She entered Lord Stanley’s study—a room of unmistakably masculine character, dominated by a vast mahogany desk and carrying the scent of leather, ink, and something distinctly him. Her eyes fell at once upon the ornate Ottoman dagger resting upon the mantel, the prayer beads coiled beside scattered books and papers.
Then she noticed him.
Kneeling upon the rug.
He did not look up immediately, but continued reading from a great book filled with swirling foreign script. He recited in a beautiful cadence, and Charlotte found herself utterly mesmerised by the sound of it.
At last, sensing her presence, he closed the book quietly and rose to his feet.
‘It is the Holy Qur’an,’ he said.
‘It is beautiful,’ she replied without thinking.
For a brief moment, silence lingered between them. Something unreadable flickered across his expression before the familiar trace of sarcasm returned.
‘You have been making yourself rather conspicuous, Miss Lucas,’ he said, setting the book upon its stand. ‘For someoneeager to remain unseen.’ A faint smile touched his lips as he leaned against the desk.
Charlotte drew breath to defend herself, but he did not permit it.
‘Since you’ve arrived, you have shut yourself away in the library, adopted questionable methods, taught Tom very little of substance, and now contrived to offend my staff—pray, why should I keep you on?’
Charlotte’s jaw tightened. His arrogance set her teeth on edge. She had endured quite enough.
Stand your ground.
Before prudence could intervene, the words escaped her.
‘Because no one else will come within ten feet of the little rascal, my lord. I fear you are stuck with me.’
A long silence stretched.
Then—to her astonishment—he laughed. A deep, unfeigned laugh that seemed to fill the room.
‘You have the advantage of me there,’ he admitted, regarding her as though she presented a most curious problem.
Charlotte gaped, startled by how much more handsome he appeared when he laughed.
He sobered. ‘Mrs Dent neglected to provide the full circumstances?’
‘Since he arrived at the mansion, he has suffered from nightmares—and the occasional... mishap,’ she clarified. ‘He wet the bed, and Mrs Dent was scolding the poor boy rather harshly. He was frightened. I... reacted. I confess I may have lost my temper a little.’
He continued to regard Charlotte as though seeing her for the first time, then nodded slowly. ‘Thank you for your efforts, Miss Lucas. You won’t be dismissed today. You may go.’
Charlotte curtseyed, too astonished to speak.
The words lingered within her—unexpectedly warm.
She walked out of the study with renewed determination. Tom’s reading showed genuine improvement, however slight—even if the haughty lordship had yet to observe it.
As she looked up, she saw the boy’s solemn face peeping through the banisters at the top of the stairs.
And for the first time since arriving, Charlotte felt as though she had truly achieved something.
She had gained Tom’s trust.
Chapter 16
Two weeks later, the guests arrived.
