“Say ‘thank you,’ Cordelia!” Letitia reminded the child before she could get distracted.
It was half effective; Cordy’s “thank you” was muffled and cast over her shoulder as she raced off to look at an interesting rock.
Letitia crossed her eyes in exasperation, but there was a clear fondness in her face. Clio laughed.
“At least you never had to teach me my manners,” she teased her friend, whose long red curls were fluttering in the breeze, making her look utterly picturesque. That was no doubt as much to do with the happiness shining in her expression as with the idyllic country sunshine. “I already came trained up in that regard.”
Letty gave her an arched look. “Yes, well, you gave me plenty to worry about, don’t you ever doubt it,” she said, though she didn’t sound terribly put out about it. “Half my gray hairs are named after you, Clio War—” She caught herself. “Clio Ferrars.”
Clio wrinkled her nose, though she wanted to grin madly. “That still sounds so strange, doesn’t it? And don’t think you’ve distracted me—you haven’t any gray hairs.”
“That shows what you know,” Letty retorted lightly. “I am merelyextremelyaccomplished at hiding them in my coiffure. And your new name does sound a bit strange, yes, but a good kind of strange.”
When Letitia turned back to Clio, her blue eyes were shining with earnestness.
“I am glad,” she said. “I would have supported you, whatever you chose, but … I wanted you to find a place all your own.”
There was a wistfulness in her tone that Clio knew had more to do with Letty’s wishes for herself than her wishes for Clio.
“Do you think you’ve found that place for yourself?” she asked gently. She didn’t want to cause her friend to worry by explaining the precariousness of Clio’s own situation.
The distraction worked; Letty beamed.
“I think so,” she said. “I’ve known other governesses who complain that our role doesn’t quite fit in anywhere in the household—we aren’t part of the family, of course, but we aren’t quite part of the staff, either. But I’ve spent my whole life in in-between spaces, and here, the people are kind. They are respectful. They don’t expect me to fall all over myself with gratitude for the opportunity to work. And the children are utterly precious,” she added, pausing to cast a watchful eye over Cordy.
“I’m happy for you,” Clio said, meaning it. Her friend’s illegitimate birth had left her cast aside since her childhood, and the family that had purportedly adopted her had treated her more like an unpaid servant than a daughter. Clio knew that Letty had felt more appreciation when employed by her great aunt, but that had always been a short-term position. Helen and Xander’s children were young; they would need a governess for years to come.
Letty could finally have a place to call home.
Just then, as if summoned by the mere thought of her family, Helen came around the bend in the garden.
“Mama!” Cordy shrieked for her mother in a pitch that would render several local dogs deaf, no doubt, then waved something above her head. “I’ve found a leaf!”
“Lovely, darling!” Helen called back. When this supplied all the approval her daughter needed, she shook her head fondly, then turned to Clio and Letitia.
“Miss Knightley, I am hereby relieving you for the next hour,” she said to Letitia. “I would like to discuss some things with my cousin, so I shall mind the little sprite for a while.”
This was ominous enough that Clio cast a pleading glance at Letitia, but her friend was no fool; she was already getting to her feet.
“Of course, Your Grace,” she said politely. “Please let me know if you need me sooner.”
She wasn’t evenlookingat Clio. How rude! Not that Clio truly expected Letitia to countermand her employer, but still. That was loyalty for you.
“I appreciate that, Miss Knightley,” Helen said.
Letitia hurried away, pausing only long enough to mouthsorryto Clio over Helen’s shoulder.
Clio braced herself for interrogation.
“I can’t help but notice,” Helen said, not even bothering to hide the glee in her voice, “that you appear to be practicallyglowingtoday, my dear.”
That was honestly rather subtle, for Helen.
“Must be the sun,” Clio ventured. “Dreadful for the complexion, of course, but very pleasant.”
Helen, who was not the kind of woman who feared for the state of her complexion and knew perfectly well that Clio didn’t either, snorted. Clio shook her head. She might be irritated with her cousin’s shameless matchmaking, but she still adored Helen.
“Oh, yes, thesun,” she said, a definite note of mockery in the word. “And was it also the sun that had you all shining and bright at the breakfast table this morning?”
