Surely Lord Bainbridge possessed some connection to the Odd Fellows. How could he not? His preference for younger ladies, coupled with his intimacy with Wolverton, seemed all too convenient.
Mrs Wilberforce sat nearby upon the sofa with her friends.
‘You managed to sort out the issue with Mrs Dent, I hope?’ she asked Charlotte, a line of concern marring her otherwise smooth forehead. ‘I trust you have not changed your mind about staying on with us?’
Charlotte concealed a smile and repeated, ‘Mrs Wilberforce, I assure you, I have no intention of leaving.’
But the poor woman appeared only partially reassured.
Lord Wolverton, overhearing, interjected, ‘Staff trouble, is it? Mrs Dent is the housekeeper, I believe?’
At that moment, the door opened and Lord Boulton limped into the room, his exhausted-looking wife beside him.
Charlotte stiffened, fearing he might recognise her as the maid from the other evening, but he scarcely glanced her way.
‘Good heavens, what has happened to your foot, my lord?’ Mrs Wilberforce exclaimed.
He flushed crimson. Charlotte noted it with grim satisfaction.
‘I... cannot entirely recall. I must have stumbled over something.’
Charlotte caught Lady Boulton rolling her eyes with poorly concealed irritation. The discovery that the woman possessed a degree of backbone pleased Charlotte more than it ought.
As she resumed her usual seat beside the spinsters, she found them once again deep in matrimonial strategising.
‘Mr Hamilton was briefly proposed and immediately dismissed.’
‘That cravat tells me he would be impossible to live with,’ Miss Underhill whispered. ‘The more dandified the gentleman, the more demanding.’
‘Now the Captain,’ Miss Hill said approvingly, ‘wears a very sensible knot. It suggests steadiness of character.’
‘I disagree entirely, Dotty,’ declared Miss Underhill. ‘The diamond pin on Lord Stanley’s lapel and his modest knot suggest elegance without vanity. The best of both worlds, I think.’
Charlotte gave an incredulous snort.
‘Ladies, you forget that I am merely a governess with very little to recommend me. Why, pray, should the Captain—or, more absurd still, Lord Stanley—be moved to offer for my hand when ladies like Miss Fraser, Lady Susan, and Miss Pearson are present?’
‘Perhaps,’ Miss Underhill admitted thoughtfully. ‘But Lord Wolverton certainly appears attentive to you. He watches you a great deal.’
Charlotte nearly choked.
Good Lord. The spinsters intended to match her with an evil murderer.Father is likely turning in his grave.
Determined to escape the conversation entirely, she rose to fetch herself some tea.
And promptly found herself face to face with Lord Stanley.
Their eyes met briefly. For one fleeting instant, she thought he acknowledged her presence—yet almost immediately he turned back towards Miss Pearson and resumed their conversation.
They stood directly before the tea table, apparently oblivious to the obstruction they caused, whilst Miss Pearson looked positively radiant beneath his attention. Lord Stanley, for hispart, appeared to have forgotten the existence of everyone else in the room.
Charlotte scowled.
Over the past few days she had noticed the marked degree of attention he paid Miss Pearson—and how eagerly it was received. Was he not supposed to be engaged upon a dangerous mission, rather than openly flirting in the drawing room?
The Captain approached her before she could retreat.
‘Ah, Miss Lucas,’ he said warmly. ‘You are looking well this evening.’
