Julian did not look at her.
She crossed the room and set her book down, noting the way his shoulders tensed slightly. Still, he remained motionless, as though determined to prove something by force of stillness alone.
Charlotte smiled to herself.
She pulled out the chair opposite him and sat, smoothing her skirts. “Good morning, Julian.”
Silence.
“Did you sleep well?” she tried.
Nothing.
She studied him openly now—the set of his jaw, the careful way he avoided meeting her eyes. This was not obedience. This was performance.
“Very well,” she said, as though conceding defeat. “We may begin whenever you’re ready.”
She had just reached for her book when Julian’s hand moved.
Quick as lightning, he lifted something from beneath the table and dropped it directly into her lap.
Charlotte gasped—not in fear, but surprise—as something cool and damp landed against her skirts.
A frog.
It sat there, squat and blinking, entirely unconcerned with the small drama into which it had been conscripted.
Julian turned at last, eyes bright, mouth already opening in anticipation.
Charlotte looked down. Then she laughed.
It was not a startled sound. Not forced. It rang clear and genuine as she cupped the frog gently in both hands, lifting it with reverent care.
“Well, hello there,” she murmured, utterly delighted.
Julian’s jaw fell open.
Charlotte examined the frog as though it were a marvel, stroking its smooth back with her thumb. “You’re a handsome fellow, aren’t you?” she said softly. “Cold this morning, I imagine.”
The frog blinked again.
Julian stared.
“You’re … not scared,” he said finally, incredulous.
Charlotte glanced up at him, eyes bright. “Why should I be?”
“It’s a frog,” he said, as though stating an unassailable fact.
“Yes,” she agreed cheerfully. “And a rather fine one.”
Julian leaned forward, confusion overtaking triumph. “Miss Harper screamed,” he said. “So did Miss Wilton. One of them dropped her book and cried.”
Charlotte winced slightly. “That must have frightened him terribly.”
Julian hesitated. “Him?”
She nodded, still cradling the frog. “Creatures feel fear, too, you know. Especially when they’re handled roughly or used for tricks.”
