Page 26 of The Gentlewoman Companion

She stiffened. “My father, my brother, Charles,” she said his name with a dash of venom, “as well as cousins and aunts.” She did not offer more.

“Do you like to read?” he asked.

“I love a novel. Your mother has me studying.”

“You don’t sound as if you enjoy it.”

Her brow puckered. “It feels like I’m trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces. Do you read Hume?”

“I have, yes.”

“He is new to me. Until last week, I never imagined any person could think so hard about thinking.”

He laughed.

“Do you notice my accent, my lord? Is it distracting?”

“It’s charming.” He meant it. Her conversation was unconventional, but her accent somehow softened what might be distasteful to someone more traditional. He could not articulate why. She was perhaps a little too genuine.

“I believe it may be stronger than I thought.” She whispered the word father a few times. It sounded like feather, with a strong r at the end. “Could you help me with it?”

“If you would like, but there is nothing wrong with it.”

“Others might not agree. How would you say, father?”

He said, “Father.”

She repeated it, “Fah-thah.”

“There. Perfect.”

“I was told I sound like a pirate.”

He suppressed a smile. It was not entirely untrue.

“How would you say, I am from Cornwall, where my father is a squire?”

He smiled. “Now you are laying it on thick.”

“Perhaps, but that is what I am used to. Now you know I do try to speak fitty.”

“Try it again, but drop the r’s and open your mouth for the vowels.”

“Ah ahm frohm Cohrnwahll whah mah fah-thah is ah squiah.” She opened her mouth with affected exaggeration.

He smiled. “Very posh. One would assume you were born at Westminster.”

Grinning, she put her hand on her chest. “Whah, how ev-ah did you guess?” She switched back to her normal speech. “Now I’m cutting it up.”

“Cutting it up?”

“Speaking in a fake, posh accent. If you did not understand it, I must erase it from my vocabulary.”

“Then I’ll add it to mine.”

They recited “Foxy’s Hole” and “If Wishes Were Horses,” but his diction changed more than hers.

“Now who is the pirate?” she asked, laughing at him. The sound of her mirth delighted him, pulsating through him until he joined her. When he did, his own merriment surprised him more than Miss Thorpe’s had.