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more dangerous game than Miss Vance now dabbled in. “You’re an intelligent woman—”
    “Evidently not, or I wouldn’t be here with you.”
    Another chuckle escaped Julian’s throat, his second of the morning. How surprising and unexpected coming so soon after his father’s death. “You were clever enough to get away with your duplicity until now. Surely you are smart enough to recognize your limitations and realize a woman in your position has no other options.”
    “Thank you for that reminder of my indigence.”
    “I mean only the truth, not an insult. You have made your own way in life.” Unlike the many spoiled misses who’d jumped into his path ever since his older brother’s death had propelled him from second son to an earl’s heir.
    “Unfortunately we can’t all be born to wealth and privilege.”
    “You are quite the republican. And rather outspoken for a mere governess.”
    “You already know the worst about me. Will protestations of my loyalty change your mind?”
    The bay stomped impatiently, forcing Julian’s attention back to the restless horse. He’d made a mistake taking such a spirited animal on such a sedate outing. He studied Miss Vance from under his hat, noting her precise posture and the ease with which she propelled the recalcitrant nag to continue their walk. Perhaps next time he should see her better mounted and not deny himself—or Sotherton’s bay—the exercise they both craved. “I wasn’t always an earl, you know. I once worked for my sustenance the same as you.”
    “In a considerably more lucrative profession.”
    “And more dangerous.”
    She tilted her head and considered him. A few wisps of her hair caught on the breeze and whispered against her face. “Yes, you are correct. And undoubtedly you began your labors even younger than I.” Soft respect smoothed the sharp edges off her voice and tugged his mind back to her assertion a French shell had ended her hopes and dreams. How often had he feared the same would happen to him?
    “I was thirteen. And while life on a ship is more dangerous, it isn’t necessarily more difficult.” The thought of perpetual servitude to his sister was nearly as daunting as a French ship-of-the-line on the horizon. “My family connections, my education and my gender offered me options unavailable to you. While I don’t approve of your treasonous behavior, I do admire your independence.”
    Surprise and suspicion flickered in her eyes. “Thank you. But my vocation wasn’t by choice. I’d have happily lived on some inheritance from long forgotten forebears who’d stolen the wealth and labor of the local peasants.”
    “Are you casting aspersions on my ancestors?”
    “I don’t know you well enough to draw any conclusions. If you see yourself in my comment, perhaps it is your conscience speaking to you.”
    “Very conveniently—if not convincingly—deflected. And what would you have done with unlimited time and funds, Miss Vance, beyond what you needed for your life of leisure?”
    She blinked. “Ah, I suppose...I’d use the excess to care for others. To help the needy.” Vulnerability tightened on her cheeks. Did she think of someone in particular? Someone close to her who needed her ill-begotten gains?
    “Very noble. And not so different from what you do here.”
    “Here? I teach Lady Teresa, who—as you may have noticed—does not go hungry or cold this winter.”
    “There are needs beyond the physical. It has not escaped my notice that my niece does not enjoy an intimate relationship with her mother.”
    “Difficult dinner last night?”
    “I don’t know who is worse, Elizabeth or her mother-in-law.” How had his sister transformed into a woman so different from warm and loving Maman? If her own daughter suffered from Elizabeth’s hard and haughty ways, how much more so her staff? A man less personally involved in the recent unrest could almost find a justification for Miss Vance’s actions. Much as Julian