Chapter Eleven
Charlotte fanned herself as she and Frederick came off the dance floor.
The sixth set had been particularly vigorous, and she dabbed at a trickle of perspiration down the back of her neck with her handkerchief.
Still, the set had been enjoyable, as she discovered Frederick was quite an elegant dancer.
And, their conversation had been enjoyable as he demonstrated a good wit.
She could even hope for a second set with him.
She looked over to see Mr. Morton coming toward them.
“What a fine couple you made out there,” he said. “Although, I think I can safely state that I made a much better partner. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Kendall?” He grinned broadly at his brother.
Charlotte was unsure whether Mr. Morton was serious or having a jest. Before she could reply, Frederick spoke.
“I would never be so rude as to force Miss Kendall to choose between us, Brother. As neither of us stumbled or trod on her gown, I believe we might call it a draw and believe ourselves equal on the dance floor.” He offered his arm to Charlotte, but Robert held up his hand.
“No, that will not do, Frederick. There is but one way to decide,” Robert continued, in a light tone Charlotte could not recall hearing from him before. He turned his intense, dark eyes to her. “With whom do you wish a second dance, Miss Kendall? Come now, make your choice.”
“Well, I—” Charlotte’s reply died in her mouth. She was quite puzzled at this teasing banter.
“We are quite sensible of the honor of your request for another dance, Mr. Morton,” Dorothea said from behind the group, “but Charlotte is entirely committed to other gentlemen for the remainder of the assembly.” She gestured to her sister.
“Come, my dear, let me escort you to your next eager partner.”
After the two departed, Frederick turned a peeved face to his sibling. “What on earth was that all about? I wish you had not interrupted. I was just going to ask Miss Kendall whether she wished to rest her feet and have a glass of punch. I was hoping to have more time to speak with her.”
“Sorry, Frederick, but it seems Lady Gillingham would have swept her away from either of us at any rate. She seems quite determined to show off her little sister to all eligible men.”
Men who likely know about her rich dowry, as I now do. It would seem I may have some competition.
*
The day after the assembly, Charlotte slept very late. When she finally made her appearance in the breakfast room, she found her sister lingering over her morning coffee.
“Good morning, Dorothea.” Charlotte moved to the sideboard to find something to eat.
“Oh, do not take anything from there, my dear. It is all gone quite cold.” She turned to a footman. “Go to the kitchen and ask Cook to prepare some eggs—lightly poached—and hopefully there is some sausage as well.”
The footman nodded and turned to exit, but Charlotte held up a hand to stop him.
“There is no need for all that fuss, Dorothea. I shall be quite content with marmalade on this toast and some coffee.” She brought her plate to the table and sat.
“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” Dorothea smiled indulgently. “You were much in demand. As I told Reginald last night, I could not have been prouder of you.”
Charlotte nodded and took a sip of her coffee. “I am sure I cannot account for it. Truly, I cannot recall ever having so many partners at one assembly before.”
“So many eligible partners, you mean. Each one a very promising match. I have no doubt you will have a proposal before September. No doubt at all.”
Charlotte felt what little appetite she had suddenly slip away. Why did every conversation with her sister have to revolve around marrying her off? She attempted to change the subject.
“I think I shall go wandering the grounds today if that meets with your approval. I wish to do some painting. I have quite neglected my watercolors since coming to Haverstone.”
“Oh, no, my dear, you must bathe, dress in your best sprigged muslin, and stay in all day. For there are sure to be many callers after your triumph last night. In fact, as it is nearly eleven, do hurry and eat. Indeed, a gentleman may arrive at any moment.” She looked at Charlotte with an expression that signaled no opposition would be acceptable.
Charlotte sighed and rose from the table still holding a piece of toast.
“Very well, Dorothea. I shall ready myself. But, I shall not give any preference to any gentleman at this time. While they were fine dance partners, none of them strike me as potential husband material. Our conversations were so limited.”
Dorothea rolled her eyes. “Precisely why they visit the next day to show their interest. Now, I am not one to bet, but I believe we can be assured of a visit by Mr. Wincock, Mr. Shelby, and—oh, Mr. Cartwright was quite attentive to you during your dance, as I recall. I am certain we may expect him.”
“And, what of your prize choice—Mr. Robert Morton?” Charlotte asked as she walked toward the dining room door. “He did try to ask for a second dance. Therefore, he must be madly in love with me, do you not think?” She giggled. “Perhaps we should order the material for my wedding dress today.”
Dorothea frowned. “You mock me, but you were too busy dancing to notice Mr. Morton’s behavior at the assembly.
He danced just two other times after favoring you with the first. You know there were many lovely ladies who would have been most eager for his attentions.
Therefore, his request for a second dance with you signifies quite a lot, in my opinion.
” She waved her sister away. “Hurry now—we shall be busy this afternoon.”
Just then, the butler entered, holding a silver salver upon which were several letters. Calling to Charlotte to wait, Dorothea snatched them up, quickly sifting through them to learn who had sent them.
“Thank you, Dawson.” She held the papers aloft. “What did I just tell you? Four notes from gentlemen last night to let us know they will come calling. Oh, I am excessively pleased.”
“Are notes from Mr. Morton or his brother among them?”
Dorothea frowned. “No. Although I am sure he will call upon you later. As for today, it is as I anticipated: Mr. Wincock, Mr. Shelby, Mr. Cartwright, and Mr. Bellington. Well, now, that one surprises me—you did not even dance with him.”
“Perhaps he wishes to adopt me. You cannot hope that I shall choose that gentleman, Dorothea. He must be nearly fifty. Can we not at least discourage him?”
Dorothea leveled a firm gaze at her sister.
“Absolutely not. You will be charming and conversant with each of them until we learn more about their personalities and intentions. Oh, I am so thankful I had the good sense last night to ask Cook to make some of those delightful little almond cakes today. We shall certainly put them to good use.” She reached for the letters again, then stopped and made an exasperated sound.
“What are you waiting for? Go bathe and prepare yourself.”
Charlotte gave a small smile and turned away.
She tried not to dwell on the chore ahead of her—entertaining so many callers.
She would have much preferred a day of solitude, sketching and painting.
Mr. Shelby was tolerable enough. Mr. Wincock might have more conversation in him than he did at the assembly.
Oh, but those teeth. And, Mr. Cartwright had seemed so serious last night, but perhaps he would demonstrate a more lively nature. She could only hope.
As she climbed the stairs to her room, Charlotte felt a small pang of dismay that Frederick Morton had not sent word of any plans to call on her.