Free The Wrong Girl (Freak House) by C.J. Archer Page B

indeed swell inside me.
    I opened my eyes and stood up, almost bumping into him. He managed to back away just in time.
    "What's wrong?" he asked.
    I put a hand to my forehead. "I'm tired. This has been an exhausting day and I didn't—" I was about to tell him I hadn't slept well, but I didn't want to plant the suspicion that I'd overheard his conversation with Tommy. "I didn't think we'd be training all morning."
    "Would you prefer to sit and embroider with Sylvia?"
    "Actually, I would. Perhaps we can resume later?"
    He frowned. "Are you sure you're all right? You do look tired."
    "I'm fine," I said brightly. "But all this anatomical talk is quite overwhelming. My poor head can't cope."
    His gaze narrowed. "You seemed to comprehend it well enough. Did you have a tutor?"
    "Four. They each came regularly, but never at the same time."
    "I saw them. I'd assumed they were there to teach your sister."
    "Perhaps they did. I don't know. It was Mr. Upworth who taught us about biology of plants and animals. Humans weren't included in our education, thankfully."
    "The basic structure is the same between many animals and humans."
    "Oh?"
    "Don't look so horrified. I haven't cut up dead bodies to discover that fact. Like you, I had tutors. And books."
    "The only books I've seen are in your uncle's rooms."
    "And those are the ones I read. He's generous when it comes to their use. He says knowledge is the only way for a man to rise above the class in which he was born. You should ask to borrow something when you get bored with embroidery."
    "No thank you. I think it's best that I avoid Mr. Langley for a while."
    "He won't be mad at you anymore. Trust me, he's quick to anger and just as quick to forgive, although perhaps not forget. Not entirely," he muttered.
    "I thought you didn't like him."
    "We have our differences, but he's been...generous to me. And to Sylvia."
    "So he should be. He is your uncle." I was fishing for more information about their relationship, but if he detected it, he didn't give any indication. "Why don't you call him Uncle August like Sylvia does?"
    "It's what we both prefer. So you're back to being suspicious again, are you?"
    "No!"
    "Then why all the questions? I thought you got them out of your system yesterday."
    I waved my hand and turned to the door. I didn't think I could lie to him while looking him in the eye. He'd surely know.
    "Are you going to the parlor to see Sylvia?" he asked.
    I paused in the doorway and blinked back at him. "Worried I'll try to escape again?"
    "No, I just want to know where I can find you when it's time to resume training."
    I groaned. "We're not finished for the day?"
    "Not even close."
    "Then I look forward to seeing you again."
    "No, you don't, but I appreciate your attempt at flattery anyway."
    In truth, I did look forward to seeing him again, but it was far less humiliating to laugh than tell him that.
    ***
    While it was pleasant enough embroidering and listening to Sylvia's chatter, I soon found myself looking up at every sound, hoping Jack would enter the parlor. Just as a watched pot never boils, a watched door never opens, except to let in the footman. He came to deliver a letter to Sylvia. As he was about to leave, I set aside my embroidery and followed him.
    "Tommy, wait a moment."
    "Yes, my lady?" While his accent wasn't as cultured as Jack's, there was little hint of the speech pattern he'd used the night before when I'd overheard their conversation. It would seem they could both switch seamlessly from one accent to the other.
    "Is Mr. Jack Langley about?" I asked.
    "I believe he went to the lake."
    "The lake? Whatever for?"
    "For a...walk."
    His hesitation intrigued me. "Thank you, Tommy." He left and I returned to the parlor. Sylvia was reading her letter and didn't look up. "Do you mind if I go for a stroll to the lake?"
    She dropped the letter to her lap. "I...I suppose not." She nibbled her lower lip, clearly considering whether she ought to let me go. "You won't