Chapter Thirteen
“Are you finally going to tell me why that fiend tried to abscond with you?”
Charlotte tore her focus from where Finlay had just departed out the door moments before and met Lady Flora’s implacable gaze. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Your act of forgetfulness may have worked on the gentlemen, but we both know I’m too clever to fall for that Banbury tale.”
“Or too stubborn,” Charlotte mumbled under her breath. She’d known the woman would not placidly accept her excuses as Finlay and Lord Inverray had. Still, she couldn’t divulge the truth of the attack lest she lose her position at the home.
Folding her hands in her lap, she regarded the Scotswoman with a frown. “I really am at a loss for why he attempted to grab me.”
Lady Flora leaned back, crossing an arm across her waist and propping the opposite elbow on it. She fiddled with her lower lip. Charlotte had never seen her so unconcerned with decorum. Perhaps being at home encouraged her to relax in ways she did not indulge at Little Windmill House.
As if sensing the angle of her thoughts, Lady Flora dropped her hand and huffed. “I can almost hear the censure in your look.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Charlotte said, reaching for her cup of tea.
“Is that the only sentence you’ll utter for the rest of the day?” Flora sighed dramatically, snatching a lemon tart from the tray. “Come now, Charlotte—may I call you that?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but Lady Flora cut her off. “Please call me Flora. It’s deuced easier, especially considering how much time we’ll be spending together in the weeks to come.”
“If you insist, my—err, Flora.”
“I do insist.” She took another bite of her tart, closing her eyes briefly in relish. “Now, if you’re to be my companion, we should establish some rules.” She wrinkled her nose. “I despise the word ‘rules’. How about guidelines? Criteria?”
Charlotte dipped her head. “You may call them whatever you’d like, as not all of us are in a position to worry about a particular noun.”
Flora popped a finger in her mouth and removed it with a pop. “My, I feel thoroughly chastised. No wonder your students are so well behaved.” She smiled. “When within Campbell House, please don’t remind me of what’s proper or what’s not. I’m not a ninny— I’ve been taught from the time I was a wee lass what behavior is expected of a duke’s daughter. But when I’m ensconced within these walls, I prefer to drop the trappings of my title and just be”—she paused, lifting a shoulder—“me.”
“I can appreciate that.” She darted a quick glance at the door before her voice dropped. “As soon as I get home, I take off my shoes and stockings. It’s some kind of mental signal I can finally relax.”
“Exactly,” Flora exclaimed, beaming her assent. “Because I genuinely respect and like you, I welcome your objections, but I’d ask that you not share them in front of others.” She pierced Charlotte with a firm stare. “I do not take kindly to being publicly scolded.”
“Understood,” Charlotte responded succinctly. “I doubt many people do.”
“Lastly, I expect you to tell me how I can help you.” Flora clasped her hands at her waist, a picture of pious modesty. “You will be assisting me in maintaining my reputation, and in turn, I am helping to keep you safe. At least I hope I am, but seeing as how you’re withholding information, I cannot be sure.”
Charlotte bit the inside of her cheek. The woman was like a dog with a bone, and she would not relinquish this line of questioning until she was given something in appeasement. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she said, “I suspect a person from my past is searching for me.”
“Why?”
“I do not know,” she said honestly.
“But I’m sure you have some theories.” Flora arched a brow.
“Possibly,” Charlotte hedged, dropping her gaze to her lap. “But I’d rather not voice them at this time until I’m certain the attack wasn’t random.”
“And am I to understand you’d prefer not to be found?”
“Correct.”
“And if you discover I can help you…eliminate this problem from your past, no matter the cost…” Flora paused, “will you let me know?”
With a rapidly pounding heart, Charlotte met the other woman’s eyes and nodded.
“Very well.” Flora clapped her hands together and reached for the teapot. After pouring herself a cup, she sighed. “Do you want to visit the Home today? Niall said he would escort us when he returns from his meeting.”
“I would, my lady, but if I’m to be staying here for the next several days, I would appreciate the opportunity to gather some belongings from my home.”
“Of course. Duncan and I can escort you there before we return here for the evening.” Flora’s eyes went wide. “Do you have a dress that would be appropriate for a musicale?”
Charlotte was shaking her head before Flora had finished her question. “My dresses are modest muslin garments, hardly fit for anything other than teaching rambunctious small children.”
Flora eyed her critically. “You’re a little taller than me, and definitely more endowed. I doubt my gowns would suffice, but I’ll write my sister and see if she has some items she can spare until we can go shopping.”
“My lady—” Catching Flora’s exasperated expression, she held up her hands. “There is no way the Duchess of Ashwood would consent to lend me her garments, and there is no way I would consent to wear them.”
“Well, you obviously don’t know my sister.” Flora placed her teacup in its saucer with a clink of china. “And you will wear them, because I need your proper influence if I’m to survive the Eddington’s musicale tomorrow night. Their youngest daughter is a gem, but she’s somehow got it in her guinea-colored head that she’s a virtuoso at the violin.” She shuddered. “The only thing she is a virtuoso at is making ears bleed.”
Charlotte willed her face to remain impassive. “You must know I cannot accompany you to the musicale.”
“Must I?” Flora pulled her head back. “Because I don’t. I despise not knowing things.”
“My—Flora, I’m a schoolteacher who grew up in Spitalfields. I’m not a fit guest for a society event.”
The Scotswoman raised a black brow. “But I thought you agreed to be my companion. Consequently, you’d accompany me to events.”
Wrenching her hands in her lap, she looked away. “I do not usually go out on Friday nights and Saturdays. It’s always been my one day off.”
“And why is that?”
Charlotte swallowed. “Because I observe Shabbat during that time.” So much of her life had left her unable to observe the Sabbath, and she was not about to relinquish her ability to do so now.
“Oh.” Flora’s gaze was faraway. “I hadn’t realized that.”
Something akin to panic jolted her nerves. “I’m sorry if this ruins your plans, and you’d rather I not serve as your companion.”
The Scotswoman pulled her head back. “Don’t be ridiculous. I was just unaware.”
“Will it be a problem?”
“Of course not. I’m merely contemplating how I can take advantage of this. Niall usually asks me to accompany him to some sort of event on Saturdays, and it would be lovely to have a reason to decline.”
“I’m not sure Shabbat should be used to avoid one’s responsibilities.” Charlotte frowned.
“Responsibilities?” Lady Flora scoffed. “Surely you mean torture exercises. These are my brother’s responsibilities, not my own.”
A swell of sympathy for her feisty employer surprised Charlotte. Apparently wealth, beauty, and a title did not save women from the realities of living in a man’s world.
She fidgeted with her cuff. “Do you suppose there will be talk…because I am a Jew?”
“I don’t see why there would be.” Flora brushed the concern away with a wave of her hand. “There’s enough talk about Niall and me being Scots, so what’s a little more? Still, if it occurs, you must tell me immediately. I haven’t delivered a set-down in quite some time, and I feel remiss.”
Charlotte laughed, tired of fighting the urge. “I suspect no one would think to court your wrath.”
“I despise musicales, but Niall asked me to attend. And since it’s not Shabbat, and I have no other excuse, it would be best if I didn’t disappoint him. Although I’m loath to admit it, I don’t like to tell him no.” Flora squeezed her fingers. “But the idea of sitting through Miss Eddington’s so-called performance is much more palatable knowing you would be there with me.”
“Misery loves company, I suppose,” Charlotte offered drily.
“Oh, it does.”
Charlotte finally allowed her spine to rest against her seat back. “If you insist upon it, I’ll do my best not to embarrass you.”
Flora snorted. “There is a greater chance I’ll embarrass you.”
A burst of laughter flew from her mouth before she slapped her hand over it to stop it.
“Well, I see my job here is done.” Flora smoothed her hands down her skirts and stood. “If you’re laughing, you’re not melancholy, or worse, afraid.” She patted Charlotte on the shoulder. “I’ll do everything I can to help you sort this matter out.”
Crossing to the other side of the room, she pulled a bell cord. “I’ll ask Mrs. Patterson to escort you to a guest chamber so you can rest and freshen up before Niall escorts us to Little Windmill House. And I have a letter to write to my sister.”
“My lady?” Charlotte blurted out before she thought better of it.
“Yes?”
She swallowed convulsively as she tried to think of the best way to ask the question that had worried her tongue since the musicale was mentioned. “Will there be others in attendance tomorrow night I may know?”
“I’m not sure.” She wrinkled her nose in consideration. “Aside from Niall, my sister, and Ashwood, the Monroes will probably be there. No doubt the Fitzherberts.” Flora pointed at Charlotte. “Do be careful around Lord Fitzherbert’s hands—if you’re not, one, or perhaps both, will find their way to your bottom.”
“I’m quite adept at avoiding wandering hands.” It was the witty, flirtatious rejoinders falling from the lips of handsome blond men that left her vulnerable.
As if somehow sensing the direction of her thoughts, Flora’s eyes narrowed on her. Charlotte instantly grew wary.
“You don’t particularly care about any of those people, though, do you? You’re only concerned with whether a handsome viscount we both know will be in attendance.”
Counting slowly to ten, Charlotte held her breath, hoping to stem the flush of red threatening to swamp her cheeks. She feared her efforts were for naught when Flora grinned.
Before she could reply, Flora shook her head back and forth. “At the risk of you uttering your favorite line again”—she cleared her throat—“‘I don’t know what you mean’, know that I can see the sparks flying between the two of you as if you’re pyrite to his flint.”
Charlotte picked up her teacup before quickly putting it down when she noticed how much her hand trembled. “Lord Firthwell has been very kind.”
“He has. But for all his jests, he’s honorable.”
The woman’s words felt very much like an endorsement. Unable to help herself, she asked, “Have you set your cap at him?”
The other woman’s hearty laugh echoed about them. “Lud, no! I enjoy Firthwell’s witty banter, and heaven knows his face is no burden to look upon, but we would not get on.”
Uncertain of what to say, Charlotte remained quiet. Relief bloomed warm and soothing in her chest, and she feared Lady Flora would notice if she met her gaze.
“Let’s meet here in an hour, or whenever Niall arrives,” Flora suggested as an older woman entered the room. Turning to Charlotte, she held out a hand to the woman. “This is Mrs. Patterson, the housekeeper here at Campbell House. She’s been here, caring for Campbells, since well before I used to slide down the stair railing into the foyer.”
“Aye, I remember when Lady Flora was nothing more than a black-haired sprite who used to delight in scaring my maids by popping out at them while they went about their business,” Mrs. Patterson said, smiling fondly at Flora.
“Is it any wonder my parents hesitated taking me out in public?” She smirked. “Mrs. Patterson, this is Mrs. Taylor, the French and deportment teacher at the home. She will be staying with us for sometime and serving as my companion, ensuring I don’t embarrass Niall too greatly when I accompany him to events.” Flora flashed a smile when the housekeeper smacked her hand, clearly not admonished. “Please ensure she’s given the best guest room. And Charlotte, please let her know if there are certain food items you do not eat so she may notify the kitchen. I want you to be as comfortable here as possible.”
Charlotte was pleased that her employer was shrewd enough to consider whether she kept kosher. She followed Mrs. Patterson from the room, feeling more hopeful than she had an hour before.
…
Charlotte’s improved mood died a swift death when she returned home to gather her belongings and found the note lying on top of her cover pane.
How it had even come to be there, Charlotte didn’t want to contemplate, for it meant she’d been wise to accept Lady Flora’s offer of hospitality.
While the Scotswoman enjoyed a cup of tea with Mrs. Gladington, and the fierce Mr. Duncan waited outside, his watchful eyes trained for threats, the real threat was written on expensive parchment and sealed with wax. Her fingers, stiff with trepidation, struggled to pluck the familiar seal free.
Fear and helplessness settled on her shoulders like a stone, and Charlotte sank onto her bed and buried her head in her hands. She clenched her eyes shut and locked her jaw to keep her panicked tears at bay as she realized her sand foundation had all but washed away.
She’d sold the ring for fifty pounds when she fled Bombay, although she knew it had been worth much more in sentiment and monetary value. There was no way she could repay her in-laws even that amount, let alone the true price of the ring.
And how her in-laws had learned of her connection to the Marquess of Inverray and his sister, she didn’t kn—
A shock of awareness made her gasp aloud. The man who had attempted to abduct her may have followed Mr. Duncan back to the foundling home. The Campbells’ connection to Little Windmill House was well known, had been celebrated at the fundraiser not days before. It would not have been difficult to learn of her employment at the Home after that.
If the Townsends approached Lord Inverray and Lady Flora with the accusation she was a thief, would they believe her over them? The uncertainty left her nauseated.