Charlotte was finishingthe letter to the landlord when Bernadine burst into the small study. “He’s here! Whiddon is here!”
Her heart jumped. She reminded herself sternly that this was Whiddon they were talking about. “No doubt he’s come to make his excuses.”
“Now, don’t give up hope so easily,” her aunt admonished. “And don’t be sour, dear. This mess is not his fault. He’s as much a victim in all of this as you are.”
It was true. She sighed.
“I had him put in the parlor. Pray, do not keep him waiting!”
Charlotte looked around the snug room, filled with dark covered books and heavy furniture. It was gloomy in here without the fire going. “Send him in here,” she said. “It’s a fitting place to deal with bad news.”
Bernadine slumped a little. “Very well.”
Charlotte left the desk and moved to throw open the curtains. She took the seat facing the door, settled her hands in her lap and waited.
Whiddon walked through the door alone, without announcement or ceremony. He closed it behind him.
She stared. “Perhaps you should not—”
Her words trailed away as he came to stand before her, serious and unsmiling. “Tell me about your sister.”
“I . . .” She was taken aback. None of her imaginings of this moment had gone quite like this.
He tossed his hat onto the desk and took the opposite chair. “Tell me. How old is she?”
Charlotte drew a deep breath. Goodness, she had to admit, she had not given him enough credit. Casting her mind over their few encounters, she knew the sum total of personal information she’d revealed was small enough—and still, he had managed to distill the situation down to the truly important.
He waited for her answer, his green eyes fastened on her face, his strong jaw fixed. He looked implacable, like he’d been carved from stone for the express purpose of sitting here and waiting for her to comply.
“She’s fifteen,” she said on a sigh. “Anne. She’s quite brilliant. Her French is impeccable, as my mother taught us both, and my Aunt Bernadine is well able to keep us learning and practicing. Anne also speaks German, though, because her mind is hungry to learn. She discovered that the squire’s agent is from one of the German principalities, and she bribed him into giving her lessons.”
“Bribed him?”
Charlotte smiled at the memory. “She showed up at his office with a plaited stollen loaf. Herr Adlung was delighted and declared it just like his mother’s. She offered to make it regularly in exchange for lessons.”
“She’s not afraid to take action, then. Like her sister.”
Charlotte flushed. She could feel the heat bloom in her cheeks. “My lord,” she protested. “I hope you don’t think that I had anything to do with—”
“No. That’s not what I meant.” He waved a hand. “Please, continue. Your sister?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “She’s taught herself how to navigate by the stars, the way that sailors do. She is fascinated with the Herschels’s work, and with anything to do with ancient Egyptians. She is not, however, interested in men. Not yet.”
His eyes widened and he gave a sudden snort of laughter. “I didn’t mean that, either.” Sobering, his eyes widened. “Her future will be affected as much as yours will, with this scandal.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I was trying to assure her future, to make it possible for her to eventually meet the right sort of young men. Now, she’ll be as tainted as I am.”
“And I’ve heard mention of other siblings?”
Slowly, she nodded. “My brother, George. He is ten.”
“And? What is he like?”
“Hungry.”
He laughed. “Yes, I am familiar with that stage. I myself have been known to devour nearly a whole apple cake in one sitting.”
“And were you sick afterward?”
