Charlotte scrambled to her feet, stepping around her trunk and feeling like a bloody Amazon warrior next to the slight form of Rose Hayward. And a dull witted one at that. For nothing that had come out of Clara Hayward’s mouth after her introduction had made any sense.

Rose was studying Charlotte thoughtfully with the same dark eyes that her sibling possessed. “My brother tells me you’re a very accomplished artist. A Renaissance specialist, as it were.”

“Yes,” Charlotte replied simply, remembering that this was the Hayward sister known for her own artistic ability.

“You must be for him to go to such lengths on your behalf. There was no lack of competition for the St. Michael’s commission.” Rose’s eyes lingered on her, considering, though not unkind. “I would like to see your work sometime,” she said.

“I would like that, Miss Hayward.”

“Call me Rose.” She tipped her head toward her sister. “And you can call her Clara. You’ll quickly learn titles have little value here.”

Charlotte stared. “Forgive my…indelicacy, but I was under the impression that when it comes to Haverhall and its clientele, titles are almost as important as the money that stands behind them.”

Rose made a decidedly unladylike noise. “For our regular fall and spring terms, they are,” she said.

Charlotte tried to make sense of that and failed. Regular terms? “I’m still not entirely sure what it is I’m doing here,” she said, ignoring that unanswered question and focusing on the one that impacted her the most.

Clara cleared her throat. “Yes, my apologies for that. I would have given you some warning prior to our unexpected visit earlier, had my brother given me the time. However, he brought this—and you—to my attention only late last night, and he was rather cryptic in his urgency and his request for my assistance.” She strode into the room, her skirts swirling gracefully. “My presentation to your aunt was somewhat crude and shamelessly transparent, but we can’t have anyone believing you’ve been kidnapped for the next twelve weeks, can we?”

Charlotte shook her head, still at a loss. Somewhere, she’d missed something important.

Rose followed her into the room and settled herself on a brocaded chair near the hearth. “I understand that the position that Harland secured for you working in Coventry on the St. Michael’s commission will start immediately.”

Charlotte blinked, shocked excitement suddenly bursting through her confusion. The position that was secured? It couldn’t be that easy. Could it? “So I’m not going to Dover?”

Rose and Clara exchanged a glance, and Clara sighed. “Of course not. That is just a cover. My brother did not confirm this with you before he disappeared again, did he?”

“No?” Charlotte felt like she was feeling her way around in the dark. Should she admit that she had never actually met the baron? “I’m afraid it was all very…last-minute.”