He shot a quick glance out of the mischievous gray eyes. “Since we may soon have a family connection, shouldn’t you call me Charles?”
“Only if you will call me Annabelle.”
“Exactly what I hoped you would say,mignonne.”
“What did you call me?” Annabelle asked in surprise. She recognized the French endearment, but it was obviously improper of him to use it.
His answer was properly apologetic, but she detected a trace of smile on his face. “Forgive me. For most of the last two years I have been speaking French, and I sometimes become confused between the two languages.”
Annabelle permitted herself a sniff to let him know that she didn’t believe the reply but dropped the subject since she wasn’t offended by the familiarity. Quite the contrary. Obviously she still had a weakness for audacity, but as she observed the earl’s firm profile, she knew that this was a man she could trust, quite unlike the late, and now unlamented, Sir Edward Loaming.
Charles was saying thoughtfully, “It’s odd. My sister, who is wholly French, is now more comfortable speaking English, while I, who am much more English, am still thinking in French. I expect it will be several more weeks before that changes and I start thinking in English again.”
“That was one of the things I was wondering,” Annabelle said curiously. “How were you raised? It must have been a most unusual upbringing.”
“I suppose so, though it seemed natural enough at the time. My real father, the Earl of Radcliffe, died when I was only two. It’s strange,” Charles mused. “I think of him as old and wise, and yet he was only about my age when he died.”
Annabelle was silent for a few moments before she said quietly, “And yet you were old enough to remember him?”
“A little, I think. I can remember a tall blond man tossing me in the air. It must have been him. My Uncle Lewis was never so playful, though physically he resembled my father. I can also remember being carried on the saddle bow before a rider and squealing with delight, but that could have been either my father or my uncle. Or both, at different times.”
“It must be very hard to lose a parent so young.”
Charles pulled his horses back to let a mail coach pass in front of him. He gave Annabelle a quick glance, his face serious for once. “It is always tragic when a good person dies young, but you needn’t look so grave on my behalf. I was very fortunate since my Uncle Lewis and my mother’s second husband, Philippe d’Estelle, were both like fathers to me. An English gentleman and a French philosopher, what more could any boy need?”
“Then you are to be congratulated.” Annabelle said it with a smile but could not repress a wistful pang. What would it have been like to have loving parents? She continued, “Were you raised in both countries?”
“Yes. Until I was old enough to start school, I was usually with my mother, but she and her second family would make long visits to Radcliffe Hall, and my Uncle Lewis visited us in France. He and my mother were my guardians, and Lewis managed my estates until I was of age. After I started at Harrow, I spent more time in England, but would still go to France for the summers. That’s why Christa and I are so close. We spent at least as much time together as most full brothers and sisters.”
They had reached Kensington Gardens and Charles headed the curricle toward the Orangery. Traffic was light, and he was able to give more attention to his passenger.
Annabelle said, “One of the things I’ve been wondering is how Christa could become a lady’s maid so successfully. I wouldn’t have the faintest notion how to do some of the things she did.”
Charles laughed. “My sister is intimidatingly well educated. Our mother thought that a lady should understand all the duties of a household, and her father encouraged her to study everything else. Plus, she always had more curiosity than a kettleful of cats. I imagine there isn’t a task in the d’Estelle household or estates that she didn’t have some understanding of.”
Annabelle sighed. “If she wasn’t so nice, it would be easy for an inferior female like me to dislike her.”
Charles pulled the horses to a stop and turned to give her his full attention. His gray eyes were very searching as he said, “You must never even think that. I love my sister and wouldn’t change her in any way, but she is not the only pattern of female worthiness. Her education and competence are very much a part of her, but it is spirit that makes someone special.”
He was conveying a message beyond just his words, and Annabelle almost turned away from the intensity of his expression as her old feelings of unworthiness fought for control of her mind.What can a man like this possibly see in me? But there was some thread of connection between them, and she intended to do everything in her power to strengthen it.
She touched his hand lightly. “You are very like your sister, in both the generosity and the wisdom.”
Charles relaxed with a smile. “Much of that is due to my mother. She is the most remarkable woman I’ve ever known. Quite apart from her attributes of character, she is a countess three times over—once at birth and twice by marriage.”
“I hope that I may meet her someday.”
“You will,” Charles said as he slapped the reins to start the horses again. He slanted a glance at her. “You remind me a bit of Marie-Claire. You have some of the same gentleness of spirit.”
Annabelle’s throat tightened alarmingly, and it was several moments before she replied, “Thank you. I will endeavor to be worthy of your regard.”
They rode in companionable silence for some time, enjoying the relative warmth of the day. Eventually Annabelle said, “I keep hoping we are right that there is an attachment between Alex and Christa. I expect that Christa could have just about any man she wanted, but I’ve never seen my brother so relaxed with any other woman. Except me, I suppose,” she added meticulously. “But if she doesn’t care for him . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“I can’t swear to her feelings, but she is assuredly missing someone, and Lord Kingsley is by far the best prospect. I just hope he can handle her,” Charles said with a laugh. “Christa is a rare handful.”
“If Alex can control a ship with three hundred men on it, I imagine he can manage one small Frenchwoman.”
“The two things aren’t comparable, but I sincerely hope you are right for everyone’s sake. By the way, how did Christa come to your house? It was her second position, wasn’t it?”
