The Wayward Governess. Joanna Fulford

and collect my ward before returning to Yorkshire.’

      Her hand clenched around the ribbons of her bonnet. He was coming back! Then she registered the remainder of what he had just said.

      ‘Your ward?’

      ‘Yes, my brother’s child, Lucy. She is six or thereabouts.’

      ‘Have you never seen her before, then?’

      ‘No, though, of course, I knew of her existence from Greville’s letters.’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘Her mother died when Lucy was born.’

      ‘Poor little girl. She has lost a great deal in her short life. Six is too young to be orphaned.’

      For a moment he regarded her shrewdly. ‘Yes, you are right.’

      ‘There is never a right time to lose one’s parents, but children are so vulnerable.’

      ‘Indeed they are.’

      ‘I am sure she will welcome some stability after all the disruption she has endured.’

      ‘In any event, I shall give her a home for as long as she needs it.’ He smiled and for a moment the grey eyes warmed. ‘When I return to Netherclough Hall I hope to have the honour of receiving you there, Miss Davenport, along with Dr and Miss Greystoke.’

      At those words, Claire felt her heart miss a beat. She would see him again after all. Almost immediately she told herself not to be so foolish as to refine upon it. He was merely being polite. He owed the Greystokes such an invitation. If she was included, it was because good manners demanded that he did not slight their friend. Once honour was satisfied they would have nothing more to do with each other. The man she had known as Mark Eden was gone, replaced by Viscount Destermere, one who was so far her social superior as to make even the thought of such a connection truly laughable. That was reality. He belonged to another world, a world of wealth, position and power. One day in the not-too-distant future he would marry—a young woman of his own class who would provide the heirs to continue his line. That too was reality and she acknowledged it. All that had happened here would one day be relegated to the back of his memory and she with it. It was an oddly dispiriting thought.