An Unpracticed Heart

Chapter Ten

Charlotte kept herself to the kitchen for the morning, eager to take on any of the menial tasks that would have ordinarily been given over to Maggie. She scrubbed mud away from the outer steps and walkways with pails of harsh soap and hot water. The muscles in her hands cramped from the hours spent polishing silver—trays, candelabras, cutlery, sugar bowls, creamers, and even salt servers with spoons small enough for a child's dollhouse—rescued from too many years in storage.

They had a guest to look after, Mrs. Faraday reminded them, and not merely an inebriated gentlemen who kept mostly to his rooms and was possessed of dubious shaving habits. One of the finer bedrooms at the front of the house had been cleared and set to rights, dust cloths removed from furniture and draperies and bed curtains searched for evidence of feasting from both moths and mice. The dining room was to be opened up as well, though Charlotte could not imagine the need to set such a vast table for only two gentleman, one of whom had already made himself notorious to the household staff—meagre as it was—as someone who failed to adhere to any of the regular hours of dressing or eating.

"The rugs are a disgrace," announced Mrs. Faraday herself as she strode into the bustling kitchen. Another girl had been brought in from the village, and there had been talk of hiring a proper cook to tend to the growing meals. Charlotte entertained the thought with no small amount of displeasure, already missing the cozy repasts of stew and buttered bread in front of the fire with only one or two others for company. "We'll have to see what can be salvaged from storage, or if the mice have had their way with all the druggets as well. You!" She pointed at a young boy sitting in the corner of the room, hunched over a pair of gentleman's boots. The boy jerked to attention, his eyes wide beneath a thatch of uncombed dark hair. "There's enough polish on those boots to make an entirely new pair out of what you've wasted. Finish up and get yourself out to the stable to see what's needed of you."

The boy set back to work as Mrs. Faraday turned her attention towards the table where Charlotte sat, cleaning the last of the tarnish from an intricate design of roses on the outer edge of a silver serving tray.

"You should leave that for Maggie," her aunt said, hands planted on her narrow hips as if she were ready to do battle.

"I don't mind doing it." Charlotte graced her aunt with a quick glance before her gaze returned to the chore in front of her. "And I'm sure Maggie would prefer to take on any other work apart from this."

Mrs. Faraday moved a step closer. At first, Charlotte assumed it was to present herself as more intimidating, but when she spoke again, her voice was nearly a whisper. "Does he know who you are?"

Charlotte's hand paused, her dirtied rag still dangling from her fingertips. "Who I...?" She gave her aunt her full attention, but neither did she lower her voice to prevent anyone else from hearing her words. "I don't understand."

The older woman's lips tightened. "You're not some scullery drudge with whom he can have a dalliance and then dismiss when he finds you tiresome."

Charlotte blinked, her mind stuttering over the conversation as if she'd been dropped into the middle of it. "Do you mean his lordship? Are you accusing me of—" She drew in a breath and returned to her work, her fingernails turning white from the renewed pressure she applied to the silver. What did her aunt know of her movements from the previous night? No doubt she'd been informed of Charlotte's presence in Lord Cowden's chambers. Servants were notorious gossips and Jenson in particular always seemed to be deep in conversation with one of the maids or the lads from the stable. But was she aware of the line that had been crossed early in the morning, that her self-appointed role as Lord Cowden's nurse was abandoned the moment she slipped into his bed?

She reminded herself that nothing truly untoward had occurred. He had barely touched her, had not even kissed her. Of course, if Jenson had not interrupted them with news of Mr. Ballard's arrival when he did...