memory. After completing the list, she tucked the pencil behind one ear. ‘‘I do wish I had told Mr. Howard I met you on the ship. Now he’s going to expect me to know about your previous life, and so will everyone else we meet. And that means we’ll have to memorize more lies.’’ She sighed at the remembrance of Aunt Eleanor’s admonition.
Seemingly undeterred, Charlotte pointed to Olivia’s ear. ‘‘Please remove that pencil from behind your ear. It is most unladylike and, even more, unfashionable, I might add.’’ She tapped the writing tablet. ‘‘If you’re uneasy about anything, let’s decide right now. You can annotate the story of my life on our list, and we’ll memorize it along with everything else.’’
For the next half hour, they were storytellers. After one of them suggested an idea, the other would embellish or correct it until they were both satisfied and ready to begin the next thread. Each piece of Charlotte’s recently created life history was added to the page when they were both in agreement.
Cupping her chin in her palm, Charlotte balanced her elbow on one knee. ‘‘Read it to me one last time so I’m sure to remember.’’
‘‘You’ll have all day tomorrow to memorize—’’ Startled by a loud knock at the door, Olivia mashed her lips together. Who could be calling on them? Not giving heed to the time, she jumped to her feet, filled with an expectant joy. ‘‘Perhaps it’s Albert.’’ Her eager smile disappeared when she rushed downstairs and yanked open the door.
The glint in Mr. Howard’s eyes faded. ‘‘You were expecting someone else?’’
Olivia couldn’t tell if Mr. Howard was disillusioned, angry, or merely perplexed by her lack of enthusiasm at his arrival. ‘‘I thought perhaps it was my cousin.’’
‘‘Why, how would he know you’ve even arrived in town?’’ Mr. Howard pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and then shook his head. ‘‘In addition, it’s only two forty-five. I thought I mentioned Albert doesn’t finish his workday until five-thirty.’’ Without waiting for an introduction, he peered around Olivia. ‘‘I’m Samuel Howard, the company agent. And you must be Miss Mott’s friend.’’
Olivia’s throat constricted. Would Charlotte act like a grieving merchant’s widow instead of the flirtatious daughter of English nobility? Olivia sent a prayer winging toward heaven but quickly recanted. Had she actually thought God wanted to help his children promote lies and deceit? She shuddered at her own irreverence and silently requested forgiveness.
CHAPTER FIVE
Olivia wedged herself in the doorway and stared at Mr. Howard. Words failed her. She silently chastised herself. With all their scheming, how had they overlooked selecting a proper name for her ladyship? Mr. Howard raised his brows. ‘‘Yes, this is my friend.’’ She hesitated. ‘‘La—Char—Mrs. Horn . . . Hornsby. My friend Mrs. Hornsby— Widow Hornsby.’’ Olivia raised her voice by at least an octave and hoped Charlotte would heed her prompting.
When she continued to block the doorway, Mr. Howard stared at her as though she’d lost all sense of propriety. She had no choice but to step aside and permit him entry. The moment he crossed the threshold, Charlotte jumped to her feet. Olivia glared, but to no avail. The woman batted her lashes and coyly smiled at Mr. Howard while she explained their dire need of furniture and household goods.
Drastic measures would be needed to gain control of her ladyship’s behavior. Olivia moved to Charlotte’s side and covertly pinched her arm. When Charlotte squealed in pain, Olivia hastened to allay Mr. Howard’s obvious concern. ‘‘She’s fine—merely a stitch. From time to time Charlotte, Mrs. Hornsby, is overcome with an occasional pain that quickly subsides.’’ Olivia directed a warning look at her ladyship. ‘‘The doctor in London remained uncertain if the bouts are caused by her present
Seemingly undeterred, Charlotte pointed to Olivia’s ear. ‘‘Please remove that pencil from behind your ear. It is most unladylike and, even more, unfashionable, I might add.’’ She tapped the writing tablet. ‘‘If you’re uneasy about anything, let’s decide right now. You can annotate the story of my life on our list, and we’ll memorize it along with everything else.’’
For the next half hour, they were storytellers. After one of them suggested an idea, the other would embellish or correct it until they were both satisfied and ready to begin the next thread. Each piece of Charlotte’s recently created life history was added to the page when they were both in agreement.
Cupping her chin in her palm, Charlotte balanced her elbow on one knee. ‘‘Read it to me one last time so I’m sure to remember.’’
‘‘You’ll have all day tomorrow to memorize—’’ Startled by a loud knock at the door, Olivia mashed her lips together. Who could be calling on them? Not giving heed to the time, she jumped to her feet, filled with an expectant joy. ‘‘Perhaps it’s Albert.’’ Her eager smile disappeared when she rushed downstairs and yanked open the door.
The glint in Mr. Howard’s eyes faded. ‘‘You were expecting someone else?’’
Olivia couldn’t tell if Mr. Howard was disillusioned, angry, or merely perplexed by her lack of enthusiasm at his arrival. ‘‘I thought perhaps it was my cousin.’’
‘‘Why, how would he know you’ve even arrived in town?’’ Mr. Howard pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and then shook his head. ‘‘In addition, it’s only two forty-five. I thought I mentioned Albert doesn’t finish his workday until five-thirty.’’ Without waiting for an introduction, he peered around Olivia. ‘‘I’m Samuel Howard, the company agent. And you must be Miss Mott’s friend.’’
Olivia’s throat constricted. Would Charlotte act like a grieving merchant’s widow instead of the flirtatious daughter of English nobility? Olivia sent a prayer winging toward heaven but quickly recanted. Had she actually thought God wanted to help his children promote lies and deceit? She shuddered at her own irreverence and silently requested forgiveness.
CHAPTER FIVE
Olivia wedged herself in the doorway and stared at Mr. Howard. Words failed her. She silently chastised herself. With all their scheming, how had they overlooked selecting a proper name for her ladyship? Mr. Howard raised his brows. ‘‘Yes, this is my friend.’’ She hesitated. ‘‘La—Char—Mrs. Horn . . . Hornsby. My friend Mrs. Hornsby— Widow Hornsby.’’ Olivia raised her voice by at least an octave and hoped Charlotte would heed her prompting.
When she continued to block the doorway, Mr. Howard stared at her as though she’d lost all sense of propriety. She had no choice but to step aside and permit him entry. The moment he crossed the threshold, Charlotte jumped to her feet. Olivia glared, but to no avail. The woman batted her lashes and coyly smiled at Mr. Howard while she explained their dire need of furniture and household goods.
Drastic measures would be needed to gain control of her ladyship’s behavior. Olivia moved to Charlotte’s side and covertly pinched her arm. When Charlotte squealed in pain, Olivia hastened to allay Mr. Howard’s obvious concern. ‘‘She’s fine—merely a stitch. From time to time Charlotte, Mrs. Hornsby, is overcome with an occasional pain that quickly subsides.’’ Olivia directed a warning look at her ladyship. ‘‘The doctor in London remained uncertain if the bouts are caused by her present
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