Chapter Nine
Julian arrived at Lord and Lady Fischer’s soirée feeling surprisingly excited.
Yes, a great deal of that was owing to the fact that he was absolutely certain Charlotte would be there, but that was not the entirety of it.
He had, under her influence, come to truly enjoy the time he was spending in Society.
She’d welcomed him and liked him and, to his delighted shock, had forgiven him.
She had opened the door, and he was finally ready to step through it.
Franklin was not in attendance that night, as he was spending the evening with his family.
Julian never truly envied his friend those familial connections, mostly because his own family had been such a source of misery.
But he did miss family, just as he’d told Lord Tarrant.
His father had been an objectively dreadful person, but Julian sometimes wished he were still nearby, wished he were still present, were still alive.
It was a difficult thing being so alone.
Perhaps someday Julian would have a family of his own and a life filled with love instead of loneliness.
His mind immediately conjured an image of his estate, set to rights, Charlotte there with him, their children completing the idyllic image.
He didn’t think it such an outlandish fantasy.
She had kissed him, after all. And though it had been painfully brief, he had reason to believe she might feel for him what he felt for her.
But marriage, in their circles, was not the stuff of fantasies. It was approached logically, with an eye to connections and building family fortunes.
He was titled and had an estate and income, yes.
But that estate was in a degree of disrepair, which was a bit of a drain on his income to the point that a wager of ￡1,000 had been more than he’d been able to ignore.
Add to that the fact that he was a Lord Wesley and Charlotte’s father knew enough of the family history to look unfailingly askance at Julian as a result, and only the tiniest thread of hope remained.
Still, he entered the grand drawing room of Lord and Lady Fischer’s home with his head held high.
He was greeted kindly, something which happened nearly everywhere he went the past week or so.
He couldn’t say for certain if it was the reception he would have received if not for Charlotte accepting him so readily and warmly.
Whatever the exact reason, he was choosing to be grateful.
Unfortunately, in the midst of the kind greetings came Sir Duncan.
His presence seldom improved a situation.
The gentleman’s attention, though, was not on Julian, but rather on Charlotte herself.
The earl stood nearby. With her father present, it was not Julian’s place to intercede.
But Charlotte looked more than a little annoyed.
If he wasn’t mistaken, she was also a bit miserable.
His role that night was meant to be utilizing his knack for being a bit ridiculous in order to slow the efforts of would-be suitors.
Sir Duncan wasn’t a suitor, but he could be thwarted the same way.
Julian sauntered to where they were and placed himself in the gathering.
“You have left all of the gentlemen of London wondering how long it will be before you follow your friend and marry as well,” Sir Duncan was saying.
“The gentlemen of London may simply have to learn to be patient,” Charlotte said. She managed a casual and friendly tone, but Julian recognized the frustration and tension in her gaze. Her father seemed oblivious to it.
“You could not be so cruel,” Sir Duncan said, his tone teasing as well, but with enough snap to the words to render them more demanding than friendly.
Julian had harbored some suspicion that Sir Duncan might be the one who had made the bet regarding Charlotte’s marriage prospects. And he sneered enough at Julian when they were in company to add weight to the theory.
The earl was not moving to intervene, and Sir Duncan did not seem likely to abandon the subject or walk away. Julian was unwilling to leave Charlotte to deal with the blackguard herself.
“Is the theme of this evening’s soirée ‘Badgering Ladies on the Subject of Marriage’?” Julian asked, watching Sir Duncan with wide eyes and a look of feigned innocence. “I am afraid I have arrived with absolutely no experience in that area.”
“I have badgered no one,” Sir Duncan insisted, ruffling up on the spot.
Julian was not so easily distracted from his awkward aim. “Are we calling it something different now? ‘Pestering,’ perhaps? ‘Making Oneself a Nuisance in the Presence of’?” Julian turned overly innocent eyes on Charlotte. “Am I meant to be annoying you right now?”
She smiled broadly. “If that is what you are attempting, Lord Wesley, I fear you are failing. I find myself delighted with your company.”
He looked to Sir Duncan once more. “My apologies, but it appears you will be required to undertake all of the pestering this evening. I am clearly incapable of making myself irritating.”
Sir Duncan was not amused, but many others gathered around were.
“Are you inferring that I am mistreating Lady Charlotte?” Sir Duncan demanded, nostrils flaring with vexation.
“I was implying,” Julian corrected. “You were inferring.” He looked to Charlotte once more. “Is incorrect word usage part of the evening’s entertainment? I fear I will be unskilled at that as well.”
Charlotte smiled at him. How had he lived twenty-five years without that smile? How could he be expected to live even one more without seeing it?
“This soirée is proving an unexpected experience,” the earl said.
Sir Duncan looked to the earl. “It has certainly attracted people unworthy of your daughter’s company. I will happily call up my carriage to take us elsewhere.”
“You appear to have inferred from my observation that I wished for you to dictate where I and my daughter spend our time.” The earl spoke very matter-of-factly, but there was no mistaking that he did not, at least in that moment, approve of Sir Duncan.
Perhaps Julian had helped solidify that opinion.
“I would suggest you leave off the suppositions for the remainder of the night.”
The discomfort in Sir Duncan’s posture promised a hasty departure, which he almost immediately undertook. That was one fewer person Charlotte’s father might attempt to match her with.
The earl indicated Julian should walk with him and his daughter. He didn’t object.
“Your father and grandfather were a lot of things, Lord Wesley, but they were not empty-headed. I suspect you are not as well.”
“I would like to think I’m not,” Julian answered.
“Then why act the part?” The earl, it seemed, had realized Julian was playacting. Had he from the very beginning, at the musicale?
To be safe, Julian kept his explanation to that evening’s performance. “Sir Duncan was making your daughter unhappy. Dispatching him without having to resort to calling him out seemed my best option.”
“Would you have called him out?” Charlotte asked him.
“He would have deserved it,” Julian acknowledged. “But I am not in a position to so formally take up the cause of defending you in that way. Presuming to do so would only make the situation even worse than it was.”
Her gaze on him turned soft. “Are you always so mindful of the impact you have on others?”
“I try to be,” he said, “but I fall short more often than I wish I did.”
“I think we all do,” Lady Charlotte said.
Julian shook his head. “You are endlessly kind and patient. You show people consideration and—”
He stopped short, realizing the earl was watching him a bit too closely for comfort. The gentleman did not approve of him. Drawing undue notice would likely make that even more true.
“I suppose I am making a nuisance of myself now.” He offered a quick dip of his head. “I do know how to make myself scarce, and I can do so if you would prefer.”
“Please don’t,” Charlotte said. Her eyes darted to her father, and she kept her expression one of almost neutrality. “Sir Duncan will not pester me if you are nearby, and I would greatly appreciate an evening-long reprieve.”
His affection for her must have been written across every inch of his face. But what could he do? He’d lost his heart to her so utterly that hiding the state of his affections felt impossible.
“If your father will permit me to enjoy your company for a time longer, I would be honored to do so.”
The earl was studying him again, and it was not an overly comfortable examination. Julian had promised Charlotte awkwardness, but he hadn’t fully anticipated feeling ill at ease himself.
Mr. Travers arrived in that moment. He was received warmly and eagerly by Lord Tarrant.
Charlotte watched the new arrival with misgiving.
Not fear or distaste. Neither did she display any of the actual misery she’d shown with Sir Duncan.
But this suitor, one who’d seemed to gain her father’s favor, had certainly not won her good opinion.
Time for weaponized awkwardness.
“Tonight’s soirée involves pestering people,” Julian told Mr. Travers. “And word misusage. Isn’t that exciting?”
Mr. Travers’s brows drew in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”
“A bit of revelry,” Julian explained. “Of humor. Diversion.”
“Is not the soirée itself the diversion?” Mr. Travers asked quite somberly.
“Soirées can contain diversions as well,” Charlotte replied.
“That seems like a great deal of merriment.” That Mr. Travers didn’t care for the idea couldn’t have been more obvious.
“Do you not like merriment?” Charlotte pressed.
“It has its place, I suppose.”
Her expression fell.
Julian eyed her father, hoping he noticed. Hoping he cared. The earl gave no indication one way or the other.
“Life needs a bit of lightness,” Julian said. “What a drudgery it would be otherwise.”
Charlotte looked to her father, holding his gaze earnestly. “That would be drudgery. It truly would.”
The earl pulled Charlotte’s arm through his. “Lightness is not a failing,” he assured her.
“For some people, Father, it is a necessity.”
He patted her hand and nodded. “It is a pleasure to have seen you again, Mr. Travers. Lord Wesley.” To his daughter, he said, “Let us find a place to sit.”
As she walked away on her father’s arm, Charlotte looked back at Julian, gratitude in her expression.
He bowed, heartbroken to watch her walk away.