Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
“A little more than kin and less than kind.”
There was little time to register his words. My mouth dropped open but I quickly forced it shut again. How could Mr. Wortham be Lord Trowbridge’s brother?
Before I could respond, the door swung open to reveal a butler, starched and neat, with a prim, ghostly face.
“Mr. Wortham, how do you do?” His eyes flicked to me and back to Mr. Wortham again.
“Good day Benson. This is Miss Charlotte Lyons. Please inform my brother that she is here to apply for the position of Sophia’s governess.”
The butler nodded and welcomed us into the drawing room.
My attention was immediately drawn to the beautiful pianoforte in the corner of the room.
It reminded me of the instruments I had played so often in Hampshire and London in grand homes like this one.
I knew it wasn’t my place to play here, so I quieted my longing and focused on my posture as I sat on the sofa.
My heart thudded in my chest. I was not often nervous, but my insides twisted into knots.
I swallowed hard, daring a glance at Mr. Wortham.
He had taken his seat on a chair, his body angled away from me. I cleared my throat loudly, calling his eyes. “How long did you plan to conceal this relation from me?”
He crossed his arms and leaned back. One corner of his mouth lifted in a sardonic smile.
“It’s common knowledge around this town that Trowbridge is my elder brother.
You would have learned of it eventually without my help.
You may blame your ignorance on your inability to communicate kindly with those beneath your station. ”
I glared at him. “Why did you pretend to be beneath your own station?”
“I didn’t.”
My forehead creased. “Then why do you work as a fisherman? Despite being a younger son, surely you have a better occupation than that.”
“I do not work as a fisherman; the fishermen work for me. I’m the harbor master.
I coordinate shipments, oversee safety, control traffic in and out of the harbor, among other duties.
But I do enjoy participating in the labor from time to time.
Fishing is a favorite pastime of mine. I’m not rich, you know.
” He straightened his cravat with a wide grin. “Besides, the men respect me.”
I rolled my eyes. “How could you possibly enjoy fishing?”
“I invite you to try it sometime. Lowering a trap and later emptying it, pulling a net weighed down by fish, exercising patience. Wearing a lovely pair of trousers.” He winked.
I shook my head. “Never.”
He challenged me with a look. “Would you never attempt fishing? Purely for the joy in it?”
My nose wrinkled in distaste. “Of course not. It’s a man’s sport.”
He sat up straighter. “Oh? You find yourself incapable? I would have to agree.”
“Surely it takes very little skill. Why should I try it just to prove you wrong?” The very idea was ridiculous.
“Because until then, I will presume you can only thread a needle through fabric and plink meaningless melodies on the pianoforte.”
I looked away from him, crossing my arms. “The pianoforte is not meaningless to me.” My face was shrouded in heat.
He didn’t know me. He didn’t know how much the pianoforte meant to me.
I took a deep breath, exasperated by his efforts to vex me.
I could not allow him to ruffle my composure moments before meeting Lord Trowbridge—which seemed to be what he was trying to do.
“Might I remind you I have your love letter,” I said in a firm voice.
“If you wish to keep it from the hands of Lucy Abbot, then I suggest you stop teasing me.”
His eyes narrowed, but then the door cracked open.
I sat up straight, willing my face to cool.
A round, long-lashed eye came into view, peeking through the crack. Slowly, the door eased open wider and a head of carrot-hued curls appeared, followed by the rest of a tiny girl in a frilly purple dress. She could not have been older than six.
“Uncle James!” The girl ran forward and into Mr. Wortham’s arms.
He grinned, lifting her up with ease and setting her on his lap. “Sophia, you have grown even bigger since I saw you last week.”
She giggled, a high trill that made me smile. “So have you.”
He frowned. “When you are all grown up, it is no longer a compliment to have become ‘bigger’.”
She laughed as he poked his own stomach. Mr. Wortham glanced at me, and I quickly suppressed my smile, but he saw it.
“Who is that lady?” Sophia asked, threading her little arms around his neck and frowning in my direction.
“That is Miss Lyons. She is going to be your new governess. She will teach you how you be all grown up.”
I opened my mouth to protest, still unsure if I wanted the position, but stopped myself.
I would be working within the same household and under Lord Trowbridge’s supervision.
What better opportunity would I find to become acquainted with such a recluse?
It seemed to be the only way. But would Mama condone the impropriety of the situation?
Sophia was still staring at me, a thoughtful look on her round face. I smiled at her without reservation, trying to somehow make up for the scowl on her brow. She was truly adorable. Perhaps being her governess wouldn’t be so very bad.
“She is very beautiful,” Sophia observed, still watching me.
James shot me a sideways glance. My smile was still wide, and it seemed to catch him by surprise. His eyes lingered on me just a little longer. “That she is.”
I felt a wave of heat rise to my cheeks. I hurriedly dropped my gaze from his. What was wrong with me? I did not blush! I had been called pretty too many times to count by various gentlemen. So why did his simple, uncalled-for flattery affect me?
I stood and walked over to the little girl, forcing my eyes away from James. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Sophia. If I could be half as beautiful as you I would be very lucky, indeed.”
She gave me a shy grin, eyes dropping to her shoes, which she clicked together at the toes. The door creaked behind us and Sophia’s eyes lifted, the hazel color shining with excitement. “Papa!”
I straightened my posture quickly, smoothed back my hair, and hoped with desperation that my cheeks were no longer flushed. I turned toward the door, eyes lowered beneath my lashes, displaying the look I had practiced while Mama held my looking glass.
Standing in the doorway was Lord Trowbridge.
He wore a gold-trimmed waistcoat and a perfectly pressed coat.
His shirt was ruffled, his cravat pristine.
His face bore little resemblance to James.
His hair was lighter and was tied back neatly.
His mouth was a firm line and his eyes were like black tea.
He was more handsome than I had expected, so I counted myself fortunate.
Lord Trowbridge’s eyes found Sophia and he smiled, reaching his arms out as she ran to him.
“There’s my darling girl.” His voice was low and scratched, like he had swallowed shards of glass. His eyes flicked to me, and he scowled.
James stepped forward. “This is Miss Charlotte Lyons. She is interested in becoming Sophia’s governess. And I…” he cleared his throat, “highly recommend her.”
I gave a coy smile. Lord Trowbridge looked away from me and at his brother, still scowling. “And what has earned this recommendation?”
Mr. Wortham’s brow twinged. “Well, Miss Lyons is very accomplished and educated. I think she will suit the position quite well.” His words were edged in sarcasm only I could hear.
Lord Trowbridge didn’t move a muscle. His stern brow made me uneasy as he looked between Sophia and me. I moved my expression to a more professional, stoic one, realizing that he seemed to despise the fact that I was smiling.
Lord Trowbridge looked at his brother, still frowning. “May I speak with you for a moment?” He nodded his head toward the door and Mr. Wortham followed him out, shooting me a look. The door closed behind them and I could finally relax.
I dropped my hands to my sides with a slow exhale. I couldn’t tell if the earl was impressed or hated me, but he seemed to think I was attractive at least. He was moderately handsome, with neat hair and fine clothing. His eyes were dark and stern, unlike Mr. Wortham’s clear, sea-green ones.
I quickly stopped myself. Why was I comparing the two brothers?
There was no comparison. Lord Trowbridge, I hated to admit, was far less inviting and handsome, but none of those things mattered.
Lord Trowbridge was the prize to be won, and if Mama had chosen a man to deserve me, then he was the man I would pursue.
I hoped he turned out to be a little more kind.
Or maybe he could smile now and then.
I shook my head swiftly. When did these things ever matter to me?
He was wealthy and titled. Nothing else could contribute to my opinion of him.
He was wealthy and titled, and I was to win his heart if I ever hoped to have a chance in the high circles of society again.
Despite his reclusive nature, I was certain that as his wife I could convince him to go out to London at least once a Season.
I had nearly forgotten that Sophia was in the room. She stood in the place her father had left her, looking up at me with a crease between her nearly invisible eyebrows. I could hear the low tones of voices outside the door, but couldn’t decipher any words.
Sophia had eyes and ears only for me.
“Your dress is very lovely,” I said, breaking the silence.
“You need only a crown to be a princess.” I related her to a princess because I knew how much I had wanted to be one when I was a little girl.
There were few memories of my childhood I held so dear as the ones of when my nanny—though strict—softened enough to read to me from a storybook.