Chapter Two #2
Lord Wesley knew Charlotte, but not overly well, which made his declaration both accurate and inaccurate.
Mr. Vernon also didn’t seem to know quite what to think.
The four of them stood about in slightly uncomfortable silence.
This was not likely helping Mr. Vernon make a positive impression on Charlotte’s father.
She knew he was not an ideal choice, but he was a good one.
Perhaps there would be time at the interval or after the evening’s performance was concluded for the guests to mingle.
Utilizing her skills for navigating away from uncomfortable situations, Charlotte offered a small curtsy to Lord Wesley before turning her attention to her father and Mr. Vernon. “I do believe the evening is set to begin soon enough. We ought to find a place to sit.”
Before either of the gentlemen to whom she actually addressed the suggestion could answer, Lord Wesley said, “Excellent suggestion, Lady Charlotte.” He then walked alongside them as they sought a place to sit.
In the end, they were situated with Charlotte seated and her father in the chair next to hers.
Mr. Vernon stood to one side and Lord Wesley to the other directly behind her.
It was not an unusual arrangement. Truth be told, it was quite unexceptional.
Charlotte’s only objection was that this arrangement would make it difficult for her to facilitate a direct conversation between her father and Mr. Vernon.
Was it truly so much to ask that, if she was required to accept an arranged marriage, she have some ability to influence the arrangement?
A soprano the Bowens had arranged to perform began doing so.
She was remarkably talented, her voice rich and clear, and her presence as she performed dramatic without being overpowering.
A person could simply relax and enjoy. Or, a person might, if she did not have Lord Wesley standing so nearby, smelling wonderful.
As the gathering applauded the end of the first selection, Mr. Vernon leaned forward a bit, enough to offer a quiet comment near Charlotte’s ear. “How lovely it is to hear an Italian aria performed by an Italian speaker. The pronunciation is so much more precise.”
“I especially liked the way she pronounced languisce,” Lord Wesley said, leaning forward enough to whisper into her other ear. “Languisce.” He repeated the word a couple of times, his pronunciation a bit too precise.
“These settings offer such a nice alternative to hearing the same pieces one hears performed in the large concert halls,” Mr. Vernon observed.
“Languisce,” Lord Wesley repeated again with the same ridiculous emphasis on every syllable.
Mr. Vernon looked confused, and well he might be.
Charlotte felt a little confused herself.
She didn’t think Lord Wesley was actually so inept in social interactions.
Either he was acting the part or being rude or.
. . perhaps had indulged a bit too much in the offered beverages.
The best way she could think of to describe his presence in that moment was awkward.
One glance at her father told her he was feeling the same thing. He shifted a bit on his chair, his brows pulled in uncertainty. This was not how she’d expected the night to go. Not terrible, not horrendous, just not what she’d expected.
“Do you suppose the entire evening will feature selections in Italian?” Mr. Vernon asked.
“Possibly,” Lady Charlotte said. “Though I suspect she can perform in many languages.”
“Languisce.” And, for reasons Charlotte could not begin to explain, she found herself struggling not to laugh.
As the evening wore on, it was all she could do not to toss the word out herself, in the same ridiculous way, though he eventually stopped doing so himself.
He offered comments now and then, and always seemed to be hovering about, but her impression of him being mostly harmless did not change.
He was handsome and likely could have been remarkably rakish if he chose to be.
But overall, he was acting odd and a bit lacking in the social graces, which was not the impression she’d ever had of him in the past.
Mr. Vernon, who had also remained stalwartly at her side, offered his farewells after the evening’s performances had ended.
“I do hope we will see you again soon,” Charlotte said to him.
“I would like that as well,” Mr. Vernon said. He turned to her father and dipped a gracious bow. “Tell me of any books you find that you enjoy.”
“I will,” her father said.
A friendly interaction. A common interest. That was promising. Whether or not Mr. Vernon made anything beyond a vague impression, she didn’t know.
“And I hope we shall see each other again also,” Lord Wesley said, executing a bow of his own.
“It is a possibility” was the extent of her father’s response.
He wasn’t rude or truly dismissive, but there was a stiffness to his posture and his demeanor that was unexpected.
As far as she knew, he and Lord Wesley had few interactions, and no true history.
Indeed, she didn’t think she’d ever heard her father even mention him except for the occasional offhand comment.
Yet, she couldn’t help but feel that her father was displeased with him, and beyond what could be explained by the strange evening they had just passed.
“Thank you for your company this evening, Lady Charlotte,” Lord Wesley said.
“It was a pleasure, as always.” His words of farewell, marked with kindness, went beyond the rote words of parting, but not in a way that was overly familiar.
Indeed, if not for her father’s stiff treatment of him, she might have felt as though they had, in some strange way, struck up something of a friendship during the awkward evening.
Why did he have to capture her attention so thoroughly when he was nearby? Where Mr. Vernon was a bit dull yet perfectly acceptable, Lord Wesley was acceptable and worryingly intriguing.
She couldn’t manage to say anything as she watched him walk away. She didn’t dare. He was not anywhere on the list of suitors she felt there was any chance of her father accepting. Her focus needed to be on whittling down that list to the few acceptable to her.
It was while watching him that her eyes fell on Sir Duncan. She had managed to avoid him all that evening only to see him out of the corner of her eye now. He, thankfully, was on his way out, and she would not need to navigate through an interaction.
No matter the distracting hair and eyes and smile and scent and humor of her encounter with Lord Wesley, she needed to remain focused. If she was not very careful to avoid distraction, she might find herself inextricably tied to someone like Sir Duncan.
Misery was a far worse outcome than boredom.