The Governess Was Wanton by Julia Kelly

knowledge, Lady Laughlin had only been at one of those outings—the opera—which wasn’t the sort of social event where young ladies vied for the attention of bachelors as openly.
    Mary was becoming more convinced day by day that she was right about Lady Laughlin.
    â€œForgive me, Lady Eleanora, but I doubt you’d want to deprive yourself of all aspects of the season,” she said gently.
    The words weren’t the balm she’d hoped they’d be. Instead, the young lady turned on her father. “I hate that you’re making me do these things.”
    â€œI thought you enjoyed dancing,” Lord Asten ground out, casting a look Mary’s way that could only have been read as Do you see what I’m dealing with?
    She had no doubt he was fully competent in most areas of his life, whether delivering a speech in Parliament or shooting grouse. He could probably fence, ride, and debate the merits of Kant’s theory of perception in German. But Lord Asten had a weakness: a seventeen-year-old woman in the middle of her first fraught season was a mystery to him.
    â€œTell me what it is you want, Eleanora. If it’s in my power, I’ll make it so,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair.
    Lady Eleanora shook her head.
    â€œI can’t make things better if you don’t tell me what’s the matter,” he said.
    â€œI just want it to be you and me again,” Lady Eleanora whispered. “I want things to go back to the way they were.”
    The earl’s hand fell limp at his side, and Mary watched his frustration melt away, leaving behind only hurt and defeat. Her heart ached for the man who had raised a daughter himself, knowing that he must be thinking about the fact that there was no longer much time for them together. Lady Eleanora’s betrothal—whenever it came—would change everything. She’d move out of his home. She’d stop being his little girl.
    The young lady let herself be tugged toward her father and wrapped up into a hug. The simple, raw display of affection moved Mary. She should slip out of the gallery and leave them to their moment, but she didn’t have Warthing’s talent for discreetly disappearing.
    Lord Asten leaned down and kissed the top of his daughter’s head before smoothing one of her curls into place again. “Unfortunately, things can’t stay the same. You’re growing up.”
    â€œI know,” Lady Eleanora murmured.
    â€œI know that you don’t enjoy the season the way that some girls do.”
    â€œIt isn’t that—” The young woman stopped herself.
    â€œWhat is it?” he asked his daughter.
    â€œPlease, can I find another chaperone? Miss Woodward can be my chaperone.” Lady Eleanora was practically begging now.
    â€œI’m afraid that’s not how it works,” Mary said. Perhaps a few of the more understanding hostesses would have allowed her to come to small, informal gatherings, but that wouldn’t be enough. She was a governess, and governesses didn’t do the season.
    â€œYou need a lady who understands how these things work,” Lord Asten said. “I know Lady Laughlin can be a little high-handed, but surely she can’t be that bad.”
    The girl wrenched away out of his grasp, her father’s words seemingly breaking the spell of reconciliation between them. “You don’t understand a thing,” Lady Eleanora half sobbed as she rushed from the gallery, leaving her father and her governess standing in silence as they watched her last ruffle swirl out the door.
    â€œWell,” Lord Asten said, glancing over at Mary. “I’d say that was only a partial disaster.”
    Mary arched an eyebrow. “Partial?”
    â€œUtter?” he asked with a half laugh.
    â€œActually,” she said, “I thought that went about as well as most conversations requiring logic and a clear head go with debutantes.