Chapter 18

Eighteen

C harlene had wasted two days as she moped over how things had suddenly ended with Drew. She'd taken to her bed and refused to dress or appear downstairs. She'd struggled to eat until her sadness gave way to irritation. The latter is what finally drove her from her bed. As she dressed this morning, however, she realized that she was being unfair to the man.

Yes, she had given him her maidenhead.

Charlene couldn't help but roll her eyes at the thought, but that was how Society thought of these things. It seemed rather silly to her after all the books she'd read on women's rights, not to mention the discussions she'd been part of at the salon she attended. Nothing had changed about her after sharing herself with a man. She didn't feel any different from before.

Well, maybe more powerful, but she suspected that had more to do with how she felt about Drew than the intimacies they had shared.

As she thought back to that wild morning, she realized she had never told him how she felt—she had never articulated the words which told him she would welcome his suit. How was she to expect him to declare himself so blatantly when he had no real indication of how she felt?

Add to that, her father had been acting like an absolute bear . It was no wonder Drew let her leave as he did.

She needed to speak to Drew. Privately. The question was, how would she manage that when her father practically had her under lock and key?

Charlene headed down to breakfast, where she fortunately found her father alone. Drawing in a deep breath, she ventured the first words she'd said to him since their argument in the coach two days ago. "Good morning, Father."

He looked up in surprise at her greeting, letting his morning newspaper collapse into his lap and narrowly avoiding his plate full of food. "Well, good morning to you too, daughter."

Awkwardness hung in the air for a moment as they looked at each other with a wariness. She sighed. "I apologize for the argument in the coach, for the awful things I said, but Father, I have not changed my stance on marriage to Lord Fenwick." She gripped the back of the dining room chair and tried not to fidget.

Her father sighed, a very put upon sound. "Is he really so terrible?"

Had he not listened to a word she'd said? Charlene resisted the urge to lash out at him and instead remained calm. She could control herself. She was a child no longer. "He is, Father. He slapped me merely because I would not alter my previously arranged plans to attend a ball. He told me my role would be to act as broodmare, to go where he tells me, and to keep my mouth shut. It was not just the words and the actions at the moment that upset me, though that was surely sufficient. No, it was the coldness I saw in his eyes. He is capable of so much worse than merely a slap across the face."

For a moment, Charlene was certain she was about to receive another rebuke. And then?—

Her father hung his head in shame. "Perhaps I…I should have listened to you more carefully. Fenwick has been nothing but polite, an utter gentleman to me. I admit, I am having a hard time reconciling your description of him with the man I know."

Charlene gripped the chair until her knuckles had turned white. "That is how men such as he discredits any such claims made by those that they deem to be lesser. He is not you, Father. He is not a stern man with a big heart who would never dream of hurting his wife or child." She paused and swallowed a lump in her throat. "Please, Father." Her voice broke as she continued. "Don't bind me to such a monster."

Her father cursed as he rose and took her in his arms. "I'll not do that to you, Charlene. I won't see you unhappy for the rest of your life. But you must find a husband—and soon, now your reputation is at risk."

She pulled back from their embrace. "Drew would never allow my reputation to be sullied."

"Drew, is it?" He let one eyebrow lift as he looked at his daughter.

"Please, Father, I've known the man since we were children," Charlene said primly as she stepped away from her father, hoping her blushing cheeks did not betray her. "It would be silly to run around calling him Mr. Wentworth. Now sit down and eat your breakfast. I'm sure it has gone cold while we were talking."

He smiled fondly. "Yes dear, though I am quite serious about you finding a husband." He took his seat and addressed his plate.

"I understand. If you have no objections, I thought I might go for a ride today. I've been cooped up in this house for too many days."

"Fine, but you'll take your lady's maid with you. I won't have anyone casting aspersions on you for a lack of proprieties," he said archly.

"Of course, Father," Charlene agreed, though that ruined all her plans to escape over to Glenn Ivy Manor to see Drew.

If she took her maid with her, she would absolutely tell her parents where they went. She was a wonderful young woman, but the truth was her maid needed this job to send money to her family. What sort of a mistress would she be, to put her maid at risk of being fired for withholding information if asked? Charlene would never put her in such a position. So she would go for a ride, but she had to find another way to speak to Drew.

T hat afternoon, returned from her short ride, Charlene wandered into her mother's private sitting room. There she found her mother in the midst of a flurry of activity. Servants were coming and going at an alarming pace, bringing in pieces of the family silver and linens to which her mother was saying yes or no and then waving them off.

"Hello, Mother."

"There you are, Charlene! Perfect timing. I was looking for you earlier so I could tell you the news." Her mother positively glowed with excitement.

"What news?" She sat down next to her mother and perused the pages splayed out on the desk her mother used for correspondence. Was it possible that her father had already told her mother about the cancelled betrothal?

"We're throwing a ball," her mother said gleefully.

Confusion hit Charlene hard, an almost visceral shock to the chest. "A ball? When?"

"Well, not a ball so much—but a huge Christmas gathering for the neighborhood." Her mother grinned widely. She was clearly thrilled with this turn of events.

Charlene couldn't help but smile as well. This was perfect! "That sounds lovely. May I help you with the invitations? Surely those must go out immediately if everyone is going to have time to prepare."

"That would be delightful. I've mostly finished the guest list. Do take a look and see if I have missed any names." Her mother handed her the extremely long guest list.

Carefully skimming her eyes down the list of all the prominent families in the neighborhood—and those of slightly less consequence who would still be invited so that the event appeared full—Charlene tried to breathe calmly. It was a long list because there would be no greater catastrophe for her mother than to have a half-full ballroom for one of her soirees, his name had to be here somewhere…

But no. Drew's name was missing.

Well, there was no point making a fuss. Charlene simply made a mental note to quietly correct her mother's oversight. It would be rude not to invite the man, not to mention the party would be the perfect opportunity for her to get him alone so they could speak.

With that in mind, Charlene set about the tedious task of writing out invitations to everyone on the long list. The celebration would happen a few days before Christmas, so they needed to send them out immediately.

The question was, would Drew come when he received his invitation? Or would he cut all ties with her?

Charlene wasn't sure, nerves twisting in her gut. But she had to believe he would want to see her as well.

Perhaps that was why no other man had met her standards? Was it possible, all these years…that she had been waiting for Drew?