Mrs. Channing’s voice cut cleanly through the air, crisp with expectation, as though restoring order by force of habit.
“You have not yet been properly introduced.”
Edward paused.
Miss Fenton stood quietly now, hands folded before her, her expression open and composed.
Up close, the impression struck him with unexpected force. She was young, as he had noticed—her features unlined, her eyes bright, her manner unguarded in a way that felt almost reckless within Ashford’s somber walls.
“This,” Mrs. Channing said crisply, “is Miss Charlotte Fenton, the new governess. Miss Fenton—His Grace, the Duke of Averleigh.”
Edward inclined his head, already aware of the faint absurdity of the moment. “Miss Fenton,” he said. “We have already been introduced.”
Mrs. Channing’s brows knit slightly.
Miss Fenton blinked, momentarily caught off guard, then recovered at once.
Edward’s gaze lingered on her despite himself. The loose fall of her hair only emphasized her youth, lending her a brightness that sat uneasily against the house's gray severity.
“How old are you?”
The question escaped him before he could temper it.
A brittle silence followed.
Miss Fenton regarded him steadily. “That is rather an inappropriate question to ask a lady, Your Grace.”
Edward felt irritation flare—not at her, but at the sudden clarity of his own misstep. He straightened, expression cooling.
“I ask,” he said curtly, “because it is my responsibility to know precisely whom I employ. It is also advisable that the servants and staff of this house remember their position—and conduct themselves accordingly.”
Mrs. Channing’s mouth tightened.
Miss Fenton studied him for a fraction longer than courtesy dictated, her expression unreadable.
“I am three-and-twenty,” she said evenly.
The words were calm. Polite.
And edged.
Edward felt the shift at once.
“And I recall,” she continued after a brief pause, “that I apologized to you last evening.”
Edward went very still.
Mrs. Channing frowned. “Last evening?”
Miss Fenton inclined her head. “When I mistook his grace for an intruder.” Her gaze did not waver. “I believed it my duty not to allow a stranger to wander the house at night—particularly where a child is concerned. I still believe that demonstrated proper respect for the property.”
The words landed cleanly. Measured. Unapologetic.
Edward studied her.
No governess had ever spoken to him this way. Not with fear. Not with flattery. But with conviction—and no apparent concern for whether it pleased him.
For a long moment, he said nothing at all.
