Instead, she met his gaze steadily, neither smiling nor flinching. When he continued to regard her without embarrassment, she scowled at him.
To her astonishment, he smiled in return—a slow, deliberate smile—and finally turned aside.
Yet the exchange left a deep, unsettling sensation, as though she had unknowingly challenged him to some dangerous private game.
But she had not been the only witness.
Lady Susan had observed the entire exchange and now regarded Charlotte with unmistakable displeasure.
Splendid.
The first evening had scarcely begun, and already Charlotte had acquired both an enemy and a predator.
After dinner, many guests, weary from their travels, retired early. Charlotte gained no further insight that night, though the party would continue for several weeks.
Unease gnawed at her.
Wolverton had watched her too closely. Yet she no longer feared he suspected her of being the girl who had overheard them at the ball.
She had the distinct and deeply unpleasant impression that he had marked her as prey: a poor, friendless governess with neither fortune nor influential family to protect her.
The sort of woman society would scarcely notice missing.
She locked her door and, for good measure, wedged a chair beneath the handle.
After all, one could not be certain who prowled a country house after dark.
Chapter 17
Charlotte was no longer concerned that Lord Stanley might be poisoned. He guarded his food and drink closely, and she even noted with relief that the butler himself attended to his refreshments in the evenings rather than entrusting the task to the footmen serving the rest of the company. She liked to think her letter had inspired this sudden vigilance—a thought that afforded her a small, grim satisfaction.
Yet as the house party wore on, Charlotte found herself growing increasingly frustrated. During the day she could not continue her investigation, being confined to the schoolroom with Tom and lessons.
Her only opportunities to observe the guests came in the evenings.
She attempted conversation with the ladies whenever possible, but many regarded being approached by a governess as an impertinence and responded with cool indifference. More often than not, she found herself relegated to the corner beside the spinsters.
She observed Wolverton as discreetly as she could, yet he gave her nothing to work with. He appeared perfectly congenialwith everyone alike, favouring no particular guest. If anything, he spent the greater part of his time in Lord Stanley’s company.
To compound matters, Mrs Dent showed no signs of relinquishing her dislike of her. Meals sent upstairs were increasingly bland, the tea perpetually weak, and there was a noticeable absence of maid service. More than once, Charlotte found herself scrubbing the schoolroom floors herself. The additional work left her precious little time to make progress.
One afternoon, while carrying her empty tea tray back to the kitchen—a task Sarah would ordinarily have performed—Charlotte paused as hushed voices drifted from the scullery.
‘She didn’t run away, Holly, I’m telling you. All her money is still under the floorboard—only I knew about it. She would’ve taken that.’
‘Shh. Don’t say another word,’ Holly whispered urgently. ‘And don’t tell anyone, you hear me?’
‘But shouldn’t Mrs Dent know? It’s this house. I swear it’s haunted. I keep hearing footsteps in the walls. I’m frightened, Holly...’
At the sight of Charlotte approaching, they fell silent at once and hurried off to their duties.
Charlotte’s skin prickled.
Haunted? Footsteps in the walls?
Was it possible Lucy had not run away after all? She had not taken her savings.
Yet she had left behind a note, so it was entirely possible she had simply forgotten it in her haste—especially if she had fled to Gretna Green to marry. Perhaps she intended to return for it later.
