She stepped back at last, reclaiming her space. “You may find another companion for your grandmother.”
To her surprise, he did not argue. If anything, he seemed faintly… pleased as a smirk appeared in the corner of his mouth.
“As you wish,” he said simply.
Charlotte blinked, thrown by the ease of his acceptance. “You do not object?” she asked.
“Should I?” he replied.
Her irritation flared once more. “No,” she said briskly. “You should not.”
“Then we are in agreement,” he said.
Charlotte turned sharply, refusing to give him the satisfaction of another word. She left the room at once, her mind racing as she made her way back to her chamber.
How insufferable he is. How utterly impossible. And yet…
She paused briefly in the corridor, her thoughts catching on a troubling notion.
He had not tried to stop me. Indeed, he had seemed almost content with my decision.
“He wishes me to leave?” she murmured to herself, frowning.
It was an unsettling thought, one that lingered as she made her way to her chamber and gathered her things with swift determination. She would go to Arabella, of course, that was the sensible course, and from there she would find another position, one far less… complicated.
And yet, as she prepared to depart, she could not entirely silence the quiet, persistent question that lingered in her mind.
Why had he been so willing to let me go so easily?
* * *
The next day, Victor stood at the window of his study, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out over the manicured lawns without truly seeing them. He had dismissed his valet twice that morning and abandoned three separate letters half-written, each casualty to the same persistent distraction.
It is absurd to be so thoroughly unsettled by a woman I did not intend to court. She was an employee and nothing more.
And yet Charlotte Brown lingered in his thoughts with a stubbornness that was both irritating and… inconveniently compelling.
“She is merely interesting,” he muttered, as though the words might settle the matter. It was novelty, nothing more, a diversion from the usual parade of agreeable, predictable company. She had defied him, contradicted him, and then walked away, which was not behaviour he often encountered. No, most fawned and begged to be in his company, but not her.
“Naturally one notices such things,” he added under his breath, though the explanation felt increasingly insufficient.
A knock interrupted him, and before he could respond, Lionel entered without ceremony.
“Grandmother is asking for Miss Brown,” he said.
“Is she?” he replied coolly. “How unfortunate.”
Lionel studied him. “You have not yet told her,” he said.
Victor turned at last, his expression composed. “There has been little opportunity,” he replied.
“Then you must make one,” Lionel said. “She will not be easily diverted.”
Victor exhaled slowly. “Very well,” he said. “Let us attend her together.”
They found Elizabeth seated by the window, her expression brightening at once upon their entrance.
“Victor,” she said eagerly, “where is Charlotte? I have not seen her this morning.”
