Chapter 18
“Have some more of the gooseberry tart, Georgie.” Charlotte offered her the last bite then sat back, watching as her friend shook her head and sighed contentedly. Charlotte had returned home late last night and could scarcely contain her curiosity about Georgina and Lord Wrotham.
“I could not hold one more berry.” Georgina smiled and sipped her tea. “You should have it, Charlotte. You’ve barely eaten anything. I should not have asked so many questions, but you’ve had such adventures in London I am quite jealous. However, as you’ve described them in such detail, I almost feel as if I had been there with you.”
Charlotte toyed with her teacup, pushing the handle to and fro. “I do wish you had been, my dear. I would have relished your company. But we will have a visit there together after the harvest, with lots of shopping. We must start in good time to outfit you for the Season.”
“Now, Charlotte—”
“We have been over this, Georgie. I am determined you will eclipse every woman in the ton next spring.” She gripped the cup’s handle. “Unless, of course, you have decided to marry before then.”
Her friend made no response other than to smile and sip her tea. The girl had said nothing about Lord Wrotham since Charlotte’s return, and her silence on the subject was driving Charlotte to distraction. Had something transpired while she had been in Town? Her pulse beat hard and fast, wondering what she would do if Wrotham had indeed declared himself.
“Now you must tell me what you have been doing since I left. Did . . . did you have any callers?” Charlotte tried to appear nonchalant and failed miserably.
“Yes, I did have several, who helped me pass the time quite well. Lady Fitzroy called the day after you left. She was all in a dither about . . .” Georgie continued, laughing animatedly about the local baronet’s wife and her feud with her neighbor, Mrs. Lawson-Smythe.
Charlotte made herself pay attention, although she couldn’t help but wonder who else Georgie had seen this past week. If Lord Wrotham had come, would she even tell her? But her friend couldn’t know about her interest in Wrotham. Could she?
“And then, of course, I asked Lord Wrotham to tea on Tuesday.”
Charlotte stared at her, stunned beyond belief. “You did?” A sinking sensation began in her stomach and radiated out toward her limbs, down to her fingers and toes.
“Yes. He is such a kind man, with such charming manners. I do wish now I had danced with him at the house party, although I suspect I shall have another chance shortly.” Georgina sat back, a satisfied smile on her face.
“You do?” A sense of foreboding gripped Charlotte with icy fingers.
“Why, yes. Don’t you plan to have dancing at your upcoming party?” The girl cocked her head, as if puzzled, but a twinkle of mischief showed clearly in her eyes.
“Of course I do. Georgie . . .” Oh, drat it. At this point, her nerves stretched tighter than a violin string, she didn’t care about propriety. “Did Lord Wrotham . . . ask you something?”
“Oh, yes. I meant to tell you.” Georgie leaned toward her.
Charlotte steeled herself for the blow.
“He asked me about you.”
Charlotte stared at her, relief cascading through her. “He did?”
“Yes, just before he asked me to marry him.”
“What?” Her blood froze in her veins. She stared into her friend’s smiling face and simply wanted to die.
“It wasn’t the grand romantic gesture Isaac made, going down on one knee and bringing me flowers, but it was a proposal.” Georgie’s face lit up at the fond memory.
“So I am to wish you happy, Georgie?” Numb all over, Charlotte wasn’t quite sure what to say. She didn’t want to accept what she’d just heard, but she had no choice. Lord Wrotham had taken her at her word and found another woman to be his wife.
“Oh, no, I didn’t accept him, Charlotte.” Georgie shook her head, her red ringlets bobbing beside her face. “I simply couldn’t do that.”
Warmth flooded Charlotte’s cold body, as though the sun had come out radiantly after days of snow and ice. She gasped and covered her face, fighting tears. After a few breaths to steady herself, Charlotte recovered enough to ask, “Why not, Georgie?”
“Because, my dear, I don’t love him.” She grasped Charlotte’s hands. “I am not unaware of the honor it would be to become the Countess of Wrotham. And I confess I did consider it during the house party.”
Charlotte nodded. “I suspected as much. You seemed to get on well with Lord Wrotham.”
“Jemmy broached it to me. He made me see how good a match it would be. He even hinted that it might reconcile me with Father.” She smiled wistfully. “Lord Wrotham is a very amiable gentleman. He looked out for me at The Bull, helped me be part of the conversation.”
“You were flirting shamelessly with him, Georgie.”
Her trilling little laugh filled the room. “I did, didn’t I?” She sounded quite proud of it. “Quite astonishingly, he made me want to have fun again. Something I never thought I’d do after Isaac died.” Her face sobered and a fierce light shone in her eyes. “But I had true love in my first marriage. I’ll not settle for less the second time.” She patted her lips, laid her napkin down, and rose. “I must write to Jemmy. He will be disappointed, I fear, but he will understand when I explain it to him.”
“How did Lord Wrotham take your refusal?” Charlotte folded her napkin, carefully keeping her eyes down.
“He seemed a bit confused,” she said, frowning at the memory. “As if he didn’t think he’d heard me correctly. Then I told him I understood the great honor he bestowed upon me by asking me, but I thought it would be a mistake.”
Charlotte’s head came up. Georgie had mettle she’d never dreamed of.
“He didn’t protest at all.” She smiled straight at Charlotte. “I believe he knew I was right.”
After Georgie left, Charlotte stayed at the table, her head spinning with her friend’s story. She needed to confront the earl immediately. He had meant it when he said he wanted a wife. If she didn’t act fast, she might find he had already asked yet another woman, although she could think of no reason for such haste on his part. Still, if she wanted to secure Lord Wrotham, she had best do it now.
Did she want to secure him? The outrageous thumping of her heart when she had thought him betrothed to Georgie told her she had already made her choice. Her interest in him, which had begun that night at Almack’s, had grown stealthily over the ensuing weeks and months. His admission to saving Edward, if nothing else, would make her esteem him above all other men. His manner toward her during the house party had persuaded her that he might have similar feelings for her. Of course, their encounter in the library left no doubt whatsoever of his attraction and his intentions. A pity he would consider nothing other than marriage, but if the man was bound and determined to have her as his wife, she would renounce her independence. And perhaps be happy at last.
Contentment flowed through her like a river of joy. She would go now. An urgency swept through her, a desire to see him again, to touch and hold him before she lost him. The sensible thing would be to send a footman to Wrotham Hall, requesting him to call on her. Her stomach twisted at the thought of waiting even an hour. No, she must do something. Go to him, pursue him. Her last act of freedom.
A scandalous proposition for her to visit a bachelor household unaccompanied, but a necessity in this case. She wanted him to herself, without a companion in tow. If she went on horseback rather than in the carriage, she could go to him and return with no one the wiser.
Both Rose and Georgina would try to dissuade her from this rash action, so she must employ stealth. Her next problems, therefore, would be how to change into her riding habit and escape the house and stables undetected. She would address those obstacles first. Planning her capitulation to Lord Wrotham could wait until she was underway.
* * *
Contrary to her expectations, donning her black wool riding habit undetected had been simple. She had summoned Rose, who had assisted Charlotte with her gown, and told the maid she would be riding alone in the park.
“You aren’t taking anyone with you, my lady?” Rose pretended to be removing a piece of lint from the tailored jacket when she cut her eyes slyly toward Charlotte.
“A little solitude after all the constant company in London will be a welcome respite.” Charlotte placed her most fetching bonnet on her head and adjusted it to her satisfaction.
“As you say, my lady,” Rose sniffed. “You’ve put on fine feathers to impress the grooms, it seems.” Her eyes widened as she clamped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my lady. Not . . . not again?”
Charlotte cocked her head, truly befuddled. Then it dawned on her. Rose had been her maid since her come-out. She had been with her all through the miserable debacle of her secret affair with Edward.
With a laugh, Charlotte squeezed the maid’s hand. “No, I promise, I am not in love with James or Clarence. But who knows who may see me going to or from the stable? One should always be dressed impeccably, no matter what.”
Rose’s shoulders slumped, her worried frown lifting. “Well, you’ll certainly turn the head of whoever sees you, my lady.”
Charlotte smiled at the compliment. She prayed the woman spoke true.
Rose headed into the dressing room to put away the discarded day dress and Charlotte slipped out into the hall. No one stirred, but she wasn’t sure where Georgie might be. The secrecy might seem silly, but she didn’t want anyone to know what she was up to until she returned, a betrothed woman. She hurried to the end of the corridor and down the servants’ staircase to the kitchen. At the bottom of the stairs, she paused to listen to Mrs. Hatchette giving orders to the scullery maid about the dishes.
Holding her breath, Charlotte eased across the archway unseen and quietly opened the door to the garden. She ducked around the side of the house and, once out of sight of any of the kitchen staff who might look out the back door, stood gauging the next part of her adventure—the stable.