14. In Which a Lady Is Abandoned – Ashbourne House, Grosvenor Square, London #2
Eleanor nodded. Wrote something in her notebook. "That explains why Mama keeps watching you. And why Grandpapa asked me if you seemed upset."
"Grandpapa asked you?"
"Last night. After you left dinner early." Eleanor closed her notebook. "Everyone's worried about you, Charlotte. They just don't know why."
I pressed my hands over my face. "I don't know what to do."
"About Uncle Edward?"
"About all of it. Dunmore. Edward. The family. Everything."
Eleanor was quiet for a moment. Then: "Do you love him?"
"Eleanor—"
"Do you?"
I looked at my little sister. At this girl who'd grown up in the shadow of my matchmaking. Who'd learned to see patterns and connections and possibilities.
Who was asking me the one question I couldn't avoid.
"Yes," I whispered. "I love him."
"Then tell the family. Tell Mama and Papa. Tell Grandpapa and Grandmama Marguerite. Tell everyone and make them understand."
"It's not that simple."
"Why not?"
"Because he's—" I stopped. "Because it's complicated, Eleanor. Because he's Mama's brother and Papa might call him out and Society will gossip and?—"
"But you love him."
"That's not enough."
"Isn't it?" Eleanor's voice was certain. "You always told me that love matters most. That finding the right person is worth fighting for. Why is it different for you?"
I didn't have an answer.
Eleanor stood. "You should tell them. Before Dunmore proposes. Because he's going to, Charlotte. Everyone can see it coming."
She left.
I sat in the library and thought about eleven-year-old wisdom.
About the fact that I'd spent five years telling everyone that love mattered most.
And now, when it was my turn, I was hiding.
The ball was at the Haverstock residence on Thursday night.
I didn't want to go. Didn't want to perform happiness. Didn't want to smile at Dunmore's newest snuffbox story.
But staying home would raise questions. So I went.
The ballroom was crowded. The usual parade of London Society. I danced with Waverton. Made conversation with Aunt Caroline. Avoided Dunmore as long as possible.
It wasn't long enough.
"Lady Charlotte!" He appeared at my elbow during the interval. "I was hoping to speak with you. About something rather important."
My stomach dropped.
"Lord Dunmore. How—nice."
"I've been speaking with your father. And with my father. And we've agreed—that is, I wanted to ask—" He paused. Took a breath. "Perhaps we could speak somewhere more private?"
No.
No, no, no.
He was going to propose. Here. Tonight. At the Haverstock ball, where half of London could witness it.
"I'm not sure that's?—"
"It won't take long. Just a brief conversation."
He took my arm. Started steering me toward the terrace doors.
I looked around desperately. Aunt Mary was across the room. Mama was in conversation with Lady Sefton. Papa was?—
And then I saw him.
Edward.
Standing in the doorway to the card room. Looking directly at me.
Our eyes met across the ballroom.
He saw Dunmore's hand on my arm. Saw where we were headed. Saw the panic in my face.
He started walking.
"Lord Dunmore." Edward's voice was pleasant. Calm. Utterly controlled. "I'm afraid I need to borrow Lady Charlotte. Family matter. Rather urgent."
It was the same lie he'd used at Marguerite's tea. The same rescue.
But Dunmore was emboldened now. By his father's conversations with Papa. By the family's encouragement. By the belief that Charlotte was practically his already.
"Of course, Retford. But perhaps after? I was hoping for a brief word with Lady Charlotte. Rather important, actually."
"I'm sure it can wait."
"Actually, I'm not certain it can. You see, I've been speaking with the Duke?—"
"I'm aware." Edward's voice was sharp now. "And I'm also aware that Lady Charlotte hasn't agreed to anything. So, unless you have her explicit consent for this 'important conversation,' perhaps you could wait."
Dunmore blinked. "I—well, I suppose?—"
"Excellent." Edward offered his arm to me. "Charlotte?"
I took it. Let him steer me away from Dunmore and the terrace and whatever proposal had been about to happen.
We walked quickly. Through the ballroom. Into a quiet corridor. Away from everyone.
The moment we were alone, I turned on him.
"Where were you?"
Edward's face was carefully blank. "What?"
"Where. Were. You." My voice was shaking. "You disappeared. For a week. I came back to London a day after you, and you vanished. No events. No visits. No—nothing. You just left me to the wolves."
"I was trying to do the right thing."
"The right thing?" I laughed. Sharp. Bitter. "The right thing is Dunmore about to propose while I contemplate throwing myself from the terrace?"
"Charlotte—"
"Don't you dare be noble about this. Don't you dare tell me you were being considerate or giving me space or whatever excuse you've been telling yourself.
" I was furious now. Everything from the last week pouring out.
"You told me you loved me. You kissed me in a churchyard.
And then you disappeared and left me alone with Dunmore and his snuffbox lectures and the family planning a wedding I don't want. "
"I was trying not to make things worse."
"You made them worse by leaving! I needed you. In the room. Even if we can't—I needed you there."
Edward's carefully controlled expression cracked. "I know."
"Then why did you leave?"
"Because—" He stopped. Started again. "Because every time I look at you, I want things I shouldn't want. Because being near you and pretending you're just family is killing me. Because I thought staying away would be easier."
"Was it?"
"No. It was worse. Every day I stayed away was worse." His hand came up to my face. Didn't quite touch. "Charlotte, I'm sorry. I was trying to protect you, and all I did was abandon you."
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry isn't enough."
"I know." Edward's thumb finally brushed across my cheek. "What do you want me to do?"
"Come back. To the events. To the room. Run interference on Dunmore like you were before. Give me—" My voice cracked. "Give me time to figure out how to tell the family. How to refuse Dunmore properly. How to make this work."
"And what about us?"
"I don't know. But Edward—I can't do this alone. I can't face the family and Dunmore and all of it without knowing you're there."
Edward pulled me closer. Kissed my forehead—gentle and chaste and nothing like the churchyard.
"All right," he said quietly. "I'll come back. I'll be in the room. I'll run interference. Whatever you need."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
We stood there in the quiet corridor. His hand on my face. Mine gripping his coat.
"We should go back," I said. "Before someone notices."
"Charlotte—"
"I know. But not here. Not now." I took a breath. "Later. When we're not in the middle of a ball with Dunmore waiting to propose."
Edward nodded. Stepped back. Put a proper distance between us.
We walked back to the ballroom together.
Dunmore was waiting. Looking confused but determined.
Edward gave me one more look. Then disappeared into the crowd.
Leaving me to face Dunmore alone.
But knowing—finally—that Edward would be at the next event. And the one after. That I wasn't abandoned.
It wasn't much.
But it was something.
And right now, something was all I had.
That night I wrote in my notebook:
Edward came back. Not the way I wanted. Not with a plan or a solution. But he came back. Promised to stay. Promised to be in the room.
It's not enough. But it's a start.
I closed the notebook and tried to believe it was possible.