Rules of Surrender (21 page)

Fletcher snorted. ”Nay. Not I. Can’t stop a girlie who slips in wi’out bridle or saddle an’ rides th‘ beastie. Never seen a girlie ride like her, m’lady. Never seen a child commune wi’ a horse like that. ‘Tis a gift an’ an inspiration’t‘ this old man.“ He tapped the pipe against the fence. ”Just thought ye ought’t’ know.“

”Yes,“ Charlotte said faintly. ”Thank you.“ Her walk forgotten, she turned toward the manor. She had to talk to Leila at once. She had to make her see the danger she courted. Charlotte placed her hand on her own forehead. This was her fault. She hadn’t done as she had promised the first day she arrived and taught Leila to ride sidesaddle. She hadn’t acknowledged the child’s love of horses at all, and Leila had taken matters into her own hands.

Worse still, Charlotte had been distracted lately, imagining all manner of romantic drivel. Never mind that teaching the children in the day and Wynter in the evening had occasionally made her bleary-eyed. She was being paid, and paid well, to perform both duties for the limited time until the Sereminian reception. Moreover, she understood that Leila craved attention. The poor child was homesick and trying to find something to replace the life she had lost. Charlotte understood that, and her. Everything else in Charlotte’s life was nothing but smoke and distraction.

Entering the house, Charlotte went at once to the nursery. She found Robbie cleaning his muddy boots on the hearth. ”Stop that, Robbie,“ she said mechanically. ”Send those downstairs for the footman to clean.“

Leila stood holding the wooden horse Charlotte had brought her as a gift and staring at it as if at this very moment she were contemplating a ride.

Grania was nowhere in sight. Heads were going to roll.

Torn between the desire to hug Leila and the desire to shake her, Charlotte squatted before her charge. Leila looked up inquiringly, and Charlotte asked, ”Dear, can we have a little talk?“

”You’re in trouble,“ Robbie muttered.

Charlotte ignored him, intent on making Leila feel at ease with her. ”Let’s sit down on this bench, shall we?“

Leila sat down where she stood, right on the hard floor.

Obviously, she was still perturbed at Charlotte. ”This is a good place, too.“ Charlotte sat down beside Leila, ignoring the discomfort of her corset, and slipped her arm around Leila’s shoulders. ”I would like to go riding with you.“

Leila’s dark gaze slid toward her, and she examined Charlotte suspiciously. ”Why?“

”You said you liked to ride, and I want to train you.“

Leila contemplated her wooden horse, then her earnest governess. ”I don’t need to be trained; I already know how.“

Robbie sidled over and stood above them. ”She’s going to teach you to ride like an English miss, fool.“

”She’s not a fool,“ Charlotte reprimanded. Then, aware she had been too sharp, she thumped Robbie’s arm. ”She’s so smart, it’s immediately obvious she’s
your
sister.“

Robbie’s face contorted as he tried to decide if he’d been insulted or praised.

Satisfied she had silenced him for the moment, Charlotte said persuasively, ”When you learn to ride sidesaddle, Leila, we can ride together.“

Leila hunched her shoulders.

Charlotte’s vivaciousness faltered under such disinterest. She had truly failed the child if Leila didn’t care to ride with her. ”Every morning.“

Leila narrowed her eyes.

”When your father is home, you could ride with him.“

”Papa doesn’t ride sidesaddle,“ Leila retorted.

”He could if he wanted to,“ Robbie said.

Grateful for that answer, which would never have occurred to her, Charlotte replied, ”I don’t know if he could or not. Boys ride the easy way.“

Leila pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. ”Can I stand up?“

”Now?“ Bewildered, Charlotte looked around the nursery.

”No, on the horse!“

Charlotte blanched. ”Why would you do that?“

”We always do,“ Robbie said enthusiastically. ”We stand up, and we hang off to the side, and we practice shooting between the horse’s legs.“ He swaggered and for a moment he looked so much like his father Charlotte blinked at the illusion. ”I’m really good at hitting a target.“

”So am I,“ Leila shouted.

”A lady’s voice is always low…“ Charlotte trailed off. How did one tell a child not to raise her voice when she had been rehearsing for a desert battle? ”Guns? You shoot guns?“

From his wide grin, it was obvious Robbie comprehended Charlotte’s consternation and fully intended to enjoy himself. ”Papa can shoot a bow and arrow, but he hasn’t taught me.“

Charlotte still couldn’t—didn’t want to—fully comprehend. ”Your father lets you shoot guns while riding on the horse’s side?“

Leila looked at Robbie, and Charlotte saw the silent communication that passed between them.

”Papa made us practice with the rifle before he let us ride with it.“ Leila paused dramatically. ”He was afraid we were going to hurt the horse.“

Charlotte stood and paced across the room. ”This is worse than I thought.“

The children burst into giggles.

She fixed them with a stern look. ”Are you children teasing me?“

”No, Lady Miss Charlotte,“ they said in unison.

”I’ll have to talk to your father.“ She had known all along she was going to have to have a conversation with him anyway. She had to inform him of her failure to monitor Leila and the child’s escape to the stable. But now… now she would have to find a way to tactfully wrap her hands around his throat and demand what he’d been doing, teaching children of such tender age to shoot and ride like gypsies.

She had also hoped not to see him so soon after the scene in the coach, but she was not so weak-minded as to delay for the sake of her own composure.

”When are you going?“ Robbie asked.

”As soon as I speak to Miss Symes about getting a nursemaid up here who understands her duty.“

Leila scowled.

Charlotte knelt beside her. ”Leila, I must ask for your word that you’ll not go riding without a companion.“

”Told you you’d get caught,“ Robbie said.

Leila shrugged one bony shoulder.

”Leila, please.“ Charlotte lightly stroked her hand over Leila’s hair, then under Leila’s chin. ”I love you, and I would worry if you rode out on your own.“

”I won’t get lost.“ Leila allowed Charlotte to lift her chin. ”Do you really love me?“

Charlotte looked into that thin little face. ”Very much.“

Oh, God, it was true. She had broken the first rule of governessing. She had come to love her charges as if they were her own children. But what could she do? While she hadn’t been looking, these imps had stolen their way into her heart. If Wynter had been shrewd, if he had truly wished to disturb Charlotte, he would have accused her of loving his children. It wasn’t Wynter who squeezed her heart into painful little knots of anxiety, or sparked pride at their accomplishments. It was his children. Of course.

Flinging wide her arms, she held them open… and waited for one very long second.

Leila launched herself first, coiling herself around Charlotte like a vine which had found the necessary support. ”I love you, too, Lady Miss Charlotte.“

Robbie was second and made up for it by hugging her to the point of pain. ”I love you a lot, Lady Miss Charlotte.“

They offered up their faces. She kissed them both, and hugged them again, and accepted noisy smacks on her cheeks. She came away from their embrace with tears of tenderness and the desperate hope that she hadn’t done wrong by declaring herself. After all, governesses were easily replaced, especially when they’d spurned the master. But Lady Ruskin had promised she could stay through all the children’s formative years, and so Charlotte would remind her. Charlotte would fight for these children.

Leila touched the tears on Charlotte’s cheek. ”Aren’t you happy?“

”Very happy. Happier than I’ve been in so many years.“ Charlotte smiled at them and rose. ”You’ve gladdened my heart.“

”Are you going to see Papa now?“ Robbie asked.

”Absolutely.“ It would be easy, for she didn’t love
him. ”After
I find you a nursemaid.“

CHAPTER 19

The new nursemaid dispatched and Grania reprimanded, Charlotte strode along the corridor toward the old nursery. She was not completely at ease at the thought of seeing Wynter, but it would take more than a marriage proposal and the unfounded insinuation that she loved him to make her timorous. Her dismay had been nothing more than an instinctive recoil against another heartless and unwished-for proposition.

The door was open. Standing in the corridor, she stared at it as she straightened her bodice and stiffened her spine. Dignity. Grace. Equanimity. Those were the keys to dealing with Wynter. Indeed, those were the very foundations of her character.

Stepping inside, she found the nursery empty. Sunshine shone through the windows on the worn floorboards and old draperies. The carpet, cushions and table huddled against the empty fireplace. Charlotte realized that night’s shadows and the flickering firelight had lent atmosphere to a barren chamber. The magic she had experienced here was nothing but a necromancer’s trick.

”Lord Ruskin?“ she called toward the almost-closed door at the back of the room.

No one answered at once, and relief niggled at her. If she was unable to locate him, then she didn’t have to immediately face a possibly unpleasant scene. Or rather, the continuation of the last unpleasant scene.

Sternly she banished her discomfort. Dignity, grace, equanimity, she reminded herself. She need only remember those qualities and Wynter’s derangement could not disturb her.

”Lady Miss Charlotte?“ His voice halted her. Framed in the doorway, he wore his usual outfit— trousers, a collarless shirt and no shoes. He also wore a most obnoxious and delighted expression. ”I didn’t expect you so soon.“

Even without knowing exactly what he meant, she bristled. ”Expect me? Why would you expect me?“

He chuckled indulgently. ”Already you have changed your mind. You wish to accept my proposal and live blessed as my wife for the rest of your days.“

Dignity? Grace? Perhaps. But equanimity failed her. She wanted to rant at him, to demand to know why he thought her such a spineless creature that she needed a man such as him. ”No.“

”Ah, you have some other excuse.“

”I suppose you could call it an excuse, my lord, if you believe the news that your daughter has been riding out alone is not important.“

His grin disappeared. His eyebrows shot up. She noted with profound satisfaction that this was the very portrait of a man affronted. Good. One of the two of them was always agitated. It was about time he took a turn.

Stepping aside, he gestured her in. ”Here. Now.“

She marched toward him, appalled at her tactless breaking of the frightful news and at the same time delighted by the fact she had knocked him off his manly perch and down to the level of the rest of humanity. As she passed him, he placed his hand on the small of her back and propelled her forward.

Unlike the nursery, this room was small, smaller even than her bedchamber, and she realized with a start that this had once been assigned to Wynter’s nursemaid. The gewgaws he detested were manifestly absent, but this room contained a large carpet covering almost the entire floor, glowing in gold and emerald and fringed in scarlet. Scattered about were tables with shortened legs, some with papers stacked on their surfaces. Vermilion and gold velvet cushions were arranged according to his whim. Under the windows, a feather mattress rested on the floor under a wrap of netting suspended from the ceiling.

She had suspected; now she knew for sure. This was his bedchamber.

He slammed the door behind her. Fulminating, she turned on him, but he pointed his finger toward her nose. ”Do not complain, Lady Miss Charlotte. If you are going to throw such a report at my head, you take the consequences.“

She was not the kind of woman who quailed at the voicing of a threat. Instead she narrowed her eyes and gave him the glare that had reduced adolescents to cowering wrecks. ”What consequences are those, my lord?“

”You will tell me why Leila has been allowed to ride without supervision!“

Her knees gave way. Hoping that it appeared intentional, she sank onto a fortuitously placed pile of cushions. ”She was not
allowed
to, my lord. When I… I broke my promise to teach her, she took matters in her own hands. She sneaked out to the stable and rode without saddle or bridle.“ The impropriety of her own situation faded from her mind as she once again paled at the thought of Leila, alone, on a horse so strong some men might be overwhelmed. If she had been thrown…

”Dear Lord, and she rides like an
afreet.“
He looked down at Charlotte. ”A demon,“ he clarified. Then he, too, sank down on the floor. ”I have taught her to ride as the desert people do, and while I am proud of her courage, her tricks make her unsupervised riding a father’s nightmare.“

After hearing the children talk about their feats of daring, she had half feared Wynter would scoff at her concerns, but the nightmares which haunted her also occurred to him. She felt obscurely comforted, and tried to console him. ”There was no harm done, and I have asked her not to ride until I can accompany her. But we don’t want to put a strain on her honor. I wish to start teaching her sidesaddle tomorrow.“

He sat on his heels, stroking his forehead. ”I did not save her from matrimony with that runt of a camel turd to have her killed by an English horse.“

”I take full responsibility, my lord. I should have made sure that a nursemaid was with them at all times…“ She paused, suspended by astonishment. ”What do you mean, you saved her from matrimony with a… I assume you mean with a man?“

”Hamal Siham.“ He said the two words with such venom Charlotte was taken aback. ”The son of a goat who took over after the death of Barakah, my revered Bedouin father. Hamal was less than a rabbit’s droppings. He wallowed in his own stupidity and if I had not guided the people to safety, they would have perished in the sandstorm.“

”This Hamal Siham… he was younger than you?“