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of my instructions, Miss Fletcher, only to carry them out at once. I also want the newspapers fetched so I can find out how the situation in Europe stands.”
    She did not agree with that, either. Though she managed to hold her tongue, Miss Fletcher’s countenance expressed her opinion most eloquently.
    “Very well, sir.” She started for the door.
    “One more thing,” he called after her.
    She came to an abrupt halt.
    “And what might that be, your lordship?” she inquired through clenched teeth.
    “After you have carried out my other instructions, get to bed and do not stir from it for at least eight hours. Or better yet, ten. I reckon you look worse for this whole ordeal than I do.”
    She stalked away without another word—at least none he was meant to hear.
    But as she withdrew from the room, Gavin thought he overheard her mutter, “That’s because you have not looked in a mirror yet.”
    For reasons he could not fathom, her insult made him break into a foolish grin.

Chapter Three
    T hat man!
    The moment Hannah woke, she began to fume again. The arrogance of him, ordering her off to bed in that domineering manner! As the earl’s employee, she was paid to do his bidding in her position as governess. That did not give him control over every aspect of her life. How much she slept or ate was her own business, not his.
    She also chafed at his rudeness in pointing out how haggard she looked. Would it have pained him to spare her a word of thanks for watching over him night after night?
    Thoughts like those had run through her head before she lay down to snatch a brief nap, making her fear they would prevent her from sleeping a wink. Badly as she needed the rest, part of her wanted to defy Lord Hawkehurst by remaining awake. But the moment her head touched the pillow, she had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep from which she did not stir for...
    Hannah glanced at her clock. Eight hours!
    She sprang from her bed as if slumber were a crime. She could not recall sleeping so long in years. Perhaps the earl had been right after all, much as it pained her to admit it. Even after eight long hours, she still felt tired, though not so bone-weary. If his lordship had not commanded her to sleep so long, she would have felt unbearably self-indulgent. Instead she was able to place the responsibility squarely on his broad shoulders.
    The thought of being beholden to him for anything irritated her.
    Might he feel the same way about being tended to by her during the past few nights? Hannah resented the possibility that they might have something in common.
    Now that she was awake, she must attend to the duties she had neglected for the past eight hours. As she donned fresh clothes, then plaited and pinned her hair in its usual plain, trouble-free style, Hannah chided herself for her preoccupation with the earl.
    She tried not to dwell on her reflection in the looking glass, but she could not ignore her pasty complexion, hollow cheeks and the dark shadows under her eyes. Unchivalrous as his remark might have been, the earl had not exaggerated when he had claimed she looked worse than he did. It was vastly unfair that a man with a gaunt face, disheveled hair and a bristle of dark whiskers on his jaw could still appear ruggedly handsome, while a few late nights had left her looking a perfect wreck.
    Once she had made herself presentable, Hannah considered going to check on his lordship. Who knew how badly he might have set back his recovery by overeating or fretting himself about the war news? She did not relish the prospect of another confrontation with the earl, but she had made his dying wife a promise and she intended to keep it.
    She was about to head toward the sick room when a plaintive wail rose from the nursery, which adjoined her bed chamber. “Why can I not see Miss Hannah? Has she gone away like Mama? If she has, I want to go, too!”
    As the nursery maid tried to quiet little Lord Edgecombe, Hannah flew in the direction