Chapter 10
There was very little chatter at the dowager’s that night, the ladies of the house so lost in thought that barely a word was spoken in the landau home from the park or even over the dinner table. Lady Alice and Charlotte both retired early as well, drifting up to their rooms like wraiths.
Now, tucked in bed, Lady Alice thumbed absently through the most recent journal from the Horticultural Society, but hybrid orchids held no attraction today. Not even the journal’s wrongheaded opinions about them.
Oh, blast the queen and her appalling edict!
Lady Alice rubbed her chest, where old wounds ached.
She still remembered sitting on the hard pews of her village church as a girl, staring longingly out the window at the bees cavorting in the foxgloves, only to be startled from her thoughts by the vicar intoning, “The sins of the father are visited on the son.” Her heart had gone cold—what sort of petty, mean god punished the innocent?
Would he punish her? And, oh dear, what had her parents done this time?
It had taken her years to realize how badly she’d misunderstood. God didn’t punish—he stood by weeping as parents did the work, laying their miseries down upon their children, handing over burdens heavy enough to warp the young bones carrying them.
Lady Alice’s heart gave a painful kick as her thoughts turned to the weight of Charlotte’s inheritance.
Two parents with a famous love match that became an infamous catastrophe.
Charlotte’s father dead from drinking when she was only five years old.
Charlotte’s mother, who had her own talent for ruin.
Was it any wonder the child was out five Seasons, with multiple offers to her name, and still ran skipping away from marriage?
If only—
Lady Alice firmed her mouth and pushed if only right out of her head.
Such a useless phrase, as she knew well, with a dead son and regret sitting like an anvil on her back, rounding it more with each passing day.
She’d seen disaster coming with her son and Margot, and she’d done nothing to stop it, a sin she’d carry to the grave.
Was disaster coming for her family again?
Don’t be such an old fool. Lady Alice smacked her pillow and pulled her coverlet up under her chin. Charlotte’s the best of us. She’ll soldier through.
There was a soft knock on the door and Charlotte pushed it open. “Gran? I saw light under the door and thought you might be awake.”
“Yes, of course. Come in, darling.”
Charlotte padded over to the end of the bed and flopped down on the coverlet. “I can’t sleep, so I thought we could discuss suitors.”
Lady Alice sat up with a frown. “Discuss suitors? Darling, you’re leaping ahead again. We’ll find a way around the queen, or—”
But to the dowager’s consternation, Charlotte shook her head. “Perhaps this is a gift, Gran. I’ve had years to contemplate marriage, and perhaps it’s time I settle down. And if I find someone kind and convince him to use part of my dowry to help Mother, isn’t that so much the better?”
Lady Alice sucked in a breath.
The world was full of idiocy, but she rarely heard it from her own granddaughter.
“Charlotte! You cannot contemplate marriage to pay your mother’s debt!”
“I don’t know what to do, Gran. But it’s worth considering before we start plotting against the crown.” Charlotte pushed herself up on her elbow and managed a slight smile. “Good Lord, we’re in more trouble than I thought if I’m being the reasonable one.”
It was a weak jest, and Lady Alice didn’t find it amusing, especially because Charlotte’s shoulders were up around her ears, her mouth was flat as a line, and even her mass of hair seemed limp and unhappy. Still, Charlotte could be a stubborn little mule, and it seemed safer not to argue.
At least, not when there were so many other ways to make a point.
“All right, dearest.” Lady Alice gave a dark harrumph and turned to rummage through the table beside her bed for the running list of eligible men she kept, with some names scratched out, some names circled, and one name in particular that was circled twice with little stars added next to it for good measure.
Charlotte blinked. “Is that… good God, do you keep a list of suitors?”
“I’m your grandmother and your chaperone; I keep several lists.” Lady Alice looked down at her paper and paused, sneaking Charlotte a look. “The most eligible bachelor is, of course, the Duke of War—”
“No!” Charlotte sat up abruptly. “Absolutely not!”
The dowager kept her face scrupulously straight. “I see.”
“Don’t look at me that way, Gran. You know I wouldn’t consider him.”
Lady Alice did know, but she also remembered the bright flare when Charlotte and Warrick first met, until it all went so mysteriously wrong.
Surely that wasn’t nothing? Still, Lady Alice was a first-rate gardener—she knew when to plant a seed and move on.
“What about that glorious Russian of yours?”
“Prince Belozersky is everybody’s glorious Russian. And the most notorious fortune hunter in all of London. What is this list?” Charlotte frowned. “Did you simply write down the names of all the men you find handsome?”
Color crept into Lady Alice’s cheeks. “I wrote down the prince’s name because he has a good heart. So what if he’s poor?”
“I admit I’m fond of Belozersky, but then again, so many men dazzle me for a day or two.
I was once quite smitten with Lord Basingdon because he made me laugh, and it took a while for me to notice I was always laughing at someone else’s expense.
” Charlotte flopped back down on the coverlet.
“The London Season is no way to find a husband. A few dances and rides in the park are not enough to know someone, not truly. If only there was a way to test men out.”
“It’s not Tattersalls. You’re not buying a horse!”
“That would be rather easier.”
Once more, worry flooded Lady Alice. “Darling, I hate to say it, but it sounds as if you’re planning to make some truly terrible decisions.”
But Charlotte sat up slowly, her face turning impish. “Why don’t we treat it like Tattersalls?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Why don’t we invite all our favorite gentlemen down to Clare and put them through their paces?” Charlotte grinned. “Oh, Gran, we’re going to host the most marvelous summer house party!”