your majesty.â He swooped into a mocking bow complete with European hand flourish. If only he had a hat and gloves, the portrait would be complete.
Constance managed a curt, âIâm sure I donât know what you mean.â But in the back of her mind she wondered. She had thought Sissyâs remarkable intelligence some sort of rare exception. It seemed here at White Willow that slaves were treated in an entirely different manner. Constance shook off her rambling thoughts. âAnd all of this is beside the point.â
âNever mind. Rest assured I will remove myself as soon as possible. You obviously recall that I spend little time here.â With that he turned on his heel and disappeared into a nearby bedchamber.
âOh!â Her Gingersnap temper rose to alarming levels. Her face in that moment no doubt matched the fire of her hair. But she was not Gingersnap, the hotheaded hoyden, any longer. No matter what Robert Montgomery might think. No matter the memories he stirred in her. Memories and emotions best left alone to die once and for all. She was Constance Cavendish, British dance instructor. Stiff upper lip and all that.
Counting to ten with deep inhalations, her temperature cooled. The raging heat on her face dissipated. She could do this. She would. Sheâd been a respectable working woman for years now. One Mr. Robert Montgomery would not disrupt her goals.
Only then did she pause to further consider his disheveled appearanceâthe dirt beneath his fingernails, the coarse linen work shirt, and the plain brown breeches worn over an old pair of Hessian boots.
A slave who could read and write and ruled the household. Another who spoke with the elegance of a British butler. A handsome, blue-eyed gentleman farmer grimy from the fields. And such bitterness from that same man who had cast her aside when she needed him most. White Willow Hall brimmed with disparities.
At least this trip would not prove to be the same boring routine of Richmond. But she would remain focused. Teach the Beaumont girls to dance. Earn a reputation throughout the area. And earn her family a new lease on life.
Somehow she must convince Robbie not to poison the others against her. She would speak with him after dinner. Although she had put her flirtatious past far behind her, surely she could dredge up enough charm to manage that.
CHAPTER 6
Constance suppressed a gasp. The Robbie who swept into dinner ten minutes late looked nothing like the rumpled specimen sheâd met in the hallway. Dressed in a proper dark blue waistcoat with pressed white trousers, he indeed appeared every inch the dashing gentleman of her childhood dreams. A warm flush rose to her face as he brushed his lips across his motherâs rosy cheek.
âSo sorry to be late.â With a wink to the table at large, he settled himself into the chair across from his mother and to the left of his stepfather. Thankfully, Constance remained separated from him by his sisters, where she could watch him without being obvious. He flashed his charming grin to the young ladies with a quick, âEvening,â and Constance felt as if the smile dripped over to her as well, tickling her own lips into a grin. He shook out his napkin with a crisp flick of his wrist and settled it across his lap with perfect decorum.
Constance lifted her fan from the table and waved it against the rising heat before it showed upon her cheeks. But then, realizing the possible flirtatious impression, she cast her glance to the rotund, middle-aged overseer across from her.
Past the enormous ham garnished with apples, she watched the man turn as red as she must appear. Mr. Percy cleared his throat and pulled on his collar, but she merely smiled, laid down her fan, and took another taste of her creamy peanut soup. Unable to resist the briefest Gingersnap moment, she topped off the exchange with a quick eyelash flutter before directing her gaze to her host and
Constance managed a curt, âIâm sure I donât know what you mean.â But in the back of her mind she wondered. She had thought Sissyâs remarkable intelligence some sort of rare exception. It seemed here at White Willow that slaves were treated in an entirely different manner. Constance shook off her rambling thoughts. âAnd all of this is beside the point.â
âNever mind. Rest assured I will remove myself as soon as possible. You obviously recall that I spend little time here.â With that he turned on his heel and disappeared into a nearby bedchamber.
âOh!â Her Gingersnap temper rose to alarming levels. Her face in that moment no doubt matched the fire of her hair. But she was not Gingersnap, the hotheaded hoyden, any longer. No matter what Robert Montgomery might think. No matter the memories he stirred in her. Memories and emotions best left alone to die once and for all. She was Constance Cavendish, British dance instructor. Stiff upper lip and all that.
Counting to ten with deep inhalations, her temperature cooled. The raging heat on her face dissipated. She could do this. She would. Sheâd been a respectable working woman for years now. One Mr. Robert Montgomery would not disrupt her goals.
Only then did she pause to further consider his disheveled appearanceâthe dirt beneath his fingernails, the coarse linen work shirt, and the plain brown breeches worn over an old pair of Hessian boots.
A slave who could read and write and ruled the household. Another who spoke with the elegance of a British butler. A handsome, blue-eyed gentleman farmer grimy from the fields. And such bitterness from that same man who had cast her aside when she needed him most. White Willow Hall brimmed with disparities.
At least this trip would not prove to be the same boring routine of Richmond. But she would remain focused. Teach the Beaumont girls to dance. Earn a reputation throughout the area. And earn her family a new lease on life.
Somehow she must convince Robbie not to poison the others against her. She would speak with him after dinner. Although she had put her flirtatious past far behind her, surely she could dredge up enough charm to manage that.
CHAPTER 6
Constance suppressed a gasp. The Robbie who swept into dinner ten minutes late looked nothing like the rumpled specimen sheâd met in the hallway. Dressed in a proper dark blue waistcoat with pressed white trousers, he indeed appeared every inch the dashing gentleman of her childhood dreams. A warm flush rose to her face as he brushed his lips across his motherâs rosy cheek.
âSo sorry to be late.â With a wink to the table at large, he settled himself into the chair across from his mother and to the left of his stepfather. Thankfully, Constance remained separated from him by his sisters, where she could watch him without being obvious. He flashed his charming grin to the young ladies with a quick, âEvening,â and Constance felt as if the smile dripped over to her as well, tickling her own lips into a grin. He shook out his napkin with a crisp flick of his wrist and settled it across his lap with perfect decorum.
Constance lifted her fan from the table and waved it against the rising heat before it showed upon her cheeks. But then, realizing the possible flirtatious impression, she cast her glance to the rotund, middle-aged overseer across from her.
Past the enormous ham garnished with apples, she watched the man turn as red as she must appear. Mr. Percy cleared his throat and pulled on his collar, but she merely smiled, laid down her fan, and took another taste of her creamy peanut soup. Unable to resist the briefest Gingersnap moment, she topped off the exchange with a quick eyelash flutter before directing her gaze to her host and
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