishing the Viscount

Charles scowled at him for a moment, then replied grumpily, “Yes, I should. Good afternoon, Tidworth. Did you never learn to knock?”

“And did you never learn to keep your hands off your servants?” James responded, noting the deep flush that had stolen across the governess’s features.

“Well, I’m glad you find this funny,” his friend grumbled, swiping at himself ineffectually with the blackboard cloth. “I shall probably have to take a bath now, to make sure the ink doesn’t stain me for days. Why have you come, Tidworth?”

“I’m here to see your father, not that it concerns you.”

Charles harrumphed. “There’s no one else here today, not even Philippa. But that’s what you must expect if you come calling upon people without warning. Miss Hibbert will have to look after you until I’m presentable.”

He stalked past James and shouted down the corridor for someone to organize a bath for him.

“Most people would ring the bell, not yell,” he muttered to Charles’s departing back.

James turned back into the room to find Miss Hibbert looking at him like a startled deer.

With a wry smile, he said, “Don’t be put out, Miss Hibbert. Charles and I have been friends for years, and often irritate and tease each other.”

Charles had been completely out of order, discomfiting his servant like that. James would make light of it for her sake, but he’d have a word or two to say to Charles in private on the matter.

But now, finally, he had Miss Hibbert to himself. The perfect opportunity to make amends for his awful lapse of manners the previous week.

But she kept looking at him with those deep hazel eyes of hers.

He cleared his throat and walked toward her. “Would you like me to inspect the back of your gown for ink spots?”

She immediately backed off, then started examining her skirts for ink splashes. Was she going to speak to him at all?

He moved closer, carefully avoiding the puddle of ink seeping into the floorboards, and tried again. “Perhaps I can call for a maid to clean this up for you?”

“No,” she muttered, turning awkwardly to look at the back of her gown. “That’s my job.”

He puffed out a breath. He didn’t want her on her knees mopping up ink while he expressed his regrets for his rudeness. He wanted her full attention.

“On the contrary, your job is to look after me. Charles has just said so. I’ll call for someone. Wait here.”

He rang the bell and lurked in the passageway until a maid arrived, then sent her off to fetch a bucket and mop.

When he returned to the schoolroom, Miss Hibbert was standing by the window, her face in shadow, but he could tell from the tension in her pose she wasn’t happy. Was there something more bothering her? Something worse than his own behavior? Worse than Charles’s ungovernable appetite for innocent women?

“Miss Hibbert, I sense you are eager to get back to your charges. Shall we go in search of the tiny tyrants?”

She smiled. “I saw you giving Willie a piggyback.”

Finally. A response. “I hope I haven’t overexcited him. He won’t pay attention to his lessons now, will he?”

“No matter. We were going to do some sketching by the pond.”

“Outside? Splendid. I shall lend you my support while Charles sorts himself out. What an inordinate fuss over a little ink spill!”

She laughed but soon became somber again. Something was definitely amiss.

Bowing to her, he offered to carry her books and pencils, held the door open for her as they left the schoolroom, and followed her out into the courtyard.

It was a pity Mr. Keane wasn’t at home. He’d have to make another visit. Unless the master of the house was due back this evening, in which case he could stay the night and discuss properties with Keane in the morning.

They walked side by side in almost amicable silence to the pond, then stopped to gaze across at Willie, who was watching the ducks squabbling and splashing in the pond.

James said quietly, “You seemed to be in difficulties when I arrived, Miss Hibbert. I thought I’d rescued you, but you still seem uncomfortable.”