Chapter 22

"Thank you for dinner, Your Grace," Lady Beatrice said.

"Hmm?" Charles looked up, almost surprised to see Lady Beatrice seated across from him. She flashed him a thankful smile and fluttered her eyelashes and he forced a smile. "It is quite all right."

"You really did not have to go out of your way," she continued pleasantly as she reached for a glass of wine – Charles did not remember offering her one, but he supposed that didn't really matter.

"It was no bother," he said vaguely, looking back to his plate of food, which was untouched and turning cold. "After all you have done..."

"I feel dreadful," Lady Beatrice said as she took a loud sip of her wine. "Truly, I do hate being the bearer of bad news. It is not a task I relish."

"It was the least I could do," he sighed. "And I will make sure to send a rider to accompany you home. A lady should not be out after dark by herself."

"You really are too kind. And, if I may say so, if Lady Felicity does not see that then... then she does not deserve you."

He forced a thankful smile, but it was a weak and pitiful thing. Even after what Lady Beatrice had told him, Charles could still not reckon with the truth of it. There was just no way that she thought those things of him. There was just no way she thought so little of him. There was just no way...

"I must say too," Lady Beatrice continued, a little too pleasantly for his current mood. "I do love your home. I always imagined how you might live, and I am pleased to see that for once my imagination has fallen short."

He wished she would leave. That she would finally excuse herself and announce her plans to ride home. It had been hours since she'd arrived with the worst news that he had ever received and from the way she sipped her wine and attempted to pull him into conversation, he very much wondered if she might simply decide to move in here for good. The way he was feeling too, Charles didn't know if he had the strength to deny her.

"Thank you," was all he could manage, unable to even look at the woman.

But he could feel her watching him. He could sense her mind running as she tried to come up with a new mode of attack. Was she really so callous and cold? It was barely a day since his engagement had ended and already she was trying to worm her way into his fancies. Inviting her for supper was a mistake, one made in the moment because he did not wish to be rude. Now, he was very much regretting it.

"You miss her, don't you?" she said suddenly.

"Wh -- what?" he snapped his head up.

"Even after what she said to you, you miss her?" Her voice was... apologetic? She sounded sincere, as if she truly cared.

"I do," he sighed and bowed his head, his chest tightening with the words. "But it is more than that I..." He almost said he loved her, a word that had never once graced his lips. "I just don't understand it. I thought we were happy. Yes, it had only been a short time but... but it was a wonderful time. For both of us."

"And you were sure she felt the same way?"

"I thought she did," he said, feeling a fool now for believing such a thing. "I was certain that – if I could just speak with her." He shook his head to himself, still looking down because he felt on the verge of tears and did not need Lady Beatrice to see that. "If I could just find out why. What I did. What caused her to change her mind."

"It sounded to me as if it were many things."

"But what specifically!" he implored. "There must be something that I said or did. Something that... that she did not understand. If I could only tell her that it is not true, that I... that I..." And there it was again, that word, love.

Did he love Lady Felicity? Until yesterday, Charles wasn't so sure. He liked her. He enjoyed their time together. He found her insatiably attractive and hadn't thought of another woman since. He thought about her only, how they might spend time together, whether this marriage of theirs' would work, and what the future would bring. Romantic notions, sure, but love?

Faced with the reality of never seeing Lady Felicity again, however, dealing with a broken heart, the likes of which he had never known possible, wanting to sink into the earth and stay there forever because what was the point in living anymore? If that wasn't love, then what was?

"I have an idea," Lady Beatrice spoke suddenly as she took another long sip of her wine.

"In regard to?" he sighed.

"You and Lady Felicity," she said with a coy smile. "You wish to speak with her again, yes?"

"I do," he said, a glimmer of hope in his voice, only for it to be dashed by reality. "But her father will never allow it. And even if he did, she might not want to see me. What if she was to walk away the moment she saw me coming? What if she was to... to shout in my face and confirm these words you have told me?"

"It is better to know than live in wonder, yes?"

"I suppose so..."

"My thinking is that you cannot possibly see her. For all the reasons you just mentioned, it would be a fool"s errand. But if you were to write her a letter..." She let the point trail as her smirk turned to a smile.

"A letter?" Charles said as if he'd never heard the word before.

"Yes," she tittered. "A letter. One where you write everything you wish to say. Where you leave nothing out. Where you let Lady Felicity know how you truly feel about her. Where you give her a chance to change her mind. If you do that... who knows." She shrugged. "Maybe she will see reason."

"A letter..." Charles nodded his head as his heart began to pound, as hope began to swell through him.

"And just to ensure that she not only receives the letter but reads it, I will take it to her myself."

"You will?"

"Of course, Your Grace. If I hand it to her myself, I can make sure that she reads it. That she knows it is from you. And what is more, I can even tell her all I have seen here today, letting her know how deeply pained you are. Between those two things, I am sure that she will have a change of heart. She must."

"And you would do that? For me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Do not sound so shocked, Your Grace. I might be the one who delivered the tragic news to you, but I certainly do not relish your misery. I just want to see you happy." She smiled and licked her lips.

"I... I do not know what to say."

A letter. Such a simple idea. So obvious. And yet, so perfect. Already, Charles' mind was racing as he imagined what he would write, for as Lady Beatrice suggested, he would leave nothing out. This was his last chance to let Lady Felicity know how much she meant to him and she would know too. Of that, he was certain.

"Oh, there is one thing you can do..." She fluttered her eyelashes.

"Name it," he said immediately.

"Now, there is no guarantee that this letter will work. And if it does not..." She sighed. "I can only imagine that all these business dealings you have been actioning, concerning your stud farm, may fall through. When you were engaged to Lady Felicity, you were a safe bet but if the wedding is called off, I dare say many of the lords who were so eager to partner with you will suddenly lose interest."

"Oh..." Charles blinked. "I had not thought of that." Really, he did not care. The way he was feeling, a stud farm was the last thing on his mind.

"My father, however, has enormous respect for you," she said rightly. "He always has. And regardless of what happens, I know that he would love a chance to meet with you."

"Your father?"

"Yes, silly," she tittered again. "Tomorrow night, if you would do the honor of supping with my father and I..." She exhaled and again fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I know it would mean the world to him. And depending on Lady Felicity"s response, well, it might help take your mind off things."

He did not care about dinner with Lady Beatrice"s father. He did not care about a stupid stud farm. What he did care about was Lady Felicity reading that letter, and doing whatever it might take to ensure she did. It was for that reason that he had little choice in the request.

"I would love to," he said with a thankful smile. "And again, Lady Beatrice, thank you. You have no idea what it means."

"I am happy to help. Now..." She raised an eyebrow at him. "If you write the letter tonight, I can take it before I leave and pay a visit to Lady Felicity tomorrow. That is, if you wish it?"

Charles was up and out of his chair within a second. "If you don't mind waiting."

"I would love nothing more."

From there, Charles was quick to his study and even quicker to pull out a piece of parchment and begin writing. He was surprised by how quickly the words came, how effortlessly they flowed from his quill. He did not consider them. He did not plan them. He simply wrote what he was feeling, everything, from the day he met Lady Felicity until right now.

He left nothing out. He made sure she knew how much he cared for her. And most of all, when he signed the letter, he made sure to write ‘Love, Charles,' because that was how he felt. He loved Lady Felicity, and it was time that she knew it.