“Likely very serious,” Charlotte said. “I better not take any callers today. Could risk getting someone very sick.”
“Sister, you seem fine to me,” Benedict mumbled. “You are to blame for any ill feelings you have. I urged you to keep your wine intake down to a minimum.”
“I hardly had any.”
“Really? Because one moment you were dancing with Holdford and the next, you were loitering around the libations table like it was a summer home. Hate the man if you will, but do not allow him to drive you to drink.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes, drinking a sip of tea.
“Besides, you are not one to worry about callers,” Benedict pointed out. “He is very good at taking a hint. I would be gob smacked if he attempted to pursue you.”
“Unless…” Arabella smiled, her hazel eyes sparkling.
“No,” Charlotte said. “No, no. There is no unless. I will have nary a caller this morning, just the way God intended.” As soon as she said it, she found herself praying of her own volition for the first time in many years.
Please, God. Let him fall ill. Let him wake up, hungover, absolutely sickened by what happened last night. I cannot fall in love. I have far too much promise and ambition.
It was no use. Even Charlotte knew that was unfair to ask such a thing of the omnipotent. She bit into her dry toast and swallowed it down. Maybe a little food would help her stop shaking.
“Look at the time!” Regina stood up, dusting off her dress. “We must make our way to the sitting room, Arabella and Charlotte. Certainly, we will have a caller this morning.”
“Oh yes,” Benedict mumbled, absentmindedly stirring his spoon though his morning tea. “Charlotte, you must steel yourself. You will surely be fighting off the advances of every man in theton.”
Charlotte frowned at him, making a derisive sneer. Mary Ann rolled her eyes, most of her vexation directed towards her husband.
With that, Charlotte stood up, following Regina and Arabella into the sitting room across the hall. As they walked, Arabella leaned up on her toes and whispered into her sister’s ear. “Do you think Lord Holdford will call on you today?”
Charlotte groaned. “Who?”
“Lord…Lord Holdford?”
“Oh, him? I should hope not,” Charlotte rolled her eyes. She actually did think he would call on her today and that is what scared her the most. She already had warm feelings blooming in her chest. She might actually befondof him. Charlotte Elkins did not lose.
“I was under the impression that you spent time with him after the dance. We could not find you.”
Charlotte looked at her sister, afraid the color in her cheeks might betray her. She wanted to tell Arabella, but saying something made it real. If Charlotte would win, she would smother her feelings and never let them see the light of day. It was one season. She could keep herself cool for one season.
“No. Benedict was right. I was drinking wine.”
“I went to the libations table to look for you.”
“Well maybe I was in the ladies’ room. Who knows!” Charlotte shouted.
Arabella tugged her to a stop as their mother trailed ahead. Charlotte’s sister leaned up, cupping a hand around her ear and whispering. “You are hiding something.”
Charlotte’s eyes narrowed at her sister’s challenge. She was typically so sweet. Perhaps Charlotte’s influence was making her brash. She brushed her sister off and hurried after her mother. After she reached the threshold, she had a bright idea.
“Fine,” she called back to her sister. “I was helping another lady.”
Regina hummed on the sofa, putting her energy back into another embroidery project. “You really do need to stop doing that, dear.” But even as she said it, it was clear that she didn’t care enough to stop it.
Just then, the butler entered the room and bowed. “My ladies,, the Marquess of Holdford has arrived.”
Arabella gasped and this time, Charlotte really did blush. She could not believe the madness she and William had gotten themselves into. Nothing about this was real, and it was designed from its very inception to explode in their faces. How embarrassing. Charlotte had been so sure that she was better than all of this.
When the butler opened the door, William came through, holding a small bouquet of flowers in pinks, purples, and blues, just like the ones they had seen in the garden the prior evening. Was he taunting her? Reminding her of a kiss that never should have happened? It was like he was saying that she was already losing. She stood up along with her mother and sister and curtsied.
William bowed. “Greetings, Lady Pemberton.” His attention was on Regina. He flashed her a sparkling smile and handed her the flowers. “I am William Humphries, Marquess of Holdford.”