Chapter 23
“Make sure the first note goes to Lord Arundel and the second to my brother, Lord Fitzgerald,” Charlotte whispered, pressing the notes and two coins into her maid’s hand.
Mary bobbed and hurried off down the corridor.
Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief that she had not been overheard or observed. She shut the door and leaned back on it. What a wretched day.
She could still feel the press of Henry’s lips on hers and remembered his delicious spicy scent as he’d pulled her into his arms… but she must stop thinking of it. He had made it clear that he didn’t want her, that she was only a dalliance.
A knock came at the other side of the door, and she jumped, her hand flying to her chest. Was it Mary? Had someone apprehended her and discovered the notes?
Heart pounding, Charlotte opened the door to see Helena, Felicity, Adeline, Genevieve, and Miranda crowding together in the doorframe, their faces both eager and concerned.
“What happened earlier, after you left with Henry?” Felicity asked, searching Charlotte’s face. “Miranda will not tell us anything but she’s most distraught.”
“I’m not distraught,” Miranda said briskly, although she was certainly paler than usual. “I am being discreet and respecting my friend’s privacy.”
Helena scoffed. “You are being no help at all.”
Adeline ignored them. Her brow creased with concern. “You look pale. Is your ankle so painful? Did something awful happen?”
Charlotte burst into tears.
Felicity’s eyes widened. “Oh, my dear! What is it?”
Miranda hustled Charlotte into the room and got her to sit down near the window. Adeline poured her a glass of water while Helena shut the door and pushed a chair in front of it so no one could come in. Genevieve thrust her handkerchief into Charlotte’s hand.
“It was awful.” Charlotte sobbed, her tears coming thick and fast as the presence of her friends caused all her emotions to well up at once. “William caught us, and then Henry said he never could, and then I told Mother I wanted to go home, and I’m so sick of all of them, and….”
She stopped and blew her nose. Her friends exchanged glances at her garbled rush of words.
“Slow down,” Genevieve said, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “And start at the beginning. Miranda said you turned your ankle and Henry escorted you and her back to the house, is that right?”
Charlotte nodded and took a breath. Her voice steadier now, she told them, with flaming cheeks, about kissing while Miranda was distracted by her flower. Felicity gasped, Adeline tutted, and Helena grinned in delight as she recounted how she had melted in Henry’s arms.
“I am a terrible friend,” Miranda bemoaned, but no one paid her any attention.
They all listened, rapt, as she told them how William had come across them, and Henry had called the kiss nothing but a moment of foolishness.
“He insisted he would never marry me,” she whispered, her eyes burning with shame as she stared at the floor. “Even when William said he had ruined my honor and reputation.”
“Not if no one hears of it,” Adeline said flatly. “I’m sure your brother won’t want it to be known. It’s his reputation too, and Miranda has already proven to be steadfast.”
Charlotte reached for Miranda’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, my friend.”
Miranda squeezed back in an unusual display of affection. “I should have done better in the first place.”
“William may be concerned for his own reputation, but men are never affected by such things as women are,” Felicity muttered to Adeline.
“Hopefully, in this, he is discreet,” Adeline replied.
Miranda’s expression grew thoughtful. “While I witnessed most of these events myself, I must admit that this behavior does not seem typical of the duke, from what we’ve seen and all you’ve told us of him. Didn’t he imply there is some kind of secret that prevents him from marrying?”
Charlotte wiped her eyes, remembering Henry’s odd words. “That’s true.”
“Which may explain his reluctance to marry at all,” Genevieve chimed in.
Miranda nodded. “Yes,” she said, drumming the fingers of her free hand on her thigh.
“That might explain things. I’ve always thought that the duke is uncommonly fond of you, Charlotte, and the kiss does not surprise me…
although I do wish I’d played the role of chaperone more effectively.
The duke’s reaction to William though… it’s not characteristic of him. ”
“Perhaps he is just an absolute cad, like all men,” Adeline said glumly.
Helena hissed at her to shush, but Charlotte shook her head bitterly. She didn’t need her friends to spare her feelings. She could not possibly be crushed any further than she already had been by Henry’s words.
But Miranda, always the practical one, thought otherwise.
“No; it makes too little sense. I would suggest that this mention of a secret means there is a good reason why Henry insisted that he cannot marry you. So it may not be that he doesn’t wish to, but rather that he feels he can’t.
We must get to the bottom of whatever this secret is. ”
As the other girls nodded, hope flickered in Charlotte’s breast, but she quickly suppressed it. She couldn’t allow herself to be disappointed again. Henry’s words had seemed so final. He would never marry her.
She rested her hands on her lap, willing herself not to hope, not to believe that there could be any explanation that might change Henry’s stance. “It doesn’t matter what the secret is. The only thing that matters is that he refuses to marry me. He sees no future with me.”
Helena huffed. “Oh, nonsense. Men are stubborn creatures, and Arundel is one of the worst of them. He could be making excuses.”
“He didn’t look as though he was making an excuse,” Charlotte murmured, replaying the scene once more. “He looked… wretched.”
“That’s what makes this all so strange,” Miranda said, leaning forward. “If he didn’t care, he would not have looked so wretched. And that is why we must find out what, exactly, is holding him back.”
Charlotte lifted her gaze to Miranda’s, her stomach a tangle of knots. “And if it’s something insurmountable that truly prevents him from marrying me?”
“Then at least you will have answers,” Miranda said simply. “At least you will know whether to fight for him or let him go.”
Charlotte bit her lip, clenching the folds of her gown. The idea of letting Henry go sent an aching pang through her chest, but the thought of fighting for him, only to lose in the end, was equally unbearable.
“I’ve already written to him,” she confessed. “I sent notes to both him and my brother.”
Her friends exchanged wary glances, and Genevieve’s voice was gentler than usual when she spoke. “What did you write in your note to the duke?”
Charlotte hesitated. “I asked them both to meet me,” she admitted. “In the library after tea. Although I’m devastated he won’t marry me, neither do I want him to be forced into it by my brother.”
Felicity looked confused. “But I thought we wanted him to marry you?”
“Not under coercion!” Charlotte swallowed her pain. “I will not be like that woman who sought to trap him in the garden. If we are to wed, it must be because he wants to.”
Helena squeezed her hand. “I think it’s brave,” she said, “to release him from any obligation even though there may be consequences for you. But even so, you deserve an explanation for his behavior. Miranda may be right. Perhaps he wants to but can’t.”
“I doubt he will even come,” Charlotte said, letting out a humorless laugh. “He was desperate to be rid of me earlier.”
Helena scoffed. “If he doesn’t come, we’ll make him regret it.”
Miranda raised an eyebrow. “Helena—”
“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Miranda. It infuriates me how we women are treated. Charlotte deserves better than this.”
They all nodded, but Charlotte sank into a gloomy silence that continued as she got ready for luncheon with the other women. She eyed her mother warily as they escorted each other downstairs, but Lady Fitzgerald said nothing about her earlier outburst.
The luncheon itself was a blur.
Charlotte sat through it, hearing conversations but not truly listening, her thoughts circling endlessly around Henry, the afternoon’s humiliation, and the note she had sent to him.
She moved food around on her plate, barely eating, and when she spoke, it was only when directly addressed, her responses short and polite.
No one seemed to notice her distraction save for her mother, who shot her a couple of searching looks and once mentioned that she was unusually quiet, even for her. Charlotte only smiled thinly and assured her that she was well.
After luncheon, the ladies remained gathered in the drawing room for polite conversation.
The voices around her blending into meaningless chatter as Charlotte sat among them, but her mind was elsewhere, though she tried to hide how closely she was paying attention to the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room.
When the time came and the opportunity arose, she excused herself under the pretense of fetching a book from the library.
Her heart pounded as she walked through the dimly lit corridors. When she reached the library, she hesitated for only a second before stepping inside, holding her breath at the thought of seeing Henry again.
Henry and William were already there. They stood by the hearth, engaged in low conversation, but both turned when she entered. William’s face was inscrutable, but Henry looked as though he had been waiting for her. His gaze met hers, filled with something unreadable that sent her pulse skittering.
She felt another flare of hope. Could Miranda have been right?
She looked away from him, not wanting to betray her emotions.
Instead, she shut the door behind her and took a steadying breath. She had come here with a purpose, after all.