“I’ve always preferred summer to the winter,” Claire remarked.
“And why is that?” Stella asked.
The governess paused, her gaze distant. “It reminds me of my childhood.”
“Did your hometown resemble Genevoire?” Stella blinked with curiosity.
“Yes, perhaps.”
Observing Claire’s reluctance to divulge much about her past, Stella sensed that the pretty governess might be nursing deep-seated wounds of love.
Just then, the carriage that would escort them to church arrived. Sofie, who had recently gained the privilege of attending, waited eagerly, dressed in her finest clothes.
Stella glanced at her daughter. “Why do you suppose Sofie, our little imp, has suddenly taken an interest in religion?”
“I’m not entirely sure. Perhaps she was inspired by watching Marius at prayer.”
“But Sofie always calls him a cowardly crybaby,” Stella noted with surprise.
Claire lowered her voice. “The world of children is often far more complex than we adults can comprehend.”
