After tucking a loose curl behind her ear—she didn’t care to contemplate what other strands had come free as she had worked—Charlotte rose and quickly shook out the creases from her work gown.
It was time for the dowager to see the sow’s ear, not the silk purse.
On entering the parlor, she found Alison inspecting the books and paintings at the far end of the room.
“This is a wonderful landscape,” said the dowager, turning from a large canvas of a Tuscan hillside and lowering her quizzing glass. “The light and colors are exquisitely rendered.”
“It was done by my late husband,” said Charlotte, finding her throat had gone very dry.
“He was very talented.”
“Yes, very.” She gestured to the sofa. “Won’t you sit down?”
Shifting the cane to her other hand, Alison then crossed the carpet and settled herself against the sofa’s thick pillows. All the lamps were lit, filling the room with a mellow glow.
“This is a very charming place,” observed the dowager after another look around.
“It’s nothing fancy, but it suits me,” replied Charlotte, aware of how stilted she sounded. Despite her resolve, she was finding it hard to shake off her nervousness. Alison had always accepted—nay, encouraged—the fact that her grand-niece marched to a rebellious drumbeat.
But what if the person I’ve become has crossed the line of no return?
Charlotte looked up to find the dowager regarding her with an inscrutable stare.
“I gather there is something important that you wish to discuss with me?” said Alison.
“Yes,” she answered. “But before I do so, I need to explain . . .”
“Tea,” announced McClellan, carrying a tray into the parlor. “I thought refreshments might be welcome.” Following behind her were Raven and Hawk, each bearing a platter of pastries.
Charlotte breathed a silent sigh of relief. She had sent the boys off with scrubbed faces and clean clothing, and by some miracles, they still appeared relatively tidy.
“Dundee cakes,” announced Raven, setting his offering down on the table in front of Alison.
“And ginger biscuits,” chirped Hawk. “They’re my favorite,” he confided to the dowager as he put down his plate.
“I’mveryfond of ginger biscuits, too,” replied Alison, her lips twitching upward. “However, I shall try to leave one or two for you.”
“S’all right. Have as many as you like.” He grinned, revealing a few molasses-flecked crumbs lodged between his teeth. “There’s another pan in the oven.”
McClellan cleared her throat. “Lady Charlotte has poured tea for Lady Peake. Be a gentleman and bring it to her, and then you may offer her a biscuit before fixing plates for you and your brother.”
Raven had taken a perch on one of the facing armchairs, hands folded primly in his lap.
“Thank you,” said the dowager once Hawk had finished serving her. She looked at Charlotte, her eyes alight with amusement. “The boys have such impeccable manners. I confess, I’m still trying to puzzle out why Wrexford calls them Weasels.”
Charlotte had been struggling with how to broach the subject of her past—her real past, not the one gilded with half-truths and outright bouncers. And here, she decided, was a way to cut through all hemming and hawing in one fell swoop.
“It’s because of our first encounter with the earl,” she said. “Raven stuck a knife in Wrexford’s leg, and Hawk flung a broken bottle at his head, when they thought that he was threatening me.”
For a moment, the room was utterly still. Even the plume of steam rising from the teapot seemed to freeze in midair.
And then a tiny twitch as Hawk’s eyes widened in shock. “I-I thought we were never, ever supposed to mention that,” he whispered, his mouth quivering in confusion. “On account of . . . of . . .”
“On account of it giving away the truth,” said Raven, turning to watch Alison intently through the fringe of his dark lashes. “The truth that we’re orphan guttersnipes, not m’lady’s respectable relatives.”
The dowager blinked and took a moment to polish her quizzing glass before raising it to her eye.
“I found the boys—or rather, they found me—in my previous residence,” explained Charlotte in a rush. Like peeling a bandage from a wound, it was best to get it over with quickly. “Which was on the fringes of St Giles, a far less pleasant neighborhood than this one. They had been abandoned, and Raven was doing his best to care for Hawk. They began doing odd errands in return for whatever scraps of food I could afford, and for shelter from . . .” She hesitated. “From all the evils than can befall children left to fend for themselves.”
