The Governess Club: Bonnie (9 page)

How could he not have recognized this in his own friend? True, he hadn’t been to visit in more than four years; the responsibility left to him on his father’s death left little time and money to leave Scotland. Surely it hadn’t always been like this.

A thought occurred to Stephen and it surprised him that he hadn’t thought of it before: He needed to see previous ledgers going back several years. That would give him more of a clue as to what went wrong.

He glanced over at Renard, bent over his work. As much help as the man had been, Stephen still didn’t trust him; he was too eager to point out George’s mistakes and failings. A man of business needed to be discreet, no matter the circumstances.

He shifted his gaze to the bookcase that held previous ledgers; it held the estate records for the last fifty years. He would have to wait until he was alone in the study; he did not want to raise Renard’s suspicions.

“Sir?”

Stephen jerked his head back around to Renard. He raised an eyebrow in response.

“The letter requires your signature.”

Without speaking, he took the letter being held out to him and signed it. His mind began to ponder how he could get the man out of the room.

“Sir?”

Another eyebrow raised in response.

“If I may say, you seem distracted this afternoon.”

“You may not.”

“My apologies, sir.” The tall man sat back down at his desk and resumed his work.

With a loud sigh, Stephen stood and moved to the window, taking in the view of the back garden entering winter dormancy. Gray clouds hovered in the sky, threatening to bring the inevitable rain that accompanies the English winter.

He hated this part of investigating, the distrust. Suspecting everyone, questioning every action. That suspicion followed him in his dealings with his father; it had been his steady companion both while the man was alive and after.

He was tired of being suspicious.

Movement caught his eye as two young bodies entered the garden from the drawing room terrace. Henry bounded down the stairs, a ball in his arms. Arthur followed him, his short, pudgy legs struggling to keep up. Their shouts were loud and excited, their scarves tied securely around their necks and coats buttoned.

Coming onto the terrace much more slowly, Miss Hodges appeared in her gray pelisse and pink scarf, her head sporting a matching pink bonnet. Stephen watched as she paused at the top of the terrace stairs and tilted her head back towards the sun. More than a week had passed since the poisoning and this was the first time in his knowledge that she had stepped outside of the manor.

He frowned when he saw Miss Hodges grip the balustrade for support as she gingerly descended the stairs. She still was not strong enough to be walking on her own, especially if she were to chase two young energetic boys.

Stephen spun on his heel. “I am going out, Renard,” he said, leaving the study. Shrugging into his jacket, he followed Miss Hodges and the boys out the drawing room terrace and moved quickly to catch up to them.

He did so easily, calling her name. Miss Hodges half turned and he managed to take possession of her arm, slipping it through his. He thought how nicely the weight of her hand felt on his arm.

“You should not be out here,” he said.

She glanced up at him. “You have become an expert on what I should or should not do.”

“I merely meant that you should not be out here on your own.”

“Why not?”

“Henry and Arthur are young and energetic.”

“They always have been. That has yet to be a concerning problem.”

“You recently suffered poisoning.”

“And yet I survived. Perhaps I am stronger than I look.”

Stephen stopped and looked at her closely. He thought her still too pale and there was still dark circles under her eyes. “I think you are one of the strongest women I have met.”

Her hazel-green eyes widened and a blush spread over her cheeks. She glanced in the direction of the boys and then the manor. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” she whispered.

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Now you are the expert? Turnabout is fair play. Tell me why and I’ll tell you if I agree.”

“Sir, you are the guardian and I am the governess. Such sentiments are inappropriate.”

Stephen resumed their walk. Henry and Arthur were still in sight, kicking the ball on the lawn. “I assure you, Miss Hodges, I am not normally a gentleman who engages in inappropriate behavior.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But I find myself in abnormal circumstances.”

“Sir—”

“Indeed I barely recognize myself with all the inappropriate things I am considering these days.”

“Sir Stephen, you must stop.”

“You still haven’t convinced me as to why.” Where was this flirtatious manner coming from?

“Because it will make me admit the same thing and we both know how disastrous that would be.” Her voice was quiet.

Well.
He wasn’t expecting that.

“Please,” she continued, “can we speak of something else?”

Stephen obliged her. “Henry has a strong kick.”

“I think Arthur would as well, if Henry would give him a chance.”

Stephen chuckled. “Ah, the nature of boys.”

“He seems fully recovered from his fall.” Bonnie glanced up at him. “Henry has mentioned returning to his own chamber again.”

The ball sailed through the air towards them. Stephen released her momentarily to kick it back towards the boys.

“Uncle Stephen! Come play with us!” Henry yelled.

“I’ll join you soon,” Stephen called back. “Let Arthur practice. I’ll play against the both of you.”

“Uncle Stephen?” Bonnie asked when he returned to her.

“I’ll lead you to a place to sit.” He gestured to a set of benches by the green.

“I am not allowed to play?” she asked, feigning affront. “Are you afraid I might be a better player than you?”

He slanted her a look. “You are visibly wilting after just walking from the manor. You believe you pose a threat?”

Bonnie laughed. “Always.”

Stephen helped her sit down and joined her. “There’s something I want you to be aware of.”

Bonnie noticed the change in his tone. “Yes?”

He pulled out a small writing pad. “I made a timeline of all the incidents that occurred. I started with the bridge collapse and added in everything around that. I’ve noticed something.”

“What is it?”

He showed her his notes. “Before the bridge, incidents were occurring roughly once a month, every three weeks at most. After the bridge, nine weeks passed before Henry’s fall. Your poisoning happened a mere seven days after that.”

Bonnie looked at him questioning. “So after a two-month absence of incidents, two happen within a week of each other.”

“Correct.”

“And you are sure these incidents are intentional.” She made this a statement, not a question.

“I cannot speak for certain in regards to the incidents prior to the bridge, but I am convinced of the others.” He looked at her steadily. “Cut girths and poisoned biscuits are nothing but intentional.”

She turned to her gaze to the boys. “Have you come any closer to discovering who is behind this?”

Stephen was saved from answering by Arthur’s approach, holding a pair of rocks in his hands. Bonnie automatically opened her hand to take them.

“Here, Mama,” Arthur said, dropping the rocks into her hand before turning around to rejoin his brother.

Bonnie stared after him, her stomach falling.
Oh dear heavens
. She blinked and looked at Sir Stephen, meeting his raised brows with hers.

“Mama?”
he echoed.

“He spoke,” she squeaked out. “We should focus on that, not necessarily what he said.”

“Mama?”
he repeated.

Bonnie shook her head. “First time he ever called me that.”
And hopefully the last.

He pursed his lips. “Just know that you can’t pester me about being Uncle Stephen.”

She nodded. “Agreed.”

Stephen stood, straightened his coat, and handed his hat for her to hold. “About what we were speaking of a few moments ago? There is something else I want you to be aware of.”

“There’s more?” Her voice was full of dismay and distress.

He looked at her intently, leaning towards her to rest his hands on the back of the bench, boxing her in between his arms. He put his mouth next to her ear. “I disagree that we would be disastrous.”

Come for tea in the study this evening. -S

T
he note was presumptive. Arrogant really. To expect that she would obey such a summons.

Well, she
was
a servant of sorts. It was expected that she obey such a summons.

But theirs didn’t feel like a normal master-servant relationship. Which was dangerous. She really ought to treat this as he were a normal master summoning his normal servant to his study.

For tea.

Oh good heavens, she was becoming one of those women who analyze everything about a gentleman they were being courted by.

Which he wasn’t. Courting her, that is. Despite his earlier statement, courting her was not an appropriate option. Nor an intelligent one.

So when Bonnie knocked on the study door, she was telling herself that this was not a courtship. She did not want it to be a courtship. He did not want it to be a courtship. Thus, it was not a courtship. It was a master summoning his servant.

For tea. In the study.

She must not, would not make this into more than it was.

Bonnie opened the door at his voice. The familiar warm walnut panels surrounded her as she stepped inside, the fire casting a healthy glow throughout the room.

Sir Stephen wasn’t behind the desk as he normally was. Instead he stood up from where he was sitting on the sofa. He smoothed his waistcoat. “Miss Hodges,” he greeted, inclining his head. “Please sit.”

The man was a lesson in brevity. Bonnie moved around to sit, settling her skirts around her legs before looking up at him. He positioned himself opposite of her.

When he didn’t speak, she gestured to the tea tray on the table between them. “Would you like me to pour?”

He nodded. “Please.”

She did so, preparing his cup as he liked before seeing to her own. She blew on it to cool it before taking a sip.

“I had Mrs. Dabbs send more biscuits,” he said, breaking the silence.

“I am abstaining from biscuits for the time being,” she replied with a small smile.

“Understandable.”

When he didn’t speak again, she prodded him again. “You wished to see me, sir?”

“Did you enjoy your afternoon outside?” he asked.

“Yes, we did. I am glad it did not rain. The boys and I were feeling cooped up.”

“I had a good time playing with the boys.”

“They enjoyed it as well.”

Silence fell between them again. This was not like their other teas. Those times had not been prearranged or heavy with expectations. Those times had not been laden with memories of his lips against hers, of his arms carrying her up the stairs. Those times had not been thick with the desire that he actually would court her.

Bonnie put her teacup down and glanced around the room. “How is the investigation proceeding?”

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with that. I will take care of it,” he said.

“Respectfully sir, it became my concern when you told me the incidents were intentional. It became my concern when I saw my employers die in front of my eyes. It became my concern when I was poisoned.”

Sir Stephen lowered his chin in acknowledgement. “I do not wish to concern you more about this. You should worry about the boys and allow me to continue to investigate the situation.”

Bonnie was incredulous. “So you are fine with sharing just enough information to make me concerned for my safety and that of Henry and Arthur, but then deny me that which may very well help me?”

“What do you mean?”

“This afternoon, you showed me your timeline and said that I should be careful as it has been over a week since the last incident.”

Stephen was pleased she had given his words such attention. “Aye, I believe that.”

“Well, what am I to do, exactly? Taste everything that comes from the kitchen? Check their clothing and bed sheets for razors? Patrol the perimeter for gunmen? Cross the bridges, climb the trees, and jump into the rivers first?”

He didn’t answer.

“They are young boys, Sir Stephen. Even when there is not a threat, they are prone to accidents. Or incidents, as you have termed them. They are curious and adventurous and things happen; it is difficult for me in the best of circumstances to ensure their safety and well-being. Asking me to increase my vigilance against an unknown threat using unknown methods to harm us is asking the impossible.”

Stephen shifted uncomfortably in his seat, crossing his legs and leaning back against the sofa, resting his arm along the back. “I don’t have the information you are seeking.”

Bonnie stood and paced around the sofa. “How do you do this? Live with uncertainty and this helpless feeling?”

Stephen stood with her, settling his hands on his hips. “To be honest, this is the first time I’ve been in such a situation.”

He moved to the spirits and poured both of them a portion of Scotch. He pressed a glass into her hand. Bonnie gave him a weak smile. “This is the second time you’ve given me spirits.”

“The situations have called for it.”

The intensity of his gaze made her shiver. Bonnie took a sip of her drink to cover it up and moved closer to the fire.

“You are cold,” he stated.

She shook her head. “I am fine.”

He ignored her and knelt down in front of the fire, laying more logs in the flames. He stirred them, coaxing the flames. The fresh logs caught and crackled as the fire grew. Bonnie felt the heat grow and envelop her.

Sir Stephen straightened and stared into the fire, lifting his drink from the mantle and sipping it. Bonnie watched his throat work as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. The flames caressed his skin, giving it a warm glow, highlighting his youth and vitality. Bonnie wanted to press her cheek to his to allow his warmth to seep into her senses, to have his scent surround her again.