Read Online The Earl's Honorable Intentions by Deborah Hale - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Deborah Hale
Ads: Link
regiment and meeting with the senior officers to discuss strategy. Dispatches to write and scouting patrols to assign. Making certain my men were properly fed and supplied, our horses well cared for. Breaking camp, riding to the next one and making camp again.”
As he recited the litany of his duties, Miss Fletcher began to nod her head slowly. “No wonder you could find little time for writing to your wife.”
Gavin winced, though his wound was giving him little pain at the moment. “You need not remind me of my deficiencies as a husband, Miss Fletcher. My difficulty was not a matter of finding time to write as of finding anything to say that might have interested Clarissa. She had no patience for military news. It was almost as if she were...”
He searched for the word, not certain what he was trying to say.
“Jealous?” Miss Fletcher suggested. “I believe she may have been.”
“Jealous?” Gavin dismissed the possibility with a wave of his hand. “Of what? The army? The war?”
“Of something that took you away from her.” The governess sought to explain what perhaps only another woman could understand. “Something she thought you cared about more than her. Something with which she could not compete.”
“Must we talk about this?” Gavin squirmed. Suddenly his position on the bed did not feel so comfortable. “There is nothing to be done about it now.”
“I suppose not.” A shadow of sorrow darkened Hannah Fletcher’s eyes. Almost as if she had been to blame for his wife’s unhappiness rather than he. “Forgive me for raising the subject, after I promised to be a more agreeable companion. I believe I may have thought of a way to make the coming days pass more quickly, if you would care to hear it.”
Gavin doubted anything could accomplish that, but he strove not to concede defeat too soon. “By all means, speak. If anyone can devise a solution, it might be the incomparable Miss Fletcher.”
“Must you mock me, sir?” She lowered her gaze. “You may not think well of me, but I have endeavored to do my best for your family since I came to Edgecombe.”
He had never expected to hear such an injured tone in the voice of his son’s cool, capable governess. She tensed, as if preparing to spring up and hurry away. If she did, Gavin feared she might never come back.
His hand shot out to clasp hers. “I did not mean to mock you, Miss Fletcher. In the past, I may not have valued your service as highly as you deserved, but I am beginning to see my error.”
Another thought occurred to him. Though discretion urged him to keep it to himself, he felt compelled to offer Miss Fletcher a token of atonement. “Perhaps I was a trifle jealous of...you.”
“Of me?” She still looked dubious of his sincerity.
“Of your pivotal place in my household.” Suddenly conscious of the impropriety of holding her hand, he released it. “Of how well you succeeded in a role where I never could.”
“I am certain you could have succeeded if you had tried harder.”
Could he? The possibility skewered Gavin’s conscience as surely as that shot had pierced his side. He hastened to change the subject. “Tell me about this idea of yours to pass the time. I would welcome any hope, however slight.”
“As you wish.” Miss Fletcher inhaled deeply, whether to compose herself or to master her annoyance with him, Gavin could not be certain. “I thought the time might not stretch so long ahead of you if it were divided into shorter units.”
She looked so deadly serious, Gavin could not resist rallying her a little. “I believe it already is. Those divisions are called hours and minutes. When I am obliged to lie about doing nothing, each minute seems as long as an hour and an hour as long as a day.”
“That is not what I meant,” Miss Fletcher replied tartly, though Gavin glimpsed a faint twinkle in her eyes. “I propose dividing the day into units of activity, none of more than an hour’s duration.
As he recited the litany of his duties, Miss Fletcher began to nod her head slowly. “No wonder you could find little time for writing to your wife.”
Gavin winced, though his wound was giving him little pain at the moment. “You need not remind me of my deficiencies as a husband, Miss Fletcher. My difficulty was not a matter of finding time to write as of finding anything to say that might have interested Clarissa. She had no patience for military news. It was almost as if she were...”
He searched for the word, not certain what he was trying to say.
“Jealous?” Miss Fletcher suggested. “I believe she may have been.”
“Jealous?” Gavin dismissed the possibility with a wave of his hand. “Of what? The army? The war?”
“Of something that took you away from her.” The governess sought to explain what perhaps only another woman could understand. “Something she thought you cared about more than her. Something with which she could not compete.”
“Must we talk about this?” Gavin squirmed. Suddenly his position on the bed did not feel so comfortable. “There is nothing to be done about it now.”
“I suppose not.” A shadow of sorrow darkened Hannah Fletcher’s eyes. Almost as if she had been to blame for his wife’s unhappiness rather than he. “Forgive me for raising the subject, after I promised to be a more agreeable companion. I believe I may have thought of a way to make the coming days pass more quickly, if you would care to hear it.”
Gavin doubted anything could accomplish that, but he strove not to concede defeat too soon. “By all means, speak. If anyone can devise a solution, it might be the incomparable Miss Fletcher.”
“Must you mock me, sir?” She lowered her gaze. “You may not think well of me, but I have endeavored to do my best for your family since I came to Edgecombe.”
He had never expected to hear such an injured tone in the voice of his son’s cool, capable governess. She tensed, as if preparing to spring up and hurry away. If she did, Gavin feared she might never come back.
His hand shot out to clasp hers. “I did not mean to mock you, Miss Fletcher. In the past, I may not have valued your service as highly as you deserved, but I am beginning to see my error.”
Another thought occurred to him. Though discretion urged him to keep it to himself, he felt compelled to offer Miss Fletcher a token of atonement. “Perhaps I was a trifle jealous of...you.”
“Of me?” She still looked dubious of his sincerity.
“Of your pivotal place in my household.” Suddenly conscious of the impropriety of holding her hand, he released it. “Of how well you succeeded in a role where I never could.”
“I am certain you could have succeeded if you had tried harder.”
Could he? The possibility skewered Gavin’s conscience as surely as that shot had pierced his side. He hastened to change the subject. “Tell me about this idea of yours to pass the time. I would welcome any hope, however slight.”
“As you wish.” Miss Fletcher inhaled deeply, whether to compose herself or to master her annoyance with him, Gavin could not be certain. “I thought the time might not stretch so long ahead of you if it were divided into shorter units.”
She looked so deadly serious, Gavin could not resist rallying her a little. “I believe it already is. Those divisions are called hours and minutes. When I am obliged to lie about doing nothing, each minute seems as long as an hour and an hour as long as a day.”
“That is not what I meant,” Miss Fletcher replied tartly, though Gavin glimpsed a faint twinkle in her eyes. “I propose dividing the day into units of activity, none of more than an hour’s duration.
Similar Books
