Page 30 of A Stranger’s Promise

Chapter Eight

Charlotte stared at Captain Edwards in complete shock. What was he doing here?

“It really is you.” The Captain reached her, grabbed her arm, and yanked her aside. “How did you know to find me here? I’m not giving you a penny. We are finished.”

Charlotte stared with her mouth flopped open like a fish. His hand tightened on her arm. She jerked her gaze onto his fingers, then yanked free.

“Do not touch me. Devil knows I would never follow you. This is my place of employment.”

“Employment?” He frowned. “You hold a position here?”

“Do not pretend that hardened shell you call a heart cares what position I hold.” Charlotte lunged past him toward the servants’ stairs.

Oliver met her at the bottom step. “Who’s that man?” He leaned to look behind her.

She grasped his arm and pulled him up the stairs after her. “A bad man,” she replied. “The kind of man you should never be.”

By the time they entered the nursery, she shook with anger. The arrogance of the man. What a small mind he had—that he should think she followed him. And for what? Ten more shillings?

Charlotte ordered Oliver to remove his ink-stained shirt and went to fetch his bedclothes from his room. When she returned, she found him seated cross-legged before the fire, turning the pages of the Latin grammar book with decided interest.

The sight calmed her raging thoughts and she knelt beside him. “Tomorrow, we will work on your letters,” she promised. “Soon, you’ll be able to copy both chapters.” He nodded and smiled back, a genuine smile that lit his small face. Not wanting to spoil the moment, she jostled his nightshirt over his head, saying, “Now, off to bed. We will begin your lessons tomorrow.”

“Yes, Miss,” he muttered as his head emerged. He leapt to his feet and scampered toward his room. He paused at the door to say in a gruff voice, “Goodnight, Miss.”

Charlotte nodded in reply and watched him disappear into his room, still hugging the book to his chest. After checking on Meg and Charlotte, she escaped to her own room and plopped down on the bed.

Her thoughts returned at once to Captain Edwards. Had he been invited to Lord Cassilis’s party? It hadn’t occurred to her the two men might be friends. She drew a sharp breath. What if the Captain convinced Lord Cassilis that hiring Charlotte had been a mistake?

* * *

Charlotte spent the ensuing days behaving as a proper governess should. She found the guidance in The Fine Art of Deportment dull, and could scarcely finish a page without yawning.

Mornings, she taught Oliver his letters and Charlotte how to draw. Afternoons, she took the children for walks about the estate, exploring the terraced gardens, orchards, the ice house and Swan Pond. Twice they explored the shore near the old sea caves, which were-carved into the face of the cliff upon which the castle perched.

Several times, she caught sight of Lord Cassilis in the distance, mounted on a splendid bay as he escorted his guests around the estate. He sat with ease in the saddle. Despite the distance, he cut a dashing figure, and was far more handsome than the other men in his party. Which was probably why the beautiful young woman she’d seen hovering behind Lady Cassilis chose to ride alongside him. Charlotte tried to ignore the pangs of jealousy. Lady Cassilis was right. Charlotte was born to clean the Blue Drawing Room, not sit in it.

Once or twice, she spied Captain Edwards galloping behind Alistair. So, he was Lord Cassilis’s guest for the duration of the party. Was the Captain’s presence why his lordship hadn’t spoken with her since his guests had arrived? That was as it should be, but the knowledge didn’t halt the fear.

Two days after spotting Lord Cassilis riding with his guests, Charlotte and the children descended the cliff to explore the Dolphin House, the crowstepped, gabled laundry nestled on the shore. The children, with forlorn expressions, watched the women work, the tubs and atmosphere clearly reminding them of their mother. Noticing their wistful expressions, the laundresses invited them to help.

“You can, too, Miss Atchenson,” a wizened laundress with a gap-toothed smile waved for her to join in while she filled a large, wooden tub. “What more fun can be had than to spend a day filling the tubs?” She followed the comment with a sarcastic eye roll, then cast a look of wonder at the children willingly lugging buckets of water from the shore.

“I thank you for the offer, but no,” Charlotte declined with a laugh.

She stayed for a time, but when the children asked to stay longer and the laundress waved her away, she wandered up the shore toward the old sea caves.

Large boulders framed the path leading up to a ruined arched doorway chiseled into the bedrock, which marked the entrance to an ancient shelter hewn within the caverns. Moss-covered rocks dominated the landscape, and dry vines clawed up the cliff face and wove through abandoned windows. She picked her way over the boulders and peered into the main abandoned chamber. Wind whistled through the ruined windows above. Beach pebbles covered the damp floor, pools of water scattered here and there. Suddenly uneasy, she ducked out of the cave and stepped around a large boulder. At the sound of voices mingling in angry tones, she froze.

“You promised delivery,” a woman railed. “All I ever get from you are demands for more coin."

Charlotte knew that female voice. Cautiously, she peered around the boulder. Lady Cassilis stood a short distance away, wind whipping her skirts as she spoke to a thin, bulging-eyed man with a pockmarked face, thick eyebrows, and greasy hair. His stained shirt and worn breeches flapped against his tall, lanky frame.

As Charlotte watched, Lady Cassilis withdrew a small leather bag from a pocket in her skirts and tossed it at the man. He caught it with a deft maneuver and hefted it in his hand. A smile split his lips. Suddenly, he glanced in Charlotte’s direction. His thick eyebrows arched as he blinked in surprise. Lady Cassilis whirled, following his line-of-sight.

Charlotte gulped when Lady Cassilis’s face contorted into a mask of anger. Charlotte whirled. Yanking up her skirts, she raced down the path to the Dolphin House. What was going on? No lady conducted clandestine meetings with disreputable men. What would Lord Cassilis think of this? Charlotte’s side began to ache. She glanced back. No one chased her. She slowed, breathing hard, but kept at a fast walk.

Should she tell Lord Cassilis what she’d seen? No. Lady Cassilis would deny it, and he would likely turn out Charlotte without a reference. By the time she pushed open the door to the castle laundry, the stitch in her side had disappeared, but her nerves were frazzled.