I smiled at the thought.
As I began teaching her, I found that she was already very intelligent, and seemed excited about the prospect of learning. At her age, I had dreaded my lessons, wishing to be taking teawith Mama and her friends instead. I found myself smiling at nearly every word Sophia said—and wishing I didn’t have to correct the pronunciation errors in her delivery.
It was quite strange actually. I had never known I could enjoy the company of a child so much.
The rest of the day passed without any interaction with Sophia’s father, and my spirits were dim again by the time I returned home.
“Is Lord Trowbridge already smitten?” Clara asked me at dinner. I didn’t miss the sardonic tone in her voice.
“No.”
She chewed and swallowed. Her eyebrows lifted. “Surely he is already planning the wedding.”
I glared at her.
Miss Bentford had been rather silent, but I could sense the anxiety stewing within her. Thin strands of dark hair stuck to the sides of her flushed cheeks, and she bit rather aggressively into a slice of bread. Upon my return from Brackenridge Hall, Clara and I had finally enlightened her about our plan, my absence, and my new position as Sophia’s governess. Miss Bentford must have known how incapable she was of stopping us now, and also how impossible it was to accomplish our objective without the drastic measures I had taken.
We were in a quandary, and Miss Bentford knew that I was the only one who could dig us out of it. I tried to appear more confident than I felt.
Miss Bentford took a sip of tea, which seemed to calm her nerves. “Did the earl seem to take a liking to you?” she asked in a hesitant voice.
I sighed. “Well…not as much as I would have hoped.”
Clara’s lips twitched. “Oh, dear. Was a curl out of place?”
I set my fork down with a huffed breath. “It will take time, but he will realize that I am a perfect fit for him and his daughter. She adores me, you know.”
Clara was silent for several seconds, and then her eyes turned downward. “Is he the sort of man you could ever love?”
My mouth dropped open in disbelief. “You are still obsessing over the idea of love? Have you seen it? I declare I never have.” I picked up my fork and stabbed at my potato. “Love in a marriage is a rare exception, never the rule. I suggest you stop dreaming of it, and stop advising me to care. I have never loved, and I never will.”
Clara exchanged a glance with Miss Bentford. Did they pity me for my duty? I fought the urge to roll my eyes. If Clara continued to dream of love, then she would be chasing it in vain forever. She would become much like our chaperone one day, being sent on errands like this with distant cousins because she is a burden to her family, keeping quiet and submissive because she feels she must make herself scarce, small, and practically invisible.
Clara and Miss Bentford were the ones to be pitied for dreaming of love, not me.
Suddenly Clara’s eyes rounded. “What about Mr. Wortham’s note?Hemust have been in love before.”
“I did not read it. But it was most likely only a foolish adoration of some woman he hardly knew.”
Clara sighed and stood from her chair, lifting her plate and carrying it to a small basin to clean. “I am in awe of your strength of mind sometimes, Charlotte. I could never do what you are trying to accomplish.”
I tightened my jaw. “I am doing it for you. For Mama…for all of us.” My brow furrowed. “Are you not even grateful that I am trying?”
“I am grateful that you have the fortitude. I could never pretend to like a man, and certainly not pretend tolovehim only to secure his money.”
Irritation clawed at my skin. “You could never do it because Lord Trowbridge wouldn’t look twice at you.”
She scowled and scrubbed her plate, splashing water over the edges of the basin.
I drove my fork into my fish. I thought I would be through with eating fish by now, but it was the most affordable option, and without my wages coming for a week, my plate would be covered in scales for a little longer.
The fish reminded me of Mr. Wortham and his words about how I hadn’t proven him wrong. In truth, I had thought of him and his challenge several times that day.
I explored my mind for an idea—anything to put that infuriating man beneath me once again. I looked out the window at the waning light above the distant coast. The fishermen were tiny dots as they lowered their traps into the water to remain overnight. An idea struck me, and a slow smile curled my lips.
Energized by my idea, I stood from the table and walked over to Clara. “Wash this.” I handed her my plate.
She impaled me with a look. “No.”
