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Authors: Moriah Denslea
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studies?”
“Section nine, On Female Piety .”
His eyebrows went up and she thought he swallowed a smile. “Very well. A shame they will be indisposed today. I came to see if you could use my assistance with dancing lessons. Do you like the new Austrian waltz popular in London last season?” The girls gasped and sighed through his comments.
“The Lustenau ? My favorite. A bit far in the folk style, but rather romantic.”
“Perhaps we shall have to practice alone until they are prepared to join us.” He held his arm out for Sophia.
“I am surprised those volumes survived the inferno,” he quipped, referring to the chauvanist philosophy books Sophia had tossed into the fire grate. She had hated him then, supposing he believed in female subjugation before she learned the truth — that he merely had a perverse sense of humor.
“I was saving them for a particularly cold night.”
He smiled sideways and she watched that infuriating dimple on his scruff-dusted cheek. Such rough-hewn strokes had carved his face in a cross between a Roman patrician and Norman invader, as though one wily gypsy had spiced his ancestry of aristocratic blood.
She didn’t find out if Lord Devon really meant to dance with her, because they were intercepted by a footman who announced the arrival of a telegram. Wilhelm tore it open and read it silently, but his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. He crumpled the yellow paper and shoved the wad in his coat pocket.
“Not bad news, I hope.”
“What else comes over the wire?” He excused himself and strode away.
Sophia watched him retreat, then decided to exploit her free afternoon. She went out the west service door, avoiding Lord Devon’s office, and walked toward the bathhouse. Fritz spotted her and came charging with the same zeal as when he chased rabbits. She scratched his ears and teased him in German, which made him so pleased she could not bear to close the door to the bathhouse on his sad whiskey-colored eyes.
“Oh all right, you scoundrel. Komme her .” At her command to come, he bolted through the doorway then slid on the marble floor. She laughed as he followed gingerly, his claws clicking on the tile.
“I cannot believe I am disrobing before a male. This is very scandalous.”
Fritz cocked his head and opened his mouth in what looked suspiciously like a cocky grin if not for his inch-long fangs. Then he rested on his haunches while she soaked in the pool. She sat in Lord Devon’s favorite spot and tried her utmost not to think about him.
• • •
Lieutenant Philip Cavendish of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy arrived a day ahead of schedule, to the delight of his sisters. Elise and Mary met him outside at the coach and dragged him inside the house, fawning and swooning over him and his smart uniform. Sophia heard the commotion and brought Madeline down to greet him.
He stood only a few inches taller than Elise, with a stocky build and a complexion resembling Mary’s: darker and rounder, with deeply set eyes and a dimpled chin. He removed his hat to reveal dark wavy hair, also like Mary’s. Sophia thought he looked all classic English gentleman, but impetuousness instead of stateliness marked his countenance, a trait of youth. He could not be half into his twenties.
Elise introduced them, “Miss Rosalie, may I present my brother, Lieutenant Cavendish.” Sophia curtsied. “Philip, Miss Rosalie is our governess.” She said governess like she would say cold dish of sauerkraut .
Philip had already been staring at Sophia, a wide-eyed stricken look she had seen a hundred times over on younger men who believed in adventure and romance.
Madeline saved the awkward moment. She hugged her brother’s waist, knocking his saber askew, and complained, “Philip, Miss Rosalie made me memorize poor-eyes sermons!”
“What the blazes is that?” Philip wrapped his arms around her and squeezed until she giggled. “You haven’t been naughty, Maddie?”
Mary plucked at
“Section nine, On Female Piety .”
His eyebrows went up and she thought he swallowed a smile. “Very well. A shame they will be indisposed today. I came to see if you could use my assistance with dancing lessons. Do you like the new Austrian waltz popular in London last season?” The girls gasped and sighed through his comments.
“The Lustenau ? My favorite. A bit far in the folk style, but rather romantic.”
“Perhaps we shall have to practice alone until they are prepared to join us.” He held his arm out for Sophia.
“I am surprised those volumes survived the inferno,” he quipped, referring to the chauvanist philosophy books Sophia had tossed into the fire grate. She had hated him then, supposing he believed in female subjugation before she learned the truth — that he merely had a perverse sense of humor.
“I was saving them for a particularly cold night.”
He smiled sideways and she watched that infuriating dimple on his scruff-dusted cheek. Such rough-hewn strokes had carved his face in a cross between a Roman patrician and Norman invader, as though one wily gypsy had spiced his ancestry of aristocratic blood.
She didn’t find out if Lord Devon really meant to dance with her, because they were intercepted by a footman who announced the arrival of a telegram. Wilhelm tore it open and read it silently, but his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. He crumpled the yellow paper and shoved the wad in his coat pocket.
“Not bad news, I hope.”
“What else comes over the wire?” He excused himself and strode away.
Sophia watched him retreat, then decided to exploit her free afternoon. She went out the west service door, avoiding Lord Devon’s office, and walked toward the bathhouse. Fritz spotted her and came charging with the same zeal as when he chased rabbits. She scratched his ears and teased him in German, which made him so pleased she could not bear to close the door to the bathhouse on his sad whiskey-colored eyes.
“Oh all right, you scoundrel. Komme her .” At her command to come, he bolted through the doorway then slid on the marble floor. She laughed as he followed gingerly, his claws clicking on the tile.
“I cannot believe I am disrobing before a male. This is very scandalous.”
Fritz cocked his head and opened his mouth in what looked suspiciously like a cocky grin if not for his inch-long fangs. Then he rested on his haunches while she soaked in the pool. She sat in Lord Devon’s favorite spot and tried her utmost not to think about him.
• • •
Lieutenant Philip Cavendish of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy arrived a day ahead of schedule, to the delight of his sisters. Elise and Mary met him outside at the coach and dragged him inside the house, fawning and swooning over him and his smart uniform. Sophia heard the commotion and brought Madeline down to greet him.
He stood only a few inches taller than Elise, with a stocky build and a complexion resembling Mary’s: darker and rounder, with deeply set eyes and a dimpled chin. He removed his hat to reveal dark wavy hair, also like Mary’s. Sophia thought he looked all classic English gentleman, but impetuousness instead of stateliness marked his countenance, a trait of youth. He could not be half into his twenties.
Elise introduced them, “Miss Rosalie, may I present my brother, Lieutenant Cavendish.” Sophia curtsied. “Philip, Miss Rosalie is our governess.” She said governess like she would say cold dish of sauerkraut .
Philip had already been staring at Sophia, a wide-eyed stricken look she had seen a hundred times over on younger men who believed in adventure and romance.
Madeline saved the awkward moment. She hugged her brother’s waist, knocking his saber askew, and complained, “Philip, Miss Rosalie made me memorize poor-eyes sermons!”
“What the blazes is that?” Philip wrapped his arms around her and squeezed until she giggled. “You haven’t been naughty, Maddie?”
Mary plucked at
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