Chapter 38
The guests drifted, as if by mutual accord, back into the Grand Salon, and Charlotte choose a spot on the settee by her grandmother.
She nestled in, aware of Wolfgang on the opposite side of the room, his outline burnished by the fire Gran had requested because the night was cooler than usual.
Flickering light traced his profile, his nose a little too large and slightly crooked, his blunt chin.
Charlotte reached for her embroidery basket, her head so full that she needed to spill her thoughts across a stretch of linen.
There was pale pink in her hoop already and she began absently to stitch white silk French knots, piling them up until she realized they were the bells on a sprig of lily of the valley.
Are Wolfgang and I starting again? she asked herself.
A voice inside answered. Have you ever stopped, really?
Their conversation had left her full and emptied out at the same time, like how she felt after a good cry, but it had also left her weak as a fawn wobbling around on new legs. Wolfgang flashed Charlotte a glance, but she felt too uncomfortably exposed to meet it.
It was almost a relief when Georgiana came charging into the room.
“It’s Rupert!” Georgiana cried, red-faced and panting. “Please—we need torches, we need men. We must go now!”
“Oh no!” Lady Skeffington flapped her hands, which she often did instead of using them. “How dreadful!”
“Mother, we don’t even know what—” Elizabeth smothered a sigh and tucked her book away. “Never mind. Georgie, poppet, what’s wrong?”
Georgiana’s nose quivered, but she managed not to cry.
“I took Rupert out to the back lawn, as I do every night. He’s so good.
He always stays right by my side! But there was a sly little rabbit, and it taunted him so, and before I could catch his collar he streaked off into the woods after it! Please—we must hurry!”
“Really, Georgiana.” Helena shook her head. “Rupert will return in a trice.”
Georgiana turned to her brother. “James? The gamekeepers have traps in the woods.”
“No!” Marby sank into his shoulders, retreating until his shirt points touched his temples. “Absolutely not! I was out hours last time.”
Georgiana looked at Vyse doubtfully before turning beseeching eyes on Lysander.
He squinted up at her. “Rupert’s a big, healthy sheepdog and he’s outside? I don’t see the catastrophe, Georgie.”
Georgiana’s last hope was Wolfgang and she raised big, limpid eyes to him. “Wolfie?”
He muttered something that sounded a bit like little hellion and ill-begotten cur, but he rose to his feet and sighed. “All right, imp, here’s what we’ll do. We’ll find a footman, ply him with coin, and see if he’ll venture out after Rupert.”
Georgiana took his hand and tugged him down the hall, saying, “Don’t you think you should go after him, Wolfie? You’d find him in a minute, if only you’d look.”
Lysander waited until they were just out of earshot. “What d’you say, Marby? Ten to one the dog’s curled up somewhere in the house?”
“Twenty to one the duke himself goes out to look,” said the dowager. “Our Georgiana’s a persuasive little minx.”
“Or the duke is kind,” Elizabeth offered, her eyes on Charlotte.
“So long as it’s not me gone after the fleabag.” Marby grabbed a decanter of brandy. “Vyse, Lysander, who’s for billiards?”
Not long after the men left, wind began to rattle the windows and the occupants of the Grand Salon heard the first crack of thunder.
The dowager glanced at the shadows outside. “Warrick and Georgiana will be drenched, poor things, if they did indeed go out.”
“Oh, heavens! And Georgiana will certainly catch a cold! Elizabeth, what shall we do?”
“Don’t worry, Mother.” Elizabeth put down her book again. “Take yourself off to bed and I’ll wait up for her.”
“I’ll go up with you, Lucretia.” The dowager smothered a yawn. “Alexandra, Helena—lend me your arms?”
When the room cleared, Elizabeth turned to Charlotte.
“Your gran was making eyes at me when she left. I believe she’s hoping I’ll talk sense to you about our resident duke.”
“Please don’t. Tell me instead, have you had any word from your father?”
“Yes, we had a letter. Why do you think Mother’s such a wreck? Father says the deer stalking’s excellent and he’s extended the lease on the house through October.”
“God.” Charlotte went silent a moment, not sure how much she should say. “You do know that Helena could make a small fortune with her knowledge of the Jacquard loom? I intend to smother her in gold.”
“Yes, wonderful. How soon until it winds up in Father’s pocket, do you think?”
Charlotte kept a mental list of men she wanted to put on an Australian prison ship, and Lord Skeffington ranked high on it. “Will you be all right? The Season starts up soon and you’ll be in London and won’t need a country house.”
“It’s only a matter of time until he hits on the idea of leasing out the town house as well. Father, you may have noticed, has a knack for making his life more pleasant while making ours more difficult.”
“You’re always welcome to stay with Gran and me.”
“I know. And I hope you understand when I say how much I don’t want to.”
The two young women stared into the crackling fire, and despite the many things that weighed on them, it was such a companionable silence that neither seemed inclined to pick up their book or embroidery hoop.
Charlotte almost felt her shoulders settle until Elizabeth said, “That was quite a dance you had with Warrick.”
“Dash it, Lizzie! Is Gran bribing you?”
“Yes, of course, but it was simply an observation.” She paused. “Well, what happened?”
“Nothing happened!”
“In that case, why…” Elizabeth paused, and her smile was almost apologetic. “Why are you waiting up for him?”
Charlotte collapsed back onto the settee in a huff. “I’m not waiting up for him, I’m waiting up with you!”
From the front hall came a series of joyful barks.
“They’re back.” Elizabeth fixed her eyes on Charlotte. “Whatever shall we say to them?”