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to curry Jem one last time and feed him an apple. I doubt she’ll be back in less than an hour and then she’ll stink of the stables.”
    It would have been helpful to know that before she let the child dash away. “In that case, I will speak to Phoebe when she returns. I expect the two of you to begin preparing for bed in ten minutes.”
    “I told you.” Charlotte stroked Sophie’s hair. “We are accustomed to staying up later.”
    “And I am accustomed to having my bidding obeyed by my pupils,” Grace replied, more sharply than she intended.
    All the changes of the day seemed to have caught up with her at once. She wanted nothing more than to retire to her own quarters and rally her composure.
    Sophie gave a choked little sob and clung tighter to Charlotte, making Grace feel like a perfect ogre.
    This was major change for the children, too, she reminded herself—a change that had been inflicted upon them by the actions of others. Though experience had taught her it was best to establish her authority early if she hoped to have any control over her pupils, she wondered if a gentler approach might work better in this case.
    “Perhaps a compromise is in order,” she suggested, deliberately softening her tone. “If the two of you get ready for bed now, I will read to you until your sister returns.”
    Charlotte gave a doubtful frown but Sophie responded swiftly. “What story will you read to us?”
    Once the words were out of her mouth, the child seemed to realize she had spoken directly to her new governess for the first time. She hid her face against her sister once more, then peeped timidly back at Grace.
    Recalling what his lordship had told her about his youngest daughter’s active imagination, Grace hoped it might provide a way to reach the child. “I will leave the choice of story to you, Sophie. Do you have a particular favorite?”
    The child gave an eager nod and the beginnings of a smile curled one corner of her mouth upward. “‘The Little Glass Slipper.’ Do you know that one? It is in our Tales of Mother Goose book.”
    Grace shook her head. “I’m not familiar with the story, but if you have the book, I would be happy to read it to you.”
    “We have the book.” Sophie wriggled out of her sister’s arms. “Come, Charlotte. Help me find Mother Goose for Miss…Miss…?”
    “Miss Ellerby,” Grace allowed herself a brief smile, hoping to reassure the child she was not as severe as her appearance might suggest.
    “Oh, very well.” Charlotte heaved an exasperated sigh. “But I know that story by heart after all the times you made Mademoiselle read it to us. I could recite it to you.”
    “How fortunate. If I make a mistake, I can rely on you to correct me.” Grace made it sound as if the girl would be doing her a favor. Perhaps that would make Charlotte a bit less eager to find fault with her at every opportunity.
    As the girls headed off to get ready for bed, she called after them, “Charlotte.”
    The girl turned. “Yes. What is it?”
    Grace struggled to subdue her impatience with Charlotte’s attitude and focus on something positive instead. “Sophie is very fortunate to have such a kind, capable sister to help her through this time of change. When I was her age, I often wished I had an elder sister to look out for me.”
    Grace’s comment seemed to take Charlotte aback. Two bright spots flared in her fair cheeks. “Someone had to take her in hand. It was no use expecting Phoebe to. She doesn’t care about anything unless it has hooves and neighs.”
    She spun away again, fussing over Sophie more like a mother than a sister.
    A short while later, the three of them huddled on the nursery settee while Grace made an effort to read the story in the way the girls were accustomed to hearing it. The tale itself appealed to her—it was about an orphan persecuted by her hard-hearted stepmother who was jealous of the girl’s beauty. Though treated as the humblest of servants, the