Chapter Eight
“A little more than kin and less than kind.”
There was little time to register his words. My mouth dropped open but I quickly forced it shut again. How could Mr. Wortham be Lord Trowbridge’sbrother?
Before I could respond, the door swung open to reveal a butler, starched and neat, with a prim, ghostly face.
“Mr. Wortham, how do you do?” His eyes flicked to me and back to Mr. Wortham again.
“Good day Benson. This is Miss Charlotte Lyons. Please inform my brother that she is here to apply for the position of Sophia’s governess.”
The butler nodded and welcomed us into the drawing room. My attention was immediately drawn to the beautiful pianoforte in the corner of the room. It reminded me of the instruments I had played so often in Hampshire and London in grand homes like this one. I knew it wasn’t my place to play here, so I quieted my longing and focused on my posture as I sat on the sofa. My heart thudded in my chest. I was not often nervous, but myinsides twisted into knots. I swallowed hard, daring a glance at Mr. Wortham.
He had taken his seat on a chair, his body angled away from me. I cleared my throat loudly, calling his eyes. “How long did you plan to conceal this relation from me?”
He crossed his arms and leaned back. One corner of his mouth lifted in a sardonic smile. “It’s common knowledge around this town that Trowbridge is my elder brother. You would have learned of it eventually without my help. You may blame your ignorance on your inability to communicate kindly with those beneath your station.”
I glared at him. “Why did you pretend to be beneath your own station?”
“I didn’t.”
My forehead creased. “Then why do you work as a fisherman? Despite being a younger son, surely you have a better occupation than that.”
“I do not work as a fisherman; the fishermen work forme. I’m the harbor master. I coordinate shipments, oversee safety, control traffic in and out of the harbor, among other duties. But I do enjoy participating in the labor from time to time. Fishing is a favorite pastime of mine. I’m not rich, you know.” He straightened his cravat with a wide grin. “Besides, the men respect me.”
I rolled my eyes. “How could you possibly enjoy fishing?”
“I invite you to try it sometime. Lowering a trap and later emptying it, pulling a net weighed down by fish, exercising patience. Wearing a lovely pair of trousers.” He winked.
I shook my head. “Never.”
He challenged me with a look. “Would you never attempt fishing? Purely for the joy in it?”
My nose wrinkled in distaste. “Of course not. It’s a man’s sport.”
He sat up straighter. “Oh? You find yourself incapable? I would have to agree.”
“Surely it takes very little skill. Why should I try it just to prove you wrong?” The very idea was ridiculous.
“Because until then, I will presume you can only thread a needle through fabric and plink meaningless melodies on the pianoforte.”
I looked away from him, crossing my arms. “The pianoforte is not meaningless to me.” My face was shrouded in heat. He didn’t know me. He didn’t know how much the pianoforte meant to me. I took a deep breath, exasperated by his efforts to vex me. I could not allow him to ruffle my composure moments before meeting Lord Trowbridge—which seemed to be what he was trying to do. “Might I remind you I have your love letter,” I said in a firm voice. “If you wish to keep it from the hands of Lucy Abbot, then I suggest you stop teasing me.”
His eyes narrowed, but then the door cracked open.
I sat up straight, willing my face to cool.
A round, long-lashed eye came into view, peeking through the crack. Slowly, the door eased open wider and a head of carrot-hued curls appeared, followed by the rest of a tiny girl in a frilly purple dress. She could not have been older than six.
“Uncle James!” The girl ran forward and into Mr. Wortham’s arms.
He grinned, lifting her up with ease and setting her on his lap. “Sophia, you have grown even bigger since I saw you last week.”
She giggled, a high trill that made me smile. “So have you.”
He frowned. “When you are all grown up, it is no longer a compliment to have become ‘bigger’.”
She laughed as he poked his own stomach. Mr. Wortham glanced at me, and I quickly suppressed my smile, but he saw it.
