“Then what happened?”
For a moment, the room was so silent that only the clock could be heard ticking away. William inhaled sharply. “No—nothing.”
Lavinia’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You are in love with her.”
“And? Does that mean I must marry her?”
A pause. “I think…I think so.”
“I am not marrying yet. I will not until you and your sisters are happily paired off.”
She shook her head. “I am the reason you deny your own happiness?” Her voice was soft, almost betrayed in tone. William’s heart twisted.
“No. Not…Do not say it like that.”
“How else might I say it?”
William’s mouth hung open, leaving her question floating past, ignored. After a moment in which he had proven himself incapable of responding at all, Lavinia stood up, closing the pianoforte up. William shook his head, as if to cast away his surprise.“Excuse me,” he said, standing up all of a sudden. His face reddened with anger. “You think yourself to be rather clever, do you? You cannot blame me for wanting to protect myself after everything I have been through.”
She rolled her eyes. “I sympathize with you, but it has been months,” she said sharply. “Stop blaming your fear on what happened. You are better than that, and not every lady is Miss Dawkes.”
William gritted his teeth, fingers clenched like he might shatter them all against his palm. “What do you know?” She was eighteen. What did she know about how complicated and unforgiving love could be? She had never been in it. Her focus was on comfort and duty, after all. William didn’t need any more comfort. He wanted someone to come back into his life and shake him up again. He wanted Charlotte back.
“This is a waste. The family and I, we have watched you become someone you never were in Miss Dawke’s presence. How can you give that up and blame it on me?”
William’s fist bunched up, straining his anger. “My courtship with Lady Charlotte was hardly what you think. Besides, I am the oldest, and my duty lies with my sisters before it does with anyone else, no matter how distracting.”
“I do not wish to be a hindrance,” she hissed decisively. “If you are afraid, then that is on you. Do not blame us for your dissatisfaction. What happened with Miss Dawkes was a tragedy. But whatever happens with Lady Charlotte, you are the king of your own demise.”
“Lavinia,” he shouted.
“William.” She pushed the piano bench in. “It is a shame that for once I saw you the happiest you have ever been and now you are willing to throw it away because you are afraid. How must I pursue a match when my greatest role model is so careless with his own?”
“Lavinia!”
“Do not blame me for your mistakes.” That was all she said before gathering her things and exiting the sitting room leaving him to listen to each agonizing rotation of the second hand. She wasn’t typically quick to anger, but he had insulted her. Lavinia had never appreciated the suggestion that anyone lived on behalf of her.
She would not understand. No one would understand the situation as well as William could. From this side it was bleak, inescapable, and a misguided flirtation with disaster. But it was over and now there was no going back. He had no choice but to be content with the decision he had made.
ChapterThirteen
Charlotte stepped out of the carriage and looked back at her sister. Arabella had been unusually quiet this morning and picked out a sky-blue dress at the store which was very out of character. She had always been a white and gold sort of lady, and Charlotte had typically picked out bright sunny colors like pinks, yellows, and spring green. The two of them might have fooled anyone this trip, because Arabella returned with a blue dress and Charlotte returned with a white dress with elegant beading down the front.
She wasn’t sure why. If she had worn what was in her heart, it might have been something a bit duller. Perhaps, much to her distain, her dress was simply a bid to prove to her family that she was happy, light, and impossibly free, but nothing could be farther from the truth. She was in love with this man. The thought of losing him hurt more than anything ever had.
When they arrived back in the sitting room, the women sat, each relaxing. Mama was working on her embroidery, Arabella was sketching, and Charlotte was staring down the final dreadful page of Romeo & Juliet. Benedict entered the room, bowing.
He cleared his throat. “Charlotte,” he said. “May we have a word privately?”
Charlotte’s cheeks reddened with concern. Benedict sounded unusually serious. At once she rose from her seat. Regina’s face narrowed with worry. “Is something the matter?” Arabella’s eyes darted between the group. Benedict remained cool under the pressure, turning back to the hallway with Charlotte following close behind.
As she walked towards his study, her mind raced with nerves. He surely would tell her that William had ended their courtship. It was inevitable, and yet knowing that he hadn’t had a change of heart was still hard to hear. She had hoped that he might turn around and come back and tell her he’d wait, but that wasn’t fair. She had hurt him too. Now though, her future seemed emptier than others now that she was certain he wouldn’t be involved.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, knowing very well the answer.
“Are you…” he paused, his throat bobbing. “Are you in love with Lord Holdford?”
Charlotte closed her eyes, the question as painful as when she had asked it to herself. “Will you torment me based upon my answer?”