What Happens in Piccadilly - Chasity Bowlin Page 0,36
if it’s nice. He’s not a gentleman! He said—” William stopped abruptly, obviously not willing to repeat what had been said.
Callie would have pressed him but decided for the sake of Charlotte’s innocent ears, which in truth probably were not so innocent, it would be best not to encourage him. “It doesn’t matter. He’s an adult and, as your elder, he deserves a certain amount of respect. You don’t have to like him, but that doesn’t mean it’s all right to talk about him. Are we in agreement?”
William shuffled his feet on the rug for a moment. “Fine.”
“Thank you. Your willingness to overlook your dislike of him indicates a remarkably generous nature and a good character, William,” Callie said with a smile. “And as for you, Miss Charlotte, the same goes! No saying mean things about adults!”
“What if adults do mean things to us?” she asked.
Callie’s heart clenched at the thought of it. She fervently hoped none ever would. “Then you must immediately tell me or your uncle… no matter what. All right?”
Charlotte nodded solemnly and immediately popped her thumb into her mouth. Callie gave her a warning look and she removed it. “I know, I know,” the little girl said, perfectly capturing Callie’s own tone and inflection as she repeated the words that had been uttered to her so frequently. “It’s a terrible habit and I’m too big for it.”
Callie smiled. “It is and you are. Furthermore, you are a strong and capable young girl. You do not need to suck your thumb in order to feel safe and secure. You have everything and everyone you need. Don’t you?”
“I miss Mama,” Charlotte said.
Callie’s felt that terrible hollow feeling inside her as she looked at the sad, sweet face. “I know you do. Come here and sit with me for a moment.”
Taking a seat at the small table she used, she pulled Charlotte on her lap and looked to William. “Today, we’re going to work on letters.”
“Why doesn’t Claudia have to?” he demanded.
“Because she knows her letters,” Callie replied. “Also, she is preparing to meet her music instructor. Your uncle hired him just this morning and she will have her first lesson in only a few short moments. All young ladies should know how to play the pianoforte and she is getting a very late start.”
“Where’s he coming from?” William asked.
“When was he hired?” Charlotte demanded.
“Why don’t we get music lessons?”
“Is he nice?”
Callie held up her hand lest the barrage of questions continue. “He teaches the children next door,” Callie replied to William. “He comes very highly recommended. Your uncle hired him just this morning and you won’t be getting lessons unless you want to have them because boys generally are not required to learn an instrument. Charlotte will have lessons beginning in the next year or so. And before you can protest further or suggest that the man is a murderer or thief, I will check in on them later. But only after I get you and Charlotte settled in doing your letters.”
William grumbled more, but didn’t protest overmuch. Charlotte, so long as she was being cuddled, was perfectly content to practice anything. Preparing the sheafs of paper for them to practice their letters, Callie painstakingly lined the paper with the compass and ruler and then wrote one row of letters across the top for them to repeat beneath. When the task was done, she rose and placed Charlotte in her chair.
Once the children were settled in, attempting to recreate the strokes of the letters, Callie’s mind drifted. It had drifted often over the last twenty-four hours, so much so that she’d been robbed of any chance at actual sleep. The memory of that brief—too brief—and painfully gentle kiss, administered even in the midst of a heated argument, left her reeling. She still didn’t know why he had kissed her, but perhaps her greatest shame lay in that she desperately wanted him to do so again.
It had been a tease, that delicate kiss. So light, so tender that it seemed almost as if she had imagined it. Yet, she knew she had not. And she also knew that kissing was so much more than that single feathery brush of his lips over hers. The man, blast him, had given her just enough to stir her curiosity.
“I can’t do this one,” Charlotte whined. “I can’t make it look right!”
Callie rose and moved over to where the little girl sat. “Start from the bottom,” she instructed patiently and guided the child’s