There were several ladies who could fit that description but only one looked truly old. At least eighty by Lottie’s best guess if the snow-white hair and saggy, papery jowls were any gauge. “The one with the ludicrous foot-high purple ostrich feather stuck in her hair and the expression of complete disapproval on her overpowdered face?” For this octogenarianappeared so displeased with everything and everyone around her she might as well be chewing on a wasp.
“Must you be so literal?”
“I am merely saying aloud what we both see.” Lottie shrugged unrepentantly, watching the curmudgeonly old lady with interest now that she had been pointed out. Whoever thatgrande damewas, and there was no doubt from her expensive purple gown, superior demeanor, and commanding posture that she was a fearsome, blue-blooded woman who was not to be trifled with. She was also clearly one used to being deferred to because those matrons unlucky enough to be seated nearest to her all wore tight smiles and seemed too frightened to speak at all unless spoken to. As Lottie stared, one brave soul did and was rewarded with a glare from the old dragon that made the misguided speaker instantly wither on the vine.
As always, that pompous superiority rankled. Lottie might not be as opposed to rank and aristocratic status as Portia was, but she never had time for those who were so up themselves, they believed the world revolved around them.
Much like that incompetent but much too attractive idiot had this morning!
It took a special kind of inbred, aristocratic arrogance to blame her entirely for a careless mistake which both of them had had a hand in. He had been so obnoxious and insufferable a fellow despite her risking her neck to retrieve his bolted horse, she had thoroughly enjoyed knocking him down a peg or two as a reward. Had given him both barrels, in actual fact. Because having the excuse to righteously shout at someone rather than curse the ethereal and silent forces of fate had felt cathartic at a time when her emotions were all over the place.
It had also, in a strange sort of way, provided her with a welcome distraction from the other problem that refused to be ignored. She only had to picture that ridiculously chiseled jaw of his dropping in shock that someone so obviously far beneath him had the temerity to call him a rude oaf, and it made her smile. Because hehadbeen a rude oaf. An unspeakablyrude and ungrateful oaf, and she had probably done him a greater service in telling him than she had in returning his poor horse.
The arrogant fool did have excellent taste in horses though, despite his inability to control them; she had to give him that. That high-strung Arabian had been one of the finest and fastest specimens she had ever seen. It would make an exceptional racehorse or a racing stud. Not that she suspected his useless owner realized his animal’s full potential. That jumped-up, pompous, and rude oaf had probably only bought that horse because the Arabian’s whiskey-colored coat had perfectly matched his stunned, blinking eyes.
“That is Lady Almeria Winthrop.” Miss P dragged Lottie’s thoughts reluctantly back to the rude old lady they were discussing instead.
One of the first-year students who had been tasked with handing out glasses of sherry ventured too close to the battle-axe and was unceremoniously shooed away with a snarl, prompting Lottie to once again say exactly what she saw. “Well, lady or not, she reminds me a bit of a grumpy terrier we used to have on the farm years ago, who hated everyone and everything. Although I cannot help but wonder what has got her dander up here? Doesn’t she realize this is a wedding? A time for joyousness and celebration? She couldn’t radiate more displeasure if she tried. Who wasted an invitation on the ungrateful witch?”
In line with the FourD’s, which she upheld with every fiber of her being, Miss P discreetly ignored all those literal observations, but Lottie could not help smiling at the fact she didn’t disagree with any of them. “She is also the Dowager Viscountess of Frinton.”
“So?” asked Lottie with another shrug. “Being a dowager viscountess doesn’t excuse her atrocious behavior.” Once again, an image of the outraged horseman from earlier skittered across her mind, making her wonder if he possessed a title too. It would explain a lot if he did.
Except he hadn’t possessed the physique of a member of the aristocracy. Aristocratic males weren’t usually so… imposing. They rarely possessed such broad shoulders or so many obvious muscles. When you grew up in a house full of men, you knew the difference between real musclesand padding, and despite his thoroughly unpleasant manner, he had filled his coat very well.
“So.”Miss P nudged her, forcing Lottie’s mind away from the rude oaf and back onto the rude battle-axe. “I have just discovered that Lady Frinton is in the market for a lady’s companion,soI have told her I happen to have just the candidate ready to go already.”
“Oh, you cannot be serious!” Making no attempt to hide her disbelief, Lottie sighed at her mentor. “You only have to look at her to see that she will eat poor Kitty alive.” Like Lottie, her friend Kitty was again in between jobs and living temporarily back at the school on Miss P’s charity.
Kitty had been dismissed from her latest position as a lady’s companion for gross neglect of her duties—for the fifth time. Because for Kitty, daydreaming wasn’t so much a pastime but a full-time occupation. At least Lottie could suppress the urge to ride an illicit horse for weeks on end before she succumbed to it, and even when she did, she never ever rode one during working hours. Kitty couldn’t go more than a day without her mind flitting to the fanciful pastures of her imagination, usually during working hours.
“That sour-faced old matriarch will gobble up kind, gentle Kitty like a canapé.” Lottie snapped her teeth shut to emphasize that point. “It will be like sending a lamb to the slaughter.”
“Oh, I know that,” said Miss Prentice, yanking Lottie by the elbow. “Kitty wouldn’t last five minutes with a gorgon like Lady Frinton. That is why I am going to introduceyouto her, dear.”
Lottie planted her feet and scowled at that. “Have you lost your mind, Miss P? We both know that my character and temperament have always been better suited to running around after a nursery full of boisterous young children than it is to fetching the slippers for a crotchety old woman who believes the world revolves around her. I am a governess to my core and most definitelynota lady’s companion in any way, shape, or form.”
“Actually, dear, youwerea governess and now, thanks to your own rash stupidity and continued lack of decorum, you are once again unemployed. Beggars cannot be choosers, Charlotte. Especially when there arerumors that Lord Chadwell has vowed never to employ one of my protégées again after he was forced to dismiss one who stole his horse.”
“Stealing suggests I did not bring it back and I very much did.”
“Whether you did or didn’t steal the thing is moot when he claims that he paid through the nose for a supposedly superior governess, trained by me, who, rather than uphold the ethos of this school, instead continually neglected her duties while she indulged in mad gallops across Hyde Park.”
“I most definitely did not neglect my duties. Not once in the six months I worked for him, so that is unfair too.”
“I notice you do not deny the galloping, Charlotte.” Miss P gave her one of her legendary exasperated looks. “And do not get me wrong, I think it is most ungallant of Lord Chadwell to besmirch your name or mine after what his disgusting son did, but Mayfair is a very small place and mud like that sticks! Enough that I am unlikely to find you another position as a governess here for some considerable time if the rumor spreads. Which it will! For exactly how many wild galloping governesses are there in this city who terrorize the parks on horseback?” She glared at Lottie until she bowed her head in shame. “Your improper galloping habit aside, at five feet and eleven inches, you hardly blend in, dear, do you? Not that you have really ever tried to.”
As Miss P had her there, Lottie huffed out the last of her outrage with a hefty dollop of petulance. “It is hardly my fault that I am tall and I genuinely dotryto curb my wild side.”
The older woman smiled. “You are certainlytrying,Charlotte Travers, and always have been, in your uniquely exasperating but lovable way. However…” And back came the schoolmistress with a vengeance. “You have created a problem for yourself and for me, and I am doing my best here to fix it. Lady Frinton needs a companion urgently for her upcoming trip to Scotland after her last one ran screaming for the hills. As she seems to chew through companions with worrying haste, this is unlikely to be a permanent position.”
A statement that made no sense whatsoever in view of Lottie’s currentpredicament and Miss P’s claim that she was trying to fix things. “Exactly how employable do you think I will be after being dismissed twice in quick succession by two of Mayfair’s supposed finest?”
A protest that was brushed aside with a flick of Miss P’s fan and a wink.
“Certainly more employable than you will be if you are unmasked as the Infamous Galloping Governess! Thankfully, as Lady Frinton’s horrendous reputation with the help is legendary, nobody decent would bat an eyelid to discover that she had dismissed you. To be frank, most would be impressed that you managed to stick with her longer than a week, so there is nothing to worry about on that score. It many ways, a stint in her employ would actually do you a favor as it shows you have gumption. But on the other score…” Miss P’s lips pursed. “It is imperative that we have a few weeks’ grace for thoseswirling rumorsabout the scandalous behavior of one of my protégées in Hyde Park to die down in order for you to become a halfway employable governess again. Something that will not happen”—Miss P slanted Lottie one of her I-know-everything-young-lady-so-do-not-bother-denying-it schoolmistress glares—“if Lord Chadwell’s wild former governess persists in going for her ill-considered dawn gallops across Hyde Park.”
“How did you—” There really was no point in attempting to question Miss P’s raised palm further so she simply huffed again and braced herself for the rest of the lecture.
