Lionel regarded Victor with a faintly narrowed gaze. “You are making an effort,” he observed.
“I am being practical,” he said. “A content grandmother is far easier to manage than a distressed one.”
Lionel’s lips twitched faintly. “If you say so.”
Victor turned slightly, his gaze drifting toward the far window. “You disapprove,” he said.
“I question,” Lionel corrected. “There is a difference.”
Victor allowed himself a quiet huff of amusement. “Then continue to question, if it amuses you,” he said. “I shall continue to act.”
Lionel studied him for a moment longer. “And Miss Brown?” he asked. “Will she find such arrangements equally… agreeable?”
“She will return,” he said. “Whether she finds it agreeable or not remains to be seen.”
Lionel nodded slowly. “You do enjoy a challenge.”
Victor’s expression cooled slightly. “I do not seek one,” he said. “But I do not avoid them either.”
Lionel’s gaze lingered on him, thoughtful and faintly sceptical. “No,” he said at last. “I suppose you do not. Now if you will excuse me.”
Victor said nothing in return as Lionel walked away, though his thoughts had already turned, unhelpfully, back to Charlotte. Not to her departure, nor her defiance, but to the way she had looked at him when she had declared her intention to leave.
As though she had expected me to stop her. Should I have done so?
He frowned slightly, pushing the notion aside with deliberate force. It was irrelevant now. What mattered was restoring order to the household, to his grandmother’s peace of mind, and, if necessary, to Miss Brown’s inconvenient sense of independence.
She is infuriating. So how do I convince her to return?
Stubborn, principled, and entirely unwilling to bend, qualities he had long avoided in favour of something far less complicated. And yet, there had been a moment, standing far too close to her, when the world had seemed to narrow to something dangerously simple.
He frowned slightly, pushing the thought aside.
She was everything he had no desire to entangle himself with, earnest where he was detached, steadfast where he was indulgent, and entirely too concerned with matters he preferred to ignore. It was precisely why she unsettled him.
But how? Will more money do the trick?
“For Grandmother. I must figure out a way.”
CHAPTER 5
“You departed rather suddenly,” Arabella said, stirring her tea lazily.
Charlotte sat stiffly upon the floral settee in Arabella’s parlour, a teacup untouched in her hands as her cousins regarded her with identical expressions of curiosity. Margaret sat with delicate posture and quiet concern written plainly across her face.
“One might almost think you fled in terror,” Arabella continued.
Margaret glanced at Charlotte with shy agreement. “We were both quite surprised,” Margaret admitted softly. “Particularly because you spoke so kindly of the dowager duchess.”
Charlotte sighed faintly. “Because she is kind,” she said at once. “Lady Elizabeth is one of the sweetest women I have ever met.”
Despite everything, her expression softened genuinely at the thought of the older woman. “She was confused at times, certainly, but very affectionate and thoughtful.”
Arabella leaned forward with interest. “And entirely convinced you were to marry her grandson,” she added wickedly.
Margaret let out a startled little laugh behind her teacup. “Oh dear,” she murmured.
Charlotte groaned softly. “It was dreadful,” she said. “No matter how often I corrected her, she refused to believe me.” She shook her head. “Every conversation somehow returned to wedding plans or imaginary children.”
