Page 18 of A Stranger’s Promise

“Highland whisky,” he announced.

He filled two glasses, then handed her one. Charlotte accepted it. Why was he circling around the issue? Why couldn’t he tell her outright just why he’d replaced her?

He watched her. “Take a drink, Miss Atchenson,” he suggested. “You look as if you could use it.”

She looked down at the liquid in her glass. She’d never tasted whisky. Her father and Captain Edwards had insisted she abstain from alcohol. But now? She certainly felt in need of bolstering. She took a sip. The whisky dug a hot furrow down her throat.

She coughed and dragged in a harsh breath. “It tastes like perfume,” she wheezed.

Lord Cassilis chuckled.

Charlotte cleared her throat and looked up at him. “My lord,” she croaked. “Meg…” Tears burned her eyes. She struggled to gather her frazzled nerves.

“Meg?” he echoed, at first sounding bewildered. “Ah yes, Meg. I’ve assigned her to the children’s care.”

She couldn’t deny it. There it was. He had ended her employment. The stress from the past few weeks crashed down around her. Tears welled in her eyes. In an effort to mask them, she brought her glass to her lips and tossed the whisky back all at once. She braced herself for the fiery path of the liquid down her throat, and managed to only gag. The whisky reached her belly and a pleasantly warm sensation fluttered there.

“Easy, lass,” Lord Cassilis cautioned.

She mustered her courage and met his gaze. “Might I ask why, my lord?”

“Why?” He frowned.

“We’ve only just arrived, my lord.” A strange lightheadedness made her feel disconnected from her thoughts. “We traveled two long weeks. Surely, surely…” Please, she begged him silently, please let me stay. “Tell me what I must do and I will do it, my lord.”

He tilted his head. “I have heard plenty from the footman. More than enough to settle that score.”

She squinted at him. The footman? Which one? They’d all seemed so kind. She’d never thought a one of them to be the sort who would knife her in the back. She glanced at her glass.

“Allow me.” He refilled her glass.

Charlotte swiped at tears with the back of her hand, then drained her glass again.

Lord Cassilis snatched the glass from her. “That’s highland whisky, lass, not water.” He laughed outright. “From the looks of it, you’ve had enough.” Setting her empty glass on the table, he crossed his legs. “I admit, I am confused as to what you mean.”

She frowned, decidedly dizzy, but suddenly found it much easier to talk. “Why are you ending my employment, my lord? I have only just arrived. Is it…is it my father?”

His brows rose. “Ending your employment? Pray tell, where did ye hear such a thing?”

A flicker of hope surged inside her. “But, Mary,” she said, then paused. The name sounded off. It was. “Ah, yes, Meg. But Meg?”

His face lit with sudden understanding—along with a healthy dose of amusement. “I assigned Meg as the children’s nursemaid. You, my dear, are the governess. Manage them all as you please. As governess, you are responsible for their upbringing. I could hardly expect you to take care of them both, entirely by yourself.”

“Then you’re not letting me go?” she whispered. But the footman…hadn’t he said something about the footman? She concentrated in an effort to pierce the haze surrounding her thoughts. Finally, she managed to form the words, “The footman?”

“He only sings your praises, Miss Atchenson. I have received letters of your progress along the way.” Lord Cassilis chuckled again. “In fact, if he were not a happily married man, I would think he would have fallen in love with you.”

Relief washed over her. A giddy sensation filled her with warmth. “In love with me?” A small giggle escaped her lips. She clamped a hand over her mouth.

Charlotte stared into his gorgeous emerald green eyes. He was handsome. Too handsome. She’d hoped the journey would clear her mind of such thoughts, but it hadn’t. One look at his chiseled cheekbones, angular nose, and dimpled chin—a formidably masculine dimpled chin—and she was lost once again. Her stomach fluttered.

She hiccupped. “Damnation,” she mumbled, then realized she’d just hiccupped and cursed. She cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon, Lord Cassslsi…” She paused. Something about the name sounded wrong. Charlotte frowned and tried again. “Lord Cassilis.” Whe tried her best to enunciate each syllable.

“You’re drunk, lass.” His sensual lips curved up at the corners.

She forgot what she was trying to say. It was too hard to concentrate around the man. He was simply too handsome. What would he do if she ran her finger down his hard-cut jaw and over the bottom lip of his expressive mouth? Small wonder the poor laundress had fallen prey to his charms. What woman wouldn’t?

“You’re simply too…handsome.” She yawned. “It’s rather unfair.”

She blinked twice and frowned again. Had she just said that aloud?