“What would ye do there?”
“Paint,” she said impulsively. “That’s what the great artists do. They travel the world and they paint what they see for those who cannot go where they’ve been. But I don’t want to spend my life staring at the proof of someone else’s adventures. I want to make my own.”
Lachlan nodded, as if he understood. And she felt as if he truly did. As if he were the only person who could. Because surely a boy who studied the stars knew what it was like to want more from the universe than what it had given you.
“If ye want tae be a traveling artist, then that’s what ye should be.” Plucking a long piece of grass, he stuck the end between his teeth and spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “What’s stopping ye?”
She giggled at the absurdity of the question.
Where to even begin?
“Miss Hardgrave, for one. Being just fourteen, for another.”
“That old bat,” he snorted. “She’s all bark and no bite. Leave her tae me. And ye willna be fourteen forever. Soon ye’ll be full grown, and then what?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” she noted.
He spat out the grass. “Because I’m interested in the answers.”
Did that mean he foundherinteresting? She liked to believe that it did. Thankful for the darkness as a rosy blush unfolded across her cheeks, she returned her attention to the sky.
“Do those have a name?” she asked, pointing at a collection of stars in an unusual pattern.
“Aye. That’s Ursa Major.” Shifting closer, he gently moved her arm to the left. “And there is Ursa Minor.”
Side by side, they gazed at the galaxy until dawn.
Chapter Four
“Lady Brynne, youmuststop yawning,” Miss Hardgrave scolded. “With your mouth open that wide, you resemble a masticating cow.”
Brynne snapped her teeth together with an audibleclick.
“I am sorry, Miss Hardgrave.”
The governess’ eyes narrowed. “Were you up late reading again?”
“Yes.” It may not have been the entire truth, but it wasn’t a lie. Shehadbeen reading…before she fell asleep and Lachlan woke her by throwing stones at the window.
They’d managed to sneak back into the manor just before daybreak. She was fairly certain Lucy had seen them, but the maid wouldn’t say anything. After stashing her stained, ruined nightgown under the bed, she had climbed beneath the covers and pretended to sleep until her lady’s maid had woken her to get dressed.
She had hoped to see Lachlan at breakfast. To share a mischievous glance over sliced ham and broiled eggs. But there was no sign of him, and she’d eaten alone before being whisked off to her studies.
French first, and then German, a language that had undergone a resurgence in popularity since Queen Victoria married Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, a German dynasty that could trace it roots all the way back the 10thcentury. While Prince Albert was fluent in English, it was rumored that he and Queen Victorian often spoke in his native tongue while they were in private. With an influx of German nobles currently populating the court, it was only natural that ladies of thetonwere expected to learn their language.
Once those lessons were concluded, Brynne had gone straight the music room where she’d rehearsed her major scales in preparation for the recital she would be giving over the Christmas holiday when her brother and father returned to Hawkridge.
The piano was followed by embroidery in the parlor, and then tea in the drawing room where Miss Hardgrave had found her yawning over a plate of scones smothered in raspberry jam.
“You will ruin your eyesight with those books of yours,” said the governess, her mouth thinning in disapproval. “Not to mention all of the silly nonsense they fill your head with.”
“The book I was reading is a study in the historical significance of the industrial revolution and what it means for our future as a–”
“The industrial revolution?” Miss Hardgrave scoffed. “What need doyouhave to know anything about that? As I said, silly nonsense. If you insist on reading, I have the latest issue ofThe Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine. There is an excellent article on the durability of porcelain dinnerware.”
Brynne muffled a sigh. “It sounds enlightening.”
Clearly unable to tell whether her charge was being satirical or not, Miss Hardgrave held Brynne’s gaze for a moment longer before she sniffed and pulled the plate of scones out of reach. “I’ve noticed your dresses have been ill-fitting as of late. Best limit your sweets.”
