“Is he,” Temperance said.
“Duncan said so, and Duncan is not in the habit of making that observation about other men without cause.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Temperance said, though she had noticed it immediately. Of course, it was not something that she would ever admit openly.
Charity shot her a look, as if to call her out on her bluff.
“What? I hadn’t,” she said.
“Of course,” Charity said.
“I was considerably more focused on what he was saying than on…” She stopped. The image presented itself, unhelpfully and without invitation, dark blue eyes and the particular way hehad looked at her across the breakfast table with that settled patience. “It is entirely irrelevant.”
“Surely..”
“I am not interested in the man, but I am interested in making sure he does not dismantle the life my mother and I have built, which is a considerably more pressing concern than…” Temperance gestured vaguely.
“How handsome he is?”
“Can we please discuss something that is actually useful,” Temperance groaned.
“Well, did he have someone in mind for your marriage?”
“I am the least bit interested,” Temperance rolled her eyes. “And I suspect that he will let the matter go eventually. Surely, he must.”
“I don’t know,” Charity went on. “From the sounds of it, he does not seem like the type to relent easily.”
“Well, then he does not know me,” Temperance said, “and I suspect he’s going to have a hard time understanding.”
The visit to her friends had helped calm Temperance down considerably. On her way back home, she heard Joseph before she saw him.
She had come in through the side entrance, her mind still turning over the conversation at Alethea’s, when a voice behind her said, “Your posture is crooked.”
Temperance stopped walking and turned around.
Joseph was standing behind her, hands clasped behind his back, wearing an expression of helpful observation. He was dressed, as he had been at breakfast, with the kind of precision that suggested his morning had involved at least one person reviewing his appearance before he was considered presentable for the day.
“Good afternoon, Joseph,” she said.
“Good afternoon.” He fell into step beside her as she turned back toward the stairs. “Your left shoulder is lower than your right.”
“Is it?” she raised an eyebrow. He seemed a bit too perceptive for a child his age, and that was not something that came naturally, surely.
“My tutor says that uneven shoulders suggest an imbalance in one’s daily habits. Do you carry things on one side?”
“Occasionally,” she said.
“That would explain it.” He appeared to consider this a resolved matter. “Also your pace is quite fast for a lady. Miss Fairweather… she was my governess before she left… said that a lady’s walk should be measured. Yours is well, purposeful.”
“How alarming,” Temperance said, laughing.
“I only mention it because…”
“Joseph.” She stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked at him. “Why are you following me?”
“I am not following you. It is only a coincidence that I am walking in the same direction.”
Temperance looked at him for a moment. Then she turned and continued up the stairs. He followed, at a distance that was clearly intended to look like not-following.
