Rules of Surrender by Christina Dodd Read Free Book Online Page B

don’t. But I know how to, and I have a book you might like.“
    ”Not if I have to read it,“ Leila said truculently.
    ”No, I’ll read it to you.“ Charlotte yielded, setting her trap without a trace of conscience.
    Rising, she went to her bag. Most of the contents were scattered across the floor. The clothes she brought in case the servants didn’t get around to bringing up her trunks—until correctly trained, servants failed to succor the governess—her slate, her mobile secretary with her papers and quills and a few very carefully selected books. She picked up the one with the green leather binding and looked around the large, sunny, east-facing bedchamber.
    The best place for the three of them would be in the window seat. The window popped out over the flower garden, and the seat boasted a padding done in the same pattern and luxurious material as the counterpane on the bed and the curtains at the windows. The extra cushions each boasted a different solid jewel color that picked up a thread of the pattern.
    ”Come, children.“ Charlotte led them to the window seat and placed herself in the middle so Robbie and Leila could snuggle on either side of her. While they struggled to appropriate a sufficient number of back cushions, she thoroughly checked out her bedchamber.
    The room wasn’t in the nursery wing which usually housed the governess, the nursery maid and the children. Charlotte’s bedchamber was on the second floor, furnished in the height of elegance. The wallpaper was a pale green and gold stripe. Two large, fringed Aubusson rugs rested on the floor on either side of the tall bed so when Charlotte rose, her feet didn’t touch the cold floor. Two chairs and a settle had been arranged to form a little sitting area in front of the fireplace—another luxury which Charlotte had not enjoyed since leaving her uncle’s house.
    If only Charlotte knew why. For some reason she felt as if she were being bribed.
    But why? Charlotte couldn’t imagine what further challenge she could face with these children. They appeared to be mathematically advanced, reading deficient, unmannerly, rebellious and very intelligent. Thus teachable.
    ”What’s the book?“ Leila asked.
    ”It’s new. I have only just read it myself, and I’ve been told there are more stories to come.“ Charlotte smoothed the leather cover of her newest, most precious acquisition. ”It’s call The Arabian Nights’ Entertainments.“
    ”What’s it about?“ Robbie had picked up the slide rule and appeared to be manipulating it with a fair amount of intelligence.
    Charlotte guessed if left to himself, he would fathom the instrument she had so struggled to master. She could only hope he had not already learned algebra and geometry, or she would be burning the midnight candle to stay ahead of him.
    Opening the book, she said, ”It is about a very clever lady and the stories she tells.“
    ”Mama used to tell us stories,“ Robbie said. ”Leila doesn’t remember Mama. She was little when she died.“
    Charlotte didn’t know if it was proper to be interrogating a child, but she found herself inexorably curious. ”How little?“
    ”She was three. I was seven.“ His mouth trembled for a moment, then firmed. ”I remember her.“
    ”Then she lives on in your heart,“ Charlotte said gently.
    ”What do you mean?“ Leila asked.
    ”She means I can still see her if I close my eyes.“ Robbie sounded impatient, but Charlotte suspected the impatience was feigned. ”Mama was little and fat and she smiled at me all the time.“
    ”Did she smile at me?“ Leila asked.
    ”You, too.“
    ”She liked me.“ Leila sounded triumphant. ”Where’s your mama, Lady Miss Charlotte?“
    Charlotte hesitated to correct the child about her title. It was wrong, of course, but it had a charm about it, and besides, it might be unwise to contradict the child’s father. ”My mother is dead, too.“ Foreseeing the next question, she added, ”And my