Chapter 28 #2
The morning sunlight spilled through the carriage windows in pale ribbons as they rolled through Mayfair.
Irene sat opposite Charlotte, carefully adjusting her gloves whilst listening to the others argue over fabrics and ribbons.
Charlotte watched them all with quiet affection, though a strange ache pressed against her chest when she remembered how she had invited Elizabeth to accompany them on this excursion.
The Dowager Duchess would have laughed at Joan’s dramatics and pretended to scold Penelope for vanity before promptly buying the girl two bonnets instead of one.
Charlotte realized with painful clarity that she missed Elizabeth terribly.
And worse still, she missed Victor.
The thought arrived with such force that Charlotte turned her face toward the carriage window at once, as though London itself might distract her from it.
Crowds moved along the pavements in thick streams of color and noise, merchants shouted over one another, and elegant ladies swept past beneath feathered hats.
Yet none of it truly occupied her mind because all she could think of was her husband pacing Mulford Manor with that stern expression upon his handsome face.
Her stomach twisted with longing so sudden that she almost pressed a hand against it.
“Charlotte,” Harriet said sharply. “You have gone silent again, and I know precisely what that means.”
Joan gasped theatrically. “Oh heavens, she is thinking of the duke again.”
Penelope collapsed against the carriage cushions with exaggerated despair. “Our sister is hopelessly devoted.”
“I am not,” Charlotte protested at once, though her cheeks betrayed her with warmth. “I merely have much upon my mind.”
Irene smiled knowingly. “Which is another way of saying she misses him.”
Charlotte huffed softly and folded her hands in her lap. “I have been away from Mulford Manor only a short while.”
“And yet you stare out windows as though awaiting a tragic sailor’s return from war,” Joan said. “If I had a husband as handsome as the Duke of Mulford, I should never leave his side.”
Harriet nodded in agreement. “Indeed, daughter. That man looks at you as though he wishes to devour you whole.”
“Mama!” Charlotte whispered in horror.
Penelope burst into laughter. “It is true, though.”
Charlotte tried to maintain a proper expression, but her face grew warmer still as memories of Victor crowded her mind.
His hands upon her waist. His deep voice murmuring against her ear.
The wicked smile he wore whenever he teased her until she forgot her own thoughts entirely.
She pressed her gloved fingers together and silently begged herself to stop thinking about her husband in such a manner whilst seated beside her mother and sisters.
Harriet peered at her curiously. “There, look again.”
“What look?” Charlotte asked weakly.
“The look of a woman remembering kisses,” Joan declared.
Charlotte nearly choked on nothing at all. “Joan!”
The carriage erupted into laughter so loud that even Irene failed to remain composed.
Charlotte covered her face briefly with one hand and groaned softly whilst her sisters delighted in tormenting her.
Though mortifying, their teasing filled the carriage with warmth and life, and she found herself laughing despite herself. Her thoughts drifted to Victor.
Perhaps I had been cruel to go? Can I not overlook his fear of having children for now?
Eager to redirect both the conversation and her own thoughts she changed the subject. “I do not wish any of you to overspend today,” Charlotte said firmly. “The season will soon end, and I shall not see Victor ruined merely because you all desire silk every other week.”
Joan snorted inelegantly. “Ruined?”
Penelope waved a dismissive hand. “Charlotte, I believe your husband possesses more money than the king.”
“He does not,” Charlotte said automatically.
Harriet shrugged. “Close enough.”
Even Irene laughed at that. Charlotte tried to appear stern, but amusement tugged at her mouth despite herself.
Truly, her family possessed no proper fear of dukes whatsoever.
Victor himself would likely be scandalized by how casually they spoke of him, though secretly she suspected he enjoyed their boldness more than he admitted.
Outside, London bustled louder as the carriage moved deeper into the crowded streets.
Vendors called out prices for flowers and fruit whilst carts rattled over cobblestones in endless lines.
The air smelled faintly of smoke, horses, and fresh bread from nearby bakeries.
Charlotte watched the chaos through the window whilst her sisters resumed debating which shop deserved their custom first. The movement of the carriage had grown slower now due to the packed roads ahead.
“It is dreadfully busy today,” Irene observed.
“Market day,” Harriet replied. “Half of London appears determined to crowd the streets at once.”
A sharp shout sounded somewhere nearby. Charlotte glanced toward the window just in time to see a man leap desperately aside as another carriage thundered past too quickly.
Her breath caught painfully in her throat.
The horses narrowly missed trampling him before disappearing into the sea of traffic ahead.
Charlotte’s stomach turned cold.
Immediately, her thoughts flew to Victor.
She remembered the tension that seized his jaw whenever he stepped into a carriage.
The tightness in his fists. The haunted look hidden deep within his eyes whenever roads grew crowded.
Suddenly, she could almost picture the terrible accident from years ago, though she had never witnessed it herself.
The idea of Victor as a frightened boy trapped amongst wreckage made her chest ache unbearably.
“Oh dear,” Penelope murmured after noticing Charlotte’s expression. “Now she truly looks stricken.”
Joan grinned wickedly. “She is thinking about the duke again.”
“I am thinking,” Charlotte replied quietly, “that perhaps I ought not have left him.”
The carriage fell briefly silent. Even Harriet softened at those words.
Charlotte stared down at her gloved hands and finally admitted the truth to herself fully.
She missed him with an ache that reached into every corner of her heart.
His arrogance vexed her beyond measure, yet she longed for his teasing remarks and infuriating smirks all the same.
“I think,” Irene said gently, “that your husband likely misses you as well.”
Charlotte swallowed hard. “Do you believe so?”
Joan rolled her eyes. “Charlotte, that man looks ready to start wars whenever another gentleman speaks to you.”
Penelope nodded eagerly. “Indeed. I once thought he might strike poor Lord Haversham simply for complimenting your gown.”
Harriet smirked. “A possessive duke is an excellent thing, daughter.”
Charlotte could not help laughing softly at that. Yet beneath the humor, hope fluttered within her.
Had he noticed the emptiness of Mulford Manor without me there? Or had he simply returned to business and forgotten my absence entirely?
Before she could dwell further upon it, the carriage suddenly lurched violently.
Penelope screamed. Harriet grabbed the straps overhead whilst Joan nearly tumbled from her seat.
Charlotte’s shoulder struck the carriage wall as the horses gave frightened whinnies outside.
The entire coach jolted to a sharp halt so abruptly that all five women were thrown forward in confusion and panic.
For one terrible second, nobody moved.
Then shouting erupted outside. Horses cried out. Men yelled over one another in alarm somewhere beyond the carriage doors. Charlotte’s heart pounded wildly as dread swept through her entire body.
“What happened?” Irene whispered fearfully.
Another violent jolt shook the carriage.
And then came the horrifying sound of splintering wood nearby.