Charlotte opened her mouth—then closed it again, mildly impressed by their sage advice.
Miss Underwood nodded approvingly. ‘There now,’ she said. ‘That’s proper governess training.’
Miss Hill squeezed Charlotte’s hand. ‘You’ll do splendidly, dear. You already have the most important quality.’
‘Which is?’ Charlotte asked brightly.
‘Kindness,’ Miss Hill said.
Charlotte rolled her eyes affectionately. ‘Well... thank you. I shall put all your advice to use.’
Miss Hill leaned back proudly. ‘See, June? We should open a school for governess training.’
Miss Underwood sighed. ‘We’d be shut down by Michaelmas.’
Charlotte dissolved into another fit of laughter and decided she quite adored them both.
Soon, a tall and striking gentleman entered the room, his thick brown locks artfully disordered about a face of almost angelic symmetry. His scarlet regimentals lent him a particularly dashing air, and more than one feminine gaze lifted in open admiration as he advanced with easy confidence.
Charlotte wondered whether this might be the elusive brother Mrs Wilberforce had so anxiously anticipated, but the notion was swiftly dispelled when he was addressed as Captain Whitworth.
The Captain looked well accustomed to the attention and wore an expression that suggested he was ready to duel, flirt, or both. He made a point of speaking to all present, but Charlotte did not expect him to approach her. She was therefore surprisedwhen, after half an hour of eliciting giggles from the ladies and a few hearty back-slaps from the gentlemen, he drew alongside her as she moved towards the tea stand for refreshment.
‘Miss Lucas, how are you finding your stay?’ he asked.
She jumped at the sound of his voice; he stood rather closer than she had anticipated, having leaned slightly towards her. She turned sharply and found herself met with a warm pair of brown eyes. She noted the creases at their corners—so he laughed often, she thought. His well-shaped lips spread into a dashing smile, and Charlotte felt an entirely unexpected little flutter of pleasure.
She nearly dropped the sugar tongs.
How did he know her name? He had taken the trouble to enquire. Realising her mouth was agape, she closed it quickly.
‘Have you met Master Tom, Captain?’ she replied dolefully.
She was uncertain why he would bother to speak to the help when none of the other gentlemen had, but she nevertheless found it rather pleasing to be acknowledged as existing.
He chuckled. ‘I believe he is a handful. I am surprised you are still here after—what is it—seven days? How ever did you manage it?’
Charlotte thought, Because I have no choice, but turned a tight smile towards the Captain and replied, ‘I do my best.’
She curtseyed and returned to her seat, but the Captain watched her retreat with a curious smile.
Charlotte pretended not to notice, though her ears felt uncomfortably warm. Perhaps the Wilberforces kept the room too well heated. Yes—that must be it.
Then the door opened, which went unnoticed by Charlotte as she sat down, still somewhat flustered, and took up her embroidery hoop.
Mrs Wilberforce rose gaily. ‘Brother! You’re finally here. What took you so long?’
A deep voice answered, ‘I was delayed by the roads, Minerva.’
Charlotte’s fingers froze mid-stitch.
She knew that voice.
It could not be—could it?
Slowly, she looked up—
And there he was.
