Free The Governess Club: Louisa by Ellie Macdonald

one part of his statement and keeping her eyes on her task. “That is a foolish thing to say. One should not make needless purchases simply because another has stated a desire for it. There are other factors to consider.”
    “Like finances.”
    “Yes. And need. For instance, if I already had ten dresses, I would hardly need another one, correct?”
    “Do you have ten dresses?” The tease was back in his voice. She was beginning to recognize it.
    “That is not the point.”
    “Just like how the pot was not the point. Do you ever speak directly to the point, or is the extent of your conversation oblique allusions?”
    “Oblique allusions? That is quite fancy coming from a prizefighter.”
    “I have been known to read a book or two.” He handed her another shingle. “So if you had ten dresses, and the new one you wanted was in a new color, you would not buy it?”
    “Not if I could not afford it. And did not need it.”
    “Does any woman need ten dresses?”
    “It has been many years since I needed or desired more than ten dresses.”
    “Were you a governess at one time? You wear a lot of dull colors, green and gray and brown.”
    “Can I not simply like them?”
    He chuckled. “Not in my experience with women.”
    Her hammering paused and John felt he was stepping into unwelcome territory. “You are very inquisitive about my past,” she said.
    “We have worked side by side for nearly a month now, Mrs. Brock, two of those weeks as partners. Shouldn’t we know something about each other?”
    “Can we not keep our relationship professional?” While she allowed her attraction to him, Louisa did not want him to know too much about her. It would raise awkward questions.
    “I knew things about my manager’s personal life and no one doubted our professionalism. You won’t even let me use your Christian name.”
    She took another shingle from him and secured it to the roof. She did so with four more shingles before she spoke again. “I was a governess once. It did not last.”
    “Was that when you married?”
    It was close enough to the truth. She did not invent her late husband until after she left Ridgestone. “Yes.”
    “What was his name?”
    She shot him a look. “Mr. Brock.”
    His look in turn was exasperated. “My late wife’s name was Amanda.”
    That made her stop working. “You were married?”
    “Yes. She died seven years ago in childbirth.”
    Louisa sat back on her heels and looked him directly in the eyes. “I am sorry to hear that.”
    John shrugged. “We married because I got her with child. By the time of the birth, we had already acknowledged that we would not suit. She wanted to be with the champion at all times and not the everyday man. I wanted a wife who liked it when I stayed home. More than that, though, I did not want any child of mine to be born a bastard.”
    “The child died, I assume.” At least there was none around calling him Father.
    He nodded, appreciating her matter-of-fact tone. “That is what I mourned most.”
    They stayed silent for several minutes, kneeling on the roof, not quite looking at each other. John had not realized before the comfort of shared silence, how it could soothe. Finally, she took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling, and lifted her chin.
    “My name is Louisa.”
    He looked at her, her raised chin and lips in a firm line. A smile tugged at his lips. “Is that a pity gift?”
    She glanced at him. “Whatever do you mean?”
    “You feel pity for me, so you are allowing me the use of your name. You’re tossing me crumbs, hoping it will make me feel better.”
    Her face showed her exasperation. “You don’t have to use it if you don’t wish to. Hand me a shingle.” She held out her hand.
    He held one out to her, not releasing it when she would have laid it on the roof. “It is my pleasure . . . Louisa.”
    Was that a blush? He could not quite tell in the fading light. John chuckled as she hammered in the nail. “Let’s