“Who is that lady?” Sophia asked, threading her little arms around his neck and frowning in my direction.
“That is Miss Lyons. She is going to be your new governess. She will teach you how you be all grown up.”
I opened my mouth to protest, still unsure if I wanted the position, but stopped myself. I would be working within the same household and under Lord Trowbridge’s supervision. What better opportunity would I find to become acquainted with such a recluse? It seemed to be the only way. But would Mama condone the impropriety of the situation?
Sophia was still staring at me, a thoughtful look on her round face. I smiled at her without reservation, trying to somehow make up for the scowl on her brow. She was truly adorable. Perhaps being her governess wouldn’t be so very bad.
“She is very beautiful,” Sophia observed, still watching me.
James shot me a sideways glance. My smile was still wide, and it seemed to catch him by surprise. His eyes lingered on me just a little longer. “That she is.”
I felt a wave of heat rise to my cheeks. I hurriedly dropped my gaze from his. What was wrong with me? I did not blush! I had been called pretty too many times to count by various gentlemen. So why did his simple, uncalled-for flattery affect me?
I stood and walked over to the little girl, forcing my eyes away from James. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Sophia. If I could be half as beautiful as you I would be very lucky, indeed.”
She gave me a shy grin, eyes dropping to her shoes, which she clicked together at the toes. The door creaked behind us and Sophia’s eyes lifted, the hazel color shining with excitement. “Papa!”
I straightened my posture quickly, smoothed back my hair, and hoped with desperation that my cheeks were no longer flushed. I turned toward the door, eyes lowered beneath mylashes, displaying the look I had practiced while Mama held my looking glass.
Standing in the doorway was Lord Trowbridge. He wore a gold-trimmed waistcoat and a perfectly pressed coat. His shirt was ruffled, his cravat pristine. His face bore little resemblance to James. His hair was lighter and was tied back neatly. His mouth was a firm line and his eyes were like black tea. He was more handsome than I had expected, so I counted myself fortunate. Lord Trowbridge’s eyes found Sophia and he smiled, reaching his arms out as she ran to him.
“There’s my darling girl.” His voice was low and scratched, like he had swallowed shards of glass. His eyes flicked to me, and he scowled.
James stepped forward. “This is Miss Charlotte Lyons. She is interested in becoming Sophia’s governess. And I…” he cleared his throat, “highly recommend her.”
I gave a coy smile. Lord Trowbridge looked away from me and at his brother, still scowling. “And what has earned this recommendation?”
Mr. Wortham’s brow twinged. “Well, Miss Lyons is very accomplished and educated. I think she will suit the position quite well.” His words were edged in sarcasm only I could hear.
Lord Trowbridge didn’t move a muscle. His stern brow made me uneasy as he looked between Sophia and me. I moved my expression to a more professional, stoic one, realizing that he seemed to despise the fact that I was smiling.
Lord Trowbridge looked at his brother, still frowning. “May I speak with you for a moment?” He nodded his head toward the door and Mr. Wortham followed him out, shooting me a look. The door closed behind them and I could finally relax.
I dropped my hands to my sides with a slow exhale. I couldn’t tell if the earl was impressed or hated me, but he seemed to think I was attractive at least. He was moderately handsome, with neathair and fine clothing. His eyes were dark and stern, unlike Mr. Wortham’s clear, sea-green ones.
I quickly stopped myself. Why was I comparing the two brothers? There was no comparison. Lord Trowbridge, I hated to admit, was far less inviting and handsome, but none of those things mattered. Lord Trowbridge was the prize to be won, and if Mama had chosen a man to deserve me, then he was the man I would pursue.
I hoped he turned out to be a little more kind.
Or maybe he could smile now and then.
I shook my head swiftly. When did these things ever matter to me? He was wealthy and titled. Nothing else could contribute to my opinion of him. He was wealthy and titled, and I was to win his heart if I ever hoped to have a chance in the high circles of society again. Despite his reclusive nature, I was certain that as his wife I could convince him to go out to London at least once a Season.
I had nearly forgotten that Sophia was in the room. She stood in the place her father had left her, looking up at me with a crease between her nearly invisible eyebrows. I could hear the low tones of voices outside the door, but couldn’t decipher any words.
Sophia had eyes and ears only for me.
“Your dress is very lovely,” I said, breaking the silence. “You need only a crown to be a princess.” I related her to a princess because I knew how much I had wanted to be one when I was a little girl. There were few memories of my childhood I held so dear as the ones of when my nanny—though strict—softened enough to read to me from a storybook.
The crease between Sophia’s eyebrows deepened. “Where could I find a crown?” Her voice was so quiet I could hardly distinguish it between the voices outside the door and the swaying of the curtains by the open window.
There was something about her expression that was just so endearing to me. I couldn’t help but smile. My eyes surveyed the room and settled on a piece of stiff twine that encircled and bound together three books. I walked over to the shelf and undid the twine, then tied it again in a small round. When I reached Sophia again, I placed it atop her curls. “That should do for now.”
Slowly, like a twitch, her lips moved upward and into a smile. A small force hit my chest. I had brought that smile to her face. How often had I seen that? I scraped my mind for a memory, a time I had withdrawn something other than outrage, envy, or sadness from a near stranger’s countenance, but found very little evidence. The pure joy I saw in Sophia’s face now struck me somewhere deep inside my heart.
She looked into my eyes, and for a moment, I saw my reflection in them. “Where isyourcrown?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t have one.” My mind wandered to my life in Hampshire, wearing pretty gowns everyday, eating four course meals, flitting around at parties, seeking the favor of every gentleman I saw. I had felt like a princess then. Mama had been so proud. But now I felt very much like a commoner, and I had lost my crown.
