“The roll will be quite enough, Mrs. Garret. It smells delicious. There is no finer bread in Yorkshire, I do declare. Lucy will bring me out some tea in a while.”
“That will be one fewer roll for the family,” Mrs. Hannon sniffed.
“Of which Lady Charlotte is one,” Mrs. Garret pointed out with a wave of a wooden spoon she always had in her hand.
“Not Lady at all, Mrs. Garret,” Mrs. Hannon said with a raised nose.
“Daughter of the late Earl of Abbotsbury, without whose generosity this house would not have its fancy new wing and would be a crumbling ruin beside,” Mrs. Garret countered.
“I always said it was a mistake to join two households. The staff of Abbotsbury are not our sort.”
Charlotte excused herself as an age-old argument began again between the two women. She slipped into the stable yard and hurried along the path to the garden. Finding a bench under a bower of fragrant roses and lazily buzzing bees took a few moments. She sighed as she closed her eyes briefly.
Hamilton House has always been Bedlam! When my cousins are not arguing with each other, they are berating their fatheror the staff. Who wars with those who came with me from my parents’ house. A moment’s peace to escape is all I ask.
She opened her eyes and unfastened her book, finding her place, which was not too far from Lucy’s recommended spot. The prose was tolerably written, though Charlotte believed she could have done better. But the story of a rakish Duke redeemed by the woman who loved him touched her heart. She could picture the handsome rake in her mind’s eye. He would be tall and dark with a strong face and smoldering eyes.
“Lady Janet swooned as Kenneth took her in his arms, giving way to the...”came a male voice behind her.
Charlotte jumped, dropping the book for a second time. She leaped from her seat and spun. Luke Hadlow stood behind the bench, having climbed the wall that backed it. His red hair framed a round, boyish face and a smile that rarely seemed to leave his lips.
“Luke! Whatever are you doing, scaling walls and giving me the fright of my life!” Charlotte exclaimed.
He hopped over the back of the bench to perch upon it.
“I saw you in the distance and thought I would surprise you. The wall wasn’t difficult to scale. And the effort was worth the look on your face.”
Charlotte stooped to pick up her book, brushing grass from its cover.
“Whatever are you doing reading such drivel?” Luke asked.
“It may not be Shakespeare, but it is a guilty pleasure I allow for myself,” Charlotte declared boldly.
“Hmm, I won’t tell my mother. She would be bitterly disappointed,” Luke said.
“Please do not!” Charlotte could not help laughing at the idea of the Dowager Countess of Beswick learning that the woman his son was courting read scandalous romantic fiction.
The woman he pretends to be courting anyway. Another secret to be kept from her.
“I also have this for you,” he held out an envelope, “it is for you, but was delivered to the Priory by mistake. I really must have a word with the postmaster at Huntingdon. This is the third time the post has gone astray.”
Charlotte took the envelope, feeling a thrill of excitement. It bore her name in her sister’s handwriting.
Finally, Amelia writes to me. She has never left it so long before. I was beginning to worry.
She opened it. Luke tried to read over her shoulder, possessing no apparent boundaries. Charlotte flicked his ear, and he yelped, sliding out of her reach. She grinned as she started to read.
“She is well and enjoying the season in London,” Charlotte read aloud, “she asks after me...”
“And me?” Luke asked.
Charlotte raised an eyebrow, scanning the letter. As she read on, she stopped, reading something she had not expected.
“Yes,” she said absently, “she does ask after you.”
Luke jumped from the bench and snatched the book Charlotte had put down to read her sister’s letter. He laughed as he flicked through the pages.
“When you write back, be sure to tell her...” he began.
