Chapter Nineteen
A few evenings later, Con caught himself from scowling as that popinjay Harrington led Charlotte to the floor. It was only a country dance and should not matter to Con. Endicott had managed to snag one of her waltzes, and a young Lord Henry, who considered himself a poet, had got the other. There were two more after supper, but they didn’t count. Worthington never remained past supper. That, Con had discovered, made standing up with Charlotte more of a prize to the other gentlemen.
Even though he had managed to remain by her side most of the evening, the fact that her former suitor would not bow out gracefully and admit defeat irritated him to no end. The man had even attempted to insinuate himself on her other side and place her hand on his arm. As luck would have it, another set had started and she went off with her partner. That was the only thing that had stopped him from doing something he would most likely be sorry for later.
“You put me forcibly in mind of a caged lion,” Endicott said. “For a moment, I thought you were going to plant Harrington a facer.”
Close, it had been very close, and would have been extremely stupid. “He should find another lady.”
“I imagine he was nonplussed when he got back and discovered you were engaged to Lady Charlotte.”
“In that case, he should not have left Town,” Con replied loftily. “Ladies do not like to be ignored.”
“True, very true.” Endicott smirked before ambling off.
Con was sure that Charlotte was merely being polite to the worthless fribble. But the fact that she had still not agreed to marry him—not that he had asked; he knew better than to press a reluctant lady—rankled. The only thing in his favor at the moment was that she did not appear to prefer any other gentleman.
If only he could think of something that would focus her attention on him as the gentleman she wished to wed. Thus far, carriage rides in the Park, visiting at her sister’s home, and dancing with her in the evenings had not done the trick. And as far as he was concerned, time was not on his side. If he allowed her to return to the country without a firm commitment of marriage, he’d have lost his chance.
Then again, he had received an invitation to dine with them before tomorrow evening’s ball. Yesterday’s ride in the Park must have done some good after all. It might also mean that she did not care about Harrington. That, though, might be wishful thinking. The puppy would not go away, and Con was still not happy about Worthington’s refusal to allow the engagement to be announced in the paper. Not that it truly mattered. Everyone knew they were betrothed.
The dance ended and Con pushed himself off the pillar he’d been leaning against. “It is time for the supper dance.”
After which he and Charlotte would join her family and they would leave. Once again not allowing him any time in private with her. Somehow, he had to get her alone. He knew one way he could convince her to marry him.
* * *
The next night, his mother caught up with him in the corridor. “I am dining with Lady Bellamny and shall see you at the ball.”
“Have a good time.” He handed his mother into her town coach, then tapped on the roof and stood back.
“I shall, my dear. You as well.”
He planned to do just that. This was the evening he would find a way to be alone with Charlotte.
A footman lowered the steps to his carriage. “When we arrive, ask the Worthington coachman when you should return to collect me.”
Several minutes later Con jumped down from the coach and strode up the steps to Stanwood House. As expected, the door opened. Once the butler had taken his hat, he was escorted to a drawing room where Charlotte, Worthington and his wife, and Lord and Lady Merton were drinking sherry.
“I trust I am not late?” Con said as he entered the room.
“Not at all,” Charlotte answered. His chest tightened when she came forward and held out her hands to him. “Dotty and Merton arrived a few minutes ago.”
Con lifted first one of her ungloved hands to his lips, then the other. “You look enchanting.”
A faint pink hue, the color of her favorite roses, caressed Charlotte’s cheeks. “Thank you. You are very dashing as well.”
He captured her gaze, searching their blue depths for a sign that she felt something for him other than their newly formed friendship, but instead of awareness, he saw confusion.
Before he could figure out the reason, a woman coughed and Charlotte glanced at her sister. “Would you like sherry or wine, my lord?”
Devil it. He must find a place to be alone with her. “Sherry, please.” While Worthington poured, he greeted Lady Worthington. “Thank you for inviting me to dine with you.”
“You are welcome.” She smiled and glanced at Charlotte. “However, it was my sister’s idea.”
That was a welcome surprise. “Was it?”
Charlotte blushed again. “It made more sense . . .”
“I can see that.” But he’d be damned if he knew what it meant. Seeking to turn the subject, he said, “The house is much quieter than before.”
“That’s because the children are in bed,” Worthington replied. “They do not do well with Town hours.”
Con had the feeling his friend had wanted to say more but stopped himself. “I understand how.”
“Normally we dine much earlier and en famille,” Charlotte added.
Except this evening, when he, who was not a member of the family, joined them. And that did not make him happy. “Even when you are attending a ball?”
“Indeed. There is always something to fill the time before we go out.”
“Cards and games, generally,” Lady Merton added. “Have you ever played dominoes?”
He had not. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of the game.”
In short order, he was made to understand that his education, not to mention pleasure, was severely lacking. Naturally, the conversation turned to the game’s rules and who of the present company generally beat the flinders out of everyone else. Charlotte was held to be a very good player, but Lady Worthington was the expert.
“Only because I have been playing so much longer,” the lady demurred.
Before he knew it, the butler announced dinner. A short glance around informed him that he was free to escort his betrothed to the dining room. His mood improved when he discovered he could sit next to her as well.
The conversation quickly turned from games to politics, and Con was not surprised that Charlotte was well read and well informed. That they agreed on most of the problems plaguing the country didn’t surprise him. He was, after all, one of Worthington’s allies in the Lords. Despite their conversation, which he thought was going extremely well, she seemed skittish, something was not quite right, and Con didn’t know what to do about it.
* * *
It was fortunate that earlier Charlotte had eaten a light dinner with the children, because her stomach was too tied up in knots to do more than pick at her food. She had expected Lord Kenilworth to sit next to her. What she had not expected was the impact his nearness had on her senses.
Throughout the meal, she’d had to force herself not to fidget. At times, when he leaned closer to her to make a comment, her breath shortened as if she had been running. Even taking his arm earlier had caused a shiver of excitement, and when he had kissed her hands she had wanted to fan herself. She did not know what to do with her reactions to him. Harrington had never caused her to be so unsettled or breathless.
Finally, just as she thought she would jump out of her skin, Grace rose. “Ladies, let us leave the gentlemen.”
Thank God! It was all Charlotte could do not to dash out of the room.
Kenilworth assisted her to rise and his bare hand on her equally bare elbow almost singed her.
“My lady?” His brows had drawn together slightly, his emerald eyes appeared confused.
She ignored his inquiry and curtseyed. “Thank you, my lord.”
Once she was with Grace and Dotty in the drawing room, Charlotte went immediately to the piano and began to play. The music flowed from her fingers as the keys responded to her hectic nerves, allowing her to calm.
A few minutes later, she closed the lid and stood. “I do not know how I will make it through the rest of the evening.”
Dotty handed Charlotte a glass of wine. “Drink some.”
Grace patted the seat next to her. “What exactly is the problem?”
“I don’t know.” Charlotte sank onto the sofa, wineglass firmly in hand. “It is Lord Kenilworth. When he touches me even in the most formal way, I feel it. This—these sensations started a few days ago, and I do not know what to do about them.”
Dotty tilted her head first right then left, as if studying Charlotte from both angles would enlighten her. “Did you have the same reaction to him when he took you for the carriage rides?”
Charlotte thought about it for a moment. “Yes and no. At first his touch just warmed me, but it did not make me uncomfortable, but lately . . .”
Grace moved to face her. “Uncomfortable in what way?”
“I do not know how to explain it.” She covered her face with her hands for a moment.
“Let me try.” Dotty took Charlotte’s hands. “You feel a tingle or a shiver when he is near.”
“Yes.” Thank the Fates someone understood. “And tonight it was more intense than before. I thought his fingers would burn me.”
Her friend leaned back in her chair. “I think you need to kiss him.”
“But I don’t want to.” Dotty raised her brows. Charlotte never had been able to lie to her dearest friend. Since Lord Kenilworth had arrived, she’d had a difficult time keeping her eyes from his lips. Still, that was the very reason she should not kiss him. “Not yet. Not when I do not know what I feel for him.”
“It sounds to me as if you desire him and, for some reason, you are fighting your emotions.”
That was not what Charlotte wanted to hear. “Grace?”
“I think Dotty has a point.” Charlotte opened her mouth to protest, and her sister held up her hand. “But only you can decide if you are ready to take that step. I am certainly not going to tell you to kiss him if you are not ready.”
She jumped up and started toward the piano again. “This would have been much easier if I had met him in the normal course of the Season. Or if I had not seen him at the theater with his mistress—”
“Or,” Dotty said, “if I had not told you about the poor women Miss Betsy had abducted and used so badly.”
Charlotte rushed back to her friend. “Please do not blame yourself. Even Grace said we should know.”
“If only his courtship was not playing out in full view of the ton,” Grace mused. “I know that is how it is normally done, but I think you would be better served if it was otherwise.”
“Particularly as it is so late in the Season and there isn’t anyone else to provide entertainment at the moment,” Dotty added.
“Yes.” Charlotte sighed. “And Harrington’s behavior is not helping.”
“This is most likely not the time to tell you”—Dotty grimaced—“but Dom and I are going to a property he has in Surrey for a few days.”
That was not what Charlotte wanted to hear. “When do you plan to depart?”
“Late tomorrow morning. We will only be gone for a few days.”
Other than wish her cousins a good trip, there was nothing she could say that would not sound selfish.
A few moments later, Royston entered with the tea tray and the gentlemen followed on his heels. Grace poured, and Charlotte handed out the cups. She moved to the window seat, allowing her sister to speak with Matt privately.
Kenilworth followed, taking a chair near where she sat. “I cannot believe the change that has been wrought in Merton. He seems almost like a different man.”
Had Kenilworth not noticed her unease? No, at most he might think something was wrong but preferred not to address it. “Matt says he is much more like his father now.”
“I am too young to have known the old marquis, but my father liked him a great deal.” He took a sip of tea. “He seems greatly attached to Lady Merton.”
Charlotte slid a look to where Dotty and Merton stood talking to Matt and Grace. For the first time she noticed the small touches and looks they gave each other. Matt and Grace engaged in the same silent communication. “Yes. They are very much in love.”
“I hear your sister and Rothwell formed a love match as well.”
“They did. My parents also had a love match. It is a tradition in both the Carpenter and Vivers families.” Except for poor Patience, Matt’s step-mother, but she was now happily in love and married as well.
“I see.” His words were thoughtful, but he did not expound upon them.
But what did he see? Would it change what was going on between them?
Matt rose. “We must depart.”
Well, of all the bad timing. Yet, by the time their party arrived at the ball, the first set was underway.
“I believe the next dance is a waltz,” Kenilworth whispered, his lips so close to her ear she once again fought off the shivers his breath caused. She wanted to lean closer, but held herself rigid, fighting her reaction, just as Dotty had observed.
She and Kenilworth fell back from the rest of their group as friends she had not seen recently stopped them to wish them happy. This evening, she felt less like a fraud and wondered if it was because some part of her was growing to care for him.
“What I want to know, Kenilworth,” one of the gentlemen said, “is how you managed to escape most of the events of the Season and still end up with one of the Graces.”
“The Graces?” Turning to Charlotte he raised a dark sable brow.
Of course he would not know. Dotty, Louisa, and Charlotte were thrilled when they had first heard the sobriquet. “It was an appellation given to Lady Merton, my sister Louisa, and me.”
“Then it is only right that since the other two Graces are wed, the last should be as well.” He grinned, lightening his visage and making him even more handsome. There was not a lady here who would understand her hesitation in marrying him. “The Fates were with me.”
“They must have been,” another gentleman grumbled.
“Don’t mind Ruffington,” Lord Endicott said. “He is having a run of bad luck. Lady Charlotte”—he bowed— “may I steal you away from your betrothed for this next waltz?”
Kenilworth’s arm tightened, and he placed his fingers over her hand. “No, you may not.”
He had been acting like a dog with a bone for days now, but this was the first time he had actually said anything. Yet she did not dislike his possessiveness. He sounded so much like Merton when he and Dotty were newly engaged, that Charlotte had to put her hand over her mouth to stop from laughing. “This set is spoken for. Perhaps the next country dance, my lord.”
“Only if Kenilworth stops looking as if he’d like to run me through.” Endicott bowed and strolled toward a group of young ladies.
By the time Charlotte and Kenilworth had reached her sister, the violins were beginning to play the first strands of the waltz. Dotty and Merton were already making their way to the dance floor.
Matt looked at Grace. “Come, my love.”
“I would be delighted.” She smiled at him, love shining in her eyes. “It is so much nicer dancing with you when you have only Charlotte to watch out for.”
Kenilworth raised Charlotte’s hand to his lips, and the sensations began again. “Shall we?”
Were her friend and sister correct? Did this mean she liked him more than she let on, even to herself? “Indeed.”
The moment he took her in his arms, her world tilted. She felt as if her slippers had left the ground, and she was twirling on air. “I have meant to tell you that you dance well.”
“It is easy when one has a partner who responds as if she knows my every move.” He searched her eyes as if they could read her thoughts. “What confuses you so?”
Apparently he did know what was in her mind. That was a relief. “You. My reaction to you.”
“We will figure it out.” His tone was deep and firm. As if he knew what to do, how to help her.
If only she trusted he was right. But how could she trust him when she did not even know her own feelings?