Page 68 of Why Do Earls Fall in Love?
With someone who will pay you a handsome fee for the chance, she thought uncharitably. “Perhaps you might consult with Mr. Flemming as well,” she suggested. “He seems to have a varied palate and might have some valuable opinions.”
The steward’s expression chilled as he gestured for her to precede him. “I shall consider your suggestion, my lady.”
“Thank you, Hurley.” She left him at the bottom and headed for the dining room while he moved toward the front door. “See that you do.”
She found the dining room much improved, but the chandelier was not even half cleaned. “Where is Eli?”
Margie pointed with her chin as she polished the elaborate back of a chair. “He said he had an errand upstairs.”
Charlotte had been wanting to sketch the boy. He always seemed to be slipping away. Focusing on him might distract her from her own thoughts. With a word of praise for the progress so far, she went back upstairs. Fetching her book and her pastel sticks, she thought perhaps that the boy had been drawn by the workmen, up to the third floor.
He wasn’t there, though, and she couldn’t bear to linger. Wandering the third floor, she didn’t find him. Struck by a sudden notion, she hurried down to the second floor and straight to the rooms that Hurley had taken for himself.
Eli was there. He didn’t hear her approach and she stood in the doorway, watching him rifle through the drawers of a small writing desk.
“What are you doing?”
He froze, then slowly stood tall. “Just straightening up, ma’am.”
She moved into the room. “Did Hurley ask you to clean his rooms while he was out?”
“Not exactly.” The boy moved away from the desk as she drew nearer.
“Bynot exactly, do you mean that he forbade you to come in here?” She let a wry tone color the question.
The boy grinned, then looked quickly down at his feet. He continued to edge away.
“You do seem uncommonly watchful in general, Eli,” she remarked.
He’d made it to the window, where he leaned on the ledge and looked out. Abruptly, Charlotte stilled. That profile, edged in sunlight—
“Aye. A good thing I’m watchful, ma’am.”
“Why?”
He nodded toward the street. “Because I can see Hurley coming back this way. But also—that girl that’s been watching the house? She’s back.” He turned toward her with a grim expression. “She’s looking like thunder and heading for the front door.”
They exchanged a look, then headed together for the stairs. By the time they reached the floor below, the girl had already pushed her way past a protesting Alfred.
“There she is.” The dark-haired girl flourished a slip of paper in her hand, her eyes flashing. “What is the meaning of this? I demand to know it!”
Charlotte recognized the note she’d left in the basket on the bench. “I believe it means what it says. I would be happy to speak to you, if you wish.”
“Ah, but speak withwho? That is the question.” She pointed to the signature. “Lady Whiddon? Absurd!” She ran a derogatory gaze over Charlotte’s form. “He has not gone and marriedyou!”
“I’m afraid he has,” she answered gently.
The other girl’s expression darkened. Turning away, she muttered a few truly vile curses in French before she looked at Charlotte again. “What of the papers? Where are the announcements? The parties? When a man such as this one marries, the world knows, celebrates, gossips endlessly! Why does no one talk about this sham of a union, then?” Her gaze brightened. “Is that it? Has he lied to you? Tricked you? And why not?” she scoffed. “I thought you to be the housekeeper!”
Charlotte bristled. “Well, to tell the truth, I feel like the twice-blessed housekeeper! But the house needed attention and it is a lady’s duty to see to such work. I am doing it, because IamLady Whiddon. Believe what you must, but we married in a quiet ceremony attended by family and friends, not in a splashy Society event.” She crossed her arms and scowled. “And it suited us both very well indeed!”
More French cursing ensued. Good heavens, the chit was going to make Charlotte blush. But then the girl narrowed her eyes. “Fine, then. Married.” She said it with disgust. “Then you will tell yourhusbandthat I want the brooch. The one from the Royal collection. Blue enamel with rose diamonds.”
Charlotte blinked. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Did he save it for you? A bridal gift?” she spat. “Just tell him. The brooch was meant to be mine.Mybirthright! His lackey said it was long gone, but I saw it in his eyes. I did not believe him. I think Whiddon has it still. I want it. Tell him to deliver it to me at the shop. Discreetly. And after that, you tell him to keep himself away. He is not to tell my father I came here, do you understand? He was lucky to get a payment last time instead of a garrote. If he keeps hanging about, my fatherwillkill him.”
Charlotte blanched, but the girl wadded the note into a ball, tossed it at her feet, and whirled away. In a moment, she was gone.
