‘Miss Lucas seems exceedingly attached to him,’ Lady Susan observed. ‘I wonder what will become of the arrangement now.’
‘Arrangement?’ Mrs Wilberforce repeated blankly.
‘The governess position,’ she clarified. ‘Surely Miss Lucas cannot continue in such a role after marriage.’
Charlotte intervened. ‘I shall continue to teach Tom as usual.’
‘I do not think that would be appropriate,’ Lord Stanley said evenly.
‘Tom’s education is important to me. I see no reason to abandon him abruptly. That is, until a suitable replacement is found.’
She challenged him with her stare, but he did not contradict her.
‘Quite right,’ Mrs Wilberforce agreed warmly. ‘The child adores her. Truly, Henry, Miss Lucas has accomplished more with that boy in a few weeks than anyone else managed in years.’
His gaze settled upon Charlotte. ‘I am perfectly aware of it.’
‘And where did you say you were from, Miss Lucas?’ Lady Susan insisted, continuing her impromptu interrogation.
Charlotte hesitated. How could she answer without arousing suspicion?
Thankfully, Lord Stanley interceded.
‘Minerva, Lady Susan—come, let us fetch a becoming bonnet for Miss Lucas. Her current one is woefully inadequate.’ Then, to Charlotte, more curtly: ‘Miss Lucas, I believe you may wish to rest in the waiting area.’
‘Henry! Don’t be rude. She may stay if she wishes.’
Charlotte seized the opportunity at once. ‘That is quite all right, Mrs Wilberforce. I am rather tired. I shall retire for a little while.’
She slipped away, heart pounding.
She was meant to remain unnoticed—not be paraded about before society. The more attention she attracted, the greater the danger became.
And why was Lady Susan being suddenly so invasive? What did she suspect? And why was Lady Susan suddenly being so inquisitive? What did she suspect? Was she enquiring for herself—or on behalf of the Odd Fellows?
Charlotte withdrew earlier than usual that evening and waited.
As the guests retired for the night, a knock finally sounded at her door.
As expected, it was one of the footmen come to escort her discreetly to Wolverton’s room in the east wing, where the guest chambers were situated.
When she entered, Lord Stanley was already there waiting for her.
Together they searched the room in near silence, checking every trunk, valise, and box for hidden compartments. Even the furniture itself was tested and tapped, as though it might yield some concealed mechanism.
Yet for all their efforts, no passage, hollow, or secret contrivance revealed itself.
After more than an hour, the chamber had been turned thoroughly upside down, but there was still no sign of the elusive black book.
‘It may not be here at all.’ He sighed in exasperation.
Charlotte huffed as she knelt once more to inspect beneath the mattress. ‘It definitely is, my lord,’ she insisted, recalling what Boulton and Hamilton had said. ‘He meant to trade it for his freedom. It must be somewhere within this house.’
Lord Stanley folded his arms thoughtfully. ‘Or he was bluffing. We may simply be wasting our time.’
‘Perhaps,’ she admitted, though doubt coloured her tone, ‘but I cannot believe he would have kept it far from his reach.’
‘Well... where else could he have concealed it?’
