‘Oh, unquestionably. By Jove, she is a magnificent creature—a dream to ride.’
Charlotte looked at him carefully.
‘Then you have ridden her? When? I do not recall seeing you do so.’
‘Oh, I met Wolverton at last year’s house party.’
Charlotte paused. Something was amiss.
Wolverton had told young Matthew Stanley that the Arabian had only been gifted to him a few months ago. Either Wolverton had lied—or Mr Hamilton was lying now. Unless...
‘It must be agreeable,’ she said lightly, ‘seeing the same company every year?’
‘Oh, certainly. These gatherings are always diverting. And how are you enjoying the house party this year, Miss Lucas?’
Charlotte looked momentarily disconcerted.
‘This is my first.’
‘Why yes.’ He smiled. ‘Though I could have sworn I saw you here last year. Perhaps I confuse you with the previous governess.’
Charlotte resisted the urge to roll her eyes. To people like him, all governesses were evidently interchangeable creatures in plain gowns.
‘And how do you know Lord Wolverton?’ she asked casually. ‘You seem to be great friends.’
In truth, she had no notion whether they were close at all, but she decided it prudent to probe where she could.
He hesitated—not for long, but Charlotte caught it.
‘Er... old acquaintances, I believe—from Oxford.’
‘I understand you are Lord Bainbridge’s nephew,’ she continued. ‘It must be a comfort to have family living nearby.’
‘Yes. I was close to my cousin Freddie. God rest his soul.’
‘I heard of his passing. Such a tragedy, to die so young. How did he pass again?’
Charlotte already knew the truth through clandestine means last year. Frederick Bainbridge, heir to the title, had died of syphilis—a fact carefully concealed beneath layers of polite society fiction.
He looked away. ‘A carriage accident, I believe.’
A lie. What else are you lying about, Mr Hamilton?
‘At least you still have your uncle,’ she said. ‘That must be some comfort.’
‘Not at all.’ His face twisted. The bitterness in his voice startled her so much she nearly choked on her cordial.
‘I beg your pardon?’
He chuckled. ‘No need to be alarmed—it is no secret. We merely tolerate one another. We do not exactly see eye to eye.’
‘Oh. How unfortunate.’
‘You’re forthright, Miss Lucas.’
‘I apologise. I did not mean to pry.’
‘No, no. I rather like it,’ he said, though his expression contradicted the claim. ‘Truth is, I objected strongly to his marriage. The poor girl was scarcely out of the schoolroom. I made my opinion known... and my uncle retaliated by cutting off my allowance.’
