Chapter Five
Charlotte’s father had been unwell for a few days, and thus, she had not attended many gatherings.
Fortunately, he was feeling well again in time for their at-home day.
She felt certain both Mr. Vernon and Mr. Travers would be present, along with a great many others.
Though she didn’t like to think of herself as vain, she realized she had made a great many friends.
Her standing as well as her father’s had made her sought-after amongst those who wished to improve their own standing.
During her first Season, that had bothered her.
She’d felt a bit dismissed, and more than a bit overlooked.
But having now completed several Seasons, she understood a little better the necessary dance they all undertook.
Even those who would not naturally view people in the context of their rank or use them to improve their own standing often had very little choice.
So much about a person’s future, especially when that person was a woman, depended on making the right connections at the right time with the right people.
What she had originally seen as hurtful and mercenary, she now understood for the act of survival it actually was.
She didn’t begrudge people those things they needed to do in order to stay afloat. And she valued all the more those with whom she had a more personal connection, those with whom she had a truer friendship.
Louisa was one such person. She had visited whilst Father was unwell, offering Charlotte some much-needed company and reassurance.
He’d not been so unwell that Charlotte had actually been concerned about his survival.
But her mother had died when she was quite young.
She had a sister who had not lived past childhood.
Her grandfather had passed away as had one of her aunts and her only uncle.
When her father was ill, she fretted a little.
Louisa was present again for the at home, this time with her fiancé.
The more Charlotte knew of Mr. Granville, the more she liked him and the more happy she was for her friend.
Arranged marriages did not always turn out well, but Charlotte had every reason to believe this one would.
Indeed, watching them together, she could see they were genuinely pleased to be in each other’s company.
When the match had first been arranged, there had been a great deal of discomfort between the two. Now, the best way to describe their interactions was “sweet.” There was a tender kindness between them that Charlotte had to admit she was a little envious of.
All of this flitted through her thoughts while she was seeing to her duties as hostess.
Her father interacted easily with guests of all generations.
Charlotte had heard that her grandmother and grandfather had been the same way, despite the fact that her grandmother no longer interacted with Society.
Her aunt, Charlotte had been told, lacked that polish, and she now fully eschewed the social whirl.
Charlotte suspected she fell somewhere between the two extremes.
She got along well with people and enjoyed friendly interactions, but she also cherished quiet time to herself.
She needed to find a means of deciding which of the gentlemen she was encouraging her father to take notice of was most likely to appreciate those contradictory needs in her.
Mr. Vernon and Mr. Travers arrived at the at home at almost the exact same time.
They eyed each other with misgiving, a good indication that they realized they were positioned to be rivals.
Some ladies would have been flattered by that.
For her part, Charlotte mostly felt tired.
She had begun to recognize the exhaustion for what it was: a small but unshakable feeling of helplessness.
She was trying so hard to influence the direction her life would take once her father set his mind to it, but there was really so little she could do.
Still, she reminded herself, Mr. Vernon and Mr. Travers weren’t terrible options when compared to some of the others who had shown an interest in her or a connection to her family.
The two gentlemen offered their greetings and were invited to sit. Charlotte watched Father for his reaction. He seemed pleased to see them, which was a good sign. He also didn’t seem to have a preference for one over the other.
Did she?
She’d been so busy making certain her father didn’t set his sights on someone entirely objectionable that she’d not given the question any thought.
Perhaps it would behoove her to focus her efforts.
But that would require deciding where she wished to focus them, which was a significant part of her difficulty.
They were unobjectionable and would likely not be unkind to her.
But she had no tenderness for either of them, no preference.
“Lady Charlotte, you were missed last evening at the Carlisles’ soirée,” Mr. Vernon offered the observation with sincerity, something that was not always the case in Society.
“I was sad to miss it,” she said. “Now that my father’s health has begun to improve, I am hopeful that we will be present at those gatherings that are upcoming.”
He nodded. “Indeed.”
It was a very common interaction with him: pleasant conversation that was not overly personal or overly interesting. Would such an arrangement at least not prove unhappy? Was not being unhappy truly the most a lady could honestly hope for?
A discouraging thought.
She turned to Mr. Travers. “When last we spoke, you were concerned with the well-being of one of your horses. I hope all has continued to be well on that front.”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
“You sound discouraged,” she observed, hoping to offer empathetic encouragement.
He eyed her with apparent confusion. It was not uncommon to assume, when interacting with the very somber gentleman, that he was more upset with a situation than he actually was.
She imagined, over time, either she would come to understand him better or she would learn to not press the matter of his distress. Not the most exciting prospect.
During her distraction, Mr. Travers had taken up a conversation with her father, one that seemed to carry the undertones of something of a budding friendship.
Charlotte had encouraged her father to think well of him.
In theory, she ought to be pleased to see this step forward.
But in actuality, she was a little discouraged.
Which made her realize she was a bit more inclined toward a match with Mr. Vernon.
She would be bored, at times nearly out of her wits, but she would not spend the entirety of her marriage wishing for someone with a lighter disposition.
She needed to do more to encourage her father to think well of Mr. Vernon.
Just as she resolved to do so, Lord Wesley, of all people, stepped into the drawing room. His friend Mr. Daubney was with him. The two seemed a genuinely happy duo. That was not something she could say for the two gentlemen seated nearest her.
Lord Wesley smiled at the greeting she offered to him, and that smile set her heart fluttering a little.
In her four years in London, only he had managed to do that to her.
When he’d watched her as she danced the minuet, she’d not been able to prevent a blush of delight.
He’d not watched her in a critical way or a possessive way, as far too many gentlemen did.
He seemed to genuinely be interested in what she was doing and seemed to sincerely find her to be a graceful dancer.
There was a softness in his eyes when he looked at her, mingled with the hint of laughter she so often saw there, regardless of who he was speaking with. Charlotte liked that about him.
She’d known him as a very distant acquaintance until quite recently. And now, she felt as if they had very suddenly become friends, friends with a hint of something else, something she didn’t dare define.
The two newest arrivals offered their greetings and their well wishes to her father.
There were no empty chairs near where she sat, and Mr. Vernon and Mr. Travers had not been present long enough that they were likely to make their departure soon.
She assumed, with an inexplicable drop of her heart, that Lord Wesley would choose to sit elsewhere in the room and converse with others, perhaps Louisa and her fiancé.
Mr. Daubney did precisely that. Lord Wesley, however, hovered nearby awkwardly.
He was handsome and entertaining and had shown himself to be witty, but he had also, at times, been socially clumsy.
When Mr. Vernon would say something, he would respond in a way that leaned toward awkward.
When Mr. Travers would speak, he would respond in a way that emphasized his easy manner and lightness of mood.
The two gentlemen at her side were a bit flustered by it.
Charlotte, however, found herself increasingly intrigued by this baron and his confusing behavior.
Why was it he so seldom participated in Society, yet had of late done so with enthusiasm?
Her heart whispered that his return to social activity had something to do with her, that she had captured his interest. Perhaps a bit of his heart.
But her more logical mind did not think so.
He was not undertaking anything that would indicate he was courting her.
More to the point, he was not “courting” her father.
She had no other word for what was expected of gentlemen who wished to marry a lady, considering that a lady’s eventual husband was almost without exception chosen by her parents, and most especially by her father.
Her father disliked him; he’d made that clear.
Indeed, he had mentioned it more than once.
He’d made that rather clear to Lord Wesley, who’d not seemed surprised.
She wanted to believe that was owing to the reputation of his family.
Everyone knew the previous Lords Wesley had been, without exception, wastrels.
But she’d never heard the same thing said of him.
And he had defended himself against her father’s insinuation otherwise.
This gentleman was captivating, which was not something she could say for either of the gentlemen she had been hoping her father would choose.
Oh, heavens.
The intrigue she’d felt for him had changed, and she’d not realized.
More than curious about him, she had developed something of a tendre for him.
She, who suspected this Season would be her last before Father saw to it she was married, had, for the first time since being presented, lost a bit of her heart to someone, and it was someone she knew her father would never choose.