Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

I t was harder than Charlotte expected, trying to write a letter.

She usually took great pride in her writing. Not only could she write a good story, but she could also be descriptive as well as considerate and thoughtful. Writing letters was an art form.

So why is this so difficult now?

Her gaze dropped to the scraps of paper around the writing desk hidden away in the library at her cousins’ home.

One more piece of parchment remained before her. Partially hidden behind it was the letter to which she must respond—a courteous letter from Harold Danwick, the Earl of Rhymen.

He was the one who Adrian had decided she should marry. She recalled her time with him. The man was barely as tall as her, but it was his only crime. That, and his manners. Not that they were horrible––if anything, he was too proper. He was too kind, too gracious, too much of everything.

What was she doing, still agreeing to the union?

She had hardly interacted with him beyond small talk. Sighing, she slumped and leaned her head back. It was strange to consider she was going to sentence herself to a life with someone she hardly knew or cared for.

Perhaps I should run on my own. I should have access to my inheritance within three months. If I run off, then surely my aunt would be inclined to grant me access early.

Except she’d already agreed to marry the Earl. And he knew about it. The banns would be posted in London soon. Then she would be very much trapped.

What sort of woman would she be if she went back on her word?

“I must do this,” she mused in irritation. “If only to spite him.”

The him, she did not specify. There was only one man who fell under the definition, whom she couldn’t forget. There was no escaping him no matter what she wanted. No matter where she went, no matter who she talked with, and no matter who she might marry, him would always be Adrian.

As much as he lingered on her mind, it hurt her heart to think of him. She hated it. She loved it. She couldn’t stop. A heavy loadstone was tied to her ribs and was weighing her down with every breath.

Charlotte inhaled deeply before closing her eyes to try and relax.

A knock at the door made her jump. She attempted to straighten up just as one of the maids pushed the door open. “My Lady? You have a guest.”

“A guest?” Charlotte echoed in surprise. “Who?”

“I… The, erm, a gentleman. The Duke of Wakefield, I believe.” The maid glanced over her shoulder anxiously as Charlotte stiffened. “A footman asked me to come fetch you.”

“All right. Thank you, I will be right down,” Charlotte promised. Her hands shook at her sides.

What was Adrian doing here?

When the maid didn’t budge, Charlotte sighed. “All right.”

It was too short a walk for her to decide what to do. She didn’t even know what to think. She wrung her hands, wondering what she would say to him.

Did she even want to see him?

“My Lady?” the maid whispered at the doorway of the parlor, seeing she had stopped a few feet away. “Is everything all right?”

Slowly nodding because she didn’t know what else to do, Charlotte forced herself to step forward. “I will speak with him alone,” she told the maid.

The young woman hesitated, glancing around, before leaving her alone.

What do I even say to the blackguard?

They had not parted on good terms. Not necessarily bad, she supposed, since there had been a wonderful kiss. But then her lips twisted. Seeing Adrian again would not help anything, she realized, but the thought of giving him a good tongue-lashing for the way he had treated her became irresistible.

So she opened the door, bracing herself for a fight. “Your Grace––”

Charlotte halted when she found there was no one in the room. Confused, she glanced around before hastening after the maid, who reassured her that’s where the Duke had been sent.

The girl went off to the kitchens, and Charlotte hurried down to the ground floor, where she found the footman and the butler talking in hushed tones.

“Daniel!” she called to the footman. “I was told the Duke of Wakefield was here?”

The footman’s eyes flicked to the butler before he offered her a tight smile. “The Duke of Wakefield was here, yes. I’m afraid he already took his leave.”

“What?”

“Perhaps he does not like waiting?” Daniel grunted when the butler elbowed him. “I beg your pardon. I merely meant he seems to be a busy man. He kept pacing and appeared very distracted upon his arrival.”

Their butler, Mr. Hansom, gave her a pointed look. “I’m afraid the Duke was left waiting a good hour in the parlor before anyone came to find you, My Lady. He left not ten minutes ago. I’ve only just been informed of this. Would you like us to ask a stableboy to race after him?”

The last thing she wanted to do was chase after Adrian. Charlotte knew that much. She frowned over the notion of him waiting around for her. Yes, he deserved it, but she hadn’t made him wait deliberately. It sounded like he had left before she was even informed of his arrival.

All I want is to know why he came in the first place.

Shooting the servants a disgruntled look, she shook her head. “It would be of no use, but thank you.”

If the Duke had no time for her, then she wasn’t going to make time for him either. Maybe he had changed his mind and come to apologize. Or he had wished to lecture her further, telling her not to mess up now that she succeeded in snatching up an earl.

Either way, it would appear he learned his mistake, and I shall never see him again.

The following days passed by at a sluggish pace.

Charlotte didn’t care for it. She didn’t care for anything in particular, half-heartedly writing letters or reading books. Even her cousins couldn’t hold her attention with their afternoon walks or antics during supper.

She had been here for a week and was preparing for a ball they were going to host. Not just any ball. They had decided to host a ball just for her and Lord Rhymen. An engagement ball.

“I think you look absolutely splendid,” Eleanor sighed from where she sat on the bed, swinging her legs since they were too short to touch the ground. “I cannot say I wish to get married right now, but I do wish that when I get married, I’ll look half as lovely as you do now.”

Charlotte studied herself in the mirror, feeling rather morose and even sheepish about being morose. “Oh, I can promise you that you shall. I can only hope you will be happier. Even happier than I,” she hastily corrected herself.

“I thought you wanted this match, Charlotte. Don’t you?”

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” she admitted.

Nothing in her life was making half the sense it should. In fact, life had grown much more confusing since she’d given in to her godmother’s request for her to spend the Season in London with her.

“Is the Earl handsome?”

“I think so,” Charlotte answered. She couldn’t really recall what Lord Rhymen looked like at the moment. “Yes, I believe so.”

Eleanor’s frown deepened as she slid off the bed to join her. “I never pictured you with someone named Harold. But if you like him, then I am determined to like him as well.”

“Thank you.” Gratitude bloomed in her chest. Charlotte took her cousin’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I would not be here without you.”

“Nor I. Now, are you ready? The guests will be arriving soon, and I know Father would like us to be there before anyone appears. Or,” Eleanor said in a stage whisper, “do we run for the hills?”

Unable to suppress a giggle, Charlotte shook her head. “Thank you, but no. No, I’ve made a promise. A lady should always keep her word, should she not? I will finish what I started.”

Never start something you won’t finish. That’s what he told me once.

Adrian’s voice rang in her ears. It was best that he was gone, she told herself. Time would be the only thing to help the mess that was her heart heal.

The way she had come to care for him was much too dangerous, so she was glad they parted ways. Maybe none of what they had was real… or every second had been much too real. She didn’t want to think about her heart. All she needed was time. And distractions.

“The ball is going to be…” Charlotte started to point out when Eleanor turned left toward the entrance hall instead of right. “Eleanor?”

“Shh!”

They paused in the hall, where Eleanor peeked around the corner. She stiffened. There were voices, all familiar, that Charlotte could finally hear. This must have been what drew Eleanor to a halt.

Curiosity winning, Charlotte leaned around her to see what was going on.

The shock made her stop breathing.

An older man whom she would recognize anywhere stood with his back to them. Her uncle had his hands on his hips. Then he lifted a hand to make a strong, commanding gesture.

But he wasn’t what made her freeze on the spot. It was who he was talking with––Adrian.

“What is he doing here?” Charlotte hissed

“He wants to talk! With you!” Eleanor elbowed her hard in the ribs. Her hearing was excellent, and it made Charlotte green with envy.

She held her breath to hear what was being said. It didn’t help that the two men were speaking in hushed whispers. Though she tried to focus on the two of them, her eyes kept straying to Adrian.

Handsome as ever. While he was also dressed in finery, he also appeared rather rumpled. She took in the wrinkled cravat and the sleeve that was missing a button. His hair was disheveled. But there was a fire in his eyes and a determined set to his lips that she could not ignore.

“I already told you I must speak with her. Now, before the guests arrive!”

“You may not speak with my niece in private. I won’t allow it.”

“Goodness!” Charlotte breathed in amazement.

But the word had come out loudly enough for them to hear, drawing their attention away from their argument.

It was Eleanor who reacted first. She jerked back and tugged Charlotte away. The two of them hastened down the other hall while Adrian’s voice rang in Charlotte’s ears.

“I cannot believe he dared to come here,” she murmured, feeling faint. “What does he mean to do?”

Eleanor glanced over her shoulder anxiously now that her bravery had evaporated. “I don’t know. Do… Do you want to speak with him?”

A scoff escaped Charlotte’s lips. “I don’t know what I would say. We have nothing to talk about.”

She thought back to last week, when she’d been told he was waiting in the parlor. Why did he choose this day to speak with her?

“You always have something to talk about with everyone,” Eleanor pointed out gently. “And you always talked about him much more than you’ve ever talked about Lord Rhymen.”

“Who?”

Her cousin stared her down. “Really, Charlotte?”

The man she was marrying. Charlotte knew that, didn’t she?

“It was only a jest,” she said in haste. “That’s all.”

“It wasn’t a very good one. I… I worry about this match. If I might be so bold, Charlotte, you’ve never looked so lively as when I’ve seen you with His Grace. Are you certain that whatever happened between you––”

Charlotte shook her head. “No. No, it’s over for good. I should like to… I mean, I like this match. With Lord Rhymen, I mean. It will go well for both of us, and we will be married women,” she spoke hurriedly. “Won’t that be nice?”

“Not in particular,” Eleanor said, wrinkling her nose. “I am still uncertain about marriage. My dresses never fit right, and I’m much too shy. I’ll only be a wallflower. Besides, I like the quiet life out in the country.”

“It is very nice,” Charlotte admitted. “But you will get used to the parties and the late nights and the fun. There will be dancing to lovely music, after all, in the arms of handsome men who will make you smile and perhaps even laugh. A cotillion is fine, but a waltz is…”

Her throat tightened when she recalled the last waltz she’d enjoyed. It had been with Adrian. Back when she had believed everything was going to be perfect between them.

“It’ll be…”

“Oh, dear!” Eleanor took out a handkerchief. “Charlotte, why are you crying?”

“I’m not.” But when she wiped her cheek, Charlotte felt wetness on her hand. She looked down in dismay. “I can’t be.”

Gently dabbing away the tears, Eleanor glanced between her cousin’s face and her hand. “Are you sure about this betrothal? Perhaps it would be best if we… if we, well, don’t say anything.”

Charlotte stared at her. “Certainly not! No, I can’t simply… No, it has to happen.”

“You didn’t even wish to marry a few months ago.”

Is that how long it had been? I feel as though I have lived several lifetimes here and between London.

“And now there is a ball tonight where there will be an announcement about my engagement to Lord Rhymen,” Charlotte forced herself to say. “It’s what they expect, Eleanor. It’s… Well, it’s too late. This way, I never will be alone. Don’t you see? It is going to be much better,” she added with determination.

“Are you trying to convince me, my dear, or yourself?”

She opened her mouth, only to close it. Charlotte sagged against the wall, wishing she knew what to say or what to do.

Tonight would change her life no matter what she did.