“Wait for us!” Lady Angeline called as she, Clementine, and Olive approached. “What were we discussing?”
“I hope it was the fire sparking between Charity and Wilton,” Olive said, flashing Charity a teasing grin.
She scowled. “Is there not some sort of Roman roof component you ought to be digging about in the dirt for at this very moment?”
“Now, Charity,” Clementine chastised. “Do sheathe your claws.”
Perhaps shewasbeing a curmudgeon, Charity allowed as she huffed a sigh and recalled their surroundings. “We are standing in the midst of the great hall, and this is no place for a private conversation. Perhaps we should find somewhere more discreet to chat.”
“I know just the room,” Clementine said quickly.
“And how would ye know which chamber is best for privacy and discretion, hmm?” Raina asked, turning her raised brow and questioning expression upon their other friend.
Pink tinted Clementine’s cheekbones. “No reason. I happened upon it by accident the other day, and the sunshine shone in the windows in the most delightful fashion. I thought to myself that it would be an ideal room for conducting a conversation with my friends.”
“That sounds as believable as my aching head, Tiny,” Charity could not resist pointing out. “You were likely up to mischief with Dorset. But do lead us to the chamber in question. Perhaps I might use it with a handsome footman.”
“Charity!” Raina scolded, sounding shocked.
“Have youseenthe footmen?” Melanie asked, her tone skeptical.
“Hush,” Angeline ordered,sotto voce, “lest one of them overhears us!”
“All the more reason to get ourselves into Tiny’s favorite room to disappear into with Dorset,” Charity could not resist teasing.
Laughing as they had not since the days of Twittingham Academy, they hastened to a small salon, which was tucked away in a corner near the conservatory and out of the ordinary range of guests coming and going. Charity settled herself in a cushioned window seat, with the rest of her friends ensconcing themselves in a variety of chairs and divans.
Silence descended.
Charity took it upon herself to end it.
“Well? What is so important the five of you have dragged me to this salon when I was desperately in need of a nap to soothe my aching head?” she demanded.
“Do not expect us to believe you have a headache,” Olive said. “We are more than familiar with that excuse from finishing school days.”
Charity pinned her dear friend with a narrowed stare. “I did no such thing.”
“You did,” Melanie countered.
“Ye were quite adept at escaping obligations,” Raina allowed.
“I was not,” Charity denied. “Tiny, Angeline, tell them they are wrong.”
But Clementine and Angeline gave her telling looks.
“Perhaps I did use it as an excuse to avoid a few unwanted tasks,” she allowed.
“There was the time ye didnae want to recite poetry,” Raina reminded her.
“Sonnets are silly,” she said.
“And the time you had forgotten how to conjugate French verbs,” Tiny added.
“Je ne française pas,” she defended herself.
“I do believe it ought to beje ne suis pas française, dearest,” Olive corrected gently.
Trust the scholar amongst them to know the proper form. Charity supposed that when she was in France with Auntie Louise, she would have the opportunity to refresh her memory.
