Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Charlotte's eyes welled up with tears as she watched her friend in the looking glass. It was the next morning, and they were finally preparing for the wedding. The maid slipped another pin into her hair, winding around the fine golden threads they had bought at the haberdashery.

"Can you believe that in just a few hours, you will be Lady Leming?"

Chelsea giggled. "It seems only yesterday when we were under the tree, discussing it. The time has flown by so quickly."

"Because this is the life you are due," Charlotte said. She sat in the chair next to Chelsea's, admiring the fine way the maid dressed her.

"And this time tomorrow," Chelsea said in a whisper, "I shall be a true woman."

She giggled and Charlotte joined her. "I am surprised you are not already," she whispered back, leaning in so that the maid did not hear. "If I were in your position, I am not sure I would have been able to resist."

Chelsea raised her eyebrows. "And risk losing all his respect? Never."

Charlotte blushed. She would never be as good or wholesome as Chelsea. It was yet another reason a man such as the duke could never show any interest in her. Not truly. She was someone who played cricket with the boys and kissed near strangers in gardens. Not someone graceful and elegant like her friend.

"You are a better woman than me," Charlotte replied.

"Oh, but that's not to say we haven't found ways of… staving off our desires, if you catch my drift. The fact that the man spent years as a pianist is quite evident. The strength he has in those long fingers of his…"

Charlotte let out a raucous laugh, making the maid jump. "Perhaps you are not quite as pure as I had thought, Chelsea Hurtle. It is a good job you are marrying today for if you were not, I would fear for your honor!"

"You know me better than anyone," Chelsea said. "You of all people should know purity is not my middle name."

The girls broke into giggles.

"It doesn't matter any longer, though," Charlotte said once her laughter had subsided. "For in a matter of hours, you shall be a married woman, and I will be your old spinster maid friend."

***

Alexander settled himself into the pew of the chapel, Stewart next to him, and he fidgeted with the hem of his waistcoat.

"Is it normal to feel nervous at someone else's wedding?" he asked.

Stewart raised an eyebrow. "No. That's just you, I'm afraid. Perhaps it's because you've got love on the brain."

"I do not have love on the brain," Alexander snapped, causing Stewart to laugh.

"All right then, not love, but plans of your own to marry. You know it makes perfect financial sense."

"Indeed," he muttered and decided not to pursue the conversation further. He truly had no idea which was the truth.

When the organ music started playing, the door to the chapel opened. Alexander tensed for a moment, but then he couldn't resist turning around. Chelsea looked beautiful as he had known she would. A bride is rarely ever anything but beautiful, and she had that natural beauty that so few women could claim.

But it was her bridesmaid who truly took his breath away. Miss Charlotte was arresting, captivating him in the pale peach gown that skimmed the floor. Her chestnut hair swept over her forehead, pinned loosely so that it fell around her face. Her eyes were alight with life and passion, her cheeks rosy from happiness. She was unconventional in every sense, even with her beauty, and Alexander found himself breathless at the sight of her.

She is everything I could ever want and more.

As they moved down the aisle, passing him, Miss Charlotte's gaze flicked in his direction. It was barely a second, but it was long enough. He smiled, unable to stop himself, and her already rosy cheeks brightened with her blush.

She looked away, pressing her lips together to prevent herself from smiling. And that's when he knew. That's when Alexander realized that he would do whatever it took to take this woman and make her his. In that moment, he knew with absolute certainty that he wanted her.

"I dare say Lord Leming looks nervous," Stewart said in a whisper, leaning in close to Alexander.

Alexander returned his gaze to the front, the world seeming to reappear in front of him after being so consumed by Miss Charlotte. He chuckled.

"I do believe he is. There is something delightful in seeing an otherwise strong man being weakened by the love of a good woman."

"Indeed."

The guests' chatter settled to a murmuring silence as Lady Chelsea drew up next to her husband-to-be. The shared a look of pure love before turning to face the priest.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here on this auspicious today to witness the union of Lord Leonard Leming and Lady Chelsea Hurtle."

The couple looked at one another once again, and as they spoke their vows, the chapel felt alive with love and emotion and truth. As if this were the true meaning of life – not politics nor business nor war but love.

It was later, after the perfect wedding and the sumptuous wedding breakfast, that Alexander finally got a chance to speak with her. Everyone had moved into Hurtle's ballroom, renowned for how beautifully designed it was, and now it had been decorated with flowers and ribbons for the wedding.

Alexander wasted no time. Upon entering the ballroom, he spotted her immediately, laughing with the newlyweds and an older couple he assumed to be Miss Charlotte's guardians. He marched up to them.

"May I offer my congratulations, Lord and Lady Leming. It was a truly beautiful service."

He didn't look at Miss Charlotte initially, but he could feel her curious eyes upon him, and he could sense that she was infuriated that he was seemingly ignoring her. It amused him.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Lord Leming replied. "And may I express our gratitude to you for joining us on the auspicious day."

"The pleasure is all mine. And my I say, Lady Leming, you look the most beautiful woman in the world today."

Lady Leming simpered. "I have my dear friend Charlotte to thank for that," she said, raising her eyebrows in Miss Charlotte's direction. Alexander pretended to jump in surprise.

"Goodness, my lady! Please accept my apologies. I didn't see you there."

He smirked at her, unable to stop himself, as she narrowed her eyes at him. Teasing her just felt so good.

"Indeed," she replied. "I am small enough to be easily missed, I'm sure. May I introduce you to my aunt and uncle? Lord Elliot and Lady Lydia Fairchild. Aunt Lydia, this is the duke I was telling you about."

He raised an eyebrow. "You've been talking about me? All good, I hope. It's a pleasure to meet you both."

"As a well-raised young woman, I only ever speak politely about people, Your Grace. Surely you should know that by now."

"Of course. Actually, now that I am here, I was wondering whether you would be kind enough to give me your first dance of the evening? Assuming it hasn't already been claimed, of course."

Miss Charlotte visibly stiffened. Her tension amused him further still, for though her furious expression told him he did not want to dance with him, her eyes and her body language told him a very different story altogether.

"How wonderful," Lady Leming declared, clapping her hands together. "The dancing shall begin shortly."

Miss Charlotte glanced at her friend in consternation, and then at her aunt who seemed only to scowl, and then finally turned back to Alexander with a weak, forced smile. "I would love to dance with, Your Grace."

They began the dance in silence. Miss Charlotte was tense and rigid in his arms, and she looked somewhere above his shoulder rather than making eye contact with him. Alexander couldn't help the amused twitch of his lips as they took their first turn around the ballroom. She was utterly determined not to enjoy herself.

But as the music continued and their muscles warmed to the movement, he felt her beginning to soften in his arms. By the time they'd turned the ballroom twice, she looked at him directly.

"I must admit, I was surprised by your offer to dance."

"And I must admit that I am surprised by how well you dance. You are as graceful as a ballerina."

Miss Charlotte hid her laugh behind her broad smile. "And why, pray tell, would you be so surprised? Do I really look so inelegant that you would think I cannot dance?"

"Not at all," he replied. "But you are not the most conventional of ladies. For all I knew, you had attended fencing lessons rather than dancing lessons."

She laughed again, and the fact that it was he who made her do so lifted something in his chest. A heaviness that became lighter and lighter the more time he spent with her. "You are right, of course," she said. She leaned in and whispered, "But I did take fencing lessons as well as dancing lessons."

"A girl! At a fencing class! Preposterous."

Miss Charlotte shrugged. "I was determined, and Father didn't mind. And the masks are excellent at hiding feminine features. I find it difficult to follow the rules all the time. Don't you?"

Alexander thought for a moment. "Yes, I suppose I do."

"And life is to be enjoyed, after all. How can one expect to enjoy life when one is always following the rules?"

There was something truly freeing about being in the company of a lady who spoke her mind in such an intelligent and considered way. He had rarely met anyone who felt a match for him in terms of conversation, and yet whenever he was with Miss Charlotte, he found himself intrigued. He always wanted more.

"Not all the rules are bad, though."

"Name one convention that isn't?" she retorted.

"Marriage and children?" he offered, hoping she would take the bait. Whether he truly was developing feelings for her or just needed a solution to his money troubles, he needed to ensure she was willing. He would not trick her either way.

It was a mistake. She stiffened again, her gaze moving off to behind him.

"I don't know why everyone is so obsessed with it, truth be told," she replied.

He admired her for speaking so openly, and yet the thought that she would never marry hurt his heart somehow. As if she had rejected him personally, though that so evidently was not the case.

"So you don't want children? That is most unusual."

Her eyes drifted back to him. "It is not the children I do not wish for," she admitted. "But a husband. I have no desire to become someone's little wife, at home and obedient."

"But it doesn't have to be that way," he replied, surprised at her words. "Not if you find the right man in the first place."

Miss Charlotte snorted, shaking her head. "And who is the right man? You?"

Alexander opened his mouth to speak but as he did, the music ended, and a hush fell over the room. Miss Charlotte stepped back, away and out of his arms. She curtsied.

"Thank you for the dance, Your Grace," she said, before hurrying away from him.

***

Charlotte fell into bed many hours later, exhausted and overwhelmed and so very happy. The day had been perfect for Chelsea, just as Charlotte had hoped. Their planning and hard work had paid off, and now she could relax.

As she drifted off to sleep, though, there was only person on her mind: Alexander Wentworth. She had not expected him to ask her to dance, though she should have known, for he enjoyed teasing her. It had been wonderful, though. Natural. She had danced with men before, of course, but she had never enjoyed it quite so much.

There was something about being with him. It changed the way she thought. She had always believed in freedom, but with him it was as if she was truly free, not merely playing games and avoiding detection. With him, she felt she could be her true self and not merely the lady she presented to the ton . She closed her eyes for a final time that night, and he joined her in her sleep for a kiss.

The following morning, Charlotte woke with a surprising amount of energy. She bounded out of bed, ready for the day, and as she dressed herself because she was too impatient to wait for the maid, she realized that she was eager to see the duke.

Alexander.

She tested his name out on her tongue as she checked her hair in the looking glass and splashed a little lavender oil onto her neck. She remembered how much he liked lavender. When she finally approved of how she looked, she dashed out of the room and skipped down to breakfast. He was an early riser as she was, and she was certain she would find him sitting behind his newspaper, muttering to himself as he had on previous days.

Except, when she got there, the room was empty but for the maid still laying out the food. Charlotte's heart sank, her shoulders sloping with disappointment.

"Oh."

She didn't realize she had said it out loud until the maid looked up.

"Is there something the matter, my lady?" she asked as she straightened out the silverware at each place setting.

"Oh, no." Charlotte shook her head. "I am surprised, that's all. I had expected others to be down to breakfast already."

"You're the first," the maid replied with a gentle smile.

"Oh," Charlotte replied a little brighter and took her seat. Perhaps the duke was simply still sleeping. It had been a long and arduous day, after all, even if it had been a joyful one.

"Well, except the two gentlemen, of course," the maid continued.

"Oh?" The knot of dread reappeared, tightening itself around her throat.

Surely he wouldn't leave without at least saying goodbye?

"Yes. Lord Stanhope and His Grace," the maid continued. She leaned over and turned the jug of orange juice so that the handle faced forward. "They left very early this morning. Back to London, they said. These gentlemen and their important business—you know how it is."

"Yes, of course," Charlotte replied. She hoped the disappointment in her voice wasn't too obvious to the maid.

"But there's still plenty left, my lady," she said indicating the breakfast feast that had been laid out across the table. "We've got all those wedding guests to feed, after all. You won't go a-wanting."

"No." Charlotte threw her the biggest smile she could muster, which wasn't very big at all.

Why on earth am I so bothered?

She leaned in and selected some cold meats for her plate. The infuriating man had managed to worm his way into her thoughts—and yes, into her heart, she supposed—and then he didn't even see fit to honor her with a goodbye? Was she so unimportant to him?

"Good morning," Aunt Lydia said as she waddled into the room and took a seat opposite. She immediately dove into the offerings, piling up her plate.

"Morning, Aunt Lydia."

"Are we the first?" Uncle Elliot asked as he bounced into the room, so very different to Aunt Lydia.

"No, but Lord Stanhope and the duke had to leave early this morning, so the maid told me."

"What a shame, so soon after the wedding," Uncle Elliot said.

"Not a shame at all," Aunt Lydia muttered around her toast. "There was something about that duke fellow I didn't much like."

"Lydia," Uncle Elliot warned. "We are in somebody else's home, remember?"

"I can only speak the truth," she said, unpeeling an egg.

"I don't suppose any of it matters now, anyhow," Charlotte replied softly. "We ourselves shall be returning to London tomorrow."